OTGM 8

Chapter 8

Except for the hours she slept, Yuseon clung to her like glue, leaving her no room to call her grandma or her friends.

She needed to contact Daehong. She had come up to Seoul on a whim, tossing out a casual “See you soon” and leaving it at that.

He must be worried sick. Knowing his temper, he was probably already plotting to storm up to Seoul.

Truth was, she hadn’t contacted him because she couldn’t bring herself to explain the state she was living in now.

That had to be it. After all, she was blurting out words you only heard in TV dramas—“contract marriage”—kissing impulsively, and throwing herself headfirst into one insane act after another without any filter.

What was she supposed to say to Daehong? They had always been people with endless things to talk about.

But now—did she even have ten mouths to explain herself?

“Then I’ll wait in the living room. You can make your call from the car.”

Yuseon gave her space. And whether she had anything to say or not, she had to pick up the phone.

Before the ring even finished once, Daehong’s loud, unmistakably masculine voice slammed into her ear.

“Hey! You country bumpkin! What the hell happened to you? Are you outta your mind, woman?! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to call?!”

“I don’t know. How would I know?”

“You serious?”

“I am.”

“Then why the hell are you calling now?”

He must have waited a long time. They’d gone in and out of each other’s houses dozens of times a day, practically acting like family.

They knew each other’s family histories and deepest thoughts better than anyone. They were the kind of friends who could bare everything.

But now, she couldn’t tell him about her life—no, her deviation from it.

“Yeah. I’ve been crazy busy.”

“Busy? You telling me you’re busier than farming? What are you even doing in Seoul?”

She’d found out about her father’s family—one she never knew existed. They were wealthy enough to pay off their debts and cure her grandma’s illness.

Wasn’t it a scam?
Why would someone bother scamming nobodies like them? The woman was obviously rich. That was why she had to come to Seoul, where the woman lived.

That had been the last conversation she’d had with Daehong before leaving Yongcheon—more a one-sided declaration than a discussion.

Daehong, the second son of a land-rich family, had even offered to secretly sell land behind his father’s back to help her.

She was just sorry it had ever come to that.

Daehong’s name, like hers and her mother’s, came from the peach orchards. That was how deep their bond ran—how tightly entwined their lives were.

She hated the thought of money ruining that.

But she couldn’t hide everything. Hiding too much would ruin their friendship just as surely.

“Don’t freak out, okay? Turns out my biological father was… the former chairman of Jeonghan Ilbo.”

“Are you screwing with me right now? Jeonghan Ilbo? The media tycoon? Where the hell are you getting scammed?”

“I know. I still can’t believe it either. But… it’s real. They even showed me the DNA test.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say the rest—that her mother had had an affair with the former chairman, and that she was born from it.

Daehong could piece it together easily if he looked it up. But admitting, in her own voice, that she was the byproduct of an affair was unbearable.

“You serious? You better not be kidding. If you are, you’re dead.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this. Am I that careless? I’m still trying to wrap my head around it myself.”

“So you met your dad?”

“He passed away a long time ago.”

“Then what are you doing there? Just ask for the inheritance and come back.”

Half joke, half the genuine madness of him.

“Hey, hahaha. You think money’s that easy? If anything, rich people are scarier. And the current chairman is… his widow. It’s not like I can ask for money. If anything, I should be the one paying her compensation. Got it?”

She’d basically confessed everything herself. Daehong, sharp as he was, must’ve figured out the rest.

“That’s… a lot to take in. You okay? Even I’m a bit shaken, and I’ve got nerves of steel. You must be hurting bad.”

“What can I do? It’s not like I can change my roots. If my existence is that dirty and insignificant, what choice do I have?”

“Hey. Stop digging yourself into a hole. Why are you insignificant? Don’t say crap like that. I’m coming up there. Stay put.”

“Don’t. You’re coming to Seoul because of me? Where are you even gonna stay?”

“I’ll figure it out. I might not be a chaebol’s kid, but my family’s no joke either. My dad told me to check out wholesale produce here anyway. I’ve got stuff to do. Got it?”

No matter how she thought about it, he was coming because he was worried she’d sink deeper into despair.

How was she supposed to stop Captain Bulldozer Max Daehong?

“You won’t see me much. I’m busy pretending to be a rich girl.”

If she told him she was busy with bride training—something she never imagined for herself—he’d lose his mind.

“Can’t even see Grandma? Let’s go together. She’s at Samjin Hospital, right?”

“I haven’t even called much. Anyway, if you come up, I’ll make time.”

“Wow. You’re a full-blown celebrity now. Guess I’ll ask for your autograph. And I’m totally gonna tail you like a stalker. Be ready.”

Daehong was good-looking enough that people stared whenever he went downtown.

They’d always been glued together, which was probably why neither of them ever dated properly.

In their tiny rural town, sticking together was unavoidable. But in Seoul—it just wouldn’t work.

She didn’t add anything else and hurriedly ended the call.

“Call me when you get to Seoul. I gotta go inside now. Bye.”

She tapped End, but the heaviness in her chest didn’t ease.

Not long ago, she’d been sweating in the peach orchard with Grandma and Daehong, harvesting fruit.

Her life had flipped upside down in an instant.

She wore expensive clothes, rode in luxury cars driven by a secretary, and talked about marriage—even if it was just a contract—with a top-tier man.

And yet, her autonomy was completely stripped away. There was nothing she chose for herself—only obligations she had to fulfill.

Still, it was okay.

As long as she could protect what mattered most.

As long as Grandma was safe.

She steeled her resolve and stepped out of the sleek sedan.

***

Jun’s secretary, Taebeom, had been his closest friend since high school.

At Taeyang High, where only top grades and elite family backgrounds allowed you to hold your head high, Taebeom had stood firm despite his disadvantaged upbringing.

Whether classmates subtly looked down on him or openly sneered, he accepted it calmly, spine straight.

Jun liked that about him—enough to be the one who first reached out and offered friendship.

He thought it wouldn’t be easy.

But Taebeom had accepted surprisingly quickly, saying Jun was so outstanding it killed any sense of competition.

While Ma Doshil was briefly away, Taebeom contacted him.

Chaeyoon was back.

She had just landed in Incheon.

Sitting in the back seat, Jun asked as Taebeom drove toward the airport.

“Why did Chaeyoon suddenly come back?”

“I cut off news about her on purpose. But I guess she wants to work in Korea now. She graduated, and she did get some attention in Paris. But… that place is packed with geniuses. It’s hard to keep the spotlight or get exhibitions there. Sounds like she’s planning a show here.”

Chaeyoon was the eldest daughter of Laboom Cosmetics’ chairman.

She could’ve stepped straight into a cushy executive position without lifting a finger.

But she chose to carve out barren land with her own hands.

She wasn’t especially talented—but she never let go of painting.

Not until her parents raised both hands in surrender.

After that, the family spared no support. Money could compensate for lack of talent.

That was how she ended up in Paris.

Back in high school, just like Jun had once approached Taebeom, Chaeyoon had approached Jun.

She asked him to critique her paintings, drawn by his reputation for exceptional aesthetic sense.

Her skill hadn’t impressed him at first.

But her attitude had.

At the time, he’d just given up his dream of becoming a media artist, his heart unsettled.