Divorce Contract C4

Chapter 4

Even before having met him face-to-face, Go Igyeol had already fallen out of favor with his mother-in-law. Once she resolved to show him exactly what it meant to endure sijipsari—the hardships of living with one’s in-laws—she became surprisingly more lenient in spirit. In public, when eyes were watching, she played the role of the most affectionate mother-in-law imaginable, but when they were alone she was needlessly rude, excessively demanding, and endlessly difficult to please. Her sharp, upward-slanting eyes fixed squarely on Igyeol.

“Still no baby news?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, sorry—is that all you can say? It’s already been two years since your marriage. Why haven’t you gotten pregnant yet? You say you’re not even using contraception. Must be because you’re recessive, isn’t it? When the field isn’t good, no matter how fine the seed, nothing will grow. Isn’t that right?”

“Seo Dohyeon and I are trying. Please give us a little more time—.”

He couldn’t possibly reveal his pregnancy to her, not when he hadn’t even told Dohyeon. Yet part of him wondered—if he told her, might she help him? He was wavering in that thought when—

“Does trying make it happen? Are things even good between you and our Dohyeon? Ha! I told Father again and again we needed a dominant in this family. If it’s been over two years and still no child, of course the problem lies with you, doesn’t it? Just sitting there waiting—you’ll sit until you die waiting! This is why recessives aren’t any good! No matter how dominant Dohyeon is, with your recessive traits, what good could any child of yours have? Even if you give birth, that’ll be a problem too!”

“……”

“What’s that expression for? I just pointed out you’re recessive, and you act resentful? Are you upset at me for saying it? Everyone knows a dominant omega is worth a hundred, a thousand times more than a recessive. So why make such a face?”

It was as though someone had doused Igyeol in ice water, snapping him back to his senses. Any thought of turning to Im Yeonhui for help was extinguished instantly.

“Ahem. Ahem.”

Yeonhui cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious at Igyeol’s stricken face. Looking at him about