Chapter 7: 24 Hours, Still Open

“Forget it. Just forget.”

Tap, tap.

Jiheum lightly patted her cheeks and shook her head.

She took out her phone and turned on the screen.

9:01 AM.

Time was flowing incredibly slowly.

At times like this, she truly regretted not being independent.

Or rather, it was more accurate to say she wanted to be, but couldn’t.

When she first mentioned wanting to move out at the age of twenty, Seonju—the person she thought would welcome the idea most—opposed it more fiercely than anyone.

‘For whose benefit? I don’t see why I should grant you freedom.’

‘The only way Yoon Jiheum is leaving this house is through marriage.’

Following Seonju’s declaration, her father, Yoon Gwano, remained motionless.

As a man whose life had been held hostage as the price for a past affair, Gwano had no ground to rebel.

‘Fine. Have it your way.’

As always, Gwano stepped back immediately.

He had never once acted as a shield for her as a father.

Of course, Jiheum never expected him to be one.

To Yoon Gwano, nothing was easier than ignoring Jiheum.

He believed he had fulfilled his duty of child-rearing simply by providing food, clothing, and shelter.

She was the child born as evidence of a three-year fire he had been blinded by.

A child born out of wedlock whose existence he hadn’t even known about until she was four.

Every time he looked at Jiheum, he was repulsed by the fact that she had inherited his DNA.

He would have preferred to leave her to live on her own since she was twenty, but Seonju was adamant.

Having Jiheum around was the only way to make Yoon Gwano feel his guilt and his mistakes to his very core.

The only saving grace in this misery was that both Seonju and Gwano cared deeply about public perception.

Thanks to that, she was listed on the family registry as an adoptee rather than an illegitimate child.

Whether she was rotting on the inside or not, they invested in her outward appearance, and it was thanks to those values that she was currently sitting in a luxury sedan.

Now that she was twenty-nine, independence was impossible not just because of Seonju’s lack of permission, but because she had no savings.

She had worked part-time jobs without rest since she was twenty, but it was like pouring water into a bottomless pit because of Chae Young-chae, who treated her as a human ATM.

The woman never visited unless she was asking for money.

Jiheum wondered why she had even given birth to her in the first place, bringing misery to everyone.

Anger flared whenever she thought of Young-chae.

Ha. I should stop thinking about it.

She shook her head to clear the thought of Young-chae.

Perhaps she should have closed her eyes and just gone for it when the second chance at independence arrived.

‘Jiheum. I’m moving out. Do you want to live together?’

Seung-ji had invited her to share her studio apartment.

‘No. It’s okay.’

Seung-ji, who only knew her as an adoptee, wanted to pull Jiheum out of the Yoon household by any means possible.

She had met Seung-ji in a liberal arts class after entering university.

Noticing that Jiheum always wandered alone, Seung-ji had approached her first.

She said she liked beautiful things more than anything in the world and wanted to be friends with someone as beautiful as her.

‘I won’t ask for rent. I’ll give you your own room.’

Seung-ji had dangled a tempting bait she couldn’t easily refuse.

Jiheum had been conflicted for a while.

But the more she thought about it, the more her heart leaned toward refusal.

The sympathy underlying their friendship bothered her.

Since she wanted to maintain an equal friendship rather than one based on pity, refusal was the right answer.

‘I’m sincerely grateful that you cared so much. I’ll take the thought as a gift.’

In truth, she lacked courage.

She lacked the courage to face Seonju, and the courage to become a burden to Seung-ji.

‘Open 24 hours, exclusively for Yoon Jiheum. Come whenever.’

She recalled the promise Seung-ji had made, which had felt like a blank check at the time.

She hadn’t cashed it in for two years, but it seemed she would have to today.

Jiheum turned on her phone screen, which she had been fiddling with.

She easily found and pressed ‘♡Seung-ji, Seung-ji♡’ in her call logs. It was the contact name Seung-ji had saved herself as.

The dial tone rang for quite a while.

Just as she felt the impulse to hang up, Seung-ji’s sleep-heavy voice came through.

– He… llo?

“Seung-ji. It’s me.”

– Mmm, Jiheum? ……What’s going on at this hour?

There was a pause, likely as she checked the time, before she continued.

“Uh, well.”

Jiheum lowered her eyes and fiddled with her eyebrow.

She didn’t know what to say.

Since she had never shown up unannounced like this, she wanted to add a plausible reason.

Yet the only thing that came to mind was the ‘open 24 hours’ promise.

“Well, can I see you today?”

– Today?

When she said yes, there was silence on the other end.

Unsure if she had fallen back asleep or was thinking about her schedule, Jiheum hurried to add more.

“To return the wig and high heels, too.”

– I told you you could return them whenever. Honestly, were they that uncomfortable to have?

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

– Fine. Well, okay. I was planning on staying cooped up at home all day anyway.

