A Slap at the Funeral
“I'm sorry— who are you?”
The man had a face you'd call pretty at a glance.
Yet to Tae-kyung's eyes, he looked endlessly dangerous.
That wasn't to say he intended to do anything to him, of course.
He had simply acted on reflex, driven by the thought that this man could be a threat to Seo-ah.
Really, why did he keep sticking his nose in like this? He'd only just met her. There was no answer to be found.
The moment Tae-kyung loosened his grip on the man's arm, Ki-young — who had been staring at him strangely — ran straight for Seo-ah.
“Seo-ah!”
“There he goes again! Just let's go, Seo-ah.”
Dong-ju tried to ignore the man barreling toward them without a shred of restraint, but he was one step faster.
“Ma'am, just a moment — I have to ask Seo-ah something. Please, just a second.”
Before anyone could stop him, Ki-young had seized both of Seo-ah's arms and clung to her desperately.
“Seo-ah, what did Dong-ha look like at the end?”
“……”
“He never mentioned me? Did he?”
“……”
“Say something! Anything!”
Seo-ah only stared blankly at the face of the man showering her with questions.
“Please. Tell me what Dong-ha… what he looked like at the very end.”
“……”
“Jin Seo-ah! Please!”
Her arms hanging limp at her sides, Seo-ah could only let out a faint, hollow laugh.
“Kim Ki-young, have you lost your mind? Are you even sane?”
Even under Dong-ju's tirade, he acted as if no one existed, running on his own script — clinging to a pitiful woman, begging and wailing like a man who had lost his soulmate.
To the point where it was hard to tell who was the wife and who the mistress.
“Our Dong-ha. My Dong-ha. What did he say—”
Slap!
Seo-ah, who had been drifting passively wherever he shoved her, snapped her hand across his cheek in an instant with all her strength.
“Did you enjoy it?”
Both hands pressed to his stinging cheek, Ki-young turned back to her with a look of disbelief.
“Watching me fall for the little performance you two put on — did that make you happy, Kim Ki-young?”
“……”
“Was this why you played the tragic hero at my wedding?”
Her voice was clearer now than it had ever been, as if every thought and every piece of the situation had finally snapped into place.
“Seo-ah, let's just go. Okay?”
Sensing things were about to escalate, Dong-ju moved to pull the two of them apart.
“Why did you do it? It was a sham marriage anyway — everyone knew but me. It was your Dong-ha to begin with. So why?”
Despite Dong-ju's repeated pleading, she had no intention of stopping.
“What, you weren't confident? Worried that spineless Lee Dong-ha might actually stay married to me? Was that why you summoned him out every night?”
Ki-young's face drained white.
It had surely been his intention from the start — but hearing it spoken aloud to his face must have dredged up the memory of how petty he had once been.
Meanwhile, amid the raw hostility between the two, Dong-ju could do nothing but busy herself hauling Seo-ah back, desperate to defuse the scene somehow.
“Seo-ah, please, that's enough—”
“Let go of me!”
At Seo-ah's furious shout, the surroundings fell silent.
“You're just the same, unnie.”
Though her voice rang out hard and forceful, Seo-ah's face was already a wreck.
How could anyone put into words this feeling — something beyond anger, beyond language itself?
To Seo-ah, the two of them were already accomplices.
“Is it just Kim Ki-young and Lee Dong-ha who lied to me? Are those two pathetic bastards the only ones who deceived me?”
She felt wronged. She felt outraged.
Dong-ju had been the only person she believed was family. Who was she supposed to pour her heart out to, having lost even the woman she'd thought of as a sister rather than an in-law?
“S-Seo-ah, I'm sorry. I'll tell you everything later. So please, just for today—”
Seo-ah knew, too. She knew that her sister-in-law also needed time to grieve her brother's death.
But where, in all of this, was she supposed to be compensated for her own life?
Two months into her marriage, she had lost her father. Then she had sent off a husband she'd lived with for a mere six months.
And as if that weren't enough — her husband hadn't kept a mistress, but a lover.
She was barely holding down the boiling rage inside her, yet she had no room left to consider anyone else's feelings.
“Let go. Before I hit you too.”
Faced with this cold, unfamiliar version of Seo-ah, Dong-ju couldn't bring herself to say another word.
Her face showed a belated regret — for failing to stop the parents who had pushed her brother into that marriage six months ago.
As if resigning herself, Dong-ju slowly released Seo-ah's arm.
Ki-young, too, stood rooted in place, unable to speak.
Watching him, the corner of Seo-ah's mouth twisted upward.
“Happy now? Lee Dong-ha, right up to the very end… he wanted to see your face one more time. How is it? Satisfied? Does it feel more tender now?”
