AUTHOR'S POV|

When it was finally time for dessert, she appeared with the last bowl in her hands, a soft smile on her lips as she ladled the sweet dish into everyone’s bowls.

First desert was saffron milk pudding and the second one was rice punch.

One by one, the bowls filled up, the smell of saffron and milk drifting through the air.

When the pudding was over she bought rice punch. The bowl filled again and She glanced down and realized the serving bowl was empty.



Rice punch~Sikhye

Mrs. Jeon, seated at the head of the table, noticed the untouched space in front of YN. “YN-ah,” she asked gently, “why aren’t you having any?”

YN tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling suddenly shy. “It’s okay, mom. I wanted everyone to have first.”

Jungkook, seated beside her, glanced at her plate and then at his mother. “Because she served everything to us,” he said softly, almost a sigh, his eyes flicking back to YN.

Mrs. Jeon frowned lightly and motioned to Siya, sitting across the table. “Pass the bowl to me!”

Siya obediently pushed the empty bowl towards mrs Jeon “Here.”

Before YN could protest, mrs Jeon put some rice punch in the empty bowl from her own “Here, have some,” and pushed the bowl forward.

Then another hand,it was jungkook and another, until nearly everyone at the table was sliding part of their dessert into her empty bowl, the creamy sweet dish piling up little by little.

YN stared at the now-filled bowl, her throat tightening. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took the spoon.

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice thick. She hadn’t expected this.

Mrs. Jeon smiled warmly. “This house is yours too, YN. Don’t ever hesitate to eat with us.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything, but he watched her quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little.

YN looked at the bowl again, at the mixture of everyone’s small gestures of kindness.

Her own family had never noticed her empty plate, never cared if she ate last.

But here, in this house full of strangers-turned-family, she felt something bloom in her chest, a soft, almost fragile feeling of belonging.

She lowered her head slightly, blinking back the sting in her eyes. For the first time in years, she felt seen.

Time skip —

YN’s heart had been racing ever since Mr. Jeon took his first sip of the rice punch. She had made it entirely by herself, carefully, hoping it would be good enough.

Now, everyone’s eyes were on him, and the serious expression on his face made her chest pound.

Mrs. Jeon leaned slightly forward, worry knitting her brows. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

YN’s mind raced. Oh no… did I mess it up? Did I put too much sugar? Too little?

Mr. Jeon slowly looked at her, then smiled faintly. “I think the rice punch was a bit…”

YN held her breath, frozen in anticipation.

“…too tasty. I want to have it more often.”

The words hit her like a soft wave, and she finally exhaled without realizing she had been holding her breath all along. Relief flooded through her, making her cheeks warm.

“Dad, you scared her, see?” Siya teased lightly, earning a soft chuckle from Mr. Jeon.

YN and Siya moved to clear the dishes and return them to the kitchen, her movements lighter now, her nerves calmed. Just as she finished, she heard Mr. Jeon call her gently.

She turned, slightly confused, and he held out an envelope toward her.

“For you,” he said simply, a small smile tugging at his lips. “The rice punch was really delicious, so consider this a little gift from my side.”

YN’s fingers closed around the envelope, warmth creeping into her chest. Mr. Jeon lightly placed a hand on her head, a small gesture of affection and left the room.

Before she could process it, Mrs. Jeon appeared, another envelope in hand.

“And this is from me,” she said, smiling softly. She rested her hand briefly on YN’s shoulder and left.

Leaving YN blinking at the two envelopes in her hands, feeling completely overwhelmed by their kindness.

★★★

Busan—

(Late night)

The chandelier light in the living room threw soft golden shadows on the marble floor, but the atmosphere was far from graceful.

Loud music thudded from a Bluetooth speaker, and the smell of cheap perfume mixed with expensive wine.

Bora’s circle of “friends” lounged on the velvet sofas with their shoes kicked off, cigarette butts already in the crystal ashtray.

Bora, dressed in a satin robe like a queen after conquest, held a flute of champagne in one hand and a smug smile on her face.

