The air in Yongdu-ri was a balm for the soul, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the Hong family manor. Baek Hyun-woo drove into the familiar, sleepy village, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The weight of his in-laws' mansion, of their silent, suffocating judgments, lifted from his shoulders the moment he saw the modest gate of his family home. It wasn't a mansion, but it was filled with warmth, love, and a kind of chaotic comfort he hadn't realized how much he'd missed.
His parents, Baek Du-gwan and Jeon Bong-ae, were on the porch, waiting. His sister, Mi-sun, was at the gate, her hands on her hips, a playful smirk on her face. The moment Hyun-woo stepped out of the car, his mother rushed to him, enveloping him in a tight hug.
"Aigoo, my son! You're looking so thin! Don't they feed you properly in that big house?" Bong-ae fussed, patting his cheeks. She looked him up and down, her brow furrowing slightly. "But… you look different. Happier."
His father, Du-gwan, clapped him on the shoulder, his expression a mix of pride and concern. "Your mother's right. There's a new fire in your eyes. What happened to our sad Hyun-woo?"
Hyun-woo just smiled, a genuine, easy grin that reached his eyes. "I just decided to stop being sad, that's all."
Mi-sun, always quick with a jab, cut in. "So, you've finally decided to become a man? You're a little late to the party, oppa."
"Yah, Baek Mi-sun," he retorted, his voice playful, "don't you have a cafe to run? Shouldn't you be busy serving a sad customer so I can teach you a thing or two about being a good host?" The comeback was swift, sharp, and laced with a mischievous charm that took all three of them by surprise. Mi-sun's jaw dropped slightly before she broke into a wide smile.
"Wow," she said, her voice filled with a genuine shock. "Did you get hit on the head on the way here? That was actually pretty good."
The family laughed, the easy camaraderie settling over them like a warm blanket. But as they headed inside, Bong-ae turned to her son, her smile fading into a look of disappointment. "But Hyun-woo… where's Hae-in? You should have brought her. We haven't seen her in ages. We were hoping to make her some of her favorite dishes."
The familiar guilt that had once been a constant companion in Hyun-woo's life now felt like a faint memory. He looked at his mother, his gaze calm and reassuring. "She's busy, Mom. There was a lot of work to finish at the office. But I promise, I'll bring her with me next time. She'll come and you can show her all the love you want." The certainty in his voice was so absolute, it silenced his parents' protests. They looked at each other, still perplexed by this new version of their son, but hopeful.
After dinner, a hearty feast of homemade dishes, Hyun-woo excused himself to take a bath. The bathroom, with its modest tub and simple tiles, was a world away from the lavish, marble-clad one he used at the Queens family residence. As he soaked in the warm water, he felt a profound sense of peace. He had spent years in a gilded cage, but this small, ordinary bathroom felt more like a sanctuary. He was home.
The thought of Hae-in came to him then, the memory of her flustered face, the embarrassed blush, the single word, "Who?" He chuckled to himself. She was probably still fuming in her room, wondering what had gotten into him. He could almost feel her frustration radiating all the way to Yongdu-ri. He couldn't resist the urge to poke the bear.
He picked up his phone, dried his hands, and sent her a text. 'Just had a shower after a long day. Thinking maybe I should send you a picture. What do you think?' The words felt audacious, almost reckless, but he knew exactly what effect they would have. He imagined her reading it, her eyes widening, her mind racing. The thought made him smile.
He let her hang for a full minute, imagining the internal debate she was having, the clash between her CEO persona and the woman who was secretly desperate for a connection. He pictured her fighting with herself, her inner thoughts a chaotic jumble of propriety and curiosity. It was a fascinating, and surprisingly charming, inner conflict that he had been blind to before.
He then sent the follow-up message: 'Just kidding. My mom would kill me if I did that. And you'd probably just scold me for having an exposed upper body.' He added the wink and kiss emojis, a deliberate flourish.
He knew she'd be aggravated. He knew she'd probably be screaming into her pillow. The thought was both funny and a little bit heartbreaking. He wanted to break her down, yes, but not to hurt her. He wanted to break down her defenses so he could get to the woman beneath, the woman he knew was still in there. The woman who had fought for him against her family, the woman who had cried for him when she thought he was gone. He was no longer just a passive observer of her pain. He was an active participant in their story, and he was determined to change the ending. He smiled to himself, feeling more like a man on a mission than he had ever felt before. The bath felt even warmer now.