Family Isn't Supposed to Be Like This!
Family isn't supposed to be like this! …………… A hot, heavy emotion surged up from the depths of my chest.
My… karma, huh.
Regret. An emotion that wasn't mine, yet somehow was. It was the bitter remorse that the original Han Kang had carried.
That memory I'd recalled before stabbed into my heart like a sharp dagger. Yeah. I just raised her. I loved my daughter Han Sol in my own way, felt responsible enough to feed her, clothe her, and put a roof over her head.
But at the same time, she was the child born from my wife's affair—the daughter who didn't share my blood. Han Kang had no idea how to treat her. He was truly confused. Even as an adult, becoming a father was a first for him, and he never dreamed he'd be father to a daughter with no blood ties.
Tormented by the fact that his own daughter was the byproduct of his trash ex-wife's cheating. Convincing himself through self-hypnosis that she hated him and kept her distance. He avoided facing the lonely, suffering girl. Not hating the innocent little Han Sol was the maximum effort the past Han Kang could muster.
That's why his parenting wasn't exactly proper. Han Sol, his only family, was emotionally neglected and ignored—even conversations were rare. If she needed money, he'd just hand it over and that was it. They lived in the same house but spent half their time like strangers. From the age of eight, when he learned of his wife's affair, until she became an adult and left—over ten years.
Even when Han Sol heard the truth from her biological mother and came looking for her real dad, claiming that because of her, Han Kang's life had gone to hell. Looking back now, it was just like an abandoned stray dog wagging its tail and trying to cling to its owner the moment they reunite.
She knew the other person was at fault, remembered it vividly. But terrified of being abandoned again, realizing deep down she couldn't survive it. Han Sol had convinced herself that even her own birth was her fault, that her very existence was wrong. That was her defense mechanism—to justify her father's neglect.
The recent reconciliation with my daughter wasn't healing the wound. It was just stitching together rotting flesh. So this was punishment. The unavoidable price for a father whose neglect bordered on abuse. The abyss the past Han Kang had created was swallowing the me who'd become Han Kang.
Realizing all that, my will to resist crumbled like a sandcastle. The hand I'd used to push Han Sol away fell limply onto the sheets.
Han Sol brought her lips to my ear.
Her hot breath licked my earlobe.
"I'm… your daughter, Daddy."
Her wet voice burrowed into my eardrum.
"But see me as a woman too."
Her hand gripped the symbol of manhood.
"Use my body… however you want."
……………
Sunday afternoon on Hongdae Street.
"Thanks, everyone—!!"
Yeom Hana waved grandly, and the crowd applauded in response.
"See you next time!!"
Her face flushed and slick with sweat, she grinned and shook hands. The guitar case was stuffed with Yul-gok Yi I bills. Even King Sejong notes. Another bountiful day.
The guitar riffs that set her body on fire, the audience's reactions as hot as her rock soul, and the fat wallet. A perfect Sunday afternoon.
Packing up her gear and slinging the guitar over her back, Yeom Hana whistled her way into the back alley. The bustle of the main street faded behind her.
Lately, life had been a blast for Yeom Hana. Well, it wasn't bad before either—at least after leaving the orphanage as an adult. Playing guitar, busking, and occasionally bashing annoying jerks with it.
But recently, something had definitely changed. For the better. She'd made friends with this super fun ajusshi.
At first, she thought he was just some hard-boiled, shady government type. Turns out, he was pretty decent. Stoic but surprisingly attentive, he'd play along seriously with her jokes, then hit her with some hilariously offbeat response. Being with him felt oddly comfortable. Like they clicked without words, fun in the mundane.
Just thinking about the ajusshi made her lips twitch upward.
Yeom Hana pulled out her phone. DeathCode notifications piled up. Sure enough, it was the usual chat crew she hung with.
They mostly talked music, shared memes, or shot the shit.
A few days ago, she'd bragged about Han Kang ajusshi here. The reactions were priceless.
Fire One was Yeom Hana's playful twist on her own name.
She sent a pic of the ajusshi—not stolen, but the one he'd set as his messenger profile, claiming it was him working out. The chat flipped 180 degrees.