One of the women.... thin eyebrows, a high-pitched laugh,leaned closer and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’re so clever, Bora. How easily you cleared the only thorn in your way… sending her off just like that. Now the mansion is all yours.”

Bora’s eyes glittered. She tipped her glass, savoring the power in the room.

“That was the main part of the plan,” she said, her tone dripping honey but her words razor-sharp.

The group erupted into giggles. Someone poured more wine.

Bora tilted her head, watching the chandelier sparkle. “This property, this huge mansion… this is all mine to rule. I’ve already got my husband running behind me like a puppy.”

She smirked, her manicured nails tapping on the glass. “And that bitch?She is  Already out of sight...ahh never knew it could be that easy”

“My first thought was just kill her send her directly to God , but you know what? There won't be any fun , so I had to create a perfect web for her and now she fell right where I wanted her to,

“Under my shoes, below my level!”

The women gasped theatrically, then burst into applause like she’d given a speech.

Another friend chimed in between sips. “You’re fearless, Bora. Most women couldn’t pull this off.”

Bora leaned back on the sofa, lips curling into a satisfied smile.“Fearless? No. Just patient. I know how to play the long game. Once I tighten my hold, there’s no going back.”

She raised her glass, eyes glinting with cold calculation. “To a future where everything I touch belongs to me.”

Bora had always known how to tilt her head just so, how to blink her eyes at the perfect moment, how to lace her words with sugar while planting the seed of guilt.

With Minseong, it was laughably easy.
He was kind, trusting, the sort of man who thought goodness existed in everyone.

At first, she played the part of the soft-spoken girl with no family, no one to care for her but him. She told him how safe she felt when he spoke, how he reminded her of everything she had lost.

She practiced vulnerability like an artform, each sigh rehearsed, each smile a quiet weapon.

She hadn’t expected it to be so effortless, but the more she leaned in, the faster he folded.

Soon, he was skipping lunches to drive her to appointments, changing his work schedule to suit hers, defending her at every turn.

Not only that , she even seduced with her innocence, the moment he lost his control was the moment she knew her hold is tightening around his neck.

They continued meeting in secrets , in her apartment , in his private pent house late night dates turned into something else and now she knew he was addicted to her.

She innocently offered her body to him when they both were drunk and minseong? He was hypnotized by her beauty, the next morning he said sorry but eventually she told him no need to be guilty because she wanted him too.

No matter how much they fvcked eachother, he wouldn't get enough of her.

And so did she! Because why not? He was rich , handsome, masculine, a perfect ideal boyfriend every girl would die to have and bora was living the moment.

And she didn't want it any other way , so she started the slow manipulation after everytime they slept with eachother.

She would just throw some words at him like “Min , why are you not making our relationship public?”

“Are you bored with me?”

“Are you just with me for my body?”

“I love you min , I gave you my everything, don't you think we should get married?”

“Is there someone else in your heart?”

“Fine if you don't want to get married then there is no point in staying in such relationship, let's break up !”

“No you don't love me min , you just think that I'm with you for your money? I have no one except you in my life but again you proved i'm alone in this world ”

“Fine then I will go back and never show you my face !”

Few drops of tears And he would just feel guilty , she was thinking she was being used by him , when he didn't know that she was the one using his emotions and throwing daggers straight to his heart....and it actually stung seeing her vulnerable.

By the time Bora slipped the idea of marriage into their conversations, he was already imagining it himself.

The only thorn in her path was YN.
That perfect little sister with the silver spoon already clutched in her fist.

Bora had watched Minseong’s eyes soften for his sister, the way he pampered her, the way his wallet opened without a blink if it meant YN smiled.

She burned with jealousy at that kind of effortless devotion.

She wanted it.She wanted him to do the same for her ,to spend his money on her without hesitation, to look at her like she was the center of his world.

And he did.

But never quite like how he treated YN.

That was when jealousy curdled into something sharper.

Bora wasn’t just envious of YN’s privileges, she was envious of YN’s existence.

The sister who had everything handed to her, born into a fortune Bora had to claw her way toward.

