How had she endured all these years?
Sim Gyu-jin had lived fueled by hatred for her father-in-law, spitting on the morial offerings and barely holding herself together.
The humiliation she’d felt when Baek Jangho, his lips blue with rage, had pointed a trembling finger and hissed, “That child wears only the mask of a human being.”
The horror and scorn in her father-in-law’s voice, as if accusing her: “You birthed that monstrosity.”
Even the mory of it made her teeth grind. Nothing about that ti had been free from insult.
He’d beaten an innocent child into submission, warping him in the process. A child who should’ve been nurtured with love had instead been trained harshly, leaving scars that festered.
And each ti she saw the impostor, the boy who wasn’t hers, grow to flawless perfection, her fists would clench so tightly they trembled.
My son was perfect too…
Even as she despised the counterfeit Baek Saeon for thriving under her son’s stolen na, she also wished for him to beco even more famous.
Because only then would the funeral of the na "Baek Saeon" be grand enough to be worthy of mourning. The funeral her real son had been denied—that was the thorn lodged in Sim Gyu-jin’s heart.
She played the part of a capable and devoted mother while working covertly behind the scenes. Her negotiation consulting firm served as an excellent cover.
Interacting with criminals had expanded her network, a web of people she could use.
For years, she had ticulously prepared for Baek Saeon’s funeral.
To reclaim that na for her son.
But—
The mont she faced her son, who laughed bitterly as he said, “Grandfather killed …”
Sim Gyu-jin had been struck by a harsh realization.
Ah…
It wasn’t the lie about her son drowning in a swimming accident that shocked her.
The real blow ca from within.
When she had first heard of her son’s death, the feeling that consud her wasn’t pain—it was liberation.
Liberation from the burdens of motherhood.
As this truth surfaced, she wept without understanding why, stroking her son’s rough, unkempt face.
To hide her guilt as an unworthy mother, she chose to hate others more fiercely.
Hatred had been her shield, allowing her to forget her flaws and focus solely on revenge.
And yet, here she was, back at square one.
She’d tried to rehabilitate her son, to reintegrate him into society, but he inevitably spiraled back into violence.
Her resolve had only hardened: Baek Saeon’s funeral.
That goal had never wavered from beginning to end.
"I have no use for a troubleso biological son or a capable impostor."
"…!"
Heeju’s pupils quivered with unease.
"I don’t need either of them."
Sim Gyu-jin’s gaze narrowed, as though peering into the ruined building’s depths.
The negotiation phone ending up in her daughter-in-law’s possession was an unforeseen complication. Heeju’s accident hadn’t been part of the plan either, nor had her son’s erratic cruelty and obsession with reclaiming a stolen na.
Foolish boy.
He’d been killed once by his grandfather and still believed in familial bonds, still naive enough to cling to the na Baek Saeon.
"The title of ‘mother’ disgusts ," she said flatly.
The press conference had been unexpected, but Sim Gyu-jin had always planned to destroy the morial hall herself. This was just a slight acceleration of her tiline.
"As a crisis negotiator, I’m quite capable. But as a mother, I’m a sinner. Why should I continue to bear that burden?"
Tears rolled down her face as she clung tighter to Heeju, her words dripping like venom.
"A mother isn’t soone who sacrifices herself. She’s soone who survives by any ans necessary."
Her voice, bitter and gnawing, sounded almost demonic.
"Today is that day. The day I reclaim myself."
"…"
"The day I’ve waited so long for—I should be smiling, shouldn’t I?"
Heeju’s chest tightened under the weight of it all.
Who had borne the greater silence?
Whose silence had been deeper, darker?
Her heart pounded wildly, the cruel truths suffocating her. Yet amidst the chaos, only one thought consud her.
Where are you?
Who’s by your side right now?
All this ti, who’s been there for you?
She wanted to tear through the silence that had surrounded him, to let him know.
Unlike everyone else, her silence had been love.
With all her strength, Heeju shook off Sim Gyu-jin’s grip.
‘Even if you discard him so cruelly, I will find him.’
She wanted to run to him, as fast as her legs could carry her.
***
The black mourning clothes reflected in the mirror looked unfamiliar.
"……."
Heeju stared blankly at her reflection before securing a white pin in her hair. She pushed it in too deep, and her scalp suddenly throbbed.
When she tried to pull it out, a tangled clump of hair ca with it.
