Daughters Take After Their Mothers

In my heart, I wanted to throw a complete game, but my pitch count had ballooned early, and I had no choice but to come out in the 7th. Still — seven innings, three runs allowed. Not a bad line at all.

I fully intended to head straight back to the team bus without so much as glancing at Seo-hee, fueled by righteous indignation toward her. That was the plan, anyway.

"Yi-seon... um... my mom's here looking for you...?"

What could I do? She was trembling like a leaf, looking so pitiful.

I packed every ounce of lingering disappointment and resentment into a single sigh, took Seo-hee's hand, and pulled her along.

"Fine. Would you stop shaking already?"

"Who said I was shaking...?"

She was still flinching from nerves even now. I told her to cut the nonsense and calm down — and to prove the point, I yanked the hand I'd been holding and pulled her firmly into my chest.

"Hey...! What if someone sees us?!"

"Would that someone be here in the middle of a game?"

Look, with rumors spreading this wildly these days, standing in the middle of a hallway where club staff and officials come and go? Yeah, that wouldn't exactly be smart. If it got caught, forget scandal — that would be an outright violation.

But she was the one who chased me all the way to the locker room door just to say her piece. If we got caught over this, it wouldn't be a scandal, it'd be grounds for a suspension.

Seo-hee apparently had no rebuttal, because she just quietly nestled into my arms. Little by little, the tension seemed to drain from her shoulders.

"Feeling better now?"

"Yeah."

She was finally back to her usual soft, easygoing self. At this point, she probably wouldn't tremble in front of her mother either.

"Good. Then shall we go?"

"Yeah. This time... I'm counting on you, noona! I'll make it clear to her that she's not allowed to say a word to you."

"Me?"

"What, you looking down on your noona? This is your company president you're talking to, you know?"

"Yes, yes, got it. Anyway... do I smell like sweat right now?"

"What's with the 'yes, yes.' Ugh... your sweat smell isn't bad. Up close I can smell a little of it, but it's fine."

"Hmm... I'm not sure I believe you. You like how I smell after a game, noona."

"...That's a conversation for outside. And if that's how you feel, why did you even ask?"

"To tease you."

The two of us bickered our way down the hallway in a warm, cozy atmosphere.

Right — so what if her parents were scary, so what if there might be objections? I was an adult, and Seo-hee was without question an adult too. We were both old enough to make the important decisions in our own lives ourselves.

So as long as the two of us loved each other and were happy...

"You two certainly seem close."

Holy crap, that scared me.

We'd been walking down the hallway, goofing off for no good reason, and the moment we rounded the nearby corner — there stood her mother.

"Ah, no need to wonder how much you heard. I caught you from the part where you were being affectionate in a hallway and telling each other not to tremble."

So basically, everything, ma'am.

She must have trailed right behind Seo-hee after sending her ahead. I racked my brain, replaying the conversation in my head, checking whether I'd said anything I shouldn't have.

"Hmm..."

While I was still mentally combing through everything for mistakes, her mother was observing me with that terrifying, utterly unreadable expression — no emotion detectable whatsoever.

Mother and daughter did look a little alike in their blankness... which is another way of saying she wore the same ultra-charismatic, frightening face that career-woman-mode Han Seo-hee puts on.

As I stood there unwittingly overpowered by that gaze, sweating bullets, Seo-hee — who had stiffened up beside me — suddenly stepped in front of me, looking nothing like her usual self.

"Mom. If you have something to say, say it to me."

This wasn't the cool-headed professional Han Seo-hee, nor the crumpled, mushy Han Seo-hee she showed me when we were alone. It was a Seo-hee standing guard in front of me — nervous somewhere underneath, yet standing tall and defiant.

At the sight of her, her mother's eyes narrowed. Whoa. The atmosphere in here is not a joke.

But no matter what, I couldn't hide behind Seo-hee, so I stepped up myself and opened my mouth first.

"Pleasure to meet you, mother-in-law!"

Seo-hee flinched beside me. But if you're going to draw aggro, this is the way to do it.