“……”
“You asked what Dong-ha's last moments were like, didn't you? This is my answer. So—”
Ki-young squeezed his eyes shut.
“Please, take my miserable share too. If you're going to do anything… please, just live unhappily.”
Burying his face in his hands, Ki-young broke down in sobs.
What that meant, Seo-ah neither wanted to know nor to see.
She simply wanted to erase this revolting man from her memory as quickly as possible.
Shoving past Ki-young's shoulder, Seo-ah walked on.
“Get out of my life, Kim Ki-young.”
Perhaps he had meant to apologize — he mumbled something in a choked voice behind her, but Seo-ah kept walking, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Even so, her tottering body was wound tight with tension.
She couldn't tell whether it was the aftermath of nearly falling down the stairs or fury at her husband's lover — but one thing was certain: she refused to collapse in front of them.
Pressing a hand hard against her trembling thigh, Seo-ah walked out of the funeral hall with her back straight and her head high.
Tae-kyung, who had watched the entire scene unfold, followed Seo-ah's retreating figure with his eyes until she was gone.
Then, eyes narrowed to thin slits, he smiled soundlessly.
His instinct to block Ki-young had been right on the mark. From a distance he'd been observing them, fully prepared to intervene again — meddling be damned.
Whether or not he'd fallen for her didn't really matter. His instinct had simply told him to move, so he had.
But she, unexpectedly, was a woman with spine.
He had taken her for someone wounded, weak and fragile — yet she was no fool who would sit idle and let her wounds be trampled.
And in that Jin Seo-ah, a certain interest began to stir.
He murmured quietly.
“Unexpected.”
“What's unexpected about her?”
Hee-jun, who had been watching him intently for a while now, threw in a word.
“Keep your distance. That woman's life is turbulent enough already — don't go adding to it.”
“How is it turbulent?”
“You watched the whole thing and you still can't tell?”
“Don't tell me you know who she is, too. What are you, huh?”
“Ah, what do you mean, what am I! Just stay put right here and don't get involved. I'll bring the car around.”
Hee-jun gave Tae-kyung a firm warning and turned away — yet the entire way to the parking lot, he kept glancing back over his shoulder.
Amused by the sight, Tae-kyung waved a hand to shoo him along and let out a soft chuckle.
And still, he couldn't tear his gaze from the spot where Seo-ah had disappeared.
“If you ignore the Head of Division appointment this time too, I'm resigning.”
The car Tae-kyung had left the funeral hall in was cutting through the streets of Pyeonghan. At the wheel, Hee-jun launched into a nagging tirade that sounded long premeditated.
“I mean it. Are you listening? I'm quitting, I said.”
Tae-kyung, arms crossed, had been silently enduring Hee-jun's whining when he finally spoke, irritation bleeding into his voice.
“You're one to talk. How many times a day do you bring up quitting?”
“Wow… how can you be like this? Doesn't it ever occur to you — ah, Hee-jun must really be at his wits' end to complain this much? The place I followed our Team Leader to was India. India! I survived two whole years there. Don't I get to vent a little?”
True to his word, two years in India had left Hee-jun's skin deeply bronzed. He'd been there all that time, and yet — unlike him — Tae-kyung's skin still had a polished sheen to it.
It wasn't as if Tae-kyung was oblivious. It was the inevitable result of running himself ragged trying to cater to a palate as notoriously picky as his own.
And that wasn't the half of it. Whenever Tae-kyung was in a foul mood, Hee-jun had caught flak over every trivial thing — from attending to his every errand to digging through endless piles of documents. The list of demands went on and on.
“If you're so desperate to be back in Korea, why don't you take the Head of Division post.”
Argh! Hee-jun tore one hand off the steering wheel and raked it through his hair.
Deflating a storm of complaints with a single short sentence and setting his opponent's blood boiling — if that was a talent, it was one of Tae-kyung's.
Having won the war of words, the corners of Tae-kyung's mouth lifted in satisfaction.
Just then, the car came to a stop at a red light, and as he leaned back against the seat and turned his gaze out the window—
There, on a street where a light drizzle was falling, stood Jin Seo-ah.
She was lost among the crowds walking the pavement, yet she alone landed squarely in Tae-kyung's line of sight.
Was she — crying? Her gaze, drifting vacantly downward, certainly looked that way.
Should I get out?
No. What would he even do if he did?
He had no idea why this urge to meddle kept triggering itself, but right now, everything about her was getting under his skin.
Especially that thin, ivory cardigan — barely a proper coat at all — that kept nagging at the back of his mind.
Only when the light changed and the car pulled away did regret finally hit him.
He should have gotten out. You idiot.