PSS - 12

Chapter 12: A Debt of the Heart

Hae-in left the hotel with a heavy heart, eager to return home as quickly as possible. She longed for the comfort and familiarity of her own space, where she could soothe her weary soul.

“I want to see Mom.”

With hurried steps, she exited through the hotel’s main entrance to hail a taxi when a black sedan with its engine running caught her attention. A man quickly stepped out.

“Please get in. I’ll take you home.”

The man rushed to open the rear door for her, his demeanor polite and professional.

“In the future, I’ll be your primary chauffeur, Madam.”

The word “Madam” lingered in her ears, striking her oddly. Hae-in complied silently, climbing into the backseat.

The interior was lined with luxurious brown leather, exuding opulence at a glance. Sitting alone in the spacious cabin made her feel out of place, as though she didn’t belong there.

“You live in Eunui-dong, correct?”

The man seemed to already know her destination. As soon as he settled into the driver’s seat, he set the navigation system to her neighborhood and began driving.

“I’m not unfamiliar with the route, but I turned on the GPS to avoid traffic.”

Why did he feel the need to explain something so unnecessary? Hae-in found herself staring absentmindedly at the back of his head.

“I’ll do my best to adapt quickly and serve you comfortably.”

His next words finally clicked in her mind.

This young man, likely new to his role, must have been nervous about serving someone now tied to the Taesung family. Perhaps he feared that relying on the GPS might reflect poorly on his skills.

“Thank you.”

Her brief smile softened his visibly tense expression.

It felt strange to ride in a car with a chauffeur when she had never held a position of authority or experienced corporate life. It was akin to wearing ill-fitting shoes and pretending they were fine.

Everything around her had shifted dramatically after signing the final contract.

As the familiar streets of her neighborhood came into view, Hae-in fidgeted with her phone. She had intended to call her mother upon boarding a taxi, but the chauffeur’s arrival had disrupted her plans.

Though it had only been two days since meeting Chairman Park, her longing for her mother grew unbearable. Complex emotions swirled within her chest, yet she felt certain that embracing her mother would ease them all.

The moment the car pulled up to her house, Hae-in thanked the chauffeur and stepped out quickly. The front door, which she had left just yesterday morning, now felt strangely alien.

She carefully adjusted the collar of her dress to conceal the marks on her neck before taking a deep breath and opening the door. She resolved to rush into her mother’s arms the moment she saw her.

Creak.

The sound of the door opening grated against her ears. Calling out for her mother as she entered, Hae-in noticed the silence.

“Mom!”

No response. The house seemed empty. Though everything appeared normal, an unsettling chill hung in the air.

“Mom?”

Calling again, Hae-in scanned the house. Her eyes landed on the open window, where rainwater had pooled inside. It seemed her mother had left in a hurry during the morning rain, forgetting to close the windows.

Hae-in closed the window and fetched a mop to clean up the water.

“Where could she have gone…?”

It was unlike her diligent mother to leave the windows open during bad weather. As she crossed the living room with the damp mop, Hae-in paused to survey the house.

Upon closer inspection, subtle signs of disarray caught her eye.

A pile of laundry in one corner of the living room looked as though someone had trampled over it. The cordless phone, always neatly placed in its cradle, lay on the floor beneath the display cabinet. A teacup on the dining table still contained dry tea leaves, as if hastily abandoned.

Hae-in pulled out her phone and dialed her mother.

Beep.

After several rings, just as she was about to hang up, her mother answered.

—Hae-in-ah.

Her mother’s voice trembled with emotion, sending a pang of unease through Hae-in.

“Mom, where are you?”

—I’m at the hospital. I’m sorry, did you come home?

“What happened? Did you leave the windows open?”

—Jeong-in suddenly stopped breathing, so we rushed here.

“Oh…”

—He’s stable now. Your father stayed at the hospital, so I’m heading home. Just wait a little longer.

“Mom, take your time. I’ll tidy up the house.”

—I’ll be there soon. My daughter.

Her mother’s exhausted tone tugged at Hae-in’s heartstrings.

Placing her phone limply on the dining table, Hae-in exhaled a long, quiet sigh.

Emergency calls from the hospital were nothing new, but each time, the entire family braced themselves with bated breath. Despite years of living this way, their panicked dashes to the hospital never grew less urgent.

Today might have been another one of those days—the kind where unspoken glances exchanged between family members carried tears.

Sure enough, her mother’s earlier messages must have been sent while rushing to the hospital. If Jeong-in’s condition had worsened today, Hae-in realized she might not have been there for his final moments.

