Ji-Ah returned from the kitchen with the juice, carefully placing each glass on the table.
Only then did she notice it.
Two suitcases.
Standing neatly by the entrance.
Her smile froze—just a second too long.
Do-Hyun followed her gaze and laughed lightly. "Ah, right. We didn't explain."
He pulled out a chair and sat, completely at ease. "We're staying here for a few days."
Ji-Ah's eyes widened. "…Staying?"
"Yes," Do-Hyun said cheerfully. "My girlfriend is working here temporarily."
He turned to Nisa beside him. " Chan-Chan Is a chef.."
Ji-Ah nearly tripped over her own feet trying to bow properly.
"O-Oh that's Awesome!" she said, flustered. "That's… a very beautiful nick name."
Nisa smiled warmly. "Yes. It is."
She glanced at the table, then at Ji-Ah. "Please, sit and eat with us."
Ji-Ah waved her hands immediately. "Oh—no, it's okay. I can eat later."
"It's fine," Nisa said gently. "You cooked."
Ji-Ah hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to Ha-Joon.
"Sit," he said, already picking up his chopsticks.
Not loud.
Not harsh.
Final.
She obeyed at once, sitting carefully at the edge of the chair, hands folded on her lap.
Do-Hyun watched her with amusement. "You see? Still scary."
Ha-Joon ignored him and started eating.
Ji-Ah picked up her chopsticks slowly, trying to make herself invisible.
Nisa observed her for a moment, then smiled. "You're very kind."
Ji-Ah blinked. "M-Me?"
"Yes," Nisa said softly. "And brave. Not everyone can live with… him."
Do-Hyun laughed. "She's right. Most people run."
Ji-Ah let out a small, nervous laugh.
Ha-Joon glanced at her briefly.
Then went back to eating.
The house, which had felt too big and too quiet before, suddenly felt full.
And Ji-Ah wasn't sure if that made things easier—
Or much, much worse.
-
Ji-Ah headed back toward the living room to get some water.
As she rounded the corner, she spotted Do-Hyun and his girlfriend on the floor, completely absorbed in a game—controllers clicking rapidly, laughter spilling out between rounds.
Nisa noticed Ji-Ah first and waved her over.
"Come, come! Let them play," she said with a grin.
Ji-Ah nodded.
"Okay," she replied easily, stepping aside.
Do-Hyun paused the game and glanced up, curiosity flickering across his face.
"Hey… when did Ha-Joon got another stray cat?" he asked. "I thought he only had the Yuki."
Ji-Ah smiled politely.
"Oh. That one's mine. Earth."
Do-Hyun blinked. "…Yours?"
Ji-Ah Nodded. Do-Hyun smiled.
''I saw a motorcycle too Is that Yours too.''
She nodded again. "Yes. The motorcycle too. Pip. That's also mine."
He let out a low whistle, impressed.
"Wow."
Nisa laughed.
"You should've told me first!" she said, getting carried away and slipping into Thai, her words tumbling out fast and animated.
Ji-Ah laughed along, shaking her head as Nisa caught herself and switched back to the usual language.
"Sorry," Nisa said, still smiling. "I forget sometimes."
"It's fine," Ji-Ah replied gently. "I understood the excitement."
There was a brief pause—comfortable, almost casual.
Then Do-Hyun spoke again, his tone softer this time.
"So… do you have family here in Seoul?"
Ji-Ah hesitated. Just a second.
But it was enough.
"I do," she said quietly. "Just not here."
Nisa tilted her head. "Where are they?"
"My dad and my younger brother, and my older sister live in Gyeongju," Ji-Ah explained. "They've been there all their lives."
"Oh," Do-Hyun said. "So you moved here alone?"
She nodded. ''I came to Seoul to work. To save money."
Her fingers curled lightly around the glass of water.
"Taking care of this house pays a hundred thousand won. I thought… if I agreed, I could help them live better. Even just a little."
Her smile returned—but it was softer now.
Thinner.
Nisa's expression gentled immediately.
"That's… really admirable."
Ji-Ah shook her head lightly. "It's just what I can do."
From the hallway, unseen by any of them—
Ha-Joon's pen paused.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then it moved again, steady and precise, as if nothing had changed—
Even though something had.
-
Ji-Ah waved goodbye to Nisa and Do-Hyun, offering one last small smile before retreating down the hallway.
Inside her room, the door clicked shut behind her.
The question still echoed.
Do you have a family?
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, the breath trembling just enough to give her away.
After a moment, she went into the bathroom and ran a bath.
The water was warm, almost too warm, but she sank into it anyway, letting the silence wrap around her.
She stayed there longer than necessary, staring at nothing, listening to the faint hum of the house beyond the walls.
When she returned to her room, her hair was still wet, clothes clinging lightly to her skin.
She didn't bother drying them.
She sat down on the edge of the bed instead, shoulders slumped in a way she never allowed herself during the day.
Ji-Ah reached for her phone.
She scrolled once. Then twice.
Older Sister.
She dialed.
It rang once.
Twice.
No answer.
Her thumb hovered over the screen before she ended the call.
A quiet sigh escaped her, heavier than it should've been.
"She's still angry I left," Ji-Ah murmured to the empty room.
She placed the phone beside her, turned onto her side, and stared at the wall.
The house was quiet now—too quiet.
At some point, without realizing when—
She drifted off.
--
Ha-Joon stopped outside her door, documents tucked neatly under one arm.
He knocked once.
No answer.
He waited a moment, then knocked again—firm, controlled.
Still nothing.
He already knew the answer.
She must be asleep.
Yet he reached for the handle anyway.
The door opened softly.
The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the hallway behind him. Ji-Ah lay on the bed, clearly asleep.
Her hair was still wet, spread messily across the pillow.
One hand rested open beside her, the other over her stomach, legs drawn neatly together as if even in sleep she kept herself composed.
Her clothes were damp.
Ha-Joon stopped.
For a brief moment, he simply stood there—documents forgotten, expression unreadable.
His gaze lingered no longer than necessary, not out of curiosity, but assessment.
The kind he applied to everything.
She hadn't dried her hair.
She'd gone to sleep like that.
Without a sound, he stepped back.
The door closed just as quietly as it had opened.
In the hallway, he adjusted the papers in his hand and continued on—
As if the pause had never happened