TPWA 10

Chapter 10

“…I see.”

For some reason, Yoon-ah felt hollow, as if all her strength had drained out at once. Her back slumped against the driver’s seat. That was when the words of Do-hyun—the senior from the freshman welcome party—resurfaced with crystal clarity. On that night, her memory had been clogged with shock and fury, but now his voice cut through.

“What, you don’t like it? You must’ve already sucked your doctor husband dry, and now you’ve divorced him and come to college because younger guys look tastier, huh?”

He had clearly read not only the divorce article but also the online posts and all the comments beneath them.

Her ex-husband, in building his wholesome, devoted husband persona, had dropped just enough personal details for strangers to cobble together their own theories about why the marriage failed.

[“So he chased her around after love at first sight back in his public service days, only for her to milk him dry. Got what he deserved, I guess. That Seoul snob who only knew books finally got bitten.”]

[“Eight years between them, so she must’ve been mid-twenties at most. No kids, so of course she wanted to live her own life. Couldn’t win a lawsuit, so she must’ve sweet-talked him into a settlement. High school grad or not, she used her brain this time.”]

Most of it was like that.

It made her sick with injustice, but if she wanted the maximum alimony, she had no choice but to keep her mouth shut, exactly as she and her ex had agreed. A high-school graduate, an adoptee, trying to make it on her own—she needed that money to survive.

Even a single leaked wedding photo had been enough for some customers to recognize her and whisper. She had braced herself that someday, the truth would spread wider. Even the digital undertaker firm she’d paid handsomely couldn’t erase every trace perfectly.

“…So that’s why everyone’s been avoiding me.”

Her voice sank, heavy. She had assumed people shied away because of her age gap. She hadn’t expected the rumors to reach campus within a week.

Slowly lifting her head, she looked at Seoyeon and asked in a taut voice:

“Then… did you talk to me because you pitied me? Or was it just… curiosity?”

“What are you taking me for, unnie?” Seoyeon’s tone was brisk. “I’m just a country girl from Gunsan—what’s big city stuff to me? You think I haven’t seen enough trash growing up around a motel? People show their worst sides there all the time.”

“…”

“Strangers only want a juicy story to chew on, because their own lives are dull. I figured I’d take the heat off you a little. But turns out, you’re sharper than you look. Even better—‘the daughter of Chungnam’? That makes you family. My unnie, no question.”

With a little shrug, Seoyeon let the words hang.

For Yoon-ah, who had spent years with no family worth having, and with a husband who’d been better left absent, the phrase “my unnie” felt strange—strange, but warm.

Her eyes stung with sudden tears. She felt guilty for ever bristling at Seoyeon, who had only approached her with goodwill. Decades of bottled-up loneliness cracked open, spilling raw emotion.

“I’m sorry… sob…”

“Cute—why’re you crying? I should be the one crying! Want me to go expose that bastard doctor for what he really did? Huh?!”

It was the first time anyone had gotten angry on her behalf. That alone made Yoon-ah feel both relieved and grateful. She let out a shaky laugh even as big, heavy tears rolled down her cheeks.

Seoyeon fumbled for tissues in the glove box, yanked a bunch out, and shoved them into Yoon-ah’s hands. She dabbed at her eyes, pressing firmly, before whispering:

“…Please. Just keep this between us, Seoyeon.”

“…Of course. Don’t worry. I know how cruel people’s tongues can be.”

“Thank you.”

Only after her tears were wiped away did a genuine smile bloom on Yoon-ah’s lips. Then the two of them got out of the car, loaded their luggage neatly onto a foldable cart, and headed for the elevator.

“Are you really not dropping ‘Understanding Korean Traditional Architecture’?”

Kitae slurped his drink through the straw, glancing at Yeong-won as they walked. The latter merely nodded.

Kitae sighed and adjusted the paper bag in his other hand.

“Figures. You’re Choi Yeong-won, after all. Me, if I have to compete with fourth-years who’ve mastered writing reports, I’ll get obliterated. Absolute grading or not, it’s suicide. That’s the only downside to the best elective on campus.”

“….”

Truthfully, Yeong-won was worried about that too. That’s why he’d debated whether to even recommend the class to Yoon-ah. But by the time he made up his mind, seats had vanished, and he’d ended up sprinting to her café late at night.

For her, there really was no better elective. He only realized afterward that he’d forgotten to mention he himself was enrolled. He figured he could tell her eventually.

As usual, Kitae kept chattering, and Yeong-won answered with the occasional nod. Before long, they reached the officetel complex.

“Let’s get inside already. Burgers are gonna get cold…”

“…Sigh.”

The reason Kitae had shown up at Yeong-won’s place over the weekend was, as threatened before, console gaming. After Yeong-won had sent him a curt “ㅗ” in reply, Kitae had threatened to tattle to Yoon-ah unless he handed over the living room for PlayStation.

Reluctantly, Yeong-won had let him move his gear in, muttering, “This is why you’re still single—you spend weekends gaming.” Not that Yeong-won himself had ever made an effort to break his own streak of being single.

At the elevator, Kitae pressed the button. But instead of rising, the car went down to the basement and stayed there for a long while.

“This thing taking the scenic route or what…”

Finally, the elevator rose from B3. When the doors opened, they found two women crammed inside, scrambling to make space amid piles of boxes.

“Sorry, so much luggage…”

“….”

“….”

Kitae’s eyes went wide. Yeong-won froze as well. One woman had pressed herself so flat against the wall she looked like she might sink into it. Yeong-won opened his mouth.

“…Boss.”

The woman turned her head. Yoon-ah’s big, round eyes widened in shock.

“Yeong-won? What are you doing here?”

“…Just… waiting for the elevator, to go home.”

“You… live here—oh!”

Before she could finish, the doors began closing. Flustered, Yoon-ah tried to twist her body, but there wasn’t enough room. Seoyeon was equally stuck.

“Ah—can’t reach—oh no…!”

With her groan, the doors sealed shut. Kitae, quick on his feet, jabbed at the button, but the car was already moving. He lowered his hand, voice tinged with glee.

“…Surely ignoring what we just saw wouldn’t be the gentlemanly thing to do?”

“….”

Yeong-won ran a weary hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry… the dining table’s too small…”

Yoon-ah looked apologetic as the three guests sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching their takeaway containers. Her little two-seater table couldn’t hold four, and there was only one chair anyway.

“Not at all, boss. Eating on the floor during a move—that’s tradition. And this place, like its owner, has such cozy charm and quiet grace.”

Kitae grinned, holding his bowl of malatang with exaggerated reverence. Finally, he had managed to make an impression on her.

“Really, you can just call me Yoon-ah. I’m not actually your boss, Kitae. Even with Yeong-won, it’s only because we met before school started…”

“Then, if calling you ‘boss’ might rob you of sleep, how about… Yoon-ah noona—”

“Enough.”

The voice that cut him off belonged to Yeong-won, who didn’t even glance his way as he focused on slurping noodles.

Seoyeon, watching, stifled a laugh. She looked at Yeong-won.

“But isn’t that bland for you, sunbae? This place’s noodles are basically just water.”

“…Wait, why the sudden dialect? You from Chungcheong?”

Kitae’s eyes bulged. Just minutes earlier, Seoyeon had spoken like any Seoul native. Now her accent had flipped. She shrugged, perfectly casual.

“Yep, Chungnam. Guess there’s no point hiding it now.”

And she chuckled to herself, clearly amused by some private thought.