MHD - 79

Chapter 79: Fragments of the Past

Pitter-patter.

Raindrops tapped against the windowpane and slid down.

The studio in Namhae, specially designed and ordered by Jae-min, featured a large floor-to-ceiling glass window that overlooked the sea.

Right in front of the window stood a massive wooden table where Hee-soo sat every morning to drink coffee and read scripts.

Today, too, she was seated there, immersed in her script, waiting for Jae-min, who was arriving from Seoul.

Lately, her days had been filled with an overwhelming sense of peace, so much so that Hee-soo sometimes wondered if she was dreaming.

She had lived with an unquenchable thirst, her heart perpetually heavy, yet she hadn’t even realized it until now.

Once the shackles were broken, the world seemed entirely different.

Whenever she visited the small diner, she devoured everything the owner served, then walked along the beach with a full stomach.

The early summer sea breeze was both cool and warm.

When she grew tired of walking, Hee-soo would gaze endlessly at the shimmering ripples of sunlight dancing on the horizon beyond the water.

Without a single thought.

What a beautiful day today is, she murmured to herself.

There was no TV in Jae-min’s studio, and Hee-soo rarely turned on her phone. When she did check it once a day, she found several missed calls from Yoon-seok.

I’m heading to Namhae. Do you need anything?

Yoon-seok had noticed a change in Hee-soo’s tone—sometimes he sounded worried, other times intrigued.

[Noona, people say sudden changes can be dangerous. Are you sure you’re okay?]

“Don’t worry. I’m really fine now.”

They exchanged similar conversations almost daily. After reassuring Yoon-seok and ending the call, Hee-soo would briefly check the news online.

The outside world remained embroiled in scandals surrounding Gangrim Group and Gangrim Cultural Foundation.

Lee Jung-hoon, currently under investigation, claimed his relationships with victims had been consensual, but public opinion remained cold. Moreover, past misconduct by the Jung-chul and Jung-hoon brothers had come to light, making it impossible for him to escape punishment for crimes still within the statute of limitations.

Reading an article about Jung-hoon’s drunk driving just before his departure, Hee-soo pieced together that he must have been the one who hit her that night.

He was likely also the one who sent the threatening note. Even as he prepared to leave the country, his hatred for her had run deep.

Yet, strangely, knowing that someone like Jung-hoon had tormented her brought a sense of relief. Occasionally seeing him in the media, she realized how petty and insignificant his vendetta against her truly was.

She didn’t need to throw another stone—society had already buried him.

I’ll move forward now.

Hee-soo shifted her gaze from the sea back to the script in front of her.

The rhythmic tapping of rain against the window helped her focus. She murmured her lines, sinking deeper into her character.

“Hmm.”

Sensing someone nearby, Hee-soo looked up, realizing she had dozed off, her head resting on the table.

“You’re awake now.”

Jae-min placed a cup of coffee on the table and smiled.

“What a deep nap. I made some noise coming in, but you didn’t stir, so I didn’t wake you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was waiting for you…”

Hee-soo rubbed one cheek as she sat up. Her skin felt slightly bumpy—she must have left marks from resting her face on the table.

“Have you had lunch?”

“Yes, I grabbed something quick at a rest stop on my way here.”

“Can I get you some coffee, then?”

“I’ve already started.”

Jae-min lifted the cup he had just placed on the table to show her.

Feeling guilty for not offering anything while living so comfortably in someone else’s home, Hee-soo blushed awkwardly.

“Hee-soo, never mind that. I have something to tell you.”

Jae-min gestured for her to sit back down. After settling into his seat across from her, he opened a document envelope on the table.

“Are we starting filming soon?”

“Well, soon enough.”

Hee-soo watched as Jae-min pulled out a few sheets of paper and sat back down. She waited quietly, assuming it was related to the upcoming film shoot.

“I came across this completely by chance.”

Jae-min handed her all the documents.

“…What is this?”

Her name caught her eye first on the top sheet, followed by the names of two others.

「Father ─ Seo Min-ho. Mother ─ Kang Jae-eun.」

“Ah?”

Hee-soo silently read through the papers multiple times.

It was the first time she had ever seen her biological parents’ names.

“How did you… Director, how did you get this?”

Stunned, Hee-soo couldn’t close her mouth. Jae-min smiled gently and retrieved a few photos tucked between the pages, placing them in front of her.

The bold letters 「FIRST 100 DAYS」stood out immediately. In the photo, a young woman cradled a baby in front of a celebratory banner, with a man standing beside her.

