FC 11

Chapter 11

As she headed toward the dining room where breakfast had been set, Ji-won was practically out of her mind.

While she was busy making fresh rolled omelets and boiling stew, the bomb he had dropped earlier was still exploding inside her head.

Even if it’s not Jeong Dabin, I have plenty on my plate. You already figured out the rumors about me being gay from earlier, right?

[…]

And pressure to get married is suffocating.

Yet, he expected her to keep up the act of being his live-in girlfriend. And in exchange, he’d take care of her debts?

Though her face looked ready to refuse on the spot, her lips remained tightly sealed, unable to utter a single rejection.

If Sung-hyun hadn’t stood up first, she might have sat there indefinitely.

A wave of self-loathing washed over her.

She hated how she felt so uncomfortable taking money, yet she couldn’t summon the dignity to say, Do you know how urgent my financial situation is, or how impossible it is for me to just accept such a huge sum?

Seong Ji-won, you’re the absolute worst.

She had wanted to appear as though she were living a decent life. She wanted to stand before him as a woman who still had a shred of pride left.

Instead, even after her bottom dollar had been exposed, she found the proposal tempting—making her the worst.

Contradicting herself by complaining about pride in the face of debt while simultaneously refusing to take Sung-hyun’s money was peak hypocrisy.

Lost in inner turmoil, she stepped back into the dining room to find Iria waiting.

Thinking her conversation with Sung-hyun would take longer, she had hurriedly prepared breakfast and pulled a reluctant Iria out with her.

She had practically forced the stubborn child to sit down, insisting she had to eat, but…

“So de-li-cious-♬ So de-li-cious-♬”

Who would have guessed that the proud little princess would be humming a tune while she ate?

[…]

Ji-won stopped her agonizing overthinking. She decided to shove her noisy thoughts aside for the moment.

forcing a smile, she watched the cheeky little foodie at work. The child’s quiet humming from earlier kept stopping and starting as she tried to keep it from carrying outside.

“Mmm-!”

Taking a bite of the rolled omelet, Iria shook her child-sized chopsticks. Once again, the So Delicious Song echoed through the room.

Chewing the food in her mouth like a chipmunk storing supplies, she picked up a piece of tofu. She handled her chopsticks so skillfully that she never dropped a single piece.

The child, who had looked like she would detest the smell of soybean paste, slurped up the broth absorbed by the tofu and tapped her chopsticks in the air.

“Wow!”

Her enthusiastic reaction—gasping in admiration and flapping her right hand—magically chased away Ji-won’s heavy mood.

As she fought back a chuckle, Iria’s one-woman show continued.

“I wonder what this tastes like? Yes, yes—I shall try it!”

Asking and answering her own questions, Iria popped another piece of egg into her mouth.

“Mmm- Now this is the flavor! Ninety-seven points!”

Since she was handing out scores, why not a hundred instead of ninety-seven? Even that small detail was so endearing that it made Ji-won snicker.

Lots of children at kindergarten talked to themselves during lunchtime. Pretending to be on a food-blogging adventure wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to Ji-won.

Even so, Iria’s little roleplay was exceptionally adorable.

After turning up her nose and going Hmph!, her chubby cheeks were stuffed with food the moment she thought no one was looking.

Kids will be kids.

Had she not realized Ji-won would notice the dwindling number of omelets, or was she planning to pretend she’d only eaten a little?

Anyway, she needed to put an end to Iria’s solo show here. If she wasn’t careful, she’d burst out laughing and fall out of the child’s good graces.

“So de-li-cious-♬ So de-li-cious-♬ Does the prince think so too?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Eat up quickly so we can head back to the palace.”

Ji-won, suddenly cast as the prince in a ninety-seven-point restaurant, sat down across from Iria.

The magical-wand chopsticks that were about to cast another spell froze in mid-air, startled.

“Your Highness, whatever is the matter?”

Staring wide-eyed at “Prince Seong Ji-won,” Iria furrowed her brows. She quickly swallowed the food swelling her cheeks and balled her hands into tiny fists the size of baseballs.

“I-I only ate it because I was afraid you’d cry!”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Great-grandfather said we shouldn’t waste food. So that’s why I ate it, okay?!”

“So leaving food is bad, but not wanting to eat it in the first place is fine?”

