Later, Tae rocked Ggukie to sleep, the nursery bathed in warm afternoon light. The baby sighed, drifting off, milk-drunk and peaceful. She kissed his forehead, tiptoeing out. Silence wrapped the mansion—thick, heavy, theirs.

In the kitchen, Tae tied an apron over her simple cotton dress, humming softly as she gathered vegetables. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching dust motes dancing in the air. She chopped carrots rhythmically, the knife hitting the board with soft thunks.