"Let's go," her mother said simply, with a composed but firm tone. Ji-Woo nodded silently and they walked out of the house together.
The driver quickly started the car, and soon they were on their way.
As they drove, her mother's voice softened, almost like a gentle reminder.
"Smile always brightly. Don't let it look forced, and don't make it look fake. I want to make a good impression, and I don't want you ruining that for me with your dull face. Do you understand?"
Ji-Woo nodded again, her expression serious. When they arrived, the scene was bustling with luxury and elegance.
The large mansion was decorated with shimmering lights, and elegant golden balloons floated in the air.
Long tables were covered with pristine white cloths, adorned with exquisite floral arrangements and crystal glasses.
Guests dressed in designer suits and glamorous dresses mingled, laughter and cheerful chatter filling the air.
There was a sense of opulence—luxurious food stations with fine delicacies, a grand cake decorated with intricate icing, and a dance floor shimmering under colorful lights.
They moved further into the party, where they soon encountered Mr. Choi—the father of the birthday boy.
He was dressed in a tailored, textured suit that looked expensive and refined, in a deep navy blue with subtle patterns woven into the fabric.
His shirt was crisp, and a silk tie added a touch of sophistication.
His hair was neatly combed, and he carried himself with confidence and warmth, greeting guests with a polite smile.
"Mrs. Kim—the rigorous embodiment of beauty and success," Mr. Choi cheered, raising a glass of wine in one hand as he side-hugged Mrs. Kim.
She smiled gracefully, her fingers fidgeting lightly with her hair as if to adjust it.
"Thank you, Mr. Choi. I appreciate the invitation," she said softly, her voice sweet and soothing—unlike the tone Ji-Woo had ever heard her mother use before.
"Is this…?" Mr. Choi began, glancing toward Ji-Woo.
"Yes, this is Ji-Woo… my daughter," Mrs. Kim said, gently patting Ji-Woo's back. Ji-Woo managed a forced smile and bowed slightly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you sir. I am Kim Ji-Woo," she said, her voice low, steady, and carrying a deep bass that contrasted with her delicate appearance.
Mr. Choi smiled warmly and turned to Mrs. Kim. "Shall we?" he asked.
She nodded gracefully, and they walked away, leaving Ji-Woo standing amidst the crowd of rich and elegant-looking guests.
Her body tensed as she overheard whispers drifting through the air.
"She's that rich, arrogant woman's daughter," someone sneered, their voice laced with disdain.
Another chuckled and added, "Does she even look like her? She's not that fierce. She looks fragile, like a leaf."
Ji-Woo offered a soft, polite smile in response, then turned and moved to sit a little apart from the chatter—close enough to hear but far enough to escape their gossip.
She reached up and gently pushed her bangs aside, revealing the small brown birthmark on her forehead.
With practiced ease, she carefully combed her bangs back over her forehead, covering the mark completely.
Using her fingers, she adjusted the soft fringe, making sure it lay perfectly flat and discreetly concealed her birthmark from prying eyes.
Her movements were precise and calm, a silent act of shielding her vulnerability from the judgmental gazes around her.
A fierce gaze caught Ji-Woo's movement with ease. The person smirked, speaking behind her in a tone that was mocking and unkind.
"Oh, so you were invited? How awful," she sneered.
Ji-Woo instantly recognized that voice—sharp, cutting, filled with condescension. When she turned around, her eyes met Mi-Sook's.
The girl was dressed in a stunning red high-knee silk dress, perfectly styled, her makeup impeccable, radiating confidence and arrogance.
She smirked, her lips curling with mockery.
"Surprised to see me, Ji-Woo? I knew you'd be," Mi-Sook said, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow.
Her tone was laced with superiority, as if she owned the moment.
Ji-Woo blinked, stunned for a moment. Then she gulped, voice trembling slightly. "Mi-Sook… what… what are you doing here?"
Mi-Sook crossed her arms, her expression smug. "Can't I be invited to a party? My father is successful too," she said, her voice dripping with disdain.
She took a deliberate step forward, her eyes narrowing with contempt. "You do know they only invited your mom because of how she is—arrogant and prideful," she sneered. "They only want her to keep up appearances."
Ji-Woo looked down, feeling the sting of her words. She knew very well that her mother was feared and admired for her success, but also for her icy pride.
"Yes… maybe I knew, and maybe I didn't. I haven't decided yet," Ji-Woo replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart pounded, but she refused to show her weakness.
Without warning, Mi-Sook stepped forward again. She snatched a bottle of wine from a nearby table, uncorked it, and poured the dark liquid all over her own elegant dress. The wine spilled in a messy arc, soaking the fabric and leaving a stain.
Then, she shoved the glass into Ji-Woo's hand. Confused and taken aback, Ji-Woo looked at the spilled wine and the glass in her hand.
Before she could react, Mi-Sook let out a scream, a loud, mocking cry that echoed through the luxurious room.
Everyone turned to them, gasping and whispering amongst themselves. The room buzzed with murmurs of shock and judgment.
"Not only her mother, she's also disrespectful," someone whispered harshly.
"She's too full of herself—pouring her drink on the poor girl," another added, eyes narrowing with disdain.
Ji-Woo shook her head rapidly, her voice trembling as she denied what had just happened.
"No… no… I didn't do anything… she poured it by herself," she insisted, stepping back in shock and disbelief, her hands trembling as she clutched the glass.
From afar, Mrs. Kim's gaze flicked toward her daughter.
Their eyes met for a fleeting moment—Mrs. Kim's expression unreadable, a flicker of concern hidden beneath her composed exterior.
Without a word, she turned and walked away, leaving Ji-Woo standing there.
"Get her out of there," someone shouted urgently.
"She's mad—just like her mother," another voice muttered with derision.
"Call security," someone else commanded.
The crowd's whispers grew louder, a mixture of scorn and curiosity.
Ji-Woo's heart hammered in her chest as she looked at Mi-Sook, who stood smirking confidently, her eyes gleaming with triumphant malice.
Ji-Woo's mind raced, overwhelmed by the stares and whispers.
Her body still trembled, caught between humiliation and anger, as she clutched the glass tighter, feeling the weight of their judgment pressing down on her.
Overwhelmed by the chaos and the harsh whispers around her, Ji-Woo's legs moved instinctively.
She turned sharply and sprinted toward the exit, her heart pounding in her chest.
The luxurious chandelier lights blurred as she hurried past the stunned guests, her mind racing and her cheeks burning with shame.