Chapter 7
“You did well today, Seoyeon.”
“Director Inho, you did far more than I did.”
The road home was already dark. It was past 6 p.m.
“There were a lot of uncomfortable questions today, weren’t there?”
“Ah…”
Seoyeon let out an awkward laugh. She was recalling the conversation she’d just had with Chairman Cha Junseong.
“What was your mother’s name?”
“It’s Lee Yoo Ran.”
“Is Oh Yeontaek your father?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The moment they stepped into the private business room, the chairman’s interrogation began in earnest. Even though Seoyeon told him she felt uncomfortable with such personal questions, he hadn’t budged an inch. She’d wanted to stand up and leave right then, but the words—Don’t offend him—kept her pinned to her seat.
“How did your mother live? When did you paint that piece?”
More than eighty percent of his questions revolved around her mother. The painting was merely an excuse. What he truly wanted to know was something else.
Staring out the window for a long time, Seoyeon finally spoke. The highway streetlights cast flickering shadows on Inho’s face. She looked at him silently driving, then spoke again.
“Director Inho, you know what kind of relationship Chairman Cha Junseong had with my mother, don’t you?”
It was almost a statement rather than a question—she was nearly certain. There was no way Inho would have arranged this meeting with Junseong without knowing. The car kept moving steadily through the silence.
“You know exactly what I’ll say, don’t you, Seoyeon?”
“That’s…”
Seoyeon trailed off, but Inho quickly cut in.
“Sometimes it’s better not to know.”
“But there are things I need to know.”
“If knowledge is power, then ignorance can be a shield. I just want to protect you, so you won’t get hurt.”
“Even if I don’t want that?”
“Even if I don’t want you to.”
Seoyeon fell silent. Inho’s side profile, staring firmly ahead, was unyielding. Silence filled the car again. Outside, the scenery flew by, but time itself seemed to crawl.
For a moment, Junseong’s voice echoed in her head.
It all started once Junseong was convinced she was Lee Yooran’s daughter.
“You really do look like her. Yooran, I mean.”
“You knew my mother?”
“We were close friends. Yes… very close.”
Seoyeon bit the inside of her cheek to keep her face from twisting. His murmured words carried traces of longing. The stern lines of his face softened instantly with the faint smile on his lips—just like that man she’d met at the villa.
“If you’re Yooran’s daughter, you’re basically my daughter too. You can treat me comfortably.”
His final words left a small crack in Seoyeon’s expression. But Junseong didn’t seem to notice at all as he continued.
“That painting, Memory. How much do you want for it? I’ll buy it.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline.”
Seoyeon’s voice was firm. Memory was a piece she completed out of longing, piecing together the faint image of her mother, long faded even in memory. After a fire long ago destroyed all her mother’s keepsakes, not even a single photo remained—except for her father Oh Yeontaek’s eleventh painting, which held the only clue to her mother’s face.
Because she couldn’t stand that emptiness, Seoyeon forced her own memories to recreate her mother—that painting became Memory.
To hand over such a piece to this man in front of her? A bitter, sticky feeling coated her tongue. She took a small sip of her tea to wash it down.
It was Inho who looked the most flustered beside her. The atmosphere froze in an instant. Paradoxically, it was only then that Seoyeon felt the situation was finally going the right way.
“Why?”
“Because it’s not for sale.”
“Ha!”
Junseong let out a dry laugh. Inho tried desperately to ease the mood, but it was pointless when the gap between Seoyeon and Junseong’s stances refused to close.
“Is this pride so important?”
“Exactly. I can’t sell a memory.”
“What?”
Seoyeon looked straight at him, unflinching at his incredulous glare. His raw anger felt overwhelming, but she wouldn’t bend. Her voice trembled as if it might break, but it stayed strong.
“That painting is called Memory because it holds my memory. Chairman, could you ever sell your own memories to someone?”
As soon as she finished, silence pressed in like a heavy weight. Junseong’s eyes narrowed sharply at her.
