I'll Come Pick You Up. I Said So.
"Then wait just a little longer, all right?"
"Y-yes, Father..."
"Sein?"
"Huh…?"
The moment my mouth opened, every body in the room went rigid.
Was I not supposed to say that?
I borrowed what I knew from my old world, but I still couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong.
Jeong Ayeong's face flushed a soft pink. Her father, who had frozen for a second, soon broke into a kindly smile.
"Huhu. Call us whatever feels comfortable."
"D-Dad…?!"
Even her mother, who had been wearing a stern expression, cleared her throat twice.
"Have you contacted home? You mustn't make them worry."
"Ah, I was just about to."
"Good, good."
"Thank you… Mother…?"
The corner of her mouth twitched. Somehow she and Jeong Ayeong shared the same vibe—trying so hard to look solemn that the act was completely transparent.
I still couldn't grasp why they were reacting like this.
In this world, "Mother" and "Father" are the terms used to address the parents of the person one has promised to marry.
What?
It had felt similar in my previous life, but had the custom solidified this much?
My head felt a little foggy. I still carried the common sense of my old world, yet those were only the memories of the original Han Sein who had lived there. Anything he never knew, I still didn't know. Situations like this one could crop up at any time.
That aside, something more important needed handling.
Whoa. Why so fast?
It was past five, so she was probably on her way home from work. I understood that, yet the speed of her reply nearly drew an involuntary gasp of admiration out of me.
Those six dots weren't just dots. They meant she was typing a reply.
Yes or no. Even if the reason came later, those were usually the only two answers, right? I had no idea what she was agonizing over, but several minutes of staring produced nothing.
I'd already told her, so it should be fine, right?
Just as I was about to turn off my phone—
Why were the messages getting longer?
A restless unease kept poking its head up inside my chest. No "Got it," no "Come home now," no "Don't eat." And then—
……
I was going crazy.
Had she always been this kind of character? Where did the timid, careful Han Seyeon go?
It was only a text message, yet an indescribable dread settled over me. Not ordinary fear—more like the feeling you get with a private academy teacher from my past life. That absolute certainty that you simply have to go.
Only after I answered could I finally breathe again.
Why was this noona suddenly acting like this?
Anyway, I slipped my phone away and stepped out of the room. The bubbling sound of stew, a table already set, and Jeong Ayeong bickering with her mother in the living room greeted me.
"Isn't he your boyfriend?"
"He's not..."
"A friend?"
"Yeah."
"You don't have friends."
"Mom!!"
She must have grown up drowning in love. That was the impression I got watching the mother and daughter tease each other so casually. If it hadn't been for Kim Hyeongmin, she would have grown into a happy person, wouldn't she?
Anyway, the moment Jeong Ayeong's family spotted me, they began gathering around the table. I tried to help, but they firmly stopped me, insisting a guest should just sit still.
"Thank you for the meal."
"Eat well."
"Yes, Father."
"Have plenty."
"Yes, Mother."
Why did they look so pleased? We had only met today, less than an hour ago, yet Jeong Ayeong's parents treated me with such kindness.
And then, right in the middle of the meal, that time-honored Korean tradition began: the family background interrogation.
"How old is your mother?"
"Uh..."
Every gaze fixed on me. When I trailed off, they waited, looking puzzled. I hemmed and hawed before finally starting to speak about my family situation.
"Th-the truth is… I don't have parents."
"……."
An uncomfortable silence settled thickly over the table.
"I'm sorry."
Nothing else came to mind, so I apologized and carefully lifted my eyes, half-afraid of what I might see. What met me wasn't disgust—it was pity.
"Sorry? You haven't done anything wrong."
"That's right. Exactly."
Small questions followed after that. Whether things were all right now. Whether they had accidentally touched a painful memory.
"I'm fine now. School's going well… except for how sorry I feel toward my noona."
"Come over whenever you like. We'll buy you something delicious."
"Thank you."
Had my words struck a chord? I had answered casually enough, yet her father started wiping at his eyes. Being pitied felt a little awkward, but at least they didn't dislike me.
It was a noisy, lively dinner. Not so much fun and eventful as warm and strangely settling—the kind of atmosphere that made you feel soft and safe without even trying.
And before I knew it, the clock was creeping toward eight.
And then Han Seyeon's message arrived.
Han Seyeon's eyes darkened.
It was only a single message. She had been sitting on the subway, listening to music the way she always did, when the vibration arrived carrying unease. And the moment she checked the contents—
A throb.
Her heart throbbed. Not simple pain, but something rising from the deepest part of her chest—an emotion that burned like lava yet cooled ice-cold at the same time.
