Chapter 92
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 92
[The Fall of the Yeonildam Empire: Collapse of the Nation's Largest Entertainment Giant]
[Cutting Ties After 12 Years: Im Eun-seong Swiftly Terminates Contract]
[CEO Min Tae-gon Summoned for Questioning, Promptly Resigns]
[A Barrage of Accusations: CEO Min's Endless Power Trips Exposed]
[Yeonildam Raided... Facing Additional Charges of Embezzling 160 Billion Won]
* * *
Yeon-ju scanned the articles, focusing on the ones about Eun-seong. Most people seemed to agree it was a relief he had escaped Yeonildam so quickly.
While many had expected a messy fight over his transfer, the revelation of Tae-gon's crimes made Eun-seong's departure seem like a natural, even necessary, step.
Yeonildam’s fall from grace was swift. Its actors scrambled to demand contract terminations, finally stepping forward to testify about Tae-gon's abuses—things they had kept silent about under the weight of his power. Employees came forward with stories of his tyrannical behavior, including verbal abuse and physical assault. The day after the scandal broke, Tae-gon stepped down as CEO.
“Is Han-byeol asleep?”
When her mother, Mrs. Na, walked into the kitchen, Yeon-ju lowered her phone and looked up.
“Yeah. He said he was going to sleep. He’s been going to bed really early lately.”
“That’s because he’s growing.”
“Is that so?”
Her mother really did seem to know everything. When would Yeon-ju ever reach that level of wisdom?
Yeon-ju nodded at her mother’s simple explanation and continued to fidget with her phone. Mrs. Na, taking a sip of water, glanced over at her.
“Why are you just sitting there? Aren’t you going to bed?”
“Mom… Hey, do you want to have a beer with me?”
“A what? A beer?”
Mrs. Na gave Yeon-ju a look that clearly asked what on earth she was talking about. She could understand every little thing Han-byeol said and did, but she couldn’t begin to guess the reasons behind her own daughter’s words and actions.
Raising a daughter was harder than raising a grandson. When would she ever become a mother who knew everything about her child?
“I feel like I’ve raised you for a lifetime, but you’re still as hard to read as a newborn.”
“What is?”
“Nothing. What’s this about a drink? Tired of drinking alone?”
“Mom, it’s not like I drink alone all the time.”
“Oh, please. You think I don’t know? You think I let it slide because I was oblivious to you sneaking a can or two of beer every single night before bed?”
So she knew.
Yeon-ju could only brush her hair back in response. Having finished her water, Mrs. Na set her glass in the sink, hesitated for a moment, then turned around.
“I don’t care for beer, but I wouldn’t mind some makgeolli.”
“Ah, makgeolli! That sounds great, Mom. I’ll go buy some.”
As Yeon-ju sprang to her feet, Mrs. Na urged her to hurry.
“What should I get for snacks?” Yeon-ju asked while putting on her jacket.
Mrs. Na opened the refrigerator. “Snacks? We don’t need to stuff ourselves. We have pickled radish, that’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Yeon-ju quickly slipped out the front door. Rummaging through the fridge, Mrs. Na pulled out a block of tofu and sighed.
“Something’s definitely going on. Making me all anxious like this.”
Knowing her daughter would need something more substantial to eat with the alcohol, she decided to pan-fry the tofu.
* * *
“So, what is it you’re trying to say? You’ve been letting this simmer for ages.”
Mrs. Na, who had already poured herself a bowl of makgeolli, finally lost her patience. Yeon-ju, who had just been poking at the pan-fried tofu with her chopsticks, looked up.
“Ah, right. I do have something to tell you, Mom.”
“Sure. Tell me tomorrow, then. It’s fine, just get it out before I end up in a coffin.”
Realizing she might have hesitated for too long, Yeon-ju raised her eyebrows. She took a sip of her beer, stalling. Her lips parted, but the words caught in her throat. Even with all her resolve, one look at her mother’s face made her mind go blank.
“I think I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.”
“Mom? Why? Are you sick?”
“I’ll have to tell the doctor I’ve come down with a bad case of dying from curiosity.”
“Ah…”
Yeon-ju scratched her head and poured more beer into her glass. Looking thoroughly fed up, Mrs. Na rested her chin on her hand and stared at her daughter.
“Um, Mom.”
“Yes. Keep saying it. The word ‘Mom’ is going to wear out at this rate.”
“Look, whatever I say, I don’t want you to be shocked. Oh, right. Gongjindan—do you want to take one now? I heard it’s good for calming your mind.”
“Sure, keep spouting nonsense to buy time. Do coffins offer early morning delivery? Because I feel like climbing into one right now.”
“Mom. Mom, okay. I’m really going to say it now.”
Yeon-ju squeezed her eyes shut. The words she had rehearsed to herself a thousand times since that morning finally surfaced.
“Mom.”
Mrs. Na took her hand off her chin.
“I… met Han-byeol’s dad.”
* * *
Mrs. Na, who had started with a single bowl of makgeolli, was now on her second bottle.
Her daughter’s story had tumbled out in fits and starts, punctuated by quiet sobs, until she finally fell silent.
A heavy quiet descended on the room, as if no one was there at all. A long time passed.
When her daughter’s trembling breaths finally broke the silence, Mrs. Na raised her bowl and drained the rest of the makgeolli. The thick, sweet taste of the rice wine coated her tongue, but her insides were in such turmoil that she barely registered it.