She'd laughed it off then. But checking the new alerts, the convo had looped back to her.
Yeom Hana's steps halted abruptly.
…Huh?
Question marks floated in her head. Her thumb moved on reflex, no brain required. As always.
Yeom Hana's brow furrowed.
What do these assholes take me for?
Her fingers danced furiously on the screen in a huff.
But their replies were ice-cold. Maybe even enjoying it.
"These fuckers…!"
Yeom Hana bit her lip. Her retort finger froze mid-air.
Dating the ajusshi? Me?
Yeah, they'd done it that night at the motel. Not once, multiple times. Guy had stamina for an ajusshi. But was that dating? She just liked him, that's all. Booze, fun, mood led there. And when she joked about pregnancy—
He said he'd take responsibility.
Thinking about it made her face burn. She touched her cheek—scorching.
"Ugh, seriously. What the hell."
She shook her head hard, trying to snap out of it. But her lips kept creeping up. Couldn't force them down.
"…Hehe."
A giggle slipped out. Dating. Lovers. The ticklish ring of those words felt unfamiliar but nice. Honestly, pretty damn good.
Ah, miss the ajusshi.
Maybe ride this wave and call? Weekend, prolly lounging at home. Ajussis do that. He'd gripe, but hearing her voice might cheer him up. Then meet for food, and if he didn't mind… invite to her place? Nah, her studio's too shabby, embarrassing. Better get a love hotel.
Yeom Hana lit her screen again, scrolling for [Ajusshi].
"Excuse me."
Then a voice from behind. Calm, but laced with a chill.
"Yeah?"
Yeom Hana turned casually. A stranger stood there.
……………
Strange woman. Mid-to-late 20s maybe. Neatly styled hair, flawless makeup, crisp blouse and skirt. Total opposite of Yeom Hana—fresh off stage, sweaty, messy hair, rock-slick leather jacket.
She was smiling. Beaming, brightly. But something off. Unpleasant, like bumping into K-hip-hop haters or trot boomers.
What's with this chick.
Yeom Hana's instincts blared warnings. Something hid behind that polished look and smile. Definitely not friendly.
"Do I know you?"
Yeom Hana didn't hide her guard. The woman approached instead of answering. Click, clack. Heels on asphalt.
"You know Han Kang, right?"
Still smiling.
Han Kang. That name cranked Yeom Hana's alert to max.
"…And?"
She snapped curtly. The woman's smile deepened.
"Did you really send a pregnancy test to Senior Han Kang?"
"—What?"
Yeom Hana's pupils shook. Pregnancy test. The AI prank pic she'd sent ajusshi. Only to him, obviously. How'd this woman know?
"How the hell do you know that?"
"How d'you think? Saw it on our senior's phone, duh?"
She said it casually. But that casual bombshell rattled Yeom Hana.
On his phone.
No way.
No way ajusshi showed her. Their private joke.
Betrayal flared like wildfire. Face burned, fists clenched.
"…Ajusshi showed you? That?"
She growled through gritted teeth.
"Who knows~?"
The woman shrugged. Eyes crinkled in blatant mockery.
"We're real close, me and senior. No secrets. Sharing gallery, messages? Normal for couples, right?"
Close. The word spun in Yeom Hana's head.
But—something wrong. That glint, tone, attitude. Ironically, the over-the-top sneer sparked doubt. Woke her reason.
For a split second, Han Kang's face flashed: grateful for pork soup with kimchi water, teary over dalgona, gripping her waist like he'd snap it during the "Preggers!" joke.
Memory might be a tad warped, but close enough.
No.
Yeom Hana was sure. Even close friends don't share private chats with third parties. Especially not that personal. Ajusshi wasn't the type to show without permission. Especially not to some nasty bitch like this.
Conclusion: one option.
Ajusshi didn't show it.
She snooped.
Didn't know how, but obvious. She'd unlocked his phone behind his back.
"…Ha."
A hollow laugh burst from Yeom Hana. Rock spirit and rage boiled from her core.
"Hey, ajumma."
The word made the woman's brow twitch. Yeom Hana didn't care.
"You psycho bitch? What gives you the right to snoop on someone else's phone?"