The Recipe Is Free

"The Chairman really did love my kimchi, didn't he?"

Kimchi made by Jaein was the only kind Woo Byungho, famous for his exacting palate, would eat. She had merely copied the recipe her mother used to make, and yet the men of the notoriously picky Daeha household had begun eating it without a word of complaint.

Byungho, Seokmin, even Taeha.

"And the aunts always took at least fifty or sixty heads of cabbage worth whenever I did kimjang. Often more than that."

For Jaein, who had always been treated as an outsider, this had felt like the first recognition she'd ever earned, and she had thrown herself into the work. The problem was that what came back wasn't gratitude — it was entitlement.

"Oh my! When did I ever take that much?"

"Hmm. You did, though. I kept notes. Last year it was sixty heads of napa cabbage kimchi and twenty containers of young summer radish kimchi. The year before that, fifty-five heads of napa..."

As Jaein pulled up the memo app on her phone and read the entries aloud, Jeonghwa's face flushed red and blue by turns.

"You! You keep track of things like that?"

"Of course. I couldn't risk making too little, so I always wrote it down."

Because you all threw a fit whenever the portions ran short, aunts.

Her smiling addition left Jeonghwa speechless.

"That's different — that's your job! Everyone only eats what you make, so what am I supposed to do? Can't you do that much for your own family?"

'For family.'

Well said.

"Aunts."

It was just then that Taeha, who had been silently watching, set his spoon down with a sharp clack — but Jaein spoke first.

"I had no idea you all loved my kimchi that much."

"And you're only just figuring that out now? So you'll get back to doing the kimjang—"

"If you'd like, I can give you the recipe. Why don't you make it yourselves, aunts?"

Her bright, easy smile left the aunts' mouths hanging open.

"Wh-what did you say? How are we supposed to make kimchi?"

"These days anyone can do it with a recipe. The internet's absolutely drowning in them."

At the polite curl of Jaein's lips, Miyeon and Jeonghwa scrambled to keep from laughing out loud. It was all they could do to hold their tongues, with the cameras rolling as they were — anything harsher was out of the question.

"Enough of that, all of you. Eat. It's your new sister-in-law's birthday today."

Seokmin's reprimand shut the two aunts' mouths at once. Only then did they seem to register Junhee's presence, glancing at her as if just remembering she was there.

Junhee hadn't uttered a single word since the meal began.

"I need to step out for a phone call."

Jaein rose from her seat, using a nonexistent call as her excuse. Even as she left the dining room, Junhee simply watched her in silence.

It might have been for the sake of the others' eyes. And yes, Jaein had shown up unannounced, and she had agreed to the filming, and the quiet throughout the meal did grate on her nerves.

'But something about her feels... different, maybe.'

Once outside the dining room, Jaein shook her head. Spilled water, she told herself. She didn't want to think about it anymore.

"Phew."

The long sigh escaped her the moment she stepped out.

'Have I lost my mind, Seo Jaein?'

How had she acted so boldly in front of those people?

'Am I about to get sued?'

Would she become the first chaebol daughter-in-law in history to have her name dragged through the headlines — sued for damaging a corporate image, for defamation? The belated worry came flooding in.

When she pressed her hands to her cheeks, she could feel the heat radiating off them.

'Well, Sunbae would stop them if they sued, I suppose.'

Despite the worry, her heart felt light. What she'd just done was on a whole different level from the refreshing candor she'd delivered to Ara's face weeks ago.

For now, she decided she needed to find the production team, and headed for the front door.

"Oh my, oh my. Is that really the Seo Jaein I knew?"

"Look at her talk back like that! My goodness. Taeha, your wife scares me."

The aunts flapped their hands in front of their faces, fanning themselves in horror. Taeha set his water glass down with a clink.

"Funny — why would you poke a docile lamb?"

Docile, was she?

The Seo Jaein he had known all this time never lost her temper. Not once. Take the infamous group projects where every teammate fled for their lives — even when she single-handedly did the research, built the slides, and delivered the presentation herself, she simply worked alone in silence rather than spend a second being angry. That was Seo Jaein.