Frustrated, Heeju gritted her teeth and yanked the pin free, flinging it onto the floor.
Even small inconveniences sent her into a fit of irritation, her tears welling up unbidden. But the funeral company staff didn’t leave her alone.
"The color portrait is 90,000 won for the deluxe version, 70,000 won for the standard. Full ceremonial set A costs 300,000 won, while set B is 250,000 won."
"……."
"The floral arrangents: Set 1 is 2 million won, Set 2 is 1.8 million won, Set 3 is 1.5 million won. The cheapest option, Set 8, is 550,000 won."
"……."
"As for the urn…"
The long stream of numbers blurred into the background.
Heeju didn’t have ti to grieve properly. Every decision fell to her shoulders.
She’d never prepared a al for him, never picked out his tie, yet now she had to choose his hearse and urn. The thought made her nauseous.
"Cheong Wa Dae Spokesperson Baek Saeon Dies in Explosion"
"One Dead, Multiple Injured in morial Hall Blast"
"President Orders Imdiate Investigation into Explosion"
The man had vanished as if he’d been erased from existence.
It still felt like a dream.
"……."
The stinging scent of flowers filled the air. Endless condolence wreaths poured in.
The private family funeral barred most visitors, but the paparazzi caras flashed incessantly outside the entrance.
anwhile, Sim Gyu-jin had disappeared without a trace.
According to her sister, the docuntary screening had exposed every secret of the late Baek Jangho’s family.
The bodies found near the fishing pond, Baek Jangho’s cris, and the scandal surrounding Sim Gyu-jin’s negotiation consulting firm—all laid bare.
The revelation that Baek Jangho had killed his grandson, concealed the truth, and replaced him with an illegitimate child shocked the nation.
The downfall of a revered political titan.
The world was in upheaval.
And yet, here she was, alone, left to watch over the funeral.
They truly were terrible people, to the very end.
"Heeju."
Through the flashes of paparazzi caras, her family arrived.
Chairman Hong, her mother, and her sister entered with dark, somber expressions.
After paying their respects, they sat in silence, unable to hide their shock at the sudden tragedy.
"What will you do now?"
As they gazed at Baek Saeon’s portrait, her mother spoke up abruptly.
"Now that you’ve suddenly beco a widow, how are you going to live?"
"……."
When Heeju remained quiet, her mother thumped her chest.
"Didn’t I tell you? Half of my luck rubbed off on you, but why did you have to inherit my knack for losing husbands?"
Her mother’s furrowed brow deepened.
"Just do what Chairman Hong says."
"……."
"You won’t lose anything by listening to . Let Chairman Hong introduce you to a new man, and help out with the business."
"……."
"We’ve taken a hit too because of Candidate Baek."
Heeju stared at her mother’s familiar words with a blank expression.
She still hadn’t seen her husband’s remains, which were said to be unrecognizable fragnts. She couldn’t even bring herself to cremate soone who’d supposedly been blown apart in an instant.
And yet…
What is she saying right now?
In that mont, the chains her mother had wrapped around her shattered completely.
"What am I supposed to help with?"
Her parched voice rasped, cutting through her mother’s tirade.
"…What do you expect to help with?"
Her mother’s face twisted in surprise, her pupils dilating.
"You… you…"
"Mom."
"……!"
"Stop spouting nonsense."
Her voice, hoarse and cracked like a drought-stricken field, resonated with defiance.
Standing alone in mourning clothes, she felt she had nothing left to fear.
To stay silent was to live with an empty sheath, incapable of wielding a blade. She’d endured that for far too long.
For her, silence had been submission, a ans to earn her mother’s approval.
But now she knew better.
Her pounding heart pushed her forward.
Unsheath your sword. Reclaim your lost words.
Grow up, Hong Heeju. Even if it hurts, even if you’re scarred, wade through the mud.
It was okay to do so.
It had to be done.
"Don’t even think about using for Chairman Hong’s business."
Her reddened eyes blazed as she shot back.
"You… since when did you start talking back…?"
"Don’t use for anything."
"……."
"What are you, my pimp?"
Her mother’s face flushed red with indignation, her breaths coming in sharp huffs.
"You… you…! Is that how you talk to your mother—"
"Why not?"
Heeju stood abruptly and gripped her mother’s shoulders tightly, leveling her gaze.
She was severing the spell that Kim Yeonhee had cast all those years ago.
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