Kimchi in April

Through the thinning veil of sleep, a muffled presence crept in, soft and careful. It still felt like the dead of night, and when she groped blindly for the space beside her, she found it empty.

Perhaps it was the sudden release of tension. She was just trying to force her eyelids open when a low voice settled first against her forehead.

“Don’t get up. Sleep a little longer.”

There might have been a smile woven into the words.

By the time Do-yeon finally shook off the last of sleep and opened her eyes, the bedroom door was already nearly shut.

It was only half past seven. Mo-jun had tucked the blanket around her and vanished. He had said he would head in early, work out, then start the day.

—Having the family grow larger puts an old man’s heart at ease. Everyone, rest well.

Last night’s dinner had continued in a surprisingly peaceful atmosphere. Do-yeon figured it was thanks to Mo-jun’s polished, elegant threats landing with perfect precision.

That did not mean Hyeon-ju had simply kept her mouth shut.

—Chairman, try some of the aralia shoots. I blanched them lightly and stir-fried them—they’re so tender and soft.

As if she had never raised her voice in her life, Hyeon-ju fawned over Chairman Kang with a sweetness so thick it was almost embarrassing to watch.

They claimed the family traditions were strict. Watching her flip her expression so completely, without a shred of dignity left, Do-yeon suspected that talk of “family tradition” had just been something thrown out at random to intimidate her.

Yet even a single meal was enough to make clear why Vice Chairman Kang and his wife were so wary of Mo-jun and her.

—Mo-jun.

—Yes, Grandfather.

—Eat plenty, our new groom.

Chairman Kang favored Mo-jun. Even to Do-yeon, who had only just rolled into the Muyoung fold, it was plain as day.

At first she thought it was temporary encouragement after the big event the day before yesterday and the first weekend with a new family member under the roof.

—About the groundbreaking for the Vietnam Cultureplex…

—Did you send the materials to Mo-jun as well?

—Yes, Chairman.

But listening to the conversation flowing among the family, Do-yeon’s suspicion hardened into certainty. Even on distribution matters that Ki-young and his son handled exclusively, the Chairman kept dropping Mo-jun’s name in the middle.

—We’re one family, aren’t we? Work that can benefit everyone should be shared.

Throughout the meal he kept emphasizing the common goal of “Muyoung Group’s interests.”

In principle it was correct. Especially from the standpoint of the chairman himself. Muyoung’s success was his glory.

But for the sons and grandsons who had to constantly prove their usefulness in order to become the successor, the thinking could never be the same. A blood relative’s gain sometimes became one’s own poison.

—You’re selling the Incheon site?

—Yes, Grandfather.

—Tsk. After all that stubbornness, you end up taking a loss.

Hyeong-jun received completely different treatment. The timing might simply have been unfortunate, but the Chairman spent the entire meal voicing one regret after another toward his eldest grandson.

There was one area of fairness, at least: the thoroughly old-fashioned way he treated his granddaughters-in-law.

—New bride.

—Yes, Grandfather.

—I don’t ask for much.

When the colorful desserts arrived on the table, Chairman Kang fixed the newlyweds with his characteristic forceful gaze.

—Just one great-grandchild toddling around on that lawn out there would be enough.

—Two would make me grateful. Three and I’d have no regrets left.

Then he added something he really did not need to say: that whoever first brought the sound of a baby’s cry into this house would receive extraordinary treatment.

Even granting a hundred concessions, that much could still be endured with a smiling face. Do-yeon had known from the start that this marriage came with the duty of “producing heirs” attached.

—What about Hyeong-jun’s side? Still nothing? Are you at least trying?

But the moment the Chairman’s mouth opened again, Do-yeon had no idea what expression to wear.

—Yes, Grandfather. We’ll bring good news soon.

Hyeong-jun immediately produced the obedient answer, yet once the atmosphere had stiffened it never loosened again. In the end Hye-jeong rose first, citing an upcoming video meeting, and the dinner simply ended there.

“No wonder her eyes looked so dead.”

Fully awake now, Do-yeon muttered while stretching still lying down. Near the end of the meal, Min-a’s face—unable to hide her utter disgust—floated before her eyes.