It's a set pattern, isn't it? The boyfriend her parents disapprove of steps up boldly, calls the mother "mother-in-law," and she explodes — who are you calling mother-in-law?

The game today had been a bit middling anyway, and it seemed like things weren't headed toward a good first impression no matter what, so I resolved to just go loud and clean. Maybe she'd think, well, at least the boy's got guts.

But her mother showed no reaction at all. She simply kept watching me with that same expression, perfectly still.

"...Mom?"

"Yes."

After a beat, Seo-hee couldn't stand the silence and spoke up, but her mother only answered with calm composure. Then, slowly, she opened her mouth.

"I've kept a busy man waiting too long. I enjoyed today's game."

"Thank you very much!"

If I'd committed to pushing forward with bravado, I had to keep the energy up to the end. But her mother didn't seem to care in the slightest — not a flicker crossed her face.

"I noticed the other players were all wearing gold necklaces, but Kim Yi-seon isn't. Is there a particular reason?"

And then she asked a completely off-the-wall question.

A gold necklace? Out of nowhere?

Baseball players do often wear gold chains even during games, sure, but that hardly seemed like the topic of the moment.

But who cares whether it fit the situation. A question from my mother-in-law deserved an earnest, honest answer.

"I've never once played a game wearing a necklace, so I honestly couldn't say. To be frank, the designs the seniors wear don't really appeal to me, so I've never even considered buying one."

I understand wearing a gold chain out of superstition, routine, or personal meaning. But the designs they hang around their necks look cheap — like some two-bit street thug's taste. Of course, surviving a violent sport demands durability, which must limit the design options somewhat, but even accounting for that, they're just not much to look at.

Her mother gave away absolutely nothing about whether my answer was a positive or a negative one.

"Is that so? Understood. I've held up a busy man long enough. You worked hard today — go in and rest."

And with that, she simply left.

Huh?

Han Seo-hee hurried after her mother, who had walked off in a daze, too stunned to react. This can't be right.

This was the mother who, back when Seo-hee said she wanted to follow her close friends to a certain high school, had coolly shoved a stack of cold, hard logic at her middle-school daughter and demanded a full briefing on the school first.

That woman came to see Yi-seon in person, looked at him, and left without saying a word? Seriously?

Then what had all her nervousness been for? A faint sense of injustice welled up in her — so, in a way she would absolutely never have acted under normal circumstances, Han Seo-hee questioned her mother's behavior directly.

"That's it? A woman as busy as you came all the way out to watch the game, and that's all?"

"Well, as the owner's family, perhaps I should have handed him a wad of cash for his performance? He's already headed back — too late to deliver it now. Have Seo-hee treat him to a nice dinner or something."

"That's not what I mean."

She was snapping at her own mother. Unthinkable under ordinary circumstances — but somehow, today, it kept happening.

"If it's not that, then is there anything else you needed from me?"

"...Didn't you come to see Yi-seon?"

"And I did see him, didn't I."

Her mother flatly refused to give the answer she wanted, to a degree that felt almost deliberate. Seo-hee could guess what she was driving at — but unless it was said outright, her mother acted as if she would never, ever give it up.

"So you did come to check what kind of man I'm dating. You saw him with your own eyes, so you should say it — whether he passes or not. You can't just walk away like this!"

She put steel in her eyes, forcing her stiffening muscles to run hot. Even now, having her mother look her over like that was a little terrifying — but thinking of Yi-seon made it bearable.

This wasn't simply a matter of whether they kept dating. If her mother truly disliked Yi-seon, his playing career was bound to be anything but smooth from here on—

"Why? You're an adult. Does your mother need to sign off on every single man you date?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Whoever you see is your business. Today I simply dropped by because I heard my daughter had become a company president, and I'd never once visited. It just so happened to be a day that boy was playing, so I thought I'd watch."

An excuse no one on earth would believe. Even her mother seemed aware of how shameless it sounded, because she avoided her daughter's eyes.

Wait.

"Seriously... you're not going to say anything?"