The sound of rustling followed as if she were getting up.

“Then, can I come up now?”

– Huh…? Now? Where are you?

“Actually, I’m in the parking lot. Your apartment parking lot.”

Her voice grew smaller and smaller.

She wondered if it had been a mistake to rush out just because she feared Jiyoon would pick a fight and interrogate her about last night. She felt a bit of regret.

– The parking lot here?

“Yeah.”

– Did something happen? Just come up. We’ll talk when you get here.

Fortunately, the 24-hour promise seemed to still be valid.

****

The apartment door opened before the doorbell melody could even finish.

In pajama pants, a t-shirt, and with wet bangs, Seung-ji—who had clearly just finished washing her face—smiled broadly.

Seeing Seung-ji welcome her so brightly even though she must feel like this was a bolt from the blue, Jiheum found it hard to step inside.

“What are you doing? Come in.”

“I woke you up, didn’t I?”

Jiheum asked cautiously as she entered the foyer.

“Mmm, probably? But I was going to get up anyway.”

Seung-ji shrugged and turned around.

As she walked toward the kitchen, she asked, “What about breakfast? Did you eat before coming?”

“Yeah, well, sort of.”

“What? You came without eating?”

“You know me. I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

Seung-ji stopped opening the refrigerator and turned her head.

She saw Jiheum standing there awkwardly.

The atmosphere definitely felt as if she had been kicked out.

“Did something happen? Did your sister pick a fight again?”

Ever since seeing Yoon Jiyoon just once, Seung-ji immediately suspected her whenever she saw a shadow on Jiheum’s face.

Rightly so, the incident of seeing Jiyoon when they were twenty-one was engraved in Seung-ji’s memory—the way Yoon Jiyoon had acted out without a care even in front of her, Jiheum’s friend.

“No. Nothing happened.”

Jiheum shook her head.

The moment she lied that nothing happened, the sensation of the man’s touch swept through her entire body.

Her body trembled slightly as the feeling of flinching at the peak of pleasure was vividly recreated.

She squeezed her eyes shut as the dizzying ecstasy rushed through her once more.

“Are you okay?”

When she opened her eyes, Seung-ji was staring at her as if asking if she was truly alright.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

In an instant, it felt like she had traveled back to that night, to that bed, and returned.

She exhaled a soft breath and smoothed over her dazed expression.

“I was just lost in thought for a second.”

“What were you thinking about to look that spaced out?”

“Mmm……. Thinking about you, Kwon Seung-ji?”

Jiheum smiled broadly and approached the island table.

She set down her handbag and shopping bag and looked at Seung-ji.

“Good thinking. Excellent work, Yoon Jiheum.”

Seung-ji laughed, met her eyes, and turned around.

The sound of rustling and searching broke the quiet of the kitchen.

Just as Jiheum began to worry she might climb into the refrigerator, Seung-ji spoke.

“Is toast okay? That’s all I have to eat right now.”

“Yeah. I’ll make it.”

Jiheum headed for the sink.

She was about to turn on the faucet but paused and turned her body slightly.

“By the way. I used the wig and heels well.”

“You could’ve returned them slowly.”

Seung-ji replied as she took out jam and orange juice.

Seeing Seung-ji heading toward the table, Jiheum turned back and turned on the tap.

As she washed her hands, she heard Seung-ji’s voice.

The sound of the water prevented her from hearing clearly.

She dried her hands on a paper towel and turned around to ask.

“Pardon? What did you say?”

“I asked if your little rebellion went well.”

Seung-ji smirked as she checked the shopping bag.

When asked what she wanted for her birthday, Jiheum had unexpectedly asked to borrow the wig and shoes.

Seung-ji, who was used to Jiheum refusing any birthday parties or celebrations every year, had wondered why she was making such a request and asked why she needed them.

The unexpected answer had been that she wanted to have a ‘rebellion.’ Naturally, Seung-ji was dying to know more.

“I’m curious, so curious! I want to know how our honor student’s first rebellion went.”

“Ah, uh. Well. It was alright.”

Jiheum looked around for the bread, naturally avoiding Seungji’s gaze.

Even though she knew Seung-ji would ask, she hadn’t prepared an answer. Last night’s events were far too unexpected a rebellion.

She was still dazed by the fact that she had actually done something she thought she’d never have the guts to do.

“Suspicious. Yoon Jiheum, you’re suspicious.”

“Suspicious of what? Where’s the bread? And the toaster?”

Jiheum muttered as she opened the upper kitchen cabinet.

Seungji approached, opened a lower cabinet, and pulled out the toaster.

“Something is definitely suspicious.”

Seungji muttered as she carried the toaster to the island table.

It looked like Seungji’s persistent ‘investigator mode’, which wouldn’t turn off until her curiosity was satisfied, was about to be activated.