Hee-soo didn’t recognize the baby right away—it was her first time seeing a photo of herself as an infant—but the resemblance between the woman holding the baby and herself was unmistakable.

These are my mother and father, she thought.

Though the photos were old, the expressions of the people in them were vivid. The slightly grumpy-looking baby Hee-soo was adorable, and the parents gazing at her radiated joy.

For a moment, her throat tightened.

I was once a beloved child, she realized. It was a cliché, but the obvious truth struck her only now. Her chest ached.

It felt as though, after wandering far and wide, she had finally come home.

“But wait, there’s one more surprise.”

Jae-min pulled something from his wallet and placed another photo in front of Hee-soo, who was struggling to hold back tears.

A much younger-looking Kang Jae-min stood next to a young woman. The woman bore a striking resemblance to the one holding baby Hee-soo in the earlier photo. No—it was the same person.

“Director?”

Startled, Hee-soo lifted her head abruptly, causing the tears welling in her eyes to spill down her cheeks. Jae-min’s eyes glistened as he watched her.

“My younger sister, the one I said was a ballerina… the one who passed away. Her name was Kang Jae-eun.”

As soon as Jae-min spoke, Hee-soo’s eyes darted back to the document in front of her. Her gaze fixed on the name written in the parent section: Kang Jae-eun.

“I always thought there was something familiar about you. From the moment I saw you walk into that audition, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling—I couldn’t think of anyone else. Now I know why.”

Jae-min reached out and gently held Hee-soo’s trembling hands.

“So… does that mean… right now…”

Overwhelmed by the sudden revelations, Hee-soo struggled to form words.

Kang Jae-min had been strict with her but had also laid a solid foundation for her acting career. He had extended a hand when she was drowning as a rookie and had cast her even during this crisis.

And now…

“Director… does that make you my…”

Instead of letting Hee-soo finish her sentence, Jae-min answered for her.

“You’re my family.”

“...Hic.”

At Jae-min’s words, Hee-soo sobbed uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face. She cried like a baby, collapsing onto the table. Watching her, Jae-min rose from his seat and approached her from behind, gently patting her back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

For a long while, Jae-min whispered softly to Hee-soo until her sobs naturally began to subside.

---

For the first time, something resembling a proper meal appeared on the table.

Though it was made from a meal kit bought at a nearby supermarket, Hee-soo proudly gazed down at the kimchi stew she had just transferred from the stove.

The bubbling stew was dotted with finely chopped green onions that had turned a vibrant red from the broth.

Jae-min placed two bowls of steamed rice on the table, and the two began their dinner.

“I never imagined it—having a niece so close by. In fact, I didn’t even know I had one.”

As Jae-min spoke, almost to himself, the word “niece” sent a ticklish sensation through Hee-soo’s heart. It still felt awkward to use familial terms like “aunt” or “niece,” so she continued to call him “Director.”

It wasn’t because she disliked it—quite the opposite. The term filled a void she hadn’t realized existed. The word “family” anchored her in a way she’d never experienced before.

“What kind of person was my mother?”

At Hee-soo’s question, Jae-min’s eyes grew distant as he gazed out the window. The rain had stopped, and the sky was now tinged with yellow, preparing to embrace the night after bidding farewell to the summer sun.

“Jae-eun was talented in many ways from a young age, but ballet was her greatest gift.”

Jae-min recounted how his younger sister, Kang Jae-eun, had been a promising ballerina in the New York Ballet Company.

“It was incredibly rare for an Asian to gain recognition in the Western ballet world, but Jae-eun stood out with her exceptional talent,” he reminisced.

“But then, out of nowhere, she suddenly quit everything and said she was moving to Korea. Our family opposed it, of course, and Jae-eun left home. Less than a year later, we received news of her death.”

Jae-min speculated that Jae-eun might have already been pregnant when she left home, judging by the timeline.

“She and I were close sisters, so it hurt deeply that she left without saying a word. When we received the notification of her death, I couldn’t believe it.”

Jae-min’s story stretched on, and even after they finished eating and cleared the table, their conversation continued for a long while.

“Looking back, I think she kept her pregnancy a secret because of the family’s expectations. We all firmly believed Jae-eun would become the prima donna of the New York Ballet.”

“I see.”

“Later, I found out that Jae-eun went to Korea to follow the assistant director of the ballet company at the time. That director was your father.”

Had it been a love so deep that she gave up even her own talent?

Jae-min muttered bitterly to himself before explaining that this story became the foundation for his latest film.

He then shared more about the circumstances surrounding the moment he learned of his sister’s death.