Something was wrong. The mother Seo-hee knew was not capable of this. This was the woman who, back in kindergarten, had pried apart her daughter from any little boy who failed to meet her standards.

But now, with her usual face — that trademark terrifying expression — she gave Han Seo-hee only a firm, final answer.

"Yes. Handle your private life as you see fit. What I want to know is whether you've been doing your job properly as president."

Caught up in that momentum, Han Seo-hee found herself nodding that she would — but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply off.

Astoundingly, all the rumors involving Kim Yi-seon had been scrubbed completely out of the press.

To be fair, the names involved carried too much weight for the mainstream media to poke at aggressively in the first place — they'd always been careful not to anger Seoul Group. But third-rate internet tabloids and a few celebrity gossip outlets had been circling, testing the waters.

The story was already spreading like wildfire online, and as it gradually crept into print, it stood on the verge of blowing up enormous — until, at some point, as if someone had deliberately clamped a hand over every mouth at once, it all went quiet.

On top of that, a barrage of lawsuits and formal complaints was raining down across the web, and an unmistakable atmosphere of watch-your-mouth caution had settled over everything.

They hadn't managed to stop the rebel-hearted souls who went so far as to use VPNs to keep spreading the slander — but at minimum, openly ranting about it or propagating it publicly had become completely impossible.

And the mastermind behind this whole operation — Choi Hee-jung, wife of the president of Seoul Media and chairwoman of the Seoul Arts Foundation — was conducting a phone call with her father-in-law in the picture of composure.

Even after hanging up, Choi Hee-jung's expression didn't change in the slightest.

Having parted ways with Han Seo-hee, Chairwoman Choi Hee-jung had returned straight to her office. The whole series of measures dealing with public opinion had been decided long before she ever went to meet Kim Yi-seon in person.

She understood the two of them saw each other because they wanted to. But rumors were another matter — those had to be handled decisively.

Word was that her father-in-law had already passed along his personal contact information, telling Kim Yi-seon to call whenever he needed anything. But wasn't handling threats preemptively the most important thing of all?

Her husband had apparently found Kim Yi-seon grating, fuming about why anyone should lift a finger to help "that little thief." But this wasn't about helping Kim Yi-seon alone. Their own Seo-hee deserved protection from the slander, too.

Anyway — the urgent matter was resolved, and now she could simply return to her usual work.

The other sisters-in-law didn't involve themselves much in management, but Choi Hee-jung had been a career office worker from the start. She'd long since reached the stage where not working made her uncomfortable.

She was sitting in her office ticking through light tasks with these thoughts drifting through her head when—

"Mommy~! I'm baaack— oh, what. Working again?"

Her most troublesome daughter walked in.

"Han Da-hee, we've discussed this. At the office, you call me Chairwoman."

"Oh, please. How many years has it been since I quit? Besides, your daughter comes all the way here to visit and that's the reaction she gets? No warm welcome?"

Da-hee. The eldest of the three daughters born between her and her husband. After marrying Park — the CEO of a hot IT company these days — she'd declared she never wanted to work again, tossed aside her executive seat within the Group, and settled into life as a homemaker. Ever since, complaining of boredom, she'd come pester her mother day in and day out.

Even now she came barreling in without a shred of restraint, throwing her arms around her. Her kid was old enough for kindergarten and Da-hee herself was well past thirty, yet she still carried on like this. Honestly, she had no idea which parent the girl took after. Seo-hee's problem was the exact opposite — she never came to visit at all.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"What's this? 'Athlete necklaces'... 'sporty gold chains'... 'baseball player gold necklaces'... Don't tell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me — is this a gift for that boy Seo-hee's been seeing? Wow. Unbelievable. The great Madam Choi Hee-jung, fussing over something like this? You never did anything half this nice for my dear Park."

But while she'd let her guard down for that one moment, her daughter had somehow already gone through the browsing history on her personal computer. She'd lunged to stop her in a panic, but it seemed Da-hee had already seen everything there was to see.

Her daughter just kept grinning and spinning in place, looking at her like a cat that had cornered something delicious.

