YDCF 07

Chapter – 07

Let’s see it, then.

To think she wanted to show acting—when even gifts from political and business elites were being turned down. At the grandfather’s generous decision, the surrounding crowd stirred.

“Is she going to do it right here?”

“No way. Chairman Joo wouldn’t let himself be embarrassed.”

Murmurs spread, but I didn’t pay them much attention.
The audience I had chosen was not them.

Today, I had only one audience.

I stepped back five paces. After putting a suitable distance between myself and Grandfather, I spoke loudly on purpose, as if making sure he heard me.

“I’ll show you here.”

Grandfather stared at me with a stiff face, not moving at all. He didn’t look like he would give any signal, so I decided to begin as soon as I was ready.

I’ve been ready for a long time.

After memorizing the script I copied at Dongwoo Hall, I had run countless simulations. I didn’t know what kind of situation would unfold on the day of the dinner party.

Being chased out because of my uncle.
Being coldly rejected by my grandfather.

Among all the scenarios I imagined and detailed, acting in front of everyone was one of the easier ones.

If I hide myself, who will ever see me?

If I had decided not to hide anymore, then I had to step forward myself.

I gave a light smile and slowly gathered my emotions. Soon, the words of the script spread through my mind. The letters came together, forming a scene.

That’s it.

It was time for the real thing. I slowly lifted my head.
It was time to become the wife from the script.

Joo Taebaek was not ignorant of acting. He had loved his wife all his life, and because of that, he had also loved acting—the profession she devoted herself to. Even after her death, that passion had not faded.

I’ll give it back to you through acting.

Perhaps that was why he hadn’t immediately rejected his granddaughter’s absurd proposal.

All or nothing, I suppose.

The child who had always looked intimidated now wore a confident expression. For a brief moment, Joo Taebaek was swept up by that face.

Did that child ever learn acting?

After her mother died and she became independent from the Joo family, he still occasionally received reports about Joo Saei. He had never once heard that she attended an acting academy.

Soon, the granddaughter who had stepped back to gather her emotions raised her head. The moment he saw her expression, Joo Taebaek sharply inhaled.

It’s overwhelming.

It was the face of an actor fully immersed in a role. Without a single line spoken, just by steadying her emotions, she radiated a presence that seemed to swallow the entire space.

His heart began to pound. Afraid the guests might notice his trembling, Joo Taebaek stiffened his expression. Before he could even blink, Saei spoke her first line.

“Do you remember… when we went to see the Gangneung sea?”

Just one sentence.
Only a single line.

And yet, among everyone at the dinner party, Joo Taebaek alone recognized where that line came from. He clenched his fist tightly, forcing down the emotions rising in his chest.

“You know, after I had Wol, when I was half-dead from exhaustion. You grabbed the steering wheel early in the morning and said you’d show me the sunrise.”

The lines Saei began to recite were part of the script his wife had left behind while she was alive. Her unfinished work, filled with memories of her husband.

“The kids are all grown now, but I still dream of that sea. Yeah. That water—more dark blue than bright blue—the sound of the waves crying… Back then, it was just so scary.”

A voice heavy with years flowed from the mouth of his young granddaughter.

With clear diction, she precisely reproduced even the slurred pronunciation and shortness of breath of old age.

Under everyone’s gaze, Saei pointed to the gravel spread in the corner of the garden. It was so quiet that the rustle of fabric could be heard.

Joo Taebaek followed her hand with his eyes. Her outstretched fingers somehow resembled his wife’s hands—wrinkled, yet beautiful.

“I hated the gravel beach, so we just turned back. I don’t know why I hated gravel so much. Maybe I didn’t like how uneven it was, who knows…”

How on earth had she gotten this script?
How did she know about it, and prepare this?

Was that why she went to Dongwoo Hall…?

The surprises kept coming. Still, Joo Taebaek showed nothing. Rather than awkwardly stopping the performance, he wanted to savor the fleeting moment of his wife that this child was bringing to life.