So Bora began to plan.
If the silver spoon wasn’t hers, she would snatch it.

If Minseong’s heart still beat for YN, she would poison it against her, sweetly, innocently, drop by drop.

YN’s every move became her business, and then...slowly, deliberately she began to dismantle YN’s place in her own home.

All with a soft smile.

All with a voice dipped in honey.

Bora remembered the first time she tested her power over Minseong.

It was when he started planning YN’s eighteenth birthday, a grand party, glittering with lights, the kind of night any girl would never forget.

Minseong had been excited, even secretly picking the color of the cake, the décor, the songs she loved.

But Bora couldn’t stand it.
All that attention, all that money, all that affection..... for YN.
Her own eighteenth birthday had been spent alone, unnoticed.

Why should YN get the fairy-tale treatment she never had?

So she planted the first seed, soft and poisonous.

She sighed in his arms, pretending to be shy about saying it out loud, and murmured how he had forgotten their dating anniversary, how she thought he didn’t care, how it hurt her so much she couldn’t even celebrate properly.

She didn’t need to say more. Minseong was already scrambling to “make it up” to her.

Then she made the “suggestion” why not celebrate their anniversary together with YN’s birthday? It would be more meaningful. More family. More balanced.

He hesitated, briefly “Baby please , it's her birthday please try to understand, we will do our celebration some other day!”.

But then of course folded....when she innocently said “It's okay I think I mean nothing to you” with crocodile tears.

The party went ahead as planned but now the first cake of the night was not YN’s.

It was Bora’s.

She had an anniversary cake cut first, right there on the stage, smiling like a queen while the guests clapped.

And YN? She stood there with a paper smile, her hands trembling, watching the one night she had waited for vanish in front of her eyes.

“Yn-ssi I hope you aren't angry at me , I was just overwhelmd I didn't intend to ruin your special day !” bora said while crying as if feeling bad for yn.

Bora saw the tears that YN tried to blink back.“N-No , it's totally fine!”

She watched her slip into the corner while the guests murmured, “How sweet, celebrating together.”And inside, Bora felt the first rush of victory.

Good, she thought. Let her learn.

That was the first step. The first real blow.

Poor little YN didn’t even know it was only the beginning, that Bora had a whole future planned, each move lined up like dominos, each one designed to push her further out of the picture.

One after another, Bora kept blowing thorns into YN’s path, each one hidden behind a smile that Minseong mistook for affection.

Her voice was always syrupy, her gestures dainty, her timing perfect. Whenever YN’s eyes welled up, Bora would lean on Minseong’s shoulder and whisper, “Don’t worry, we’re getting along now… she’s just sensitive.”

And he believed her. Every time.

In public, Bora would drape an arm around YN, calling her a little sister sweetly and offering to help.

Behind closed doors she would hiss words sharp enough to cut skin. The duality was her thrill; the confusion on YN’s face was her trophy.

But when she overheard Minseong’s plan to sign fifty percent of his inheritance into YN’s name on her twenty-fifth birthday, “for her security, for her future”.

Bora’s calm cracked. All of her careful weaving, all of her staged tears, would mean nothing if YN became powerful in her own right.

At twenty-five, YN wouldn’t be the naïve younger sister anymore; she would be educated, independent, and untouchable.

Bora couldn’t let that happen.
So she sharpened her strategy. She started sliding the idea into Minseong’s ear, like a lullaby repeated over months:

“She’s grown up now…”

“Don’t you think she deserves a husband who can take care of her?”

“What will people say if she’s still unmarried?”

Each time Minseong refused, saying YN was still studying, still too young, Bora simply smiled and tried again later, adding a sigh, a tilt of her head, an “I only worry for her.”

She knew it was working. The resistance was softening. She could feel Minseong’s guilt turning like clay in her hands.

Inside, Bora felt that familiar satisfaction: she was almost there. She had removed most of the thorns from her path,now only one remained.

Once YN was married off, she would no longer stand between Bora and the life she wanted, the property, the power, the perfect image.

She just need to prepare the legal documents, get minseong drunk and overwhelmed and boom ,he will sign without even reading the papers , she knew he was blinded in love.

