Hours slipped away, and by the time they stepped out of the children's ward, the sun had long surrendered to night. The courtyard lamps cast pools of soft light over the orphanage, and the air carried that hushed stillness only evening could bring.
Ga-young glanced at her notes, exhaling in frustration. "I can't believe we didn't get to see her… after everything. All that waiting, all that patience."
Min-jae slipped his hands into his pockets, his expression unreadable at first. Then, unexpectedly, his lips curved faintly. "It's not all bad. We gave the kids their gifts—and they looked genuinely happy." His voice softened, almost contemplative. "Made me feel guilty, honestly. Coming here thinking only about business."
Ga-young's head snapped toward him, eyes wide in surprise. "Wow…" she breathed, before catching herself. "I never thought I'd see you admit something like that. You've… become less emotionally distant."
Min-jae chuckled low, shaking his head. "Don't exaggerate. But maybe our company should do this more often. Something bigger—a fashion show for orphans, perhaps. Something they'd remember."
Ga-young smiled, touched by the thought. "I'll look into it, sir."
Before he could reply, a sharp, ringing voice cut across the courtyard.
"Min-jae!"
Both turned.
A woman was striding toward them with confident ease, the corners of her lips lifting into a bright smile that seemed to claim the space around her.
Min-jae blinked, recognition flickering. "…Hera?"
Her grin widened, eyes gleaming with nostalgia. "So you do remember me. I almost thought I was seeing things."
He studied her for a beat, then allowed himself a faint smile. "You haven't changed a bit."
"Song Hera," she said quickly, turning to Ga-young with a polite little wave.
Ga-young bowed lightly. "Choi Ga-young."
"Nice to meet you," Hera replied smoothly, before her gaze slipped back to Min-jae, as though the world shrank to only the two of them. "Were you here to see Mrs. Han?"
"Practically," Min-jae said evenly.
"Mm. I thought so." Her head tilted, her long hair falling over one shoulder. "And are you going back to Seoul tonight? Isn't it a little late?"
"We were planning to stay the night at hotel and head back tomorrow," he answered.
Hera's smile sharpened playfully. "Why would you do that? That hurts my pride."
Min-jae's brows lifted. "Your pride?"
"You'll come rest at my grandmother's house instead," Hera declared.
"That's not necessary," Min-jae replied, polite but firm. "It would be an inconvenience."
Hera crossed her arms, a spark of the same boldness she carried back in college lighting her eyes. "Are you underestimating my grandmother's house?"
Min-jae gave a small laugh, shaking his head. "No. Not at all."
"Good." She took a step closer, tilting her chin. "Then it's settled. And it's not a request."
Her eyes flicked to Ga-young briefly, appraising, before returning to Min-jae with a smile that carried a thousand unspoken things. "You still look exactly the same," she said softly. "Let's go."
---
By the time they finally stepped inside, Hera called out for her grandmother. Ga-young and Min-jae, however, were momentarily distracted—the house itself was something to marvel at. It wasn't grand or flashy, but it carried an unshakable grace. The walls were alive with oil paintings that seemed almost too rare to be hidden here, and shelves displayed delicate handmade vases that whispered of years of artistry.
Ga-young's eyes halted on a large portrait in the hallway. Her breath caught.
"Mrs. Han Ok-sun?" she blurted out without thinking. "Your grandmother is a fan?"
Hera chuckled, amused. "It's funny hearing it that way… but yes, you could say so."
Just then, Hera's grandmother emerged—an apron wrapped around her, faint stains of clay and paint marking her craft. Her presence carried the calm authority of someone who had lived fully, created fully.
"You're home?" she asked, brows raised. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
Min-jae's lips parted slightly. "Mrs. Han…?" he muttered under his breath in disbelief, while Ga-young stood frozen in awe. They were standing in the home of the Ok-sun.
"Grandma," Hera said quickly, rushing to her side. "These are my friends from college. Min-jae, and Ga-young. They'll be staying the night. They actually came to see the kids—it wouldn't be right not to host them."
Min-jae and Ga-young bowed deeply, their respect evident.
Mrs. Han's stern face softened into a smile. "It's nice to meet you. Hera rarely talks about her college life. I'm surprised she managed to find friends at all."
"Grandma!" Hera pouted.
With a small laugh, Mrs. Han tilted her head. "Since you're here, would you like to join me for some pottery?"
"Not everyone enjoys pottery, Grandma," Hera whispered like a warning.
"I do," Min-jae said before he could stop himself.
"Me too," Ga-young added quickly, almost defensively.
Mrs. Han's eyes twinkled. "You two are good kids. Get changed and meet me in the pottery room. Hera, prepare something sweet for our guests."
