The Lingering Number 1
“……….”
“………Damn it.”
A wave of considerable irritation and emptiness washed over me. Should I call it a relief, or get mad at the prank? The fear, guilt, and sense of responsibility I'd felt in that short time had all been triggered by nothing more than Yeom Hana's joke.
I was pissed, but I didn't even know what to say to her. In the end, too annoyed to bother, I tossed my phone onto the bed.
“……Haaaaah.”
I stared up at the ceiling and let out a long sigh. What a pain.
First things first, I had to show Yeom Hana the wrath of ajusshi. For the next three days straight, I'd ignore her messages no matter what—leave 'em on read and ghost.
“Alright then……might as well take a nap.”
There were other unread notifications too, but I could check them after waking up. My body and mind were exhausted anyway, so I decided not to fight the overwhelming drowsiness.
……………
The number 1. That tiny, insignificant digit next to the yellow speech bubble—that Han Sol stared at, unblinking.
It was 2 p.m. The sun hung high in the sky, and while others enjoyed a late lunch and the lazy remainder of their weekend, the messages she'd sent last night and this morning were still unread.
An utterly ordinary greeting. Nothing burdensome, yet enough to show a daughter's concern.
Just yesterday, he'd replied lightning-fast. But today? Radio silence.
Curled up in bed, Han Sol just stared at her phone screen. Turn it off, turn it back on, idly web-surf for a bit, then reopen the messenger app to check the chat. Same result every time.
The number 1 wouldn't disappear.
“……Ha.”
There was no way Dad hadn't seen his daughter's message because he was busy. He was a salaried worker who got weekends off unless on duty. And today was Saturday.
Plus, they'd even promised to watch a movie together this weekend.
"I'll come by often on weekends. Every week... well, maybe not. But at least twice a month, without fail."
That's exactly what he'd said. She'd believed that promise like ironclad truth, waiting all week for the weekend to arrive.
So why?
Why no contact?
'Maybe……'
Anxiety crept up slowly. It might not be just busyness. An accident? No way. Dad was strong.
That left only one possibility.
'He's deliberately ignoring it.'
The thought burrowed into her mind. Because last week, when she'd brought Dad home.
While watching a movie together, she'd gotten a bit……actually, a lot clingy. Grabbed his hand and put it on her stomach, wedged her hips between his thighs, hugged his neck, begged to sleep together in bed.
From Dad's perspective, it might've been too much. A fully grown adult daughter suddenly clinging like when she was a kid.
'Is he avoiding me because of that?'
Her chest tightened. What if her actions had disgusted him? What if he found his grown daughter—no blood relation, a fake daughter—grossly clingy?
“Ah…….”
A groan slipped through her lips. Before she knew it, Han Sol started biting her nails. She didn't care that her neatly manicured nails were getting ruined.
She was scared.
Han Sol had been abandoned early by that woman called Mom. The trash she'd cheated with—whose face and name she didn't even know—was a given.
But……Dad was different. The only one who'd accepted her as family. Her sole remaining family in this world.
If even he abandoned her, Han Sol would have no reason left to breathe.
She lifted her head and gazed at one corner of the room. Top-spec computer, mic, lights, cam. Her main job, the world that had sustained her until now.
The pure-hearted hero concept had easily gained popularity and let her make money. She'd thoroughly analyzed the market to craft it, after all.
The innocent girl who didn't know men seemed approachable at first. Perfect for male viewers to simp over.
Conversely, the cool STEM girl hero appealed to female viewers' fantasies. And since she wore a mask as a "hero," her identity stayed safe.
She didn't actually take down villains often, so compared to the baseline fame from her job, it was safe too.
When such a Han Sol went live, people flocked. The chat flew by, donations poured in, giving her the attention and love her family never had.
Back then, that was enough.
But now.
'……It means nothing.'
After reuniting with Dad, it all felt faded. The chats beyond the screen no longer felt human. Just mirages that vanished when the stream ended.