The thought chilled her to the bone. To steady her racing heart, she began tidying the house slowly.

Sitting before the pile of laundry, she folded the clothes methodically. Among them, her parents’ worn-out garments stood out starkly.

Her father, once accustomed to dressing sharply in suits, now wore only shabby jackets since retirement. Folding his frayed cuffs, Hae-in smoothed the fabric repeatedly.

Six months after retirement, his severance pay had gone entirely toward medical expenses. He alternated shifts with her mother, caring for Jeong-in while also working as a chauffeur, day and night.

Her once elegant mother, who had been a homemaker, had grown accustomed to working at a restaurant.

Shaking her head at the endless sighs, Hae-in rose with the folded laundry and headed to her parents’ room, trying to clear her mind.

After putting the clothes away, her gaze fell upon a framed family photo on the dresser.

Taken outdoors on a sunny day, the picture captured their smiling faces. It felt surreal to see how brightly they had once laughed together. At the center of the photo, Jeong-in’s mischievous grin struck her anew.

“You used to smile like that too.”

Hae-in stood before the photo, gazing at her younger brother for a long while.

Jeong-in had never excelled academically and was often compared to his sister. Hae-in, hailed as a prodigy from a young age, had participated in countless competitions, drawing admiration from everyone around her.

Though her parents never openly favored one child over the other, neighbors and teachers often did. From a young age, Jeong-in grew up in his sister’s shadow, adjusting to a household that revolved around her achievements.

Hae-in had taken her superiority for granted, and her parents naturally prioritized her needs. Whenever she prepared for exams or competitions, Jeong-in quietly turned off the TV and maintained absolute silence—a household rule no one questioned.

Yet, despite it all, Jeong-in never harbored feelings of inferiority. He cheered for his sister wholeheartedly, always proud of her accomplishments.

“I love how smart you are, Unnie. You’re the best.”

Though he had every reason to feel resentment, he never expressed it. Instead, he brought laughter and warmth to their home.

But since the day Jeong-in fell ill, their household lost its joy.

There were times when the burden of his medical expenses filled them with resentment.

Yet, both Hae-in and her parents carried a debt of guilt toward Jeong-in.

Her parents regretted neglecting their younger child, assuming he required less attention. Hae-in, too, felt remorse for treating her brother as secondary while living self-centeredly.

“Just as you shaped me back then, it’s my turn to help you now, Jeong-in.”

From excelling in school to securing scholarships and landing a job at Taesung Corporation, Hae-in owed much of her success to her brother’s quiet support.

Without him stepping aside to let her shine, her life might have unfolded differently—perhaps even appearing more successful to outsiders.

If she possessed anything remarkable, it was thanks to her brother’s unwavering encouragement.

“Hae-in-ah. Mom’s home.”

The sound of the keypad unlocking preceded her mother’s voice. Hae-in wiped away the tears welling in her eyes and stepped out of the bedroom.

“Mom. How’s Jeong-in?”

Her first question upon seeing her mother. Though visibly tired, her mother’s voice brightened.

“They handled the emergency so swiftly at the hospital—it was incredible, Hae-in-ah. Even a professor who’s rarely seen came down personally.”

“Really? That’s such a relief, Mom.”

In her mother’s relieved expression, Hae-in saw the passage of time etched into the wrinkles around her eyes. Their happiness now hinged entirely on Jeong-in’s condition.

“Hae-in-ah. Were you okay? When they said you’d stay overnight at the main house, I worried…”

Carefully observing Hae-in’s faint smile, her mother hesitated before speaking. Hae-in instinctively covered her neck, fearing visible bite marks might betray her.

“Oh, they insisted I stay since we’re going to be family. They wanted me to have dinner and rest.”

The lie flowed surprisingly easily. Her mother studied Hae-in’s face intently before asking again.

“Is that so? How was it? Honestly, even now, if you don’t feel comfortable proceeding, we can stop…”

“No, Mom. Everyone has been so kind.”

Hae-in smiled brightly, linking arms with her mother.

“Still, it feels strange that they’re offering compensation for our daughter’s marriage…”

Fortunately, her parents remained unaware of the details. Resolving to maintain the façade, Hae-in decided to see this through to the end.

“Mom, it seems they really approve of me.”

She beamed even more brightly at her mother’s concerned gaze.

“So, what did you talk about during your overnight stay at the main house?”

Her mother’s voice, now more relaxed, prompted another question.