The living room was unusually quiet that night.
Only the faint ticking of the wall clock filled the space as Mrs. Kim sat stiffly on the sofa, her phone pressed tightly against her ear.
"Hello?"
A low voice answered.
"I believe you remember me."
Mrs. Kim's fingers trembled. "W-who is this?"
A short laugh came from the other end.
"The person you gave Ji-Soo to… because she was ruining your reputation. You only wanted Ji-Woo — the well-behaved one."
The phone nearly slipped from Mrs. Kim's hand.
"You're lying," she whispered, though her heart already knew the truth she had buried for years.
"Am I?" the woman continued calmly. "Shall I tell everyone what you did? Your friends… the school… your husband?"
Mrs. Kim's breathing became shallow.
Panic clawed at her chest, but she forced her voice down to a fragile whisper.
"What do you want?"
"Let us meet," the woman said. "Soon."
The line went dead.
Mrs. Kim lowered the phone slowly, staring at nothing. Her reflection in the dark TV screen looked like a stranger — pale, shaken, guilty.
Then the front door creaked open.
Footsteps.
Ji-Woo stepped inside.
Her long hair, once neatly brushed, was tangled and messy. Her bangs fell low, shadowing her eyes. She looked tired… but alert.
Mrs. Kim stood abruptly.
"Come here."
Ji-Woo froze but obeyed.
Mrs. Kim studied her face like she was seeing it for the first time.
"Do you… have a birthmark?"
Ji-Woo hesitated only briefly.
"Yes."
"Where?" Mrs. Kim's voice cracked.
"On my neck. By the side… my hair usually covers it." She gently moved her hair aside.
Mrs. Kim's breath hitched.
Ji-Woo continued quietly,
"It's Unnie who has one on her forehead."
Silence exploded between them.
Mrs. Kim dragged a trembling hand through her short hair, her mind spiraling.
I Know My Ji-Soo…
I loved My Ji-Soo.....
"What happened, Mama?" Ji-Woo asked softly.
No answer.
Only the sound of Mrs. Kim's uneven breathing.
Then suddenly—
"Go to your room."
Ji-Woo blinked. "Mama—"
"I said GO TO YOUR ROOM!" Mrs. Kim shouted, her voice breaking under the weight of fear.
Ji-Woo flinched.
For a moment, their eyes locked — full of secrets neither dared speak aloud.
Then Ji-Woo turned and walked upstairs without another word.
Mrs. Kim sank back onto the sofa, clutching her phone.
The past she thought she had buried…
was coming back to claim her.
Ji-Woo stepped into her room, closing the door quietly behind her.
The dim light from the street outside filtered through the blinds, casting long stripes across the floor.
Her chest heaved slightly from exhaustion, but her eyes scanned the room, restless.
Her gaze fell on a large container tucked into the corner.
Slowly, deliberately, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the tarantula.
The spider crawled lazily along her fingers, its legs brushing lightly against her skin.
Ji-Woo studied it for a long moment, her mind sharp and focused despite the day's chaos.
Mi-Sook really needed to be taught a lesson, she thought.
The nerve, locking her in that classroom… trying to scare her.
Her lips curved into a small, almost amused smirk.
She glanced at the tarantula again.
"You're lucky tomorrow is Saturday," she whispered softly, tilting her head. "Otherwise, you and I would have had a little… chat."
The spider shifted in her hand, oblivious to her thoughts, and Ji-Woo carefully placed it inside the container.
She closed it with a quiet click, her mind already plotting the lesson Mi-Sook would never forget.
The room was still, the night air settling around her, but Ji-Woo felt an unexpected surge of control.
After a day of being trapped, ignored, and threatened, this small victory — even over a spider — felt satisfying.
She sank onto her bed, staring at the container.
Quietly, she let out a soft sigh.
Mi-Sook wouldn't know what hit her.
And for the first time that evening, Ji-Woo allowed herself a tiny, sharp smile.
--------+++++++------------
The morning sun spilled in through the tall windows of the quiet coffee shop, catching the polished wooden tables and the faint steam rising from the cups.
The place was serene, almost deceptive in its calm.
At a corner table, Mrs. Kim sat alone, perfect and composed in a cream coat trimmed with white fur at the neck.
Gold earrings caught the light as she lifted her coffee cup, then checked her watch again.
Every movement was deliberate.
Controlled.
The door chimed quietly.
Mrs. Kim didn't look up immediately — she felt the presence before seeing it.
A woman glided in, heels clicking softly on the floor.
She carried herself with elegance, but there was something sharper in her movements, something calculated.
Her long hair framed a face that had signs of thirty years but still retained freshness and poise.
Mrs. Kim's lips tightened.
The woman slid into the chair across from her.
"So… you came," she said smoothly.
Mrs. Kim's gaze sharpened.
"Mrs. Hwang Sun‑Yeon," she said, voice measured, almost questioning.
"Exactly," Sun‑Yeon replied, smirking. "And you remember what we have between us, don't you?"
Sun‑Yeon leaned forward slightly, her eyes never leaving Mrs. Kim's.
"You owe me five million won. And that's not all. I want to stay in your house for a while. Quietly. Secretly. If you agree, no one will ever know what happened that night."
Mrs. Kim's hand tightened around her cup, knuckles white.
"And if I don't?" she asked, her voice steady but trembling inside.
Sun‑Yeon's lips curved into a sharp, thin smile. "Then the world will know. Photos, documents, messages… everything proving what you did. Everyone. The media. Your reputation. Your life. Gone."
Mrs. Kim's chest tightened.
"Five million won…" she repeated, swallowing hard.
Sun‑Yeon's smirk grew colder. "Not much, really. But here's the thing — I'm no longer working at the orphanage. I'm kind of homeless now. If you don't give me a place in your house, Mrs. Kim… you will regret everything."
The words hit her like ice water.
Mrs. Kim's mind went back — back to that night years ago.
Flashback — The Night She gave Ji‑Soo
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
Five-year-old Ji‑Soo slept in her arms, soft and trusting.
Mrs. Kim's husband had already left — the decision to hand over Ji‑Soo had cost him everything.
He couldn't live with it.
Couldn't forgive her.
She had been alone.
"She's ruining everything," Mrs. Kim whispered to herself.
She drove to Samsung Boyookwon, the orphanage in Jeonju.
The small girl stirred but didn't wake. Mrs. Kim handed Ji‑Soo over carefully.
"Take care of her," she whispered, her voice breaking.
The door closed behind them, leaving her alone in the car with the weight of what she had done pressing down.
Back in the coffee shop, Mrs. Kim's hand trembled slightly as she sipped her coffee.
Sun‑Yeon's eyes bore into her.
"You remember it clearly, don't you? That night. That child. Ji‑Soo. Sleeping. Trusting. And you… you thought it would disappear. You thought no one would ever know."
Mrs. Kim's lips pressed together. The heat in her face betrayed the calm she tried to project.
Sun‑Yeon continued, her voice soft but edged with steel.
"Now I have nowhere to go. If you agree to let me stay in your house… I won't tell a soul about that night. No one will ever know."
A shiver ran down Mrs. Kim's spine.
The quiet coffee shop suddenly felt smaller, heavier.
Sun‑Yeon leaned back slightly, smirk never leaving her face. "Your choice, Mrs. Kim. Give me what I want… or everything you've built will crumble."
Mrs. Kim set her cup down carefully.
She exhaled slowly.
The past she thought she had buried had returned.
And now, she had to face it — fully, sharply, and alone.