Bora had been waiting for the right moment, and it came on a quiet night when YN stepped out of Taehyung’s car.

From the upstairs balcony, Bora’s phone clicked silently, capturing angles that twisted the truth.

In the photos, YN looked like she was leaning into Taehyung’s arms, almost clinging, exactly the kind of evidence Bora needed.

She didn’t hesitate. With a mask of concern, she walked into Minseong’s study and showed him the pictures.

His expression hardened, fists clenching on the edge of his desk. He was ready to storm out and confront his sister, but Bora stopped him with a soft hand on his arm and a trembling voice.

“Honey , calm down!! She’s young… she can make mistakes. But it shouldn’t be ignored. People will take advantage of her innocence if we’re not careful.”

Her words wrapped around him like silk, subtle but suffocating. While she soothed him, she was already setting the next trap.

Bora had collected dozens of photos of potential suitors for YN, all from modest or struggling backgrounds, carefully chosen so that the girl who had grown up in luxury would be stripped of it.

She knew Minseong’s instincts well; left to him, he would choose a wealthy man, someone powerful enough to continue YN’s protected life.

Bora couldn’t allow that.

She laid the photos out slowly, each one a seed of manipulation. “I’m only thinking of her future,” she said softly.

“Someone stable, someone who won’t let her run wild.” Minseong rejected the first few men, muttering about their unsuitability, but Bora never looked discouraged.

She simply picked up the photos and promised to bring better options.

What Minseong didn’t see was the satisfaction flickering in Bora’s eyes whenever his anger toward YN deepened.

She had crafted a perfect illusion, a concerned sister-in-law, trying to guide a wayward girl. But under that smile was a quiet hunger.

Bora wasn’t just trying to choose YN’s husband, she was trying to destroy YN’s life piece by piece, until there would be nothing left of the girl who once stood in her way.

It had taken months of quiet searching, whispers over brunches, and carefully planted conversations, but finally Bora’s patience paid off.

One of her low-rent friends from the old neighborhood whispered a name that made her eyes sharpen,  Jeon Jungkook. .

A “perfect” match, they said, a man from the countryside, someone raised far from city lights and glittering towers.

Bora almost dropped her phone from laughing. The mental picture of YN living in a remote village, her designer shoes sinking into mud, skirts brushing against cow dung, her manicured hands washing vegetables in a courtyard,  it was delicious.

This was the kind of downfall she had been craving.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she pulled up YN’s most flattering photo, the one where her innocence was practically glowing off the screen, and sent it to her friend.

“Show this to Mrs. Jeon,” Bora instructed. “Make sure she sees it before anyone else does.”

It worked exactly as she knew it would. Mrs. Jeon, drawn to the delicate beauty and demure appearance in the picture, agreed almost instantly to consider YN.

What Bora saw as her rival’s shield , that angelic, effortless beauty... had now become the bait in her trap.

Jealousy simmered under Bora’s perfect smile as she stared at the confirmation message from her friend.

YN’s beauty had always made Bora feel small, overlooked, and outshone. Now it was a weapon, a way to seal her future, to send her straight into the life Bora had designed.

Bora had always been meticulous, but reading YN’s journal had been her true masterstroke.

Between the pressed flowers and girlish handwriting, she had uncovered every soft wish, every private fantasy YN held about her future husband,  his gentleness, his ambition, his promise of freedom and respect.

It was a blueprint for destruction.

Armed with this secret, Bora didn’t waste time hunting for a man who could fulfill those dreams. She hunted for the opposite, a man who looked charming on paper but carried nothing of substance.

And in bora's eyes , jungkook was the man.

A man who could present himself with fake promises and an empty pocket. When she found him, it felt almost like fate smiling down on her.

And it was so easy to convince minseong , when he saw Jungkook's background he refused but what made him agree was Jungkook's behaviour and clean background.

Now, with the arrangement sealed, Bora could hardly contain her delight. She sat back in her velvet armchair, swirling her wine glass while her friends perched on the couches around her.