Anger? Hatred?
Han Seyeon questioned the true nature of what she felt. It made sense that she would; she had never experienced this kind of emotion in her entire life. A feeling that throbbed and ached and gradually grew sharper. A stifling tightness filled her.
She needed to reply, of course. Her fingers moved, yet they refused to cooperate, as if her heart rejected every word.
"Huu..."
Han Seyeon closed her eyes.
It was nothing. A girl? He had said "friend," so nothing would happen. And yet—why did one side of her chest feel so tightly blocked?
In the end she kept typing. She asked for the location of the house. Under the name of worry, she poured every action an older sister could take into the messages.
Had they ever talked this long before? Even adding spoken conversations, the times she could count on one hand. Yet the unpleasant feeling still sat firmly in place.
In the end she even did something she would never normally do.
"Haa..."
What arrived was regret. Why am I like this?
Han Seyeon squeezed her eyes shut against the stifling sensation. It wasn't even an overnight stay. He was just eating dinner at a friend's house and coming home. Nothing was wrong. Just hurry home.
And then, about thirty minutes later, when she opened the door to their apartment, Han Seyeon once again faced the emotion that had been tormenting her.
Welcome home.
"……."
Are you going to eat first?
"……."
Ah.
Han Seyeon's mouth fell slightly open. Have I gone crazy? Why am I like this?
She was genuinely confused. The voice ringing from deep inside her chest was neither a hallucination nor a symptom of illness. It was simply confusion at an unfamiliar situation.
Thinking about it, it was only natural. Han Sein had always been with Han Seyeon. She knew he had no friends. She had wanted to pay more attention to him, yet reality and responsibility had crushed that wish. Unless he was being bullied, the teachers only ever said he was a quiet child who preferred being alone to being with friends. That was all she had known.
Perhaps because of that, Han Seyeon had become isolated in a different way. Whenever she came home, Han Sein was always there. It had been that way for more than five years. When had it started? When she was forced out into society to take responsibility for him? What was certain was that she had not merely been supporting him—Han Seyeon herself had been leaning on him as well.
"I should… eat."
Her movements were terribly awkward, somehow hollow. Her creaking body headed for the kitchen. She needed to reheat the soup… bring out the side dishes…
"No… rice."
How do you even cook it?
She moved with vacant eyes. Of course she had to eat properly if she wanted to go to work tomorrow; dinner was an important meal. She washed the rice. She operated the old electric rice cooker.
Cuckoo! Making delicious ri—
"……."
Was it always like this? The announcement cut off mid-sentence. But Han Seyeon's reaction remained dry. The time displayed on the cooker was thirty minutes—the remaining time until the rice finished. Han Seyeon moved slowly. She sat in front of the television and worked the remote.
Thump. Thump.
Her eyes faced the screen, yet her attention was elsewhere. A sensation that squeezed her heart. Anxiety.
—Sizzle…
How long had she been spacing out? A sound rang from the rice cooker, and Han Seyeon staggered to her feet.
"……."
Her pupils trembled. When she opened the lid, what greeted her was soggy rice—so full of water it looked closer to porridge than proper rice. For someone like Han Seyeon who preferred firm rice, it was a situation that deserved a curse. Yet she only let out a long breath without a word.
Ah. I really can't do anything, can I?
Compared to her little brother, who cleaned without complaint, cooked for her, and still managed to prepare breakfast and dinner every day while attending school—she couldn't do a single thing. She couldn't even cook a proper pot of rice.
Even so, Han Seyeon scooped the rice into a bowl with the rice paddle. Far fewer side dishes than usual. No main dish at all. Yet she chewed and swallowed the food with empty eyes, doing her absolute best to pretend nothing was wrong so she could quiet the anxiety rising in her chest. She chewed the grains, picked up the side dishes.
"Thanks… for the meal."
Was it… okay?
"I should clean up..."
Ah, I can do the dishes. Thanks, Noona.
It was an evening without Han Sein. The more she thought of him, the more irregularly her heart began to pound. Han Seyeon kept lifting her head to look at the clock.
Seven o'clock.
If they usually ate around six, he should be finishing soon.
—Tap. Tap. Tap.
Han Seyeon sat at the empty table and stared blankly. The television held nothing her eyes could take in, so she simply sat and tapped her fingers against the tabletop. The repetitive sound echoed through the single room like her own heartbeat, like the anxiety itself.
Eight o'clock.
That was the hour she reached her limit. In the end she picked up her smartphone and began sending the words she had held back out of fear of burdening him.
Han Seyeon stood up from her seat. Her body had walked all day and carried heavy loads, yet her movements were extremely fast.