Chapter 58: Dinner [R-18]

The car turned into a quiet alley, entering a district lined exclusively with luxury single-family homes.

The alley was silent. Scarcely a car passed, yet every house visible through the window exuded a strange, quiet oppressiveness.

The car stopped in front of one of them.

When Rio killed the engine, the pop song that had been playing cut off abruptly. He glanced at his watch.

“We’re a little late.”

With that, he opened his door and got out. Seojin followed suit.

Beside the gate was a high-end intercom panel. Rio pressed the button with practiced ease and spoke curtly.

“…Father.”

A mechanical beep sounded, and the gate swung open. A man in a black suit, an executive assistant, emerged from within.

Rio nonchalantly tossed the car key to him. Watching the man bow deeply without a word, Seojin instinctively sensed the hierarchy of this place.

A disgusting power structure. As Seojin stood frozen, Rio came over and tugged lightly at her wrist.

“Let’s go.”

At his words, she had no choice but to follow.

Stepping through the main gate, the first thing she felt was the antique elegance of aged pine trees, a sense of history.

The interior wasn’t as flashy as Rio’s penthouse, but the warm tones of the bare wood, the occasional elegant calligraphy, and the porcelain vases all felt as if they were exactly where they were meant to be.

The empty space, the sense of weight, and the lush green of the garden visible through the wooden window frames transported her to another world entirely.

This wasn’t a house trying to look rich; it was a house where someone who was rich actually lived. Just setting foot in the space made Seojin self-conscious, worried that her own shoes would click too sharply.

A neat row of slippers was arranged by the entrance. Rio took off his shoes and slipped his feet into the pair at the very end.

Seojin followed, carefully taking off her heels.

As she slightly lifted the hem of her suit skirt and slid her foot into an empty slipper, a thought struck her.

…This feels strange.

The soft texture of the fabric enveloping her foot. It was a completely different sensation from her own home, where she used to walk barefoot on yellowed linoleum floors.

Even the feeling on her feet felt like it belonged to someone else.

Seojin stared as Rio led the way down the home’s corridor. His suit fell perfectly, unwrinkled even as he walked. She unconsciously smoothed her skirt once more and followed him, her steps deliberate.

Her back was straight, her movements silent, her breaths shallow.

Without looking back, Rio tossed a comment over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to respond to everything they say.”

Was that the one necessary piece of advice he wanted to give her? Seojin faltered for a moment at the sudden counsel before cautiously turning her head.

Rio had stopped not in front of a lavish reception room or living room, but in a formal dining space where a table was set.

On the long table, fine silverware gleamed, perfectly arranged. In the center, a symmetrical floral arrangement, looking deliberately placed, occupied the space as if to obstruct all conversation.

He opened the door, but no one looked up.

“I’m here,” Rio said simply.

Yet even at his words, not a single person welcomed him.

To the left of the seat he was heading for, a woman with black hair was sipping wine.

She wore a neat shirtdress, her chin slightly raised, her eyes holding an expression of someone who had lost interest in everything. She swirled the wine glass, her fingers wrapped around its stem.

She glanced at Rio but didn’t hold his gaze for long. As she brought the glass to her lips, she flicked her eyes over Seojin before looking away.

At the head of the table, a middle-aged woman with an air of utmost sophistication elegantly held a fork.

Seojin knew at once. This was the mistress of the house. But she blinked, noticing how little the woman resembled him.

The strangely elongated corners of her eyes, her confident and refined posture, and the sentiment etched on her face that read, ‘uninterested in people.’ Her appearance was different, but perhaps the aura she projected was similar.

She continued her meal without even looking at Rio as he approached.

And in the very center of the table, where only three people sat, a man was seated, a heavy presence settled around him.

The wrinkles on his face, the firm set of his mouth that conveyed strength, and the silence that formed around him as its epicenter.

Everything about him declared that this man was the master of this table.

Rio stopped before him and spoke.

“Father.”

At his word, the middle-aged man raised his head very slowly. It was only then that Seojin suddenly recalled the auction house in that remote countryside.

Right, the auction. He was the man who had been sitting quietly in a corner seat. While everyone else had tested her as if showing off, he had been just a middle-aged man in a worn jacket and a loosened shirt collar, seemingly without any distinct identity.

And yet, he was the man who had won her with a bid of over 600 million won.

She hadn’t known back then. She’d thought this man, who seemed the most ordinary and who she believed had seen her for who she was, was like this on the outside.

Now, he wore a fine shirt and jacket, but they weren’t adornments to make his presence shine. Rather, even if he were stripped of everything he wore, he would not lose his dignified air as the master of this place.

