Seven Years Ago

The house had been in a frenzy since morning. It was one of the family's most important events of the year, and everyone was dressing up in high spirits.

It was the day they could proudly present their adopted daughter at the piano before a room full of guests. It was also the only day Eun-jae — who otherwise lived like an unwelcome boarder, forever watching her step — could prove she was worth keeping.

Which was why she had spent the past month carving hours from her own sleep to practice. She had already practiced until she was sick to death of it, but the thought that she had to be perfect kept her from ever sleeping through the night. She barely ate. She only played. The stress was unlike anything she had endured before, and her gastritis flared up all over again.

"Ah…"

Eun-jae set her hands on the keys to warm them and winced, her brow tightening. Her fingertips were so raw that even the lightest brush against the ivory sent a shock of pain through her — enough, at times, to raise the hair on her arms.

You need to stop using them for at least a week. There's already inflammation, and every time those same spots keep getting irritated, they can't heal. I'll prescribe antibiotics for now — take them, and we'll see how it goes.

Rest them, and they would heal. That was what she had been told. Resting them was not an option.

She had learned all over again that even fingertips armored in hard calluses could break down like this. She clenched her jaw and was just setting her hands back on the keys when a knock sounded at the door.

"Miss."

Ju Gyeong-suk's warm voice slipped through the crack along with the knock.

"Yes."

The door opened, and Gyeong-suk came in smiling. Draped over her arms was a magnificent white dress, elaborate and beautiful.

"It's time you should be going. They said they'll be leaving shortly."

She would have to put on that dress, stand in front of all those people, and play the part of Chairman Go Gwang-hyun's beloved daughter. Whether it was the gastritis or the dread, her stomach was already turning, bile climbing the back of her throat. She had not eaten properly in days, and today was no different. The fear of making a single mistake had her head throbbing besides.

"Does your head still hurt badly?"

Gyeong-suk studied her pained face, her voice thick with worry.

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're pale as a sheet."

Gyeong-suk laid a hand against her forehead.

"You feel a little warm. Did you take the painkiller?"

"Yes. Just a moment ago."

"On an empty stomach again, didn't you. Aigoo, I told you not to do that."

No one looked more distressed than Gyeong-suk. She had raised Eun-jae since she was small, as close to a mother as anyone in that house had ever been — and the only person in it who truly looked after her.

"I wish I could go with you…"

"Don't worry."

Eun-jae forced the corners of her mouth up into a smile, trying to set her at ease. It did not work. Gyeong-suk's brow stayed drawn, her face still full of unease.

"Madam will start in on you again. Hurry and get dressed."

"Yes."

"I'll help you into it."

Her hair and makeup were already done; all that remained was the dress. Eun-jae rose from her seat, and Gyeong-suk moved quickly around her, helping her change.

A great crowd had gathered in the banquet hall of KH Group headquarters for the founding anniversary. Before the program began, Eun-jae stood beside Gwang-hyun and Hong Mi-jung, greeting guests with Hye-ri at her side.

"My, Chairman Go. So this is the remarkable Miss Eun-jae."

The chairman of Hong-Eun Construction and his wife had come forward, looking Eun-jae over with open fascination.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. She's just a little more gifted than most, I suppose."

Gwang-hyun slipped an arm around Eun-jae's shoulders with a look of warm satisfaction. It was a smile she had never seen in private. She could count on one hand the times she had ever spoken with him one-on-one. This tender little performance felt nothing but awkward.

"A little gifted? Hardly. I saw the footage myself — I couldn't help but be amazed."

"You must be so pleased, ma'am. How proud you must be. I read all the articles. She won another competition, didn't she?"

Chairman Hong and Madam Noh took turns heaping praise on her until their mouths ran dry.

"You're too kind. Still, I can't tell you how grateful I am that she works so hard."

Mi-jung folded her eyes into a smile, the picture of gracious modesty. To anyone looking, they were a happy family — a capable group chairman, the wife who supported him so well, a gifted eldest daughter, and a youngest they had been blessed to receive. Chaebol households were usually a mess of infighting, but hers presented a picture of unimpeachable perfection, without a single thing anyone could find fault with.