Ah, I really did it.
Only then did Seoyeon realize what she’d said. Next to her, Inho’s shocked gaze burned into her skin. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut on the spot. Her palms, resting on her knees, were damp with sweat. But there was no regret—if she could do it over, she’d say the same thing. She only felt sorry for Inho.
Junseong stared at her quietly. Even in the thick tension, Seoyeon didn’t avoid his gaze. Her eyes, clear and unwavering, met his head-on—just like Yooran’s back then.
Storming out in anger would have been his usual reaction. But not this time. He studied her for a long moment, then spoke quietly.
“Two hundred million. I can go higher, if you want. You still won’t sell it?”
“No.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Seoyeon’s answer made Junseong let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“So that stubborn streak is genetic too, I see.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.”
His demeanor softened unexpectedly. Seoyeon couldn’t understand why he suddenly looked pleased.
A moment later, Junseong nodded.
“Then I suppose this is where we stop.”
At his signal, the man behind him moved the wheelchair. Seoyeon and Inho stood up as well.
“No need for formalities. And Oh Seoyeon—”
“Yes, Chairman.”
“I hope you don’t regret your choice.”
That wish sounded genuine. Seoyeon was momentarily speechless, then managed a quiet reply.
“…Thank you.”
Junseong gave a slight nod.
“Let’s go.”
Seoyeon watched his back as he wheeled away. The few strands of white hair at the back of his head stood out. The look he’d given her lingered in her mind.
By the time they arrived at the villa, it was already pitch black outside. If she’d traveled alone, it would have been difficult. The car’s headlights lit up the entrance. As she stepped out, Seoyeon spoke.
“Thank you for bringing me back tonight.”
Inho looked at her for a moment, then quietly stepped out of the car too. The sound of the door shutting echoed louder than usual. He stood in front of her, his face full of hesitation. Seoyeon waited for him to speak.
“Seoyeon, I…”
Ha… Inho let out a long sigh, his breath turning white in the cold air. The forest’s night air was as frigid as midwinter. His face twisted in pain as if he were struggling. After failing to speak several times, he finally forced out the words.
“…You did well today. You must be tired. Go in and get some rest.”
“…”
That answer was so typical of him. Inho gave her a strained smile.
A bitter smile touched Seoyeon’s lips too. She wanted to understand the reason he couldn’t say more. From the start, they were just business partners—and the chairman was his client. Inho had done the right thing.
“You get home safely too, Director Inho. And… I’m sorry for making things so difficult today.”
“I’m sorry, Seoyeon.”
“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. That would make me feel shameless. Thank you for everything today.”
Inho couldn’t take his eyes off her. Seoyeon walked past him. She could feel his gaze on her back.
Creak. The old gate opened. Through the gap, she heard his voice one last time.
“Be careful going in.”
Seoyeon didn’t look back.
Beep beep.
Who knows how much time had passed. At the sound of the door lock opening, Seoyeon’s eyes flew open.
She looked at the clock—midnight had long since passed. The sudden sound sent a chill down her spine.
She instinctively sat up, tense, and stared at the entrance. The hallway light flicked on, and someone quietly stepped inside.
“…Father?”
“You’re still awake?”
Oh Yeontaek’s low voice answered her. He walked straight to the kitchen, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Seoyeon sat stunned, staring at his back. The black plastic bag in his hand clinked with the sound of glass bottles.
Oh Yeontaek turned on the kitchen light. The sudden brightness made Seoyeon squint.
“You… bought alcohol?”
There were at least five green bottles on the table at a glance.
Seoyeon quickly got up and went to him.
“Your liver isn’t well… Where have you been?”
Even at her question, Oh Yeontaek said nothing. He silently opened a cupboard, took out a shot glass, uncapped a bottle, and filled the glass to the brim without hesitation.
Then, in one gulp—
“Father…!”
Seoyeon instinctively grabbed his wrist. Liquor spilled from the glass, soaking Oh Yeontaek’s sleeve.
His movement froze.
