The Glass House
After ending the call, she dragged her slippers across the floor and sat down on what looked like a bench. Only once her body had gone slack did her surroundings come into focus.
Behind her rose a mountain, and farther off, rice paddies and fields. Beyond that, a road stretched into the distance. It felt like the kind of place where a small town center might eventually appear.
Still, with a thick blanket of white snow, it would be quite beautiful. And when spring flowers bloomed across such a wide garden, it would be even more so. What would it feel like to witness all four seasons here?
She warmed her fingertips with her white breath and let her thoughts drift.
She still had no sense of where to begin, so she pulled off her stifling hood and ran her fingers through her half-damp hair. Self-loathing and regret surged up in waves. Was it the bone-deep anxiety that made her stomach churn? They said revenge was like half-stabbing yourself with a knife. The cliché about revenge breeding revenge felt hollow compared to that — somehow, the other image struck deeper.
Her chest felt hollow, as though she'd lost something important. Perhaps it was the self-loathing of having come this far driven only by the single-minded resolve to destroy them.
Her troubled heart pulled her hair taut with both hands when, nearby, came the rustle of footsteps crushing fallen leaves.
Instantly, her senses sharpened.
Someone was walking toward her from a path that connected to the hill. Yeon-jae found herself frowning without meaning to.
A man, wearing no coat in this cold weather, walked toward the villa with one hand tucked into his pocket. He completely ignored her existence and opened the door to the annex.
Yeon-jae stared blankly at the man entering the house, a sense of absurdity washing over her.
Not now.
Only after the man had fully disappeared inside did she rise from her seat.
Sa Hee-eon. The person who had occupied her thoughts for days — the youngest grandson of Sahwa, beloved by the family, and her prey.
Seeing him without a helmet, the real thing looked as though a filter had been applied. She had no idea a man could be so beautiful, but despite his slender frame, he gave off the impression of something carved delicately from marble — solid, unyielding.
She hurried to follow him and opened the entrance door. A faint warmth brushed against her.
"Excuse me!"
At her call, he turned with an expressionless face. Last time he'd been equally baffling and out of place — there was no trace of an ordinary person's reaction in him.
He looked at her the way one might regard a stranger encountered on the street, his gaze carrying no question, no emotion.
His black eyes, far sharper and more defined up close than they had appeared from a distance, along with his tall, lean frame, dominated the space.
Yeon-jae stared at the unruffled man for a long moment before summoning the courage to speak.
"This is... where I'm staying. What brings you here?"
But he simply scanned her slowly from head to toe, as though he didn't even feel the need to respond, and tilted his head slightly in confusion.
So Yeon-jae approached him with patience. He let out a short sigh, turned, and climbed the stairs to the second floor once more.
His measured, elegant steps only deepened her sense of humiliation.
"Looks like you haven't touched the upstairs yet."
"Huh?"
"Don't open the two rooms on the second floor. I have my things there."
They'd just met, and he was speaking to her in casual form.
She recited Sa Hee-eon's profile in her head.
He was six years older than her. He had married Yoon Jun-hee but the marriage hadn't lasted three years before it ended. Since then, he'd lived in seclusion as a faceless potter.
But why would his things be here?
"Are you... the owner of this place?"
"Yeah. Everything on this property is mine."
"I never heard that."
"You just did."
What the hell. Is he always this rude?
Regardless, if this was originally his house, then she was the guest. Which meant Kim Ui-jae had brought her here to tie her to this place even more.
The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became.
But she forced down her resentment and asked him as he climbed the stairs.
"Um, the first-floor bedroom... I'm using it. Should I move to another room?"
He turned back to her with an annoyed expression, just as he was about to open the second-floor door. She almost clenched her fists at his dismissive gaze, but held back.
Her body was reacting on its own. Before her mind could define who was the superior and who was the subordinate, this base instinct had already responded.
"Why bother? Your grandfather has trouble walking, so the first floor would be more convenient for him."
Before she could question his answer, Yeon-jae remembered Kim Ui-jae's words and bit her lip lightly.
"Oh, I see. Then please ring the bell when you come. I don't know what I'll be doing at any given moment."
"Stealing?"
There's a lot of expensive stuff here.
"Excuse me."
Stung by his attitude of treating her like a thief, Yeon-jae took a step forward and called out to him. But he paid her no mind, opened the door, and disappeared inside.
"Hah, what the hell is wrong with him."
A young girl, easily dismissed. Someone he could treat carelessly and look down on without any consequences.
That was roughly the position they saw her in — a concubine Sa Jae-cheol had brought in. She understood. Especially if the owner of this place was that man.
She understood how grotesque she must look in their eyes. She understood, but...
"Fucking hell..."
Of course she didn't feel good about it.
Yeon-jae glared at the door he'd entered, then turned and walked back outside.
What a jerk. I should've known from the moment he casually ordered me to buy cigarettes. That voice calling me "delivery" was full of mockery and contempt.
Sa Jae-cheol's beloved grandson — almost like a prized possession, he'd said.
His beloved grandson. His prized possession.
If I destroy that beloved possession... would this filthy feeling ease even a little?
She walked through the garden that touched the interior, then stopped and stared at the living room window, which reflected her like a mirror.
...But somehow, I think I can do it.
An empty room.
He looked around the room he hadn't visited in a very long time, then approached the arched window.
Because of the gabled roof, the triangular window set into the wall had always seemed impossibly high when he was young.
But now the window frame reached his waist. It was much lower than he remembered.
Hee-eon rested his hand on the frame and looked out. From this angle, he could see behind his workshop with just a slight tilt of his head.
The Glass House — a perfect structure that allowed no asymmetry whatsoever. His grandfather Sa Jae-cheol's tastes were pathologically obsessive.
Sa Jae-cheol tolerated no mistakes and sought to control everything with transparent precision.
That Glass House was the culmination of his grandfather's obsession — and the final building constructed by his architect father, right before he passed away. People added the word "masterpiece" to the term "final work."
And Hee-eon had learned everything from Sa Jae-cheol. Absorbed it, perhaps. Internalized it. Maybe it was something mixed into his blood.
He, too, was obsessed with his own space and belongings, and couldn't tolerate flaws — a trait he thought made him similar to his grandfather.
Knowing that better than anyone.
Right now there was nothing here, but in the past, this room had been filled with his memories. That was why he'd felt uneasy ever since hearing that the girl would be staying in the annex.
Knowing better than anyone what kind of feelings she might have for this place, he couldn't understand Sa Jae-cheol's decision to give her the space.
Should he chase the girl away? Or give her some time?