It had been only two days since Madam Lin was laid into the earth, yet the city's tongue was already poisoned. The story had spiraled far beyond City T — Madam Lin had betrayed her husband, branded him with a "green hat." Poor Mr. Lin, the whole world sighed, such a virtuous man! Even after being humiliated, he had honored his unfaithful wife with a dignified burial.
In the streets, people called him magnanimous. They praised him as a husband too noble for this world. But upstairs, behind the mansion's doors, the truth was a knife twisting.
Lin Hye Ji wandered out of her room when laughter and strange voices drifted up from the grand hall. Her small steps carried her cautiously down the staircase. At the bottom, she tugged at Aunt Shen's sleeve. "What's happening, Aunt Shen?"
Before the housekeeper could answer, Mr. Lin's voice thundered across the room. His face was split into a wide grin, his arm wrapped firmly around the waist of a woman dressed in silks, her painted lips curving like a predator's smile.
"Oh, Little Ji, you're just in time!" Mr. Lin announced, pride dripping from every syllable. "This is Su Man. You can call her Auntie for now, but soon… you'll call her 'Mom.' We'll be married in a week's time!"
The world tilted. Lin Hye Ji's breath caught in her throat. Married? Already? Her father's smile looked obscene, grotesque, while the scent of her mother's incense from the funeral still lingered in her mind.
"And these," he continued cheerfully, as if announcing a prize, "are her children — Su Hou and Su Jai Li. They'll be your brother and sister from now on. Isn't that wonderful?"
The two children stepped forward. Su Hou, taller by a year or two, tilted his chin arrogantly, a smirk curling his lips as if he already owned everything that once belonged to Hye Ji's mother. Su Jai Li, younger and bratty, locked eyes with Hye Ji and stuck out her tongue, mocking her with cruel childish glee.
Hye Ji's fists trembled at her sides, her little face tightening with disbelief and grief. "You're marrying someone else… when it's barely been a week since Mom died?" Her voice cracked, tears threatening to spill.
Mr. Lin's smile faltered, his eyes flashing irritation before he masked it again. "It was your mother who wronged me first, child," he said coldly, though his tone pretended to be patient. "She betrayed me. Yet I held no grudge — I still gave her a grand burial. Do not forget that."
"Don't scold the little girl, darling," Su Man cut in, her tone dripping with a sweetness so artificial it made Aunt Shen's skin crawl. She leaned toward Hye Ji, her smile dazzling on the surface but her eyes glinting with scorn. "Little Hye Ji, your mother betrayed your father long before she died. He came to the bar where I worked — he was so lonely, drowning in sorrow — and I was just a single mother trying to survive. We found comfort in each other. Don't worry…" she cooed, brushing a strand of hair from her shoulder, "we will be a happy family."
Hye Ji's stomach churned. Her tiny voice broke as she asked, "Then… where are Mom's things going ?"
Mr. Lin waved a dismissive hand. "The storage room, of course. Whatever can be given away will go to the welfare home. No point cluttering the house with useless things."
Without another word, Hye Ji rushed to the storage room. Her trembling hands rummaged through the boxes until she found them — her mother's clothes, crumpled and shoved aside like rags. She pulled out four custom-made dresses, the ones her mother had won awards with , dresses crafted with love and pride. Clutching them to her chest, she gathered her mother's few pieces of jewelry as well, arranging them carefully in a small box.
Her throat burned. They wanted to erase her. Throw her away. But Hye Ji's arms wrapped tightly around the dresses, her tears soaking into the fabric. Not while I still breathe.
"Honey, I want that set of jewelry—the Blue Seas," Su Man cooed, her voice dipped in false sweetness, like a spoiled child begging for candy.
The air in the storeroom seemed to still. The Blue Seas. The words alone made Housekeeper Shen's breath hitch. That set wasn't just jewelry—it was Madam Lin's masterpiece. Crafted with her own hands, it had won her an international award, its brilliance compared to the ocean itself when kissed by morning sun. Many had offered millions, yet Madam Lin had smiled gently and refused, saying: 'Some things are not for sale. They belong to the heart, not the market.'
And now Su Man's greedy eyes sparkled, already imagining how she would parade it around, basking in borrowed glory.
"Lin Hye Ji," Mr. Lin's voice came oily and fawning, "why don't you give that jewelry to your Aunt Man? If she wears it, it would be good fortune for your mother's soul. Besides—" he chuckled softly, squeezing Su Man's hand, "your Aunt Man will soon be your mother. Isn't it fitting?"
The words stabbed into Hye Ji's chest like knives. For a moment, she could not breathe. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to her father, her small hands tightening protectively around the velvet box.
"My mom… is dead." Her voice was low but carried the weight of stone. "Don't you remember how she died?"
The room froze.
Her gaze did not waver as she took a step closer to him, her voice sharp as broken glass. "You said she tried to hit you with a vase. You said she slipped when you dodged, and that's why she fell down the stairs. Isn't that right, Dad?"
The last word dripped with bitterness.
Mr. Lin's smile collapsed. His face drained of color, as if her words had ripped open a wound he had buried. A thin sheen of sweat broke across his forehead. There was something in Hye Ji's eyes—too steady, too knowing—that made his stomach twist. For one dreadful heartbeat, he thought she remembered.
But hadn't the doctor said her memories were sealed away? Hadn't he been reassured there was nothing to fear? Still… her stare clawed at him, burning through his hollow lies.
"Y–yes… yes, of course… that was what happened." His voice trembled, stuttering as he turned his face aside, unable to bear the weight of his daughter's eyes.
For the first time, Mr. Lin felt naked before his child—not as a father, but as a man cornered by his own guilt.