Chapter 24: Pizza Plans and Family Drama

Hyung Joo spoke up again.

“Since you like pizza too, hyung, wanna eat with us? I love pizza. Guess we’ve got the same taste.”

Do Yoon jumped in instantly.

“I like pizza more.”

“Didn’t ask you.”

“Whatever.”

“…”

I zoned out for a second. I’d planned to order food and slip away, so what’s happening? Ignoring their bickering, I ordered pizza on the app, feeling a bit resigned.

“Next time, just order without me. I’ll give Do Yoon my card.”

Hyung Joo piped up eagerly.

“Can I come back here?”

“Of course.”

Do Yoon’s probably going to drag you along anyway. Since things turned out this way, I had no intention of shunning Hyung Joo. He’s already won over the main character, so staying on his good side—and Do Yoon’s—is the safer bet.

But Do Yoon’s face darkened the moment I answered. My stomach twisted. Why’s he upset?

Oh!

A reason hit me like a lightning bolt. Despite being the third child of the Haewon family, Do Yoon’s practically an outsider, always minding others’ perceptions. Bringing a friend over repeatedly would naturally make him wary of judgment. I whispered to him.

“Don’t worry about the adults or noona. I’ll handle them.”

“Okay…”

His face stayed gloomy. What’s wrong? Worried, I decided to shower him with praise. Turning to Hyung Joo, I said.

“Do Yoon’s amazing at math. Not just because he’s my brother—he’s seriously smart. You’ll do great with a teacher like him.”

Hyung Joo pouted.

“I bet you’re better at math, hyung.”

Do Yoon’s eyes widened, glaring at him. His pride couldn’t handle being outdone, apparently. He’s kind but has a subtle temper. I chuckled.

“I’m terrible at math. If anything, I’m decent at English…?”

I said confidently, having confirmed it with an English novel last time. Hyung Joo’s eyes lit up.

“Can I ask you about English, then?”

His unexpected eagerness stunned me. Since when was he such a study freak? As I stood there, dumbfounded, Do Yoon cut in coldly.

“No, I’ll teach that too.”

His reply was so quick it practically shut down our conversation. I was inwardly impressed.

Do Yoon must really like Hyung Joo.

Why else would he be this invested? Hyung Joo, bristling at Do Yoon’s dismissive tone, glared back. Honestly, Do Yoon’s way of showing affection was a bit off—genuine and straightforward is better.

But, biased toward Do Yoon, I just smiled and sat quietly between them, waiting for the pizza.

After that day, despite Hyung Joo’s talk of coming over daily, he didn’t show up. Was it just talk? He’d seemed sincere… Curious, I asked Do Yoon about him, but he brushed it off, changing the subject. I couldn’t tell if things were fine or not.

When I asked about their studying, he’d just say “yeah” without details.

It’s his private life, so he’s not obligated to tell me more, but… after showing up with books to flaunt their progress, his sudden secrecy felt a bit hurtful.

I’d prepared to be nice to Hyung Joo if he came over, but his absence left me feeling empty, like I’d lost a purpose.

Soon, though, I realized how blissful it was to have nothing to do. Instead of Hyung Joo, an unexpected visitor arrived—not a person, but a massive painting that turned the quiet Haewon household upside down.

The abstract painting, as tall as an adult, was meticulously boxed with a ribbon, addressed to “President Choi Young Gil”—Seung Hee and Do Yoon’s father, the current president of Haewon Trading.

Expensive gifts arriving at our house weren’t unusual. But the issue wasn’t the recipient—it was the sender. When Mrs. Shin Mi Sun, alongside Manager Jo, saw the sender’s name, she let out a piercing scream and shoved the painting to the floor.

“Aaah!”

Eating with Do Yoon in the first-floor dining room, I was startled by her outburst and rushed to the living room. I grabbed her as she panted, on the verge of collapsing.

“What’s wrong?!”

“That filthy…”

Leaning on me, she hyperventilated, glaring at the painting like it was vile. My heart raced, but I had no clue what was happening.

Do Yoon, also alarmed, ran out but stood at a distance, warily eyeing Mrs. Shin. I glanced at Manager Jo, who shook his head slightly.

I looked at the toppled painting’s packaging. Shockingly, it was labeled [Haewon Gallery]. Someone bought it from Mother’s gallery and sent it here. I asked.

“Who sent it?”

Gritting her teeth, she answered.

“…The woman your father’s fooling around with.”

Before I could process the shock, President Choi Young Gil walked through the front door. My heart shrank with dread.

“What’s this?”

He looked confused, everyone staring at him. Mother shook off my arm and marched toward him, glaring.

“I said I don’t care what you do outside.”

Father frowned.

“What’s this about?”

“But you don’t bring problems into this house. What, planning to bring another kid home?”

I flinched involuntarily. It took superhuman restraint not to glance at Do Yoon. Father snapped.

“Are you crazy?”

“You’re the crazy one. Fooling around with some bar girl is bad enough, but letting her send this to me?”

Her finger jabbed at the fallen painting box. Father’s eyes scanned the sender’s name, and he groaned softly, realizing the situation. Mrs. Shin, eyes red, shouted.

“She buys a painting from my gallery and sends it to my house, to my husband? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down?!”

Father rubbed his face, sighing heavily, his body screaming exhaustion and annoyance.

“Don’t make a fuss over nothing.”

His tone implied Mother was overreacting. I saw her shoulders tremble. But she took a deep breath, steadied her voice, and said.

“I don’t care how much money you throw around outside. But don’t you dare bring anything into this house. I’ve tolerated one piece of filth here—that’s enough.”

Her words were chillingly sharp. Knowing who she meant, I couldn’t breathe. A spark flared in Father’s eyes. He raised his hand toward her but stopped, noticing me, Do Yoon, and the staff watching. Cursing, he stormed off. No one moved for a moment.

Then Mother, addressing Manager Jo and the maids, said calmly, as if she hadn’t just screamed.

“Return this painting.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Refund the money… no, never mind. It’s probably my husband’s money, so no need to give it back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Manager Jo, unfazed as if this wasn’t new, left with three maids to handle the painting. Having witnessed this in under ten minutes, my mind was a storm of lightning and chaos.

So, President Choi Young Gil has another mistress besides Do Yoon’s mother, and she bought a painting from Haewon Gallery to send here on purpose?

The more I pieced it together, the more shocking it was. But now wasn’t the time to dwell. I approached Mother, unsure what to say.

“Are you… okay?”