“Back then, there were just so many uneven things around us. The business you wanted to do was uneven, your knuckles injured from work were uneven too…”

Joo Taebaek loosened the hand he had been clenching. As far as he knew, the first part of this script had been lost in a fire, leaving only a fragment of the latter half.

Even that fragment was unfinished. His wife had passed away before completing it. That meant the performance should end with the next line.

It was a performance beyond evaluation. As he prepared to applaud, Joo Taebaek adjusted his posture.

“In our world, I was the only one who stayed pretty. But now, I’ve become wrinkled and uneven too.”

Saei delivered the final scheduled line in a hollow voice. Just as Joo Taebaek shifted his body to stand—

“But…”

Saei opened her mouth again. As if the acting wasn’t over yet. Joo Taebaek froze mid-motion and scanned Saei with startled eyes.

The script ends here.

He carefully settled back into his chair, his eyes shining as he watched her.

The emotions Saei painted changed slowly—sorrow, longing, nostalgia for the past, and a smile slipping out because you were so dearly loved.

“Still… this man says I’m pretty. Says it’s fine even if my hair turns white. You’re really something.”

“If you ask why I’m bringing this up—well, when it’s time for a person to go, you just start missing things. What do I miss? The sea, of course.”

Lines that weren’t in the script.

The granddaughter was completing the unfinished work. She had become her grandmother, speaking directly to her husband.

“That dark blue isn’t scary anymore. And then I realize—ah, I wasn’t avoiding the sea because I was afraid.”

Joo Taebaek felt as though he was having a private conversation with his wife, here and now.

“I just wanted to live blue. That’s why I resented that blue color and ran away. But now, I won’t run. I lived a blue life. Looking back, new sprouts grew every day. Every day was high tide.”

“You always say you wouldn’t have made it this far without me—but it’s the other way around.”

Joo Taebaek pressed a hand to his chest. His heart felt so heavy he could barely breathe.

“Look at this. Even my wrinkles look like medals now. So… you see, dear—”

Saei spread her palm toward him and paused, as if choosing her final words.

His wife’s relieved expression just before she passed. Saei’s face overlapped with it so perfectly that Joo Taebaek reached out into the empty air, wishing this moment would never end.

“I’m not leaving because I dislike you. How could I ever? My whole life was bright blue because of you.”

The end was near. Joo Taebaek shut his eyes tightly. The moment his wife left this world overlapped with his granddaughter standing before him.

Only now did he understand her words.

What I treasure most. What I believed no longer existed in this world.

What his granddaughter had prepared was not merely acting. It was his wife’s unfinished work—the piece of her he had lived with for decades. She had returned it to him.

“So… promise me this. When I’m gone, don’t be too sad. Shake it off and stand back up, Chairman.”

With those words, Saei ended the performance. A strange silence followed.

“…That’s all. Happy birthday, Chairman.”

There was no reason to hesitate. After sweeping his gaze disdainfully over those holding back their applause, Joo Taebaek stood up. With his thick, rough hands, he clapped with all his strength.

A granddaughter who had never appeared at any official gathering, suddenly emerging and earning the Chairman’s praise.

The guests soon rose to their feet, chanting Saei’s name.
It was truly the moment a great actor was born.

With the mindset of scratching a lottery ticket, I reinterpreted Grandma’s script and added lines of my own. I wanted to show something meaningful on Grandpa’s birthday.

As I passionately poured out the lines I had memorized to exhaustion, I felt that I was giving everything I had to this moment.

Did it… reach him?

I was confident, but I hadn’t expected applause from everyone like this.

Of course, my uncle and Joo Suyeon clapped reluctantly. And Ryu Dogyeong—

Why is he glaring again?

What was he unhappy about now, staring like that without even clapping? I subtly looked away and bowed deeply to my grandfather.

When I returned to my seat, a text message arrived on my phone.

[Miss, the Chairman wishes to see you privately for a moment after the party.]

It was from Grandfather’s personal secretary.

Yes!

I had given him a moment to remember his wife.
And in return, I was given a chance to meet him alone.

It was a very satisfying result.