Choi Hee-jung doubted an explanation would land, but even so, she judged it better than letting a one-sided misunderstanding fester, and gave her reason.

"That boy Kim Yi-seon says the gold chains the other players wear are tacky, so he doesn't wear one. I'm simply planning to pass along something tasteful before he goes accepting some gaudy thing from Seo-hee."

Left to her own devices, who knew how much more Seo-hee would shower him with. So with the pretext that she was the one giving it, a stern word that he should accept nothing further, and it would be smooth sailing—

"So after saying you wished you had a cute son, you decided to swap him out for a son-in-law? And here my dear Park isn't even cute enough to earn this kind of treatment. *sob sob*"

What manner of slander was this? The eldest daughter was so thoroughly absorbed in teasing her mother that she was just making up nonsense wholesale.

Park was a serious, dependable man — the kind who didn't need looking after on small things like this, which was exactly why. In exchange, hadn't she helped him through every major crisis?

And as for wanting a cute son — with three daughters and no sons, it was simply her personal thought that one more child at the end, a boy, might have been lovely. It wasn't some hard judgment that she needed a cute son.

But this wicked eldest daughter showed no signs of stopping.

"Well, you've always been weak to cute things. Remember when Min-hee brought home that stray mutt? You lectured her about getting rid of it — and then you were the one who raised it the most devotedly of anyone."

"That was because you children only ever brought strays home and never took care of them."

"Aigoo, I know everything~ Now that I think about it, that boy kind of resembles the mutt too, doesn't he?"

Mutt was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the name of the husky they'd raised when the children were small. Now that she said it out loud... the resemblance to Kim Yi-seon really was uncanny...

No — that wasn't the point.

"I can't sit still after this. I'm going straight to Min-hee and Sarang-unnie to tell them everything~"

Before Choi Hee-jung could even mount a rebuttal, her daughter sprang up and bolted for the door, declaring on the way out that she'd spread the word to her younger sister and her cousin as well.

She wanted to scold her, but the girl was already gone. They really were daughters from the same womb — and aside from Seo-hee, not one of them listened to their mother.

When they were young, yelling and disciplining over exactly these kinds of antics had been a daily routine, but now she'd aged, her energy had drained, and she simply lacked the strength for it. (Word has it that Han Seo-hee, watching those scenes from the sidelines as a child, developed her fear of her mother from exactly that.)

In the office the storm had passed through, Choi Hee-jung sank back into her chair, sighed, and began scrolling down her screen with a slow drrrk, drrrk.

Kim Yi-seon. Seeing him in person, he really was a terrifying little fox of a boy. He hadn't been the worst case — a calculated performance — but he was an utterly wicked creature who charmed women without even meaning to.

Even standing face-to-face with her, trembling like a leaf, he had come forward with an attitude that was adorable... no, cunningly adorable. And then he'd gone and called her "mother-in-law" without a shred of permission. It genuinely displeased her, and she'd been angry — but with her daughter right there, she'd barely held it in.

Who was whose son-in-law, exactly? If a boy intended to stand tall and claim the title, he needed a little more backbone first. Pressed up against Seo-hee, shaking like a jello cup — a precious little... no, a pathetic little sight like that was not something he should be showing anyone.

(Of course, Kim Yi-seon had looked nothing quite that adorable in reality — but in Choi Hee-jung's generously corrected memory, that was precisely how it replayed.)

So, extremely displeasing though it was — yes. Her daughter was an adult, and she'd declared she would date the man she liked. A mother couldn't micromanage every step, could she.

In the end, the only answer was to personally manage and mold Kim Yi-seon properly — a method that didn't seem especially elegant, but it was the only one.

To start, something small like the necklace. Then slowly, slowly, lead him down the path. What would come next, she wondered... Men his age did tend to lose their minds over automobiles...

Choi Hee-jung placed an order for a gold necklace worth tens of millions of won from a famous jewelry house, then immediately opened Kim Yi-seon's fan cafe to scout out her next gift.

And all she left behind was a single, simple question post from an anonymous account — one not registered in her own name (the username read: DaHeesMom). Absolutely flawless.