The air smelled of perfume and champagne, but the laughter ringing through the room was sharp and mean.

“Poor little princess,” one of the women snickered. “She wanted a palace and you’re giving her a barn.”

“Even the maids in our house live better than what she’s walking into,” Bora said, a thin smile stretching across her face. “She wanted silk sheets; she’ll be lucky to get a mattress.”

The others laughed with her, feeding off her glee, their manicured fingers clinking glasses together. Bora, glowing in her satisfaction, let out a soft, cruel laugh of her own.

“She doesn’t even know what’s waiting for her,” Bora said, eyes glinting. “But she’ll learn. And when she does, it’ll be too late to crawl back.”

The living room echoed with laughter and the clinking of glasses,  that shrill, satisfied laughter Bora adored. But the sound cut off like a blade when the heavy oak door swung open.

Minseong stepped inside, his tall frame filling the doorway, his tie loosened but his expression sharp as glass.

His gaze swept over the group of overdressed women and finally landed on Bora.

“What’s so funny, babe?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it, a low thunder rolling just before a storm.

Bora’s fingers stiffened around her wine glass, the stem creaking under the pressure.

She hadn’t heard him come in. Her friends glanced at one another, suddenly silent, their painted smiles faltering.

“What… what do you mean, honey?” Bora said lightly, her voice pitched sweet as honey. “We were just—talking. Women’s talk, you know?”

Minseong’s brow furrowed. “Women’s talk?” He took a slow step forward. “Sounded more like celebrating. Or scheming.”

One of the women coughed, another stared down at her lap. Bora forced a laugh, a fluttery sound that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re imagining things. We’re just… catching up.”

Minseong’s eyes flicked to the wine glasses, the scattered envelopes and glossy photos still half-visible on the table. He didn’t speak right away, but the silence itself pressed heavy against the walls.

“Careful what you celebrate,” he said finally, his voice quiet but carrying. “Sometimes the wrong celebration ruins everything.”

★★★

Meanwhile—

In the room, YN sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, the two crisp envelopes lying like mysteries in her lap.

She ran her thumb over the paper edges, biting her lip. What could be inside… money? A note? Her mind spun.

The bathroom door clicked open and a faint mist rolled out. Jungkook emerged in a plain white T-shirt and grey sweatpants, towel draped around his neck, damp hair sticking to his forehead.

He caught her frozen expression and raised an eyebrow.

“You know…” he said, still drying his hair, “whatever’s inside, I’m pretty sure it’s not a bomb.” His tone was so casual that YN’s mouth fell open in shock.

“W-what?!” she whispered, eyes widening.

Jungkook laughed quietly at her reaction. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Why is he always so goofy? she thought, cheeks puffing. Still, his teasing oddly made the tension around the envelopes lighter.

Finally she tore open the first one. A pair of glossy tickets slid into her hand. She blinked, then blinked again.

“Oh…” Her cheeks went red. Did that just say Bali?

“What is it?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head.

“They’re… tickets to Bali.” Her voice came out a shy whisper.

“Honeymoon trip for the newlyweds, from Eomma,” she read softly off the note tucked inside....but didn't let him hear it.

The word honeymoon practically glowed on the paper, making her face heat up even more.

Jungkook gave a small chuckle, leaning back against the wall. “It must be Mom…”

YN blinked up at him. “H-how do you know?”

He shrugged, the corner of his lips tugging upward. “I just know. She’s like that.”

He nodded toward the second envelope. “Go on, open Dad’s.”

Her fingers hesitated before tearing it open. Another set of tickets slid out, heavier paper this time — Singapore. Business-class seats. Her eyes nearly popped out.

“Singapore?!”

Jungkook leaned over to peek, eyebrows shooting up. “Whoa. Dad outdid himself.”

YN stared at the shiny print. “This is… the most expensive class. How can they…? You said you’re not—”

“Not billionaires?” he finished for her with a small smile. “Yeah. We’re not.”

“We’re… just us!”

“What does that mean?” she asked confusion written all over her face.but he just chuckled...

“I will tell you some other day!”

★★★