The Weight of Regret and the Art of Deception

The diary entry was brief, but she immediately began to do what she had to do. She dusted the house thoroughly and tidied up every corner. She thought that when he returned later, there shouldn't be a single thing that caught his eye in a negative way. She had been doing this for the past few days, but the mindset behind it had changed. Before, she had thought, "...If I do this, Master will like me again... My precious Master♡" But now, whether it was the lingering effects of the alcohol or a fundamental shift in her personality, she worked with a different mantra: "If I don't do this, I'll die after he gets home."

After quickly finishing the chores, she didn't sit on the living room sofa. Instead, she moved to the study—the place designated as her spot—and sat on the carpeted floor, leaning her back against the wall, lost in thought.

"I thought he'd be happier if I went to see him..." Her past thoughts clashed with her current reality: "...It seems like he wanted to meet other people. That's why he hated me coming there..."

"And, it's true that I wanted to see him flustered... Maybe my attempt to surprise him was interpreted negatively..."

Normal, logical thoughts swirled in her head, mixing and colliding as she took time to reflect on herself. "Because I forced him to do things he didn't want to do..."

"He must want to eat alone sometimes..."

"I came out of the room and made things awkward while he was spending time with his friends... and he ended up sending them away..."

Lost in these thoughts, she finally stood up. She walked over to the corner of the study where she kept her belongings, stared at them for a moment, then picked up a pretty purple diary. She opened it slightly, sat in the chair in front of her, and picked up a pen. It was a diary ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she had bought after moving into this house, intending to cultivate loyalty to her master. However, she began to write about a different subject entirely.

After looking at the very first page, she pondered for a moment, then wrote a phrase in the center in a neat, small script:

As she wrote in the diary, tears dripped down. Because of that, tear stains soaked into the pages, causing the ink to smudge. She had no energy to care about that. She knew it well, and she felt nothing but sadness while writing it herself. How did things get so twisted?

Was it because she wanted to try BDSM? No, that wasn't the only reason. The fact that she had been irritable, oppressive, and treated him like an emotional trash can for her stress seemed to stem from that one incident. But she knew well that this didn't justify her behavior of swearing at him and getting angry. Moreover, hadn't he paid back every cent of the money consumed at that time?

But when she remembered that time again—

"That's it! Finally, hah... thank goodness."

"What is?"

"Now, Noona... I've given you everything I could. Thank you so much for helping—"

"Helping?"

She closed her eyes and rummaged through her hazy memory of what she had said back then.

"...?"

"I feel skeptical about you."

"What does that mean..."

"I don't even know what you're good at. Honestly, if I hadn't done that, you would have hit rock bottom... and lived off your father-in-law's allowance."

"Hah, but Noona. This is a good thing. Really... if you listen to what I did,"

"I don't want to hear it."

Yes, she really said that. Coldly, just as he treats her now.

"...Then just look at this a little... This is the investment prospectus, so with this..."

"I said I don't want to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hear it. It's obviously just some childish company game. Your problem is that you're too young. Why is your thinking so immature? Are you still a kindergartner? How long do I have to clean up after you?"

The memory from the master bedroom, the room right next door. It began to come back vividly. He had been holding a stack of documents and brochures, a happy expression on his face as he tried to hug her, but he had no choice but to stop in his tracks. And she, sitting at the vanity, hardened her expression and poured out heartless words.

"...That, still... there are times when difficult moments come while doing it..."

"Other people do well without doing that. Do you know why? They don't do things like you, recklessly spreading themselves thin. They prepare thoroughly in advance and do it accurately. But you..."

She had tried not to show that she had noticed, but now she remembered. Back then, he was crying. Or rather, he was holding back tears, his eyes glistening with moisture. But she didn't know why back then. What on earth for? If you think about it, being a married couple means you can give a little help, and instead of holding him responsible for such things, she could have hugged him warmly and offered words of comfort, cheering him on by saying, "It went well, so I'm happy too."

Finally, he had said,

"I thought you would succeed. I'm very disappointed in you, Han Suhyun."

"...."

He didn't say ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a word, just stood there blankly, slowly lowering his hands as he listened to her. Sitting in the study, thinking of the past, she eventually began to scream at herself.

"Don't, please, stop! Why!!! Why, why are you like that, why!!! Why!... Keep saying... things like that..."

She screamed at the Seo Jia of the past, telling her to stop saying anything to him, but because of her exceptional memory, the past felt too raw.

"I want to get a divorce."

"...?"

"I needed someone to lean on. I thought you would play that role. But I don't think so. You're too weak. You seem like a person even more fragile than me. So I want to get a divorce. That's my thought."

Following that, she slowly collapsed from the chair, as if crumbling down, and fainted right there.

He smiled faintly as he hung up the phone and took his hands off the keyboard.

"I'm fine. Ah—I grew up hearing informal speech so much that it actually feels quite affectionate."

"Then that's a relief. I'm sorry to keep saying the same thing, but you can just think of the M&A-related talk as empty words. I feel like I'm putting pressure on you... I said something too difficult."

He adjusted his posture and said, "Not at all. Even if you were to actually proceed, I would also be involved and conduct a review, so by showing your intentions early, you've bought me time. I haven't told the Chairman yet, but I intend to induce interest by mentioning it subtly."

"Whatever you say, the answer sounds so good that I'm so grateful. This is really... If you have any questions during the architectural design, contact me often. We are also recognized to some extent for our consulting."

"I am well aware that Seongjeong is famous. It is number one as an architectural firm... Yes."

"Thank you, General Manager."

"You can comfortably call me Suhyun. Most other people do as well."

The method of dealing with people that had the lowest chance of failure was to be humble at first, and then transform oneself to resemble the other person's personality. For example, with his father, who shouted at him but was composed externally, it was highly successful to be quiet outside and shout back just as loudly when discussing business in private. And for someone like the Chairman, who had a tendency to pour out his inner thoughts and lay all his cards on the table, it was best to respond without being too burdened, proceed with business based on facts, and appear as if everything was being handled quickly on the surface.

He had learned such things early on. It was something he had internalized even without his father teaching him separately. Where did he learn that—

"General Manager, the Executive Management Section Chief would like to see you."

"Yes!"

There's no time. But why is that old man calling me again? There's only an hour left until I get off work... 'Ah, maybe it's better not to go home...' But he gave up. Because that crazy woman might come here herself.