The Match She Must Refuse

Not long ago, once Go Eun-jae's accident and her background came to light, Oh Seon-ju finally understood why Hong Mi-jung had done what she did.

Because Go Hye-ri was her own flesh and blood. And once that truth was out, Seon-ju's own feelings toward Eun-jae cooled as well. Then, after the accident, before the matchmaking meeting—

Their interests had locked together, so they understood each other's true intentions without needing to spell them out.

Thanks to Mi-jung opening the door first, Seon-ju accepted readily. The whole thing had been arranged without Mu-yeol—or even Chairman Cha Won-seung—knowing a thing about it. Mu-yeol, however, looked furious enough to take the roof off.

"You sent me to that meeting because you were sure you could handle the fallout, didn't you?"

"Mu-yeol."

"I believe I already told you over the phone. Reschedule it."

As a matter of pride, she would rather not do it at all. The words please go grovel to Hong Mi-jung again and set up a match with Eun-jae would never leave her mouth—not even if she were dying.

Which was why Seon-ju had come all the way to the company, to talk him around.

"It doesn't have to be that girl, does it? It's not as if you're engaged. Nothing's even been set in motion."

Mu-yeol's mouth pressed into a hard, straight line. Even watching the displeasure written across her son's face, Seon-ju pressed on.

"I'm quite disappointed in you too, you know. But fine—I'll grant that you had a right to be upset. I am sorry for that."

She would lower her tail. She would apologize. However she had to do it, this situation needed to be put to rest. Seon-ju drew a long breath and laid herself low before him. She knew her son's temperament better than anyone.

"Which is why I wanted to talk. I've looked into someone else. You know Hyeonsong Trading? Their eldest daughter. You've probably met her."

"Mother."

"Just hear me out, would you?"

The moment Seon-ju began rummaging in her bag for something, Mu-yeol rose from his seat. The instant he moved, the door opened and his secretary, Seung-yu, stepped inside.

"CEO Cha."

"Next Saturday. I've already cleared the time."

Seung-yu held up his jacket. Mu-yeol slid his arms into the sleeves, fastened the buttons, and took the documents Seung-yu held out to him.

"Don't waste your energy on this. See my mother home safely."

"Yes, sir."

"W-wait—C-CEO Cha!"

A voice called after him in a rush from behind, but Mu-yeol didn't even answer as he walked on.

At Hong Mi-jung's summons, Eun-jae went downstairs. Aside from the meals they took together before Go Gwang-hyun left for work and the dinners after he came home, she almost never had reason to see Mi-jung at all.

Why does she want to see me? Is it because of the way Go Hye-ri came crying two days ago?

In the brief descent, a dozen thoughts crowded into her head.

"You called for me."

As if even telling her to sit were too much trouble, Mi-jung stared at Eun-jae with a sharp, unblinking gaze, then gave a careless little nod of her chin. Eun-jae sat down across from her.

"A match has been arranged with CEO Cha Mu-yeol for next Saturday."

At the sudden news, Eun-jae slowly lifted her head. So Hye-ri had gone to the meeting, and it hadn't gone well. That was why she had come and made such a scene.

"W Hotel. Seven o'clock."

"..."

"I'm going to tell you exactly what you need to do when you go."

Mi-jung went on, her voice even.

Yesterday, Oh Seon-ju had called. Her tone had been thoroughly apologetic.

CEO Cha Mu-yeol had rejected the meeting unilaterally, so Mi-jung—who ordinarily flattened herself before Seon-ju—kept her posture a little high as she listened in silence.

Seon-ju let out a troubled sigh.

Taking Go Eun-jae as a daughter-in-law was not what Oh Seon-ju wanted either. And Mi-jung had a purpose of her own.

She could almost hear Oh Seon-ju's satisfied voice all over again.

Mi-jung paused for a moment and took a sip of tea. Then, as if the whole business rather bored her, she wrinkled her brow and drew a breath.

"You said you wanted to leave this house."

The adopted child who had always been a thorn in her eye.

