RED STRING || 1

Chapter seven.

IRENE COULDN’T HOLD it in any longer. Her emotions, a swirling storm of guilt and regret, overcame her as she raced down the grand staircase of her family’s mansion. Her knees buckled the moment she reached the bottom step, and she fell to the cold marble floor, kneeling in front of Seulgi and her mother.

Tears streamed down Irene’s face, unchecked and unapologetic. She clumsily rubbed her palms together, her fingers trembling as the weight of her actions bore down on her. The stoic mask she so often wore had shattered, leaving only raw vulnerability in its wake.

Seulgi turned around, stunned by the sight before her. “What are you doing? Get up,” she said, her tone laced with awkwardness and disbelief. Seeing Irene kneeling like this was strange, especially in front of her own mother.

“Joohyun, what’s going on?” Mrs. Bae asked, her voice full of confusion and concern. It was unlike Irene to display such emotion, let alone in such a dramatic fashion.

Irene lowered her head, the tears falling faster now. She couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. “Mommy,” she said between sobs, her voice cracking, “it’s my fault. I’ve hurt Seulgi so many times.” Her words were barely audible, her guilt spilling out in waves.

The room fell silent. Irene felt a light tap on her shoulder. She hesitated, then looked up to see Seulgi’s face. Despite everything, Seulgi was smiling. It wasn’t a triumphant smile or one of pity—it was soft, almost forgiving.

“Get up, Miss Irene,” Seulgi said gently.

Irene rose to her feet slowly, her mother’s gaze shifting between the two women with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. Mrs. Bae was taken aback by the way Seulgi addressed her daughter, the formal “Miss Irene” sounding oddly distant. It was as if an unspoken boundary had been drawn between them.

“I won’t change my mind,” Seulgi said, her voice calm yet firm. She adjusted the strap of her bag and turned toward the door. Irene reached out instinctively, grabbing her hand in desperation, but Seulgi pulled away, slapping Irene’s hand lightly as if to say, Don’t. Without another word, Seulgi walked out of the mansion, leaving Irene standing there, her outstretched hand trembling in the air.

Seulgi returned home that evening with a bittersweet heart. Her small family home stood in stark contrast to the grand mansion she had just left behind, but it radiated warmth and familiarity. As soon as she walked through the door, her mother rushed to greet her.

Mrs. Kang gasped at the sight of her daughter. Seulgi’s thin frame and the dark circles under her eyes told a story of exhaustion and mistreatment. Though Mrs. Kang didn’t say a word about it, her heart ached. Instead, she cupped Seulgi’s face gently, her hands warm and steady, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Oh, my princess,” Mrs. Kang murmured, her voice full of love and relief. Seulgi felt her mother’s arms wrap around her, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she allowed herself to cry freely—not out of sadness, but because she was finally home.

The maidservants brought in Seulgi’s luggage, leaving quietly to give the family their privacy.

At dinner, Mr. Kang received a phone call from Mr. Bae. He spoke briefly about business matters before the conversation shifted to Seulgi.

“I want to apologize,” Mr. Bae said solemnly. “For the way my daughter treated yours. It was my mistake to involve her in this arrangement. I should never have put her in harm’s way.”

Mr. Kang’s face darkened. Though he didn’t yell, the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “Your apology won’t undo what my daughter has endured. Consider our business dealings over.” He ended the call abruptly, letting the phone fall onto the table. His fists clenched as he turned to his daughter.

“I’m so sorry, princess,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I never should have let you go through that hellhole.” He called out to the chef, instructing them to prepare a feast—a proper celebration of Seulgi’s homecoming. He wanted to ensure that his daughter ate well, her frail frame a constant reminder of what she had endured.

That night, Seulgi returned to her room. It hadn’t changed while she was away; it was still the comforting sanctuary she had left behind. As she stood there, soaking in the familiarity, her mother walked in quietly.

Seulgi turned and instantly hugged her, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered, “I missed you, Mom.”

Mrs. Kang held her tightly, stroking her hair. “Princess,” she said softly, “I didn’t know what you were going through, but I promise you’ll never have to go through anything like that again. I’m so sorry I didn’t see the signs.”

They stayed like that for an hour, their embrace unbroken. Eventually, Mr. Kang joined them, wrapping his arms around them both. For the first time in months, Seulgi felt safe.

The following morning, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.

Seulgi was in the living room, reading a book. She loved the space—the natural light that poured in through the tall windows and the faint scent of lavender that lingered in the air. Her mother was upstairs on the balcony, crocheting, while her father worked in his office.

When the doorbell rang again, Seulgi closed her book and offered to answer it. She placed the book facedown on the table and walked to the door. Opening it, she found no one there, only a small box sitting on the porch.

A maidservant stepped forward, offering to open it for safety reasons. Seulgi nodded, watching as the box was carefully unwrapped. Inside, a cluster of helium balloons floated out, accompanied by a large, clear bubble balloon. Attached to it was a note: “I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart.”

Seulgi’s lips twitched into a faint smile. She knew exactly who had sent it.

The surprises didn’t stop there. Over the next week, Seulgi received letters, flowers, and various heartfelt gestures. One particular letter caught her attention.

“I sewed your toy. I’m really, really sorry. I’m making an effort here.”

Seulgi laughed at the remark. Only Irene could mix sincerity with such boldness. Despite herself, Seulgi felt a small warmth blooming in her chest.

When the doorbell rang again, Seulgi answered it without hesitation. She opened the door to find Irene standing there, fidgeting with her hands.

“Hi,” Irene said softly, a nervous smile on her lips.

Seulgi raised an eyebrow, her expression neutral. “Come in,” she said after a moment.

Irene stepped inside, her eyes scanning the luxurious interior. “Wow,” she muttered, “hella rich.”

Seulgi crossed her arms. “Yeah, but it doesn’t mean much when you’re treated like trash,” she replied, her voice sharp.

Irene winced, guilt flashing across her face. “I know. About that... I’m really sorry,” she said, scratching the back of her head.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” Seulgi said, her tone softer now. “But that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Irene nodded, understanding the unspoken challenge. Gathering her courage, she stepped closer and kissed Seulgi gently on the cheek.

Seulgi froze, her hand flying to her face. “What was that for?” she asked, her cheeks turning pink.

Irene smiled, her eyes filled with something Seulgi couldn’t quite place. “Please come home with me, wife.”