She had lost track of how many people she had greeted when the host's voice came over the speakers, and the crowd began filing toward their tables. Before the ceremony started, Eun-jae slipped out of the banquet hall to find a restroom.

"Hah. Hah."

Her mind kept clouding over. She splashed her face again and again with cold water at the sink. If the makeup ran, so be it — she had to clear her head. The nervous gastritis that flared up from time to time was especially vicious today. She had barely stayed on her feet through the greetings, and the crushing anxiety was only making it worse.

Just through the performance. If I can just get through the piano, that will be enough. Her special performance was still a long way off.

"Ah…"

Coming out of the restroom, she caught herself against the wall and dragged in a breath. Was it because she had eaten nothing? The world seemed to spin. Floor and ceiling swayed in a sickening blur, and the nausea would not let up. She pulled in a long, careful breath.

"Can't you even keep it together?"

A sharp voice cut across her ear. Eun-jae flinched and lifted her head. Hong Mi-jung stood in front of her, looking down with a thin, unpleasant smile. The program must have started; the corridor was empty. This was the face Mi-jung only ever showed when they were alone, and Eun-jae's clenched palms went damp with sweat.

"That's why. You should know how to take care of yourself. Are you trying to ruin today's performance?"

"…I'm sorry."

Eun-jae forced the words out. It was not only today. She had eaten almost nothing for days. She had no appetite to begin with, and the stress had been so severe she could barely bring herself to put anything in her mouth.

"You, a girl from an orphanage, getting too big for your station — that's what this is."

"…"

"If they're going to hold you up as the chairman's daughter, you'd better be worth it. I'm not asking for much. Playing two pieces at a founding anniversary — is that so extraordinary that you can't even keep your head on straight?"

Eyes sharp as a blade pinned her in place. Mi-jung's expression was razor-edged, as if she were terrified Eun-jae might spoil the atmosphere.

"Earn what it cost to raise you. Let us get something out of you, too."

Mi-jung tipped her head and stepped in close, her voice dropping low. The vicious look, the sneer hooked at the corner of her mouth, the mocking lilt of her tone — none of it was new. Eun-jae had endured this more times than she could count. Today, she could barely stand it. A tightness closed around her throat, and she gasped, her face twisting with the effort to breathe. Mi-jung watched her and did not so much as flicker.

With that, Mi-jung turned and walked away. Watching her go, a look of despair crossed Eun-jae's face. The silhouette receding down the hall swayed and doubled in her vision. Her gastritis had never been this bad. She was thinking she would have to go to the hospital tomorrow when the nausea surged up again.

"Ugh—"

She hurried back into the restroom. Clutching the toilet, she retched, over and over. She had eaten nothing, so all that came up was bile. When the spasms finally eased, she put what little strength she had into her trembling legs and walked out. She rinsed her mouth roughly and stood at the sink, staring at the face in the mirror.

"…"

She looked as though it would not have been strange if she collapsed right there. The makeup that had barely hidden her color was gone with the cold water, and the hollowed, ashen face underneath was laid bare.

Just a little longer. Just a little… one more hour.

She wanted cold water so badly she could have cried for it. She felt as if every drop of moisture had been wrung from her body. She would go back to the banquet hall and drink something — anything. She made herself move. Her legs had gone weak and would not stop shaking, but she put more force into her spine on purpose and took one slow step after another.

"Nh—"

The world tilted. She caught herself against the wall, bent at the waist, and dragged in another breath. She had just managed to start walking again when she collided with something solid standing in her path. Her thin body swayed, all the strength gone out of it.

"Ah—!"

Then a sudden pull caught her, and she crumpled into someone's arms. Startled, Eun-jae slowly lifted her head.

"I've just arrived at the airport."

Cha Mu-yeol came striding out at a brisk clip, glancing down to check his left wrist once more. The moment he cleared the gate, Seung-yu — who had been waiting just beyond it — bowed crisply and opened the rear door for him. Mu-yeol climbed in at once and only then let himself catch his breath.

"Don't worry. I'll contact you afterward."

He was about to hang up when Seon-ju's voice came through the phone again. Mu-yeol brought it back to his ear, let his head fall against the headrest, and closed his eyes.