From the moment Hong Mi-jung became pregnant with her own daughter, Go Hye-ri, she had wanted to cast Eun-jae out. There had been only one reason she couldn't. Outwardly, she had already paraded the girl as her own. And Eun-jae had known, too, that she had been kept this long only because she was more useful than Mi-jung's own foolish daughter.

The voice of a woman granting a wish, as if she were doing Eun-jae a kindness.

When the truth was that she had wanted to throw her out at any time.

Eun-jae listened in silence.

Worth. Even at that sharp choice of word, driving itself into her heart, Eun-jae endured it without flinching.

"So think it through. You're a clever girl—run the numbers. Walk out of this house the way you've always wanted, live as if you were never our daughter, and I'll see that you get a proper share."

It was growing harder to breathe. As if someone had closed a fist around her heart.

She could say with certainty that she had never once been happy living in this house as Go Gwang-hyun and Hong Mi-jung's daughter.

It had only ever been hell. Perhaps Hong Mi-jung was right. They were offering to cast her out now that she had no worth left. Perhaps she was supposed to be grateful even for that.

"You're infertile anyway, aren't you? What family would want a daughter-in-law who can't even bear a child? Am I wrong?"

A child. Eun-jae's gaze sank low.

Whenever those days came, the pain had been considerable. Dizzy, hurting, she had told herself it was only menstrual cramps. But the pain had grown worse and worse, until one day it dropped her where she stood.

And then she had heard it from the doctor.

Endometriosis.

The chances of conceiving were lower—that was all. She was not infertile. She was not a woman who could not bear a child.

Hong Mi-jung had made her one with a single sentence. But none of it mattered, one way or another.

Rejection. In the end, she wanted to install her own daughter, Go Hye-ri, as that family's daughter-in-law. Looking at Hong Mi-jung's face, so swollen with greed, a wave of nausea rose in her so violently she nearly gagged.

Eun-jae clenched her molars, curled her hands into fists, and endured.

"Refuse him properly, and I'll speak to the chairman and have you out of this house at once."

It wasn't as if she could refuse and hold her ground anyway.

Eun-jae only nodded that she understood. To get out from under Go Gwang-hyun and Hong Mi-jung's shadow. To leave this house.

Of all days, it had to rain.

And of all days, the driver had taken leave. Whether it was coincidence, or coincidence wearing a disguise, she couldn't tell.

"...It's coming down hard."

When she opened the front door, the rain poured down like a waterfall.

On an ordinary day, the hotel was a thirty-minute ride. Today was nothing like an ordinary day. Saturday evening, when the traffic was at its worst—and now the rain on top of it.

"I'm going to be late."

She checked the time. It was already nearly twenty past six. With one arm in a cast, getting ready had taken far longer than usual, and she couldn't even put on a coat properly; it was only draped over her shoulders.

Eun-jae opened the umbrella with her left hand, the one holding her bag.

Each time she crossed the garden, water pooled on the marble splashed mercilessly against her legs.

"I'm going to be soaked."

A troubled look crossed her face.

She had always liked lonely winters. The bare branches that seemed to look the way she felt. That peculiar winter smell. Today, the scent of rain was layered over it.

The faint, metallic fragrance brushing the tip of her nose made her brow crease, and she quickened her steps.

Outside the gate, the taxi she had called ahead was already waiting. Eun-jae tucked the umbrella against her shoulder and pulled the door handle with her left hand.

"Please, come in."

She managed to fold the umbrella, then climbed into the back seat.

"W Hotel, please."

"Of course."

In the brief moment of coming outside, and in that instant of folding the umbrella to get into the taxi, far too much of her had gotten wet. Her legs as well. Her hair was quite damp too.

She took a handkerchief from her bag and wiped at the wet places, but she was soaked enough that there was little to be done.

"Hah."

Giving it up, Eun-jae turned her gaze to the window and let out a breath.

It was winter, so the world beyond the glass had already sunk into a deep, impenetrable dark.

Eun-jae watched the lights sliding past the window and drifted into thought.

Hoping that once today was over, she might finally escape this hell.