Chapter 7. Gift
“……!”
Why was Kang Ijun here?
Seeing Yooa’s rabbit-like, startled eyes, he smirked and held out a shopping bag. Then he raised an eyebrow as if to say she should at least try to hide how much she disliked seeing him.
“You used to call me oppa and follow me around everywhere.”
“When did I ever do that?!”
“Late summer when you were eleven. Since the day you first moved into the servant’s annex at our house.”
He smirked, saying he even remembered her exact age, and shook the shopping bag.
Yooa, almost unconsciously, took the handle from him, her expression awkward.
“When you cried in the garden because your elementary school math homework was too hard, I helped you. And when you got scolded for not memorizing the 9-times table, I bought you cake to cheer you up. You ate both slices all by yourself. Do you still eat sweet cake when you’re feeling down?”
Treating her like a child, his question made Yooa bite her lip.
That was ages ago. These days, she mumbled, she drinks coffee overloaded with vanilla syrup instead.
Maybe it was because of something her aunt had said once when visiting the main house and looking inside the fridge that stuck with her.
“You’re not a kid anymore, tsk tsk. Are you trying to pay for a full dental treatment with the money my nephew breaks his back to earn? You’ve got no shame, girl. I guess that’s why you shamelessly married Ijun, even knowing your level.”
Fighting over the heir position within the group was natural.
Chairman Kang had knowingly let his daughter scheme to steal the position from his nephew Ijun, all while turning a blind eye to her arrogance, the only child he had left after his son passed away.
Cleaning up the mess and suffering the fallout was always left to his daughter-in-law—Yooa, Ijun’s wife—without him even realizing it.
“So? Are you here to collect a debt for helping me with math back then?”
What use was all this now?
In this life, she’d have no connection to Ijun. No more being looked down on by his aunt.
There were relationships in life that were better left behind. But one exception remained. If it meant seeing Sejin again—the best gift he ever gave her—then she needed Kang Ijun.
More precisely, his body.
Unaware of Yooa’s thoughts, Ijun gave her a sly smile.
She had strutted off confidently, but she couldn’t even pitch a simple tent properly.
He had told her there were security cameras, that she’d be safe, but as the sun set, there wasn’t a single working light around.
“No.”
If she was going to act so pitiful, she should’ve at least done it out of sight.
Ijun tilted his head and added,
“Pay me back. For the cake.”
The heir to the Taegyeom Group didn’t come all the way here just to collect on a piece of cake.
Yooa let out a deep sigh. “How should I pay you back, then?”
“That’s for Yoon Yooa to figure out.”
“What?”
“You said you didn’t want anything from me. So what do you think I want from you?”
This younger version of Kang Ijun was different.
He acted as if he’d decided to be shameless, his confidence so overbearing that Yooa almost got swept up in it.
“Say what you want. This makes me look like the desperate one. That… really sucks, you know.”
He tilted his head back and scratched the nape of his neck with his large hand, looking annoyed.
“You made the first move. You started this, so you should finish it too. What do you think I want?”
Marriage.
A stable marriage would make the group appear calm and peaceful from the outside.
Yooa, knowing Ijun’s plan to use her to fend off his aunt’s power plays, rolled her eyes.
“Were you always this childish?”
She snapped at him, scowling at his playfully smug face.
The shopping bag he’d thrust into her arms suddenly felt heavier.
“Oh, that? A housewarming gift.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t come empty-handed, you know. I do have that much social awareness. It’s your first night after moving in, after all.”
Yooa peeked inside the bag and paled at the contents: a pink 880ml tumbler, an LED flashlight, a personal safety whistle, and pepper spray.
Was playing pranks and teasing others Kang Ijun’s idea of fun?
The mature and composed 32-year-old Ijun she remembered was nowhere to be found.
“No need to get emotional. I’ll bring effervescent vitamins and bug spray next time.”
“……”
“There’s also a lantern with a mosquito repellent function—but there’s no electricity here, right?”