As far as she knew, Vice President Kang Hyeong-jun and his wife had just entered their third year of marriage. And like Mo-jun and herself, theirs was a thoroughly calculated strategic match.

So Min-a and Do-yeon were being forced under the same obligation. She must have listened to endless lectures about grandchildren all this time.

—Do-yeon, Mom really hopes that when you grow up you’ll have a career of your own.

—Why? I like staying home.

—Some kinds of courage only come when you’ve built something with your own hands.

Holding her right knee and stretching her hip, she suddenly remembered a conversation with her mother from childhood.

She hadn’t understood it then, but three days into marriage she thought she was beginning to grasp it. The “courage” her mother spoke of was probably…

“Money.”

Still murmuring to herself, Do-yeon finished with a cobra pose. The face she lifted toward the ceiling was already clear and sharp.

Fully prepared, Do-yeon came downstairs.

“Madam.”

Team Leader Lee, waiting in the reception room, bowed the moment he saw her. He was the personal secretary Mo-jun had assigned to her upon their marriage.

Madam. The unfamiliar title sent a light shiver down her spine, and Do-yeon absently fiddled with the sleeve of her dress.

“The car is ready. Shall we head to the office?”

“Yes.”

Reading her awkwardness, Team Leader Lee smoothly changed the subject without showing it.

That morning Do-yeon had contacted her secretary herself for the first time. He must have been on standby the entire time; the call connected at once.

When she said she needed a place to interview staff, Team Leader Lee gave an unexpected answer.

“I’ll take you to the main Muyoung Hotel. The president’s office instructed us to prepare an office near the banquet halls on the sixteenth floor.”

For a moment Do-yeon could say nothing. She had demanded that all VVIP ceremonies be entrusted to her brand, but there had been no clause about an office in the contract.

The surprise was brief; the calculation was swift.

They’re offering an office in a prime location—might as well take it for now. If rent comes up later, I’ll just ask for a friends-and-family discount.

After telling Team Leader Lee to come to the house, Do-yeon immediately got ready to go out.

It was already well past one o’clock.

Do-yeon followed Team Leader Lee, who had just checked his wristwatch. She narrowed her eyes against the pouring spring sunlight when a vibration started inside her dainty bag.

“Yes?”

An unfamiliar number. Do-yeon answered quietly, and an unwelcome voice spilled from the receiver. It was Hyeon-ju.

Without even giving her a chance to reply, Hyeon-ju hung up. Lack of manners apparently extended to phone calls as well; a sigh escaped on its own.

Whether he had already overheard or simply read the situation, the sharp-eyed Team Leader Lee signaled the driver to wait and quietly fell in behind Do-yeon.

Fortunately the day was neither hot nor cold, and a gentle breeze blew now and then.

“I’ll take you to the First Madam.”

Arriving at the main house at a quick pace, a staff member waiting near the entrance guided Do-yeon in an unfamiliar direction.

At the end of it was the kitchen. It was so vast it felt empty—more like a commercial kitchen than a private home.

“Put it on.”

Hyeon-ju, who had glanced at Do-yeon’s face from the doorway, jerked her chin carelessly toward the nearest stainless-steel sink. A pure white apron lay there.

When Do-yeon simply stared, not understanding, Hyeon-ju called for Manager Kim in an irritated tone and then disappeared.

What the hell? If you have a mouth, explain before you leave.

“Youngest Madam.”

The face that came running a moment later was smiling, yet at the same time clearly uncomfortable.

Suddenly she remembered something Mo-jun had said in passing last night.

—If you get a call from an unknown number, just decline it. Anything urgent will come through the secretary anyway.

Had he given that advice because he foresaw something like this? Regret that she should have listened flickered through her, but it was already too late.

She could guess what Hyeon-ju intended. Whatever the exact plan, it looked very much like workplace harassment.

“I didn’t get to hear the explanation.”

She had not the slightest desire to blame Manager Kim. But the only person who could explain this situation to Do-yeon was her.

Manager Kim’s gaze, looking up at her with embarrassment, kept dropping lower and lower.

“The First Madam said to make kimchi.”

“……Kimchi? In April?”

For a moment Do-yeon blinked blankly, then asked a beat late. It was such absurd nonsense she almost forgot what season it was.