Chapter 132
Chapter 132
"......."
Yang Hye-in felt her throat tighten at those words.
She didn't know what to say.
She'd always known she owed an apology. For thinking, back when she first started working here, that it was a good thing the kid was so quiet. For turning a blind eye to every injustice the child suffered. For never even trying to understand the state of the child right beside her.
And—
—and that day, when she'd thought 'Sara' might take her own life, she'd felt nothing but relief when she saw her unharmed.
No, it wasn't relief that 'Sara' hadn't died.
She'd simply been relieved the child under her charge hadn't died.
......That day, Yang Hye-in had seen the wounds on Sara's back and assumed they were self-inflicted.
The normal response, even with that assumption, would have been to call the police or a counselor immediately. At the very least, she should have tried to understand what psychological issues could drive Sara to hurt herself badly enough to leave her back covered in bruises.
By even the most basic logic, she should have at least considered getting treatment for the wounds on Sara's back.
Choosing any of those options would have been far more humane than simply bringing her home, or fleeing as if to escape the situation entirely.
But Yang Hye-in hadn't considered a single one of them.
In that moment, she'd acted only for her own sake.
To protect a job that paid a salary of 500 million won, the kind of position anyone would covet. To avoid provoking the anger of someone who represented the wealthiest company in the world.
No matter what excuse she used to dress up or justify those choices, given that fundamental flaw, Yang Hye-in could never truly be free of what she'd done.
Even if she testified before the police and confessed her sins—
the past where her too-late choices had driven a child toward death would never change.
And, on top of that—
"......."
Yang Hye-in looked at the person gazing up at her, not Sara, but 'Sara.'
She was smiling, and that was exactly why the expression felt so empty of emotion. As if this were simply the baseline expression she could show, with no need to display anything else.
There was no anger, no hatred, no reproach, no resentment.
If Yang Hye-in begged for forgiveness here, this 'Sara' would likely accept it. And then she'd probably tell the other Sara, the one asleep inside her, that she'd chosen to forgive.
That Sara would probably believe what 'Sara' said.
And, probably,
that would truly be the end of it.
All the wrongs Yang Hye-in had done would vanish beneath the surface.
She might pay some kind of price for her sins, but it would be a price imposed because 'Sara' wished it, not a genuine consequence—
a hollow judgment that would solve nothing.
......Even so, she couldn't not apologize right now.
Even in Yang Hye-in's own mind, her guilt was crystal clear. And she knew a chance to apologize like this wouldn't easily come again.
"I'm sorry."
So Yang Hye-in apologized.
Slowly, deeply bowing her head, with all the sincerity she could muster.
She couldn't make a long speech. Bringing up every detail felt like it would turn into nothing but excuses—elaborate justifications tacked on to earn forgiveness.
"Well, fine. Let's try to get along from now on."
"......."
'Sara' accepted that apology far too lightly.
"......."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
"Hmm......."
Yang Hye-in was still bowing, but 'Sara' had already drifted into thought, as if she'd stopped paying attention to the bow entirely.
"So, that's one problem solved, then?"
As if she'd never done anything of the sort before, 'Sara' spoke with the air of someone simply checking off a task.
"......Uh......."
In the end, it was Ha-neul who spoke up this time too.
"Hey, is it okay if I say something?"
"Doesn't matter."
To Ha-neul's cautious question, 'Sara' answered with a little shrug.
Ha-neul drew a small breath and spoke.
"......I think it's ridiculous to demand a certain attitude from the person receiving an apology. In the end, apology and forgiveness should adapt to the person who's receiving them. But......."
"But?"
As 'Sara' tilted her head like she genuinely didn't understand, Ha-neul hesitated before continuing.
"Aren't you, maybe, genuinely not angry? You've been treated like that all this time. I mean...... don't you want some kind of revenge on the kids who ostracized you? Or want the servants to truly reflect on what they did wrong......?"
As 'Sara' stared blankly at her, Ha-neul's voice slowly faded. Saying it out loud made it feel a little foolish.
Right, whether to accept an apology was entirely up to the person receiving it. It wasn't something anyone else could dictate or second-guess.
"So, something like that? The way villains in old stories make people pay for their sins."
'Sara' folded her arms and tilted her head.
"Y-Yeah, right?"
Ha-neul answered a bit uncertainly.
"Hmm."
'Sara' held that pose for a while, thinking, then slowly spoke.
"There was a time I thought I wanted to do that."
She scratched her neck, slowly continuing as if tracing old memories.
"I mean...... when I was young, that's what I wanted. Honestly, more than making anyone pay, I just hated everything around me. And I didn't just sit there quietly. You guys read what I wrote, right?"
'Sara' gestured with her eyes toward her desk drawer.
"It's probably written in there too. That I hit and scratched and bit the servants. But what can you do when nothing changes? There's only so much you can do after that. You just learn not to hope. Silently."
"......."
'Sara' talked as casually as if sharing some ordinary old story, but it was so heavy that those listening couldn't dare to interrupt.
A child who'd wished for nothing more than what others had, for ordinary things, but who'd achieved nothing, and instead learned to stop wishing.
And so she'd kept living, all this time, without hoping.
That was why 'Sara' had never hoped for her tormentors to be punished. Had never hoped for them to beg her forgiveness. The only thing 'Sara' had ever hoped for was the attention of Choi Na-kyung, the one person who visited her, the one person who talked to her.
"......."
Ha-neul bit her lip.
Because they'd been able to hold conversations up to now, she'd assumed 'Sara' was just a normal kid like everyone else. An ordinary child who hoped for other people's attention, for friends, for the love of family and parents.
But she'd been looking at the situation far too optimistically.
She knew that 'Sara', influenced by Sara, had become much brighter and more proactive than the original 'Sara.'
But 'Sara's' core nature hadn't changed.
Long before she'd tried to take her own life, far, far before that, 'Sara' had already been broken.
At the moment when a family's love was most crucial, 'Sara' had been abandoned by all of it. Trapped in an empty mansion...... she'd spent a childhood that was unbearably lonely.
And so unbearably lonely that she'd come to see that loneliness as natural—
and had finally become a person who'd stopped hoping.
Of course, it wasn't that she wished for nothing. But the beings she hoped for were extremely limited.
The mother 'Sara' talked about; Choi Na-kyung. And Sara. Just those two.
Though from the reactions of 'Sara' and Sara, it seemed she'd be cautious about meeting Choi Na-kyung from now on.
The reason 'Sara' had come forward like this now was simply because Sara had felt guilt.
"......So...... that's how it is. I don't really hope for anything. It's not like those people are going to apologize just because I want them to. And an apology won't change who I am. It won't change my childhood. I can just keep living the way I have been, and that's fine, isn't it?"
'Sara' said that, and then smiled softly.
"I've even made friends like this. I've got people who stay with me wherever I go. It's not like I'll ever be short on money. So isn't that enough?"
On the surface, it sounded incredibly positive.
But that image—
It also looked like someone who'd never had anything, who'd finally gained a few possessions, and had then stopped walking, satisfied, saying, "This is enough."
Someone who appeared more proactive than anyone but was, in reality, a thoroughly passive being. A precarious existence that would crumble without someone beside her.
Of everyone in that room, there probably wasn't a single person who looked at 'Sara' and didn't think exactly that.