UB20

Chapter 20

Hyunha helped Yeongin to her feet and led her to the car, opening the backseat door.
The sedan’s driver wasn’t Inchan. Instead, the woman who had switched Yeongin’s seat on her college entrance exam day sat behind the wheel, her face set in a stern expression.

“I told them. This won’t happen again.”

“How can you guarantee that?”

For Yeongin—who had just been yanked from sleep by her hair and thrown aside—nodding and letting it go was impossible. She was like a mayfly, living day to day, unable to complain when told to leave.

“If it happens again, tell me.”

The way Hyunha said it, so shamelessly, made Yeongin reply like a child without meaning to.

“You were sleeping.”

“I know. Still, tell me.”

“Even if I have to hit you awake?”

Hyunha burst out laughing. Annoying, given the seriousness of the moment—but at the same time, strangely reassuring. With Choi Hyunha, it felt like everything would turn out fine.

“I have something for you.”

She suddenly rummaged beside her seat and pulled out a brown envelope. The university’s logo was printed on the front—it was the school Yeongin had applied to through early admission. Her heart pounded. She tore open the flap and read the contents inside.

Her lips instantly curved into a smile. She had been accepted into the university where she’d auditioned—and not just accepted, but awarded the full scholarship she had hoped for.

Something heavy inside her chest finally eased. For once, there was good news.

“You got in, right? Congratulations. I told you it would work out.”

Yeongin tried to press down the corners of her mouth, but Hyunha was right—she had done it.

The burden of tuition was gone. If she could pick up tutoring work while attending school, she could manage to live.

She shouldn’t have felt relief when she thought of her father. Guilt pricked her heart like a broken fingernail, but she pretended not to notice. She thought of her father less and less, and she ignored that, too.

“But… how did you get this letter?”

The address was the rented house they’d lived in, and that house had burned down. The landlord wouldn’t have contacted Hyunha to give her the letter.

“The detective gave it to me.”

Yeongin’s smile froze.

The detective still monitoring her house—and her mail—had opened the envelope and handed it to Hyunha. He must have already known where she was staying, passing it along so she could receive it.

The moment she understood the circumstances, her joy turned cold.

She was still the daughter of a suspect.

“Do you want some cake?”

Hyunha asked casually.

“What?”

“To celebrate your college acceptance, of course.”

The offer was friendly, as if they were old friends.

Yeongin chuckled softly and hugged the envelope. Regardless, she had been accepted. Somehow, a path forward had appeared. For now, that was all she wanted to think about. Not long after, the estate came into view through the windshield. The iron gates yawned open. For the time being, she could sleep there again.

That night, the dining room really did serve cake. As she let the sweet, heavy cream melt down her throat, Yeongin looked across the table at Hyunha.

Choi Hyunha knocked on the door. Even without opening it, Yeongin recognized the sound immediately.

She set aside the workbook she’d been doing to pass the time and looked toward the door.

Sometimes the staff knocked, but their timing was far more formal. Hyunha had no such reserve—he could just as easily walk right in. The knock was more like a courtesy warning.

“Come in.”

The door cracked open, but instead of Hyunha, a square object slid through—a lavender suitcase. Moments later, Hyunha followed, rolling it toward her. It was clearly brand new.

“Pack your things.”

Before she could ask, he continued.

“You said you’d spend New Year’s with me. Instead of paying rent.”

She was about to question him, but then remembered the conversation. Hyunha had asked her to spend New Year’s Day together, and she’d replied, What if my dad comes back before then?

It was the end of the year now, and her father still hadn’t appeared.

Time had passed quickly. Even after the school closing ceremony for winter break, she had lived much the same—eating meals in the mansion’s dining room, playing piano for Hyunha as practice, riding in a chauffeured car to her part-time job, and saving the meager wages she earned, which barely seemed worth the gas it took to get there.

She didn’t mind the routine.

When she opened the suitcase, the empty space inside made her unsure what to pack. She hadn’t accumulated much during her stay here.

“Where are we going?”

“My grandfather’s villa.”

Hyunha said it so casually, sitting down beside her on the bed. The mattress tilted toward him.

“It’s the end of the year, and he wants the family to gather. This time, they’ll all show up—probably because of me. He threatened them not to skip.”

His tone held amusement. Clearly, Hyunha wasn’t afraid of his grandfather at all—unlike his other relatives.

“Should I even be there? You said it’s a family gathering.”

Would his grandfather even welcome her? Hopefully he wouldn’t be like Juran.

These days, Juran and Inchan were rarely seen at the estate. From what she heard, they still came and went, but they never crossed paths with her. Likely because Hyunha had told them to. In this mansion, Choi Hyunha’s word was law.

Though barely an adult, he carried an authority she didn’t understand. Inchan’s obedience could be explained by his paid position, but even Hyunha’s own mother seemed afraid of him.

This family wasn’t like an ordinary household. Their standards for “normal” were different—perhaps they had their own rules entirely.

Imagining how she might be treated there made her mouth dry.

Juran alone had been hard enough to deal with. Yeongin bit her lip.

“I can’t go days without you.”

Maybe sensing her reluctance, Hyunha teased. He tapped her hand and bent his head to meet her gaze.

Suddenly, Juran’s words came back to her. Juran had said Hyunha couldn’t sleep even with medication. Yet Yeongin had seen him fall deeply asleep while listening to her play. Notes merged into measures in her mind, forming a suspicion.

“Because of my playing?”

The question slipped out before she could stop it. The air fell still, and she felt embarrassed.

Hyunha’s expression went blank. She tried to read the emotion in his dark eyes, but in the end, she couldn’t.

“Yes.”

The single, unadorned answer came.

“And… because if we’re apart, I think I’ll miss you.”

“Don’t say ridiculous things.”

“I mean it.”

His tone was light, but he leaned fully against her shoulder. She nearly toppled from the weight, but couldn’t push him away.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Yeongin froze. His voice was sweet as honey, his black eyes holding her captive, reflecting her like a mirror.

I don’t believe that.

Even as she denied it, she couldn’t look away. At her feet, the suitcase toppled with a dull clatter.

The trip was nothing like she’d imagined.

She had pictured the kind of car rides from her childhood—cramped in the backseat, back aching, same scenery rolling past, eating snacks with a dry throat.

But the ride in a spacious, chauffeured car was comfortable. At one point, Hyunha took off his sunglasses and hooked them on her nose bridge.

“Even in winter, UV rays can damage your eyes.”

Yet he himself leaned toward the open window, letting the sunlight fall full on his face. The warm air from the heater mixed with the cold winter wind.

Bathed in light, Hyunha looked almost inhuman, like something carved from stone or cast in metal—beautiful, but faintly unsettling.

The villa gave her the same impression when they arrived.

Beside a large lake, the modern structure looked nothing like his mansion. Its clean, sharp lines seemed to have been cut with a perfect blade, blending with the blue sky in a surreal harmony. Aside from the building itself, there was nothing—just the lake and trees, with no sign of people. She’d overheard the staff say the entire area belonged to his grandparents.

The room she was shown to was even larger than the one she had at the mansion. She sat by the tall window, gripping the suitcase handle.

“Are the other relatives coming now?”

“Mm. They’re on their way.”

Hyunha, sitting casually opposite her, pointed outside.

A bright red sports car sped in with the roof down. When it stopped, staff approached to take the luggage. The passengers didn’t so much as glance at them, striding into the building with a train of uniformed employees behind them—like nobles out of the Middle Ages.