New Normal - Chapter 29

“No matter how recklessly you act, doing things this way just ends up screwing over innocent people. You need to decide quickly, or everything gets tangled. You know CEO Park, right? Professor Choi’s wife. She called me again just yesterday. It’s not just a minor inconvenience anymore.”

Juwon, who had been quietly listening, shook his head firmly.

“There’s nothing for you to be inconvenienced about, grandpa. As of now, it’s over between me and Choi Seyeon.”

At that, Chae Heejoong’s brow twitched.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“And let her know this. I went on two arranged dates and that’s enough. I’ve done my part. I have zero interest and never will, so tell her to look elsewhere. I barely even saw her face. Why should I care? What is this, the Joseon dynasty? And you’re the one who said it first, grandpa. You told me to show you what it looks like to be head over heels for someone. Well, that girl is the one. So that’s that. Happy now?”

Juwon rattled it off like a line he’d memorized. Heejoong looked him over, clearly unconvinced. But Juwon stuck his chin out, utterly shameless.

After a pause, Heejoong suddenly spoke.

“End it, my ass. I changed my mind.”

“What? Are you messing with me—”

“Let’s make a bet.”

The moment Juwon snapped back, Heejoong’s eyes gleamed sharply.

“…A bet?”

Sensing the tension, Juwon frowned and set down his spoon. He took a sip of the pear juice served as dessert.

“No marriage certificate needed. Just before the year ends. This woman.”

Heejoong tapped the photo in front of him.

“If this woman says she’ll marry you before the end of this year, I’ll give you the Myeongnyun-dong house. If not? I’ll just sell it.”

At the bold declaration, Juwon, who’d been quietly listening, scoffed.

“How does that make sense… how could we get married before the year ends?”

“Why not? Half a year’s more than enough time to make a baby. Oh, never mind. No shotgun weddings.”

“Shot—what…”

Juwon stared at him, dumbfounded. Slowly blinking, he let out an incredulous laugh and brushed back his hair.

“Let’s skip the fairytale talk. Seriously, grandpa, what exactly makes you think you can marry me off to this girl?”

At the pointed question, Heejoong paused. Juwon stared straight at him, demanding an answer. With a cough, Heejoong revised the terms.

“…Fine. Maybe marriage is too much before year’s end. She has a say, too. Then how about this: If that girl says ‘I love you’ to you first, you win.”

“Grandpa.”

Juwon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He sneered at the childish condition, but Heejoong continued, undeterred.

“The timeline doesn’t matter. Just those words—I love you. If she says them, I’ll give you the Myeongnyun house, cash out my shares, and hand them over. I’ll even throw in the Nonhyeon-dong building and do whatever you want with it. Sell it, live in it, whatever.”

“Grandpa, seriously—”

“And I’ll let you live wherever you want, overseas or here, doing whatever you want.”

Juwon had been rubbing his forehead in frustration, but paused at the final condition.

All that for something like this?

He looked sharply at his grandpa. Chae Heejoong was dead serious.

It didn’t make sense. A bet is supposed to involve equal stakes, but to Juwon, this was completely one-sided. His grandpa was giving up far too much. It was reckless—unlike a man who had spent his whole life in business.

Still…

Juwon thought for a moment, then sighed deeply.

“You want her to say ‘I love you’? That’s it?”

He gave his grandpa a suspicious look, but Heejoong smirked, taunting him.

“Yeah. Not too hard, right? If a woman doesn’t love you, what’s the point in dating, let alone marriage? And if she doesn’t, then there’s no reason for you to get the house either.”

Juwon scowled. He just couldn’t wrap his head around this entire proposal.

“And how exactly are you going to know? What, you’re going to spy on my dates, my s3x life, my love confessions?”

“I’ve got my ways, brat.”

“Unbelievable… Fine. I don’t even care what methods you’re going to use, and even if I find out, I’d rather not know. But what if I lose?”

“You end it clean and get engaged to Professor Choi’s daughter. If not her, the daughter of Assemblyman Kim. Though Seok says your fortune aligns better with Choi’s daughter.”

“Grandpa!”

“If you’re going to get married, might as well be with someone decent, right? Don’t bring up the Myeongnyun-dong house again either.”