And that wasn't all. She was the one who got shuffled around as the eternal junior, running errands for everyone, and never once breathed a word of complaint.

"Poke her? What did we ever do?"

"I've heard all about how you made her live through five years of newlywed servitude."

"You — you! Who's been saying things like that to you?"

"Woo Jeonghyeon."

"Oh, that Jeonghyeon! Nothing he won't say! Anyone listening would get the wrong idea, you brat!"

Jeonghwa sputtered, belatedly remembering the cameras.

"If this counts as servitude, what do other daughters-in-law live through? We simply asked her to make kimchi because it was delicious."

Miyeon, who had been listening in silence, snapped, eyes flashing.

"Where did all the broadcast staff go? Get them in here and tell them to cut the cameras right now!"

"The cameras aren't going anywhere, Auntie."

"She married into this family without a penny to her name, and now she won't even do a daughter-in-law's basic duties? Is that even human?"

"Why would Jaein be without a penny? She works at the broadcast station, perfectly gainfully."

The corner of Taeha's mouth twisted upward.

"And among everything you aunts own, is there a single thing you earned with your own hands? It all belongs to our Chairman."

The gallery, the art center, the foundation. It went for Miyeon and Jeonghwa, of course — but no less for Seokmin or Taeha himself. Everything they ate, wore, and used had been built by their grandfather Byungho, not by any of them.

"Don't make my wife, who lives her life honorably, do your dirty work."

"When I go with the production team, everything's going to blow up anyway. So you should just sit tight, Sunbae."

"Why?"

"If you step in too, the family elders will only get angrier. I'll handle it."

At first, Taeha had intended to hold his tongue and watch, telling himself this was what Jaein had asked for. But the longer he stayed quiet, the more freely these people trampled the line.

Even between family, there are lines that must be kept.

'So this is how they've been tormenting her all along.'

Taeha was in agony, fighting the urge again and again to tear into his aunts.

"And buy your own kimchi from now on. Why should my mother be responsible for yours, too?"

With that, Taeha shoved back from the table and stood. These days Jaein handled all the kimjang, but it had originally been Junhee's duty. To be precise, every kimjang season it had been made by the people Junhee hired. She had simply stopped calling them once Jaein came into the household — another problem in itself.

Every way he turned, it was the world of Seo Jaein's enemies.

Taeha had never once felt this pathetic in his own eyes. He was ashamed, and he was furious.

Thinking of how Jaein must have been living in hell all this time — he should have severed her ties to these people long ago.

'No.'

He should have found some way, any way, to take her to America. Brought her parents along too, if that was what it took. Then there would never have been a funeral he couldn't attend.

By the time the thought reached that point, Taeha's face had gone dark.

"Oppa, look at her! There's nothing she won't say to her own aunts!"

Miyeon and Jeonghwa, mouths agape, were pointing at Taeha and complaining to Seokmin — when the dining room door burst open.

"Wow, am I late?"

It was Ara who walked in. She crossed the frozen-still dining room and pulled off her sunglasses.

"Also, what's with all the cameras everywhere? There's even a broadcast van outside. What are you filming?"

When no one hurried to answer, Ara set a long shopping bag down in front of Junhee. La Tâche — the wine Junhee favored.

"What's with the mood in here? Happy birthday, Unni! This is your present."

Ara winked one eye, then went back to her seat. From there, she watched Taeha heading for the door and asked,

"Is my dear nephew skipping dinner?"

"No appetite. If there's anything you want, buy it. I'll send it over through Chief Park."

Having left his birthday wishes for Junhee behind him, Taeha turned away.

"Whoa. And it's her birthday, too. Unni, this is why I keep saying there's no point raising sons — I'm right, aren't I?"

Ara's chattering voice drifted after him. And at her words, Junhee's stiff face never once softened.

It was, in every sense, a birthday dinner from hell.