Yukiko Sorts Her Heart
Yukiko had sorted her feelings. Until the very end, she had been useless to him. Until the very end, he had tried to give her one last chance. Until the very end, she had been unable to love him—and she had lost any right to stay by his side.
As she pondered what came next, Yukiko began to seriously consider death. It wasn't some desperate, raw urge like If I'm going back to the family, I might as well die. But when she slowly imagined the life awaiting her upon her return, it held no appeal worth living for. She had never lived with a fierce, unyielding will to survive from the start. Her best efforts had come only because she didn't know how to do anything less—her life had never held true value to her from the beginning.
Even if she were chosen by another man after being cast out, it was hard to imagine she'd ever be as happy as she had been now. She knew full well how rare it was to find someone who treated her with such esteem. And if such a man existed, he would surely demand a steep price. Men with sadistic tastes could inflict unimaginable torment on women—torture that made amputating a limb or two seem merciful, reducing humans to something less than human. At that thought, Yukiko couldn't help but chuckle; wasn't her master's love much the same, in a way, reducing her to less than human?
Her pathetic lunge at him, begging to save her life—it was still mortifying to recall. In truth, falling into another man's arms wasn't all that realistic either. She might have preserved her virginity, but having been another man's slave already branded her as damaged goods at best. No future she envisioned felt worthwhile.
She had learned comfort, and with it, the depths of futility. Still, she wouldn't dream of dying in front of him. At the very least, in their final moments, she would show her master a dignified parting—one that could be forgotten quickly, erased from his memories. She had already informed her adoptive mother of her impending departure, admitting her failure. The woman had flown into a rage, insisting it couldn't be true, but reality couldn't be changed.
With breakfast prepared, Yukiko waited for her master to rise. When Seongha emerged from the bathroom, freshly washed, everything was ready.
"Thanks to Master's consideration, I've had ample time to reflect. From today, I will prepare to leave."
Only after her formal bow did Yukiko lift her gaze to meet Seongha's eyes. Staring intently at his face, she found herself startled in several ways. First, she realized for the first time just how handsome her master was. It wasn't their first face-to-face, but her eyes had always fixed on his jawline and throat. For a woman—for a slave—to boldly gaze upon and admire her master's face was taboo. She had never even wanted to. Keeping her eyes downcast, obeying commands without question—that was a woman's virtue.
Even when she had looked directly at his face before, her focus hadn't been on him, but on how she appeared. At the slave market, she had desperately perfected her poise, showcasing her elegance. In the department store dressing room, she obsessed over looking alluring without seeming vulgar. Before the war, the targets she had been tasked to seduce were mostly aged tycoons. Compared to them, Seongha was young and ruggedly masculine. She had momentarily forgotten amid his vague, hesitant demeanor, but among the men she had actually seen, he was the most striking.
The second shock was the regret brimming in his eyes.
"You've done so much until now. Thank you."
"It is only regrettable that I could not serve Master properly."
Seongha's gaze swept down her body, laden with lingering attachment and desire. That look threw Yukiko into confusion. This wasn't the reaction she had hoped for. Worthless as she was to him, she had at least wanted her farewell to bring him a smile. If this was mere acting for her sake, she wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary. She yearned for his genuine, relaxed laughter—not this awkward grin meant to reassure her.
The lust faded quickly from his eyes, replaced by a relieved smile.
"I hope you find happiness after you leave."
The lingering regrets she had sobbed out yesterday began to tangle once more with the resolve she had mustered that morning.
"I'll keep sending you the same amount of money even after. Even if you're not a slave anymore... Ah, would it be easier to keep up the pretense of slave status?"
Everything Seongha had given her so far was unnecessary. The payment for her purchase as a slave was one thing, but there was no reason to do more for a slave whose contract had ended.
"Do as you find most convenient, Master. I'll leave behind everything you've given me, so feel free to give it to another woman or discard it."
"No, you have to take it all. There's no other woman anyway, and I bought them as gifts—you're the owner."
Before she could protest, he cut her off firmly.
"The money's non-negotiable. I won't hear any doctor's excuses or whatever."
This went far beyond her sense of normalcy. There was no obligation to provide for her, no service she could even offer in return. In fact, she stood to lose nothing. If a madman were tossing cash on the street, she'd simply pick it up and walk away. The sum wasn't enormous by Korean standards, but back in Japan, it was substantial. Even without slave status, her skills would secure a comfortable life in any ordinary job. As a slave for now, her family had little room to interfere.
Yet it brought no joy. Better than returning to the family, perhaps, but still devoid of reason to keep living. Just work, eat, sleep. She didn't want to go back to that either—and she couldn't pinpoint why it held no allure.
At any rate, the happy, secure life she had forsaken her pride for had slipped into her hands like a lie. Stunned, Yukiko could muster only one response.
"...Why?"
Seongha seemed at a loss too, offering an awkward smile and silence.
"Because you're beautiful."
His answer was so simple, yet it struck her deeply.
"B-beautiful?"
She had never had chances to meet peers or men. Her world had consisted of her adoptive mother and half-sisters, none of whom ever called her beautiful. Icy. Eerily emotionless. The women of the Shinohara family were all lovely, and Yukiko was nothing special—practically defective. She harbored a complex about her looks compared to aspects she could improve through effort. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't smile.
"Yes, the most beautiful of anyone I've seen."
Meeting Seongha's eyes now, Yukiko realized she had been terribly mistaken. She had thought he spared her body to keep it pristine for a refund. But a miser that stingy wouldn't treat a departing slave like this. She had assumed he disliked her body, yet his smiling insistence that she was pretty rang utterly sincere.
Only now did she see it. What if—just what if—he was more than kind, a madman of sorts? What if he had forcibly suppressed his lust, worried that bedding his purchased slave might discomfort her? What if he had kept his distance, preemptively assuming she could never love him? What if he had rejected her seductions, deeming them mere ploys for money and safety, insisting it was fine, okay?
Those dozens of "it's fine" she had heard living with him shook her mind. Come to think of it, she had never once told him he was handsome or attractive. He had assumed "sex with me would disgust her"—and she bore some blame. No—on second thought, that was too harsh on her. What slave appraises her master or declares how she sees him? A slave served, not judged.
A colossal misunderstanding had taken root, but there was still time to mend it. Yukiko's heart raced. An unwitting smile tugged at her lips.
She loved Seongha. It wasn't the environment or luxury she craved—it was him, the master who belonged there, that she desired.
Even if she confessed now, he wouldn't believe her. He'd mechanically repeat "it's fine", denying his own appeal. She needed a plan, an opportunity. No space for him to brood alone. She had to overwhelm him with love at once, make it an accomplished fact.
Yukiko sorted her heart. She would be the one to confess first.