Juwon slammed his cup down with a loud clatter. He stared straight at his grandpa, his voice tight.

“This isn’t fair. What am I, some breeding stallion?”

“You went to New York to meet Rothstein and line up an escape route to the States. You thought I wouldn’t find out?”

Juwon’s brow twitched at being exposed. Heejoong grinned calmly, catching the slight reaction.

“Crafty little bastard. You’re always within my grasp.”

“…Grandpa.”

“This is the only way you’ll move. And if you still refuse? I’ll have Jungwon fly back immediately and stick him right next to that girl. He’s good at seducing women.”

“Grandpa!”

“You think there’s anything I won’t do to get you moving? So, what’s it going to be?”

The two men locked eyes. A tense silence, sharp as ice, filled the room.

Finally, Juwon let out a dry laugh, as if accepting defeat.

“Fine. If she says she loves me first, I get the Myeongnyun-dong house, the cash, and my freedom. Deal?”

Chae Heejoong arched an eyebrow mischievously and nodded.

“Deal.”

***

The study, cozy and refined, was silent.

Left alone after his grandson left for work, Chae Heejoong finished the pear juice and sipped his tea leisurely before returning to his study.

“Aigoo.”

He groaned as he tapped his aching back and made his way to his favorite armchair by the window.

It was a chair he and his late wife had handpicked in Europe thirty years ago. The moment his back sank into it, a familiar sense of peace returned.

He looked around the study, arranged just like the one they had in their old Pyeongchang-dong home. The furniture he’d had for decades, the books even older. Everything in its place—precise, untouched. It brought him comfort.

He gazed quietly out the window.

The sky stretched out endlessly—clear, high, almost cool in its clarity. Unlike the detached houses with wide yards, the high-rise apartment brought a kind of isolation, like being trapped in a tower.

They say you should live close to the earth to absorb its energy as you age, but Heejoong thought differently.

A massive, empty house on a hill felt more like a haunted mansion. In that sense, isolation was the same. At least here, he could still brush shoulders with people.

Just as he had grown old, so had Mrs. Geumsan, their longtime housekeeper. The new helper bustled somewhere out of sight, cleaning. The sounds echoed faintly, then faded. A brief silence followed.

Loneliness brushed across his age-spotted face.

Since losing his wife, an unbearable loneliness would occasionally creep in.

Just moments ago, there had been clinking cutlery at the dining table, faint noises from the kitchen. But none of it reached this room.

Sometimes, he felt a powerful pull—toward something. People, warmth, maybe just… presence.

At times like that, the only ones he could rely on were his grandsons. Especially Juwon, who resembled him so much. Strong, free—but also lonely and solitary. Maybe that’s why he became so fixated on Juwon’s marriage.

Feeling that familiar emptiness, Heejoong cleared his throat and turned away. He slipped on his reading glasses to mask the melancholy on his face and reached for a book.

But instead of focusing on the page, his mind drifted—back to just a few days ago.

“Your granddaughter’s name?”

He opened the book, but his eyes didn’t scan the text. His thoughts wandered back to that one day, in the middle of Jongno.

“Shin Jisoo. It’s Jisoo. Shin Jisoo.”

It had been a day when he suddenly craved the bustle of a crowd and a bowl of hot broth. He had turned toward the seolleongtang restaurant he used to frequent.

***

A few days earlier, in the heart of Jongno.

At the end of a busy alley full of eateries stood Baeknyeon Ugwan, a seolleongtang restaurant steeped in decades of history.

Gone was the shabby shack with soot-stained sliding doors and a worn wooden sign. It had been replaced by a polished, single-story building—but its legacy endured.

It was a weekday lunch hour—peak time. The restaurant was packed.

People came to soothe their summer colds with hot broth; servers bustled between tightly packed tables. There was barely room to move when the door creaked open and an elderly man walked in, wearing a worn fedora and leaning on a cane.

Ding.

The bell rang. The owner, Kwak Changja, who manned the counter on the first floor, adjusted her glinting gold-rimmed glasses.

“How many in your— Oh! It’s our Chairman!”

Eyes widening in delight, she rushed out from behind the counter and clasped the old man’s hand.

“My goodness, how long has it been?”