[…]

The child’s face, once smooth as a white rice cake, flushed a mottled red. Watching Iria—who had no idea how to hide her emotions—with the fondness one might reserve for a pretty doll, Ji-won smiled gently.

“Would you like some ketchup? How do you like to eat yours?”

When Ji-won playfully dangled a piece of omelet right in front of her nose, Iria whipped her head away. It was meant to be an act of defiance, but her tangled, messy hair only made Ji-won want to smile more.

She hadn’t noticed before, but the hair tie was on the verge of slipping off. Whether the girl had tried tying it herself or not, her hair was an absolute bird’s nest.

“By any chance, did your hair…”

Ji-won bit back the rest of the question: Did you tie this yourself?

As if she had just suffered a devastating humiliation, the six-year-old child fan-fanned her face with her hand.

Quietly smiling, Ji-won naturally reached out to touch Iria’s hair.

“My, my—Your Highness has such lovely hair. It looks like it’s coming loose, so let me tie it back up for you.”

Using the excuse of the slipping hair tie to protect Iria’s fragile pride, Ji-won smoothly combed her fingers through the locks.

Just as she was twisting the gathered hair into place, Iria’s pale face flushed a bright red.

“W-what about Uncle?”

As Ji-won sat back down after securing the hair tie, Iria spoke up.

Whether out of lingering shyness or because she couldn’t take back her words about not wasting food, the girl had somehow managed to stay put.

Though she pretended to have no appetite and picked at her food, her eyes kept glancing sideways at the remaining omelets.

Ji-won placed the prettiest-looking piece of egg right on top of Iria’s rice.

“Your uncle said he’ll eat later.”

She had heard him earlier on his way to the study, taking a call and saying, “Yes, Mother.” And she had also heard him end the call by saying he would come tomorrow.

The sudden spark ignited by their fake cohabitation was growing larger by the minute.

Looking at the bowl of rice set aside for Sung-hyun, Ji-won blinked away her restless eyes.

[I need time to think.]

[Give me your answer within the week.]

[Sung-hyun.]

[You’ve already got your answer, you’re just too embarrassed to accept it. That’s why I’m giving you time.]

Already got my answer, huh…

Sung-hyun was utterly convinced that no matter how much she agonized over it, there was only one possible outcome.

“Iria, do you know that pretty unni from earlier?”

Forcing down the rice that refused to go down smoothly, Ji-won looked back at Iria. Against her better judgment, she found herself deeply curious about that woman.

“What pretty unni?”

Having polished off the piece of egg just placed on her rice, Iria raised her eyelashes, which looked curled by a hair-iron.

“I’ve never seen any pretty unni?”

She was shrewdly trashing the woman behind her back.

Finding even that bit of spitefulness adorable, Ji-won curved her lips and placed the very last piece of omelet onto Iria’s rice bowl once more.

Iria hesitated for a second before giving up her pretense and chewing happily.

“I’ve never seen her before, but I know her name. Jeong Dabin. That ajumma said she was coming to take care of me.”

Referring to a woman younger than Ji-won as an ajumma, Iria proceeded to tear her apart verbally. If the woman could hear this right now, she’d probably faint.

“Is she… a friend of your uncle’s?”

Matching her eye level, Ji-won asked if they were friends, causing Iria—who had been scraping her bowl clean—to let out a sigh.

“Can’t you tell just by looking? That ajumma likes my uncle.”

[…]

“Mom told me they might get married later. It’s just that Uncle won’t listen to her right now.”

Hearing the word marriage made her heart feel fluttery and unsettled. Fearing that another presumptuous emotion was about to pop up uninvited, she forced herself to steady her center.

“Does your mom know her too?”

“Mom kept telling me to go see Dabin-mi-eon in Korea, and that ajumma turned out to be Dabin!”

Frowning as if a grand illusion had been shattered, Iria shuddered her shoulders in disgust.

Deciding it was high time to put an end to the Jeong Dabin topic, Ji-won casually steered the conversation toward Iria’s mother, who had just come up.

“Did your mom go to work in America? She must miss Iria terri—”

“I’m done. I’m going to go study.”

Cutting her off abruptly, Iria slammed her spoon down hard. Her flushed complexion shifted instantly into the cold, silent anger of an adult.