Seojin unknowingly clutched the hem of her skirt.

The memory of her gratitude on that day, thankful that he had paid a large sum to win her from among the other perverts, was now searing itself onto her skin—a hot brand reminding her of all the things she had done with his son.

When Rio moved to the end of the table, opposite his father, and sat down as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Seojin hesitated. No one had shown her to a seat, and of course, no one had pulled out a chair for her.

Besides, she had been told this was a family gathering.

So Seojin stood quietly to one side, her head bowed like a servant. Just then, from the end of the table, a deep voice flowed out, low and indifferent, from the man who was casually lifting his fork.

“You should sit too, miss.”

It was Rio’s father.

Even after hearing him, Seojin was momentarily lost, unsure where to sit, until Rio pulled out the chair next to his own.

Thanks to him, she cautiously approached the seat beside Rio and sat down.

“…Pardon the intrusion.”

Her cheeks were already flushed as she sat with a small bow. In that instant, the atmosphere at the dining table shifted subtly.

Though no words were spoken, Rio’s sister once again raised her glass, pretending to sip from it as she cast a long look at Seojin.

The mother, bringing a fork to her mouth, also glanced at her before her eyes fell back to her plate.

Their gazes made Seojin feel as if she were standing naked at the table, her entire identity laid bare.

It was Rio who broke the subtle tension.

Ignoring all the stares, he simply lifted his glass. Dressed in a three-piece suit that he had only now fully relaxed into, he took a leisurely sip of wine and spoke with a light smile.

“I’m overwhelmed with gratitude that you’ve all gathered and invited me like this for my birthday again.”

It was his signature short jest, tinged with a bit of playfulness. But the words that followed were clearly deliberate.

“I also received Father’s gift well. Having it by my side… well, it’s exceeded my expectations.”

He didn’t look at Seojin. But no one at this table could fail to know who he was referring to.

The mother’s hand, which had been dabbing her lips with a napkin, paused for a moment. The sister lowered her glass and scoffed lightly.

“Your mother recommended her.”

While the elegant woman’s brow furrowed, Rio didn’t seem offended. His father’s words had been delivered in a tone that was merely stating a fact.

He raised his glass, his eyebrow twitching for just a moment.

“As expected, you have excellent taste, Mother.”

It was a clean, not-impolite expression of thanks. But the woman Rio called Mother didn’t react at all.

It wasn’t dismissal, but a silence that went beyond indifference. It was more like the attitude of someone who had already won the battle from the highest ground.

Rio, an illegitimate child, but the only son, destined to share everything with her own biological daughter. But for a wastrel who lived steeped in drugs and alcohol every day, it wouldn’t be strange for him to bring home some child of an unknown mother or a woman armed with flaws. So it was better to saddle him with something flawed from the start.

A woman from the lowest rung of society, one of the few who had involuntarily changed from a man to a woman, legally disadvantaged to the point where she could be rendered a person of unknown identity if needed. Someone who could be kept by his side 24/7, to tie him down with surveillance or emotion.

The mistress of this house was a woman who had won her husband from a pregnant lover. A woman who had pushed aside a foreigner unwelcome in the family, satisfying many demands and putting down deep roots over a long time.

But for her, a woman who was told she could not conceive again after having one daughter, this was a fitting gift for the son on the family register, who was like the most wretched piece of waste she’d ever encountered in her life.

“Please, eat comfortably.”

The woman called Mother finally spoke. But it was only a single phrase. And it wasn’t even directed at Rio.

The words offered to Seojin were not permission, granting her leave to eat. They were a command, a clear reminder that any being seated at this table was in a position where they had no choice but to eat.

Seojin gave a short nod and picked up her utensils. Even as her fingers closed around the silverware, the sensation felt strangely foreign.

But she began to eat, as quietly as possible. Thinking it was important to eat well, she did so with all the politeness she could muster.

Watching her, however, Rio smiled faintly and added another remark.

“How kind our mother is.”

His words implied, Must you act this way even after seeing me bring the girl you prepared yourself? But they also carried a double meaning: If this is the woman I’m to keep by my side, does the fact that you’re the one telling her to eat mean you acknowledge her role?

He seemed intent on downing the prepared alcohol instead of eating, raising his glass again and draining the wine. A dissolute streak flared within him, questioning whether he would ever conform to their standards just because they’d brought him back to Korea to force him into their mold.

Caught in the middle, Seojin could say nothing. She could only scoop another spoonful and bring it to her mouth.

Though the meal served was a delicacy she had never tasted before, to Seojin, it felt like gritty gravel she had been commanded to swallow, every last piece.

Translated By: Meher (RaidenTL)

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