Dad, on the other hand, was real. He stroked her hair, held her hand, watched movies together.
Having known that warmth, Han Sol could no longer be satisfied with fakes.
Her heart pounded irregularly. She couldn't stand the suffocation. Waiting like this would wither her away.
She had to check. If he truly hated his daughter now. If he did……she'd do a naked dogeza if she had to, to change his mind.
Dad wouldn't open the door? No problem. The door lock passcode was still her birthday anyway.
……………
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
The lock disengaged, and the door opened. The passcode was still her birthday.
Han Sol held her breath and stepped inside. The familiar air soon enveloped her.
An empty living room with barely any furniture, not even a sofa. Starkly minimalist, but soaked in Dad's scent.
“……Dad?”
She called softly, but no answer. Instead, only steady, low breathing sounds.
She slipped off her shoes silently and approached the bed. There he was.
Half-kicked-off blanket, sleeping obliviously. His phone lay precariously by his head, half-hanging off the edge.
“He was sleeping……”
Relief flooded her. He hadn't deliberately ignored his daughter's messages for half a day. He'd just passed out like this and hadn't checked.
Tension released, her legs went weak. She sat on the edge of the mattress.
Right before her: Dad's defenseless sleeping face. Thick brows, closed eyes, firm jawline.
Her beloved father. The only one who hadn't abandoned her.
An impulse surged through Han Sol's heart. She wanted to burrow under the blanket. Curl into his arms, press her ear to that solid chest, listen to his heartbeat, and fall asleep together.
Entranced, she leaned forward, bringing her face close to his.
But.
Just before her face could nestle into his embrace, Han Sol froze.
“……?”
Something felt off. Instinct blared a warning as she sniffed the air.
It wasn't the scent she remembered—the one updated from their recent nap together. No old skin smell, no alcohol, no manly musk.
Instead: sweet, sticky, artificial floral. Disgustingly overripe, like something rotting.
This was a woman's scent.
Her body stiffened.
'No way.'
Her gaze drifted to his nape.
The white short-sleeve t-shirt ajusshis wore like underwear. Worn thin, exposing his neckline.
On that exposed collarbone: vivid red marks.
No way those were bug bites.
Suction marks from lips sucking hard on skin, near bruising. And not just one or two.
“Ah……”
Han Sol's eyes twitched.
Clear evidence of sex.
Dad had slept with a woman. Probably last night.
No need to wonder who. That hag-like ajumma, Lee Jin-ah.
"Family, huh? You two don't seem to talk much usually."
That woman seemed to mock Han Sol. You're fake. Don't play daughter when there's no blood tie.
And in the end, Dad chose that ajumma.
While Han Sol waited for their weekend, Dad had held that ajumma, touched her skin, let her scent cling to him.
“Eurk……”
Nausea roiled in her gut. Then anxiety crashed like a tidal wave.
If Dad remarried. If that ajumma became his real family.
If she became his wife, bore his child, built a real home.
Then……what about Han Sol?
'I'll be abandoned.'
Her thoughts reached that point. Logic swept away by shock, primal terror filled the void.
Han Sol was fake. No blood with Dad. Just a cuckoo chick.
And now an adult. No obligation for Dad to care for her.
If he got a real family, the fake one—her—would have no place.
Like her mom, that trash woman, and the trash man she'd cheated with.
Dad would eventually treat Han Sol like burdensome baggage and discard her.
"Sorry, Sol. I need to build my own family now."
Dad turning his back with those words.
"Stop coming by now. Stepmom feels uncomfortable."
Dad coldly slamming the door.
Images so vivid in her mind, she couldn't bear it.
“Ah, no……don't……”
Absolutely not. She couldn't breathe. Chest crushed. Throat closing, no air getting in.
Her vision darkened, limbs went cold.
Hyperventilation. And a full-blown panic attack.