For a split second, the aura of her uncle, Sung-hyun, overlapped with hers, catching Ji-won off guard.

She didn’t know why, but letting her leave like this felt wrong. Whether the mention of her mother had hurt her feelings or not, a heavy wave of gloom seemed to cling to Iria.

“Hey! Lee Iria!”

Ji-won purposely called out in a breezy, cheerful voice to stop her.

“What?!”

Fortunately, it worked. A pouty spark of life returned to the child’s expressionless face.

“You’re supposed to clean up after yourself, you know. Where do you think you’re going just like that, Your Highness?”

Pointing to the emptied rice bowl, Ji-won watched those cheeks—which puffed up more than ten times a day—inflate into an adorable balloon.

“Did Uncle not pay you yet?”

The gloomy, age-inappropriate depression had completely vanished. Relieved, Ji-won offered a generous yet firm smile.

“Iria, didn’t I tell you that just because you’re getting paid doesn’t mean you can throw a tantrum and act improperly? You can clear this much yourself. You’re not a baby.”

“Fine, I’ll do it!”

“And your tone, too. I’d love for you to be a polite Iria starting today.”

“…Okay!”

Reluctantly moving, Iria loaded her dishes and utensils onto the utility cart parked nearby.

Ji-won praised the child loudly.

“Thanks to Iria helping out, unni isn’t tired at all! Thank you, Iria!”

Iria’s pretty, coy eyes darted shyly from side to side.

[This coming Sunday, I’ve decided to see Seong Ji-won regarding the marriage issue. Don’t you think she only accepted the proposal because she was being cornered by threats?]

[Ji-won. I’ll tell you about a better option. A much safer and easier path.]

A few words from Min-seok had prompted him to blurt out something uncharacteristically impulsive.

It wasn’t because Jeong Dabin was annoying. It was because he genuinely feared Seong Ji-won might actually walk into a setting like that.

The shameless excuse about needing a live-in girlfriend was purely a pretext to trap the woman in his web.

Jeong Dabin? Pressure to marry?

That trivial problem, which he had ignored for years, suddenly felt pressing.

Ji-won, having no way of knowing that, would probably spend the entire day agonizing over the trap he had woven.

He felt a tiny twinge of guilt, but wasn’t this for the best for both of them? Sung-hyun could escape his mountain of debt, and he…

“Could buy some time to think.”

The garage door of the Seoul residence rolled down. Shutting off the engine, Sung-hyun leaned his driver’s seat back.

Pressing a hand to his chest, he quietly closed his eyes.

Though he felt as though he could load a truck full of women without his heart skipping a beat—as if it were nothing more than a lifeless organ—the mere thought of Seong Ji-won proved that it was alive and kicking.

His lingering attachment was certain.

Was it sheer stubbornness, or had his romantic feelings flared up once again?

[Dr. Hwang, am I suffering from alexithymia, or something like that?]

[That’s different from you. Alexithymia is a condition where the body reacts to emotions, but the person themselves fails to consciously recognize them.]

[That’s practically what I’m doing.]

[My dear boy, I’m a doctor. What kind of person suffering from alexithymia complains about their heart feeling hollow at every consultation? You’re just not used to it. Acknowledging that something good is actually good feels unfamiliar to you; it’s not that you don’t know your own emotions.]

[Is that why the words refuse to come out of my mouth? Those words.]

Was it the lingering effect of an unhappy childhood?

The counseling therapy he had started when he was young had decreased in frequency, but it was still ongoing.

Back then, when Sung-hyun was only eighteen, Dr. Hwang had joked with him:

[You have an older sister, right? Later on, when you get a cute niece or nephew, you’ll figure it out. If you ever find yourself thinking, ‘Oh, how cute, how lovely,’ then you definitely don’t have alexithymia. Just you wait, kid.]

Dr. Hwang had been right. As time passed, thankfully, that wasn’t the case for him.

Perhaps his cautiousness and sluggishness were the fault of his brain rather than his heart. Cursing the very brain that had only ever earned him praise as a prodigy, Sung-hyun stepped out of the car.

His walk along the stone path didn’t carry even a hint of tension.

Even with his family home—which was surely turning upside down over the talk of a live-in girlfriend—just a stone’s throw away, only one woman filled his mind.

What is Seong Ji-won up to right now?