New Normal - Chapter 79

Contrary to his words, Juwon couldn’t open his mouth easily. His hand, brushing his forehead back, was filled with hesitation. That very hesitation only deepened Jisoo’s unease. His eyes wavered restlessly, lips parting as if to speak only to close again, leaving her heart sinking with a chill.

“…Juwon, what do you mean when you say your grandfather knows me?”

She tried to keep her voice calm, but it trembled ever so slightly. Her anxious gaze couldn’t tear itself away from him.

“Well… he already knew about you back when we first kissed at the hotel.”

Juwon finally forced the words out. His eyes avoided hers, instead fixed on the floor, the corners of his gaze faintly trembling.

“My grandfather has this habit of digging into people’s backgrounds… He said if I got married quickly, he’d give me the house in Myeongnyun-dong so I wouldn’t try to go abroad. That house used to belong to my parents, so it holds a special meaning for me. But really, it was just my younger brother jumping the gun. That’s all there is to it.”

Jisoo was surprised for a moment at the unexpected explanation, but soon relief washed over her. She exhaled softly, smiling as she replied.

“Ah… so that’s what it was. You scared me. It’s just that I was hearing all this for the first time. Still, I’m glad. It means if you propose to me, I’d even get a house out of it. Should I marry you right away for the house’s sake?”

Her playful teasing eased the tense air.

“That’s… well, I wouldn’t mind. But this isn’t really about us. Please don’t feel pressured or burdened by it.”

Worry lingered in Juwon’s voice. Just then, his younger brother Jungwon, who had been nervously watching the two, quickly jumped in with a bright expression.

“That’s right! Besides, the bet with Grandpa about the house ended a long time ago. I was there, too.”

Jisoo’s eyes widened at the unexpected words.

“Bet…?”

***

8. New Normal

Peaceful coexistence or war —
The choice is mine. Life is always a crossroads.
Looking back, every choice leaves only regrets to revisit endlessly.

At three in the morning, that darkest hour just before dawn, a faint glow from a lamp leaked under Madam Changja’s door.

Like many elderly people who went to bed early with the setting sun, she had already risen after midnight, long before dawn. And this was her writing hour, when inspiration struck most clearly. At such times, she was no longer Chairman Kwak Changja of Baeknyeon-woo-gwan, but poet Kwak Sohee.

Only the faint sound of her breathing and the scratch of a pencil against paper filled the air. The silence around her felt as if it had completely swallowed the room.

Why do we realize good things only too late?
Sadness is better the later it comes,
Joy shrinks the moment it’s held in hand.
Time passed always leaves regret, and what remains in our grasp is nothing but faint traces.

Her eyes lingered on the sentence she had just written, and her face dimmed. Though the deep wrinkles on her face had been softened by regular Botox and fillers, the creases etched like tree rings into her withered neck could not be erased. Her granddaughter had even bought her a nourishing cream said to help, but its oily texture only annoyed her. Stroking her neck, Madam Kwak sighed deeply, then pushed up her glasses and tightened her grip on the pencil once more.

Yet memories are unfading stars of the heart.
When loneliness presses, I close my eyes—
I see the paulownia tree’s shade in the backyard,
The taste of dirt rice and plantain greens.
I take out the star of memory
That is forever embedded in my heart.

As she recalled her childhood, a panorama of past moments swept across her mind: countless people she had met, countless choices made at crossroads, joys and sorrows, resignations and regrets.

If only she hadn’t missed that chance. If only she had done differently, what would life look like now? What was truly right? Or does right and wrong even exist? Perhaps all this regret was nothing more than excuses to comfort herself.

Changja did not know. Time had pushed her to the very edge of life, yet unanswered questions still piled high in her heart.

Aging is learning to gaze at what you love from afar.
I send my sorrow drifting away.
The straight path flows straight,
The crooked one flows crooked,
Until all trace is gone.

Finishing the last line, she lifted her weary eyes. The sky outside was beginning to lighten. The clock already showed breakfast time approaching. Thirst suddenly struck her, so she rose slowly to fetch water. As she walked down the dark hallway, she noticed light spilling brightly from her granddaughter’s half-open door.

Did she fall asleep with the light on? Frowning slightly, Changja approached and tapped lightly on the door. No response. Pushing it open, she peeked inside. There sat her granddaughter on the bed, glaring unhappily at her phone screen.

“Well, I’ll be damned. The sun must be rising in the west, why are you up so early?”

Startled by the voice, Jisoo hurriedly turned her screen off.

“Ah! You scared me.”

“Did you see a ghost? What’s got you so jumpy?”

Pouting, Jisoo peeked down at her phone again. “No, it’s nothing…”

Changja studied her for a moment, then closed the door behind her and sat down beside her.

“You didn’t stay up all night, did you?”

At the sharp question from her perceptive grandmother, Jisoo flinched but shook her head.

“…No.”

“You did. Don’t bother lying.” With a scoff, Changja leaned closer to examine her granddaughter’s face.

“Something happened? You don’t look right.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? Then why’s your face so swollen up this early in the morning?”

Jisoo sighed quietly, tapping her fingers against the bedsheet.

“What, is your love life not going the way you hoped?”

Her hand froze at the bullseye question. After a moment of silence, she fidgeted with the sheet before finally lifting her head.

“Grandma…”

Meeting her granddaughter’s tear-brimmed eyes, Changja’s own widened in alarm.

“What is this? Why are you crying? What happened?”

Pressed by her grandmother’s urgency, Jisoo’s face slowly began to crumple.

“Grandma… what should I do?”

***

Meanwhile, Juwon sat before his monitor, his face shadowed with exhaustion. The harsh glare of the fluorescent light only made him look more pale. His rolled-up shirt sleeves revealed restless fingers tapping endlessly on the desk.

Things hadn’t just gone wrong, they had gone disastrously wrong. No, even calling it a mess wasn’t enough. It felt as if everything had shattered.

“Bet…?”

Blueprints lay scattered across his desk, but his mind was trapped in the past. Jisoo’s eyes, her voice, they filled his thoughts completely, to the point he could not escape them. Her words played in his mind like a broken recording on repeat.

“Jisoo… please, I hope you won’t misunderstand…”

Unable to bear it any longer, Juwon pulled out a cigarette from his drawer, twirling it nervously between his fingers without lighting it. His hands mirrored the turmoil of his heart, unable to find direction.

After holding it for a long while, he finally set it back down. A heavy sigh escaped him. Lowering his head, he buried it in both hands. This couldn’t be the end, could it? Anxiety gnawed at him, making it impossible to focus on work.

“Bet? Juwon, you keep saying everything’s nothing… but how much of you am I supposed to trust?”

In the end, he had explained everything about the tangled circumstances surrounding the beginning of their relationship. He had tried to be as honest as possible, desperate to make her understand that his feelings for her were real, untouched by those circumstances.

But he could not erase the image of Shin Jisoo’s hurt expression, her trembling voice as she held back her emotions. The sound of her voice shaking, the tears glimmering in her eyes, they haunted him relentlessly. Guilt and helplessness pressed down on him like a blade against his chest.

Restless, he kept moving his mouse pointlessly, but it did nothing. Finally, he picked up his phone and began typing a message. Every word was filled with sincerity, pleading for just one chance to meet and explain himself. Just as he was about to press send, his hand froze.

What if it was already too late?

A flood of anxious thoughts consumed him. Yet at least this time, he couldn’t afford to hesitate. He steadied himself and pressed send. Moments later, the “Read” mark appeared on the screen. He drew in a sharp breath, his heart pounding violently with a fragile mix of fear and hope.