"Yes, Grandma," Hera sighed, though she couldn't hide her smile. She ushered Min-jae and Ga-young off to change.
---
When they returned—coincidentally at the same time—Mrs. Han was already waiting, sleeves rolled up, hands dusted with clay.
"Have you done this before?" she asked.
Min-jae nodded slightly.
Ga-young shook her head. "Not really. I only know a little."
"Good," Mrs. Han replied. "Pottery isn't about mastery. It's about… release. Shaping something while letting yourself be shaped. It heals more than the hands."
Ga-young's lips parted. "I never thought of it that way."
"Then tonight, don't try too hard. Just… let it flow."
The three sat in a gentle silence, the spinning wheels filling the room with their soft whir. Mrs. Han worked with effortless grace, every curve of her clay elegant and sure. Min-jae, even in concentration, looked like he belonged in an advert—his sleeves rolled neatly, hair falling perfectly as he shaped the clay. Ga-young, on the other hand, was struggling. The clay slumped, collapsed, mocked her patience.
She exhaled sharply.
Without warning, Min-jae stood and walked toward her. Before Ga-young could protest, he slid behind her, his broad frame almost enveloping her. His large hands closed over hers, warm and steady.
Her entire body stiffened, heat rising to her cheeks.
"Relax," he murmured, his breath brushing against her ear. "Follow me."
Together, their hands pressed into the clay, firm yet gentle. Under his guidance, the stubborn mound began to rise, shaping into a soft, delicate form.
"Like this?" Ga-young questioned.
"Just like this" he replied.
Ga-young tried desperately to focus on the clay, but her senses betrayed her—the warmth radiating from him, the rhythm of his breath, the way his voice seemed to hum low in her chest.
Mrs. Han chuckled suddenly. "Are you two a couple?"
Both snapped their heads toward her but didn't dare pull their hands apart.
"No!" they blurted in unison.
Before the moment could stretch further, Hera appeared at the door, her voice carrying its usual sparkle.
"What are you all whispering about without me?"
"Why are you so nosy?" Mrs. Han teased back.
"Food's ready," Hera announced proudly.
Mrs. Han dusted off her hands. "Wash up and let's eat."
---
Dinner was warm, the table alive with dishes Hera had fussed over. The atmosphere settled into something almost family-like. But it was Mrs. Han who broke the silence, her eyes sharp as they settled on Min-jae.
"Min-jae," she said slowly, as though weighing the name.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered politely, setting down his cutlery.
She gestured for him to continue eating. "CEO of K&H Fashion and Cosmetics, am I right?"
Min-jae froze, surprised. "Yes…"
"You seem shocked," she smirked. "You're far too public a figure to slip past me."
"She does her research," Hera chimed in.
Mrs. Han leaned back. "Tell me, then. Did you really come here to see the children?"
The question sliced clean through the meal's comfort. Min-jae inhaled, then set down his fork. "If I'm honest… no. We came here hoping to meet you, through them. But after today, I feel guilty. The children deserve more than being used as a bridge for business. That's manipulation, at its worst. I realize that now."
Silence. Mrs. Han studied him, then gave a small approving nod. "Acknowledging your own flaws is the first step. That impresses me." She sipped her water. "But what made you think you could persuade me? You know I left that world behind."
This time, Ga-young spoke, her voice soft but sure. "We didn't know if you'd agree. We thought… it was worth trying. Even if you said no, meeting you alone would've been worth the journey. And meeting the children… made it even more so."
Mrs. Han's eyes narrowed playfully. "And why do I feel like you're just buttering me up, hmm?"
Ga-young's eyes widened. "Me? No, I could never. You really are incredible, Mrs. Han. I was really looking forward to see you in person."
Mrs. Han's gaze softened, and she reached out to pat Ga-young's head. "Sweet girl."
Hera pouted dramatically. "Why do I feel like I'm losing my grandma to someone else?"
"You never appreciated me enough," Mrs. Han teased back.
"If you like her this much, Grandma, why not accept their proposal?" Hera nudged.
Mrs. Han's smile faded into something more contemplative. "Let's eat."
"Come on, Grandma. You know you miss designing. And this time it won't end the way it did before."
Mrs. Han sighed, but Hera squeezed her hand. "I believe in you. You still have it. I've even seen your sketches."
Mrs. Han gasped, smacking her arm lightly. "You little spy!"
"They were gorgeous," Hera defended.
A reluctant smile curved Mrs. Han's lips. "Let's finish our meal. I'll give you my answer tomorrow."
Both Min-jae and Ga-young bowed in sync. "Thank you, ma'am."
Mrs. Han laughed. "I didn't say yes yet."
But the room already carried the weight of hope.