“……”
“And you don’t have a car either.”
She wanted to smack him hard for acting so smugly disappointed that there was no electricity source.
“Did you come all this way just to mess with me?” she asked, holding the bag back out to him. He ignored her outstretched hand.
Her hand trembled from the weight of the tumbler, which felt like it was pulling her down.
“Just come back to the annex.”
Looking down at her stubbornly pressed lips, Ijun said, his smile gone.
“Even if it’s just for a few days. Don’t put yourself through this.”
The temperature had dropped so much that white breath escaped between his teeth and goosebumps formed on her arms.
Yooa instinctively crossed her arms over her shoulders, and Ijun pressed on, as if the answer were obvious.
“A house to protect you from wind and weather. Three square meals. I’ll make sure your favorite sweet coffee and cakes never run out.”
“Houses… yeah, they’re great. Big and sturdy.”
“Then—”
She cut him off quickly.
“But the person inside is the problem.”
“The person? You mean me?”
At his cheeky smile, Yooa didn’t confirm or deny—just spoke quickly.
“You suffocate people. Make them feel like they can’t even drink a glass of water without watching their back. You know what happens then? People wither. They dry up and die.”
Yooa said she’d rather be a wild weed in a barren wasteland than a fragile orchid in a greenhouse. Ijun replied:
“I don’t mean to dismiss the tenacity of a weed. I just meant, it’s not so bad to live a life appreciating the beauty of an orchid. You like my face, don’t you?”
He understood exactly what she meant: he was the orchid, and she the weed.
He said there was nothing wrong with a life of quiet observation.
He told her to take what she wanted from him.
Yooa hesitated. While she thought of their child, Ijun thought she was already halfway persuaded.
So instead of proposing clumsy terms, he appealed to emotion—uncharacteristically for him.
“If marriage is about filling in each other’s gaps… isn’t there a chance for us too?”
Yooa, who needed money more than anyone, insisted she didn’t want wealth.
He wondered where to push so she’d finally crack—he even enjoyed the challenge.
Corner her slowly, until there was no way out, and she’d break on her own.
“To pay off debt and your student loans, you’d have to save for at least 20 years straight. Am I wrong?”
It wasn’t even surprising that Ijun knew her financial situation so thoroughly.
He extended a large hand toward her, smiling crescent-shaped eyes.
His face was annoyingly confident, like it was all inevitable.
“What are you waiting for? Aren’t you going to take my hand?”
“……”
“I said I’d be your solution.”
Yooa slapped his palm hard, loud enough to echo.
Then she turned away, head down to hide her shaken heart.
“I’ve lived well enough under the Taegyeom Group until now. I’m thankful for that. But like I said before—I’m not getting married. Really. Please find someone else, Executive Director Kang.”
As soon as she said it, a thunderclap split the sky.
Lightning flashed, turning the darkening surroundings as bright as day. Wind and rain came crashing down.
Even standing still, the ground seemed to shake. Her stomach churned like seasickness, and she flinched as the howling wind brushed past her ears.
“I have nothing more to say. And from now on, this is my private property during this period. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show up without permission.”
“Wow, so elegant, even while kicking me out,” Ijun said, shrugging.
The wind roared around his black car parked in the empty lot.
Yooa pulled her hair over one shoulder and zipped up the tent entrance.
Dark clouds were rolling in. It was better to get inside before the rain started.
“Ah—ah!”
But then the tent flapped wildly and, on the third gust, a stake came loose and flew straight at her face.
She flailed her hands, trying to pull the fabric off her face, and a mocking voice descended from above.
“You drove the stakes in the direction of the wind. Of course they’d come loose and fly off.”
“Ugh.”
She wished it would just blow away.
But the tent clung to her like a magnet, the flapping fabric wrapping around her.
“Need help?”
“Ah… huff…”
Watching her struggle helplessly, Ijun crossed his arms and asked with a smirk:
“Ask nicely. Who knows? I might feel like saving you.”