“So,” Mrs. Na finally spoke. “You found the boy’s father. You met him. And things are good.”
“…”
“Is that what you’re telling me?”
Yeon-ju silently nodded. Staring at her daughter’s bowed head and her ears, which were red enough to burst, Mrs. Na let out a heavy, hollow sigh.
Her stomach twisted into a painful knot, her mind reeling.
“Good lord, good lord,” Mrs. Na muttered, letting out shallow breaths before looking back at her daughter.
Staring blankly at Yeon-ju, who was trying with all her might not to cry out loud, Mrs. Na stood up and quietly walked into her room.
The moment the door closed, Yeon-ju bit her lip hard. Only then did the tears begin to drip onto her thighs.
She thought she had been through all of life’s hardships, but telling her mother made her feel like a lost, helpless child again.
Mom can’t forgive this. Of course she can’t.
Just as Yeon-ju, interpreting her mother’s silence as rejection, clenched her fists and let her tears fall, Mrs. Na walked back out.
She tossed something onto the table. It was the Gongjindan.
“Take it. Get ahold of yourself.”
Yeon-ju’s vision blurred with tears. The Gongjindan her mother had brought out was the very same kind Eun-seong had given the staff as a gift on their first day of filming, a fact that only deepened her sorrow.
Mrs. Na peeled the wrapper off the small, dark ball and waved it in front of her daughter’s face, urging her to eat it. To put it in her mouth and chew.
She forced the Gongjindan—which she herself had never dared to eat, admiring it from afar because it was too precious—into her daughter’s mouth.
“Take a deep breath and open your eyes properly.”
Obediently, Yeon-ju chewed the bitter pill and took a deep breath, just as her mother said. But her trembling breaths and flowing tears wouldn’t stop, and the weight on her heart only grew heavier.
“So, you knew from the very beginning who the father was. What he did for a living.”
She nodded.
“Good heavens. Good heavens… He’s someone you see on TV, everywhere you look, isn’t he? Have you spent all these years just watching his face from afar?”
She nodded again, tears pouring down so fiercely she could barely lift her head.
“Oh, dear lord… This is driving me crazy…”
Mrs. Na looked utterly dazed, then began to beat her chest as a lump rose in her throat. She thumped it once, then again, harder and faster.
She remembered when her daughter had gotten pregnant, all alone at such a young age. Remembered how her body was bone-thin, with only her belly protruding.
How many times had she wanted to kick open that closed bedroom door and demand to know who the father was?
But she could never bring herself to ask. She was terrified her daughter would say she didn’t know. Terrified she would say she couldn’t tell her because she had no idea who the father was.
Her heart breaking, she could only watch over her daughter. She felt dizzy just thinking about how that tiny body had shouldered such a heavy burden for all those years.
While the child’s father was flying high, loved by people all over the world, her young daughter had barely stepped outside, terrified of people’s stares. It was agonizing to think of the twenties she had lost.
“I’m sorry…” Yeon-ju whispered, her voice barely audible over her mother’s pained thumps.
Mrs. Na squeezed her eyes shut.
“I’m sorry, Mom… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
Yeon-ju explained that she had met him again when she went to work with Hae-young. She confessed that while she was lost, not knowing whether to run or stay, he had ultimately found out the truth.
“I’m sorry… He didn’t do anything wrong, Mom…”
“If this isn’t a sin, then what is? What on earth counts as a sin in this world?”
“It’s… it’s all my fault…”
“Sure. He didn’t know, so he must have been shocked. And if word gets out, you’ll be the only villain. People will tear you to shreds, asking how you could hide something like this.”
Overcome with dizziness, Mrs. Na pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Let the whole world point fingers and say you’re wrong. Even if everyone else does, you’re still my daughter. To me, you’re the best.”
“…”
“Tell me. What did you do that was so wrong? Did you neglect the child? Did you refuse to give birth? Did you hold the man back? What did you do to make him the victim and you the sinner? Didn’t you do all this to save both the baby and him? You did it to save everyone, not caring that you were destroying yourself in the process.”
Yeon-ju clenched her teeth. Terrified that her loud sobs would wake the sleeping Han-byeol, she fought with all her might to keep her mouth shut, her breath hitching in her stuffed nose.
Mrs. Na leaned her exhausted body back against the chair. Her shoulders slumped as she blinked, lifting her tear-stained face to the ceiling.
…Once again, silence fell.
Yeon-ju, having poured out her tears, gradually calmed down. Only after a long while did Mrs. Na lower her gaze.
“Did you finish the Gongjindan?”
Feeling a bit sheepish, Yeon-ju nodded. Mrs. Na let out a short sigh. Looking at her daughter, a mess of tears and snot, she couldn’t tell if heaven was being cruel or if she herself had been.
“But seeing you cry and let it all out like this,” she said quietly, “I guess you’re finally trying to live like a proper human being.”
She had always been anxious about her daughter, who was so stubbornly strong she rarely cried. Her mother had constantly worried about how she would ever soothe her hidden sorrows, how such a quiet girl would ever find a way to shake them off.
“He says… he wants to come and introduce himself.”
“When?”
“The day after tomorrow. After his filming is completely finished. Are you okay with that, Mom?”
When Yeon-ju finally looked up, her eyes as red as a rabbit’s, Mrs. Na let out a long breath.
“Fine. Tell him to come.”
Mrs. Na handed her daughter a tissue.
“Let’s see what this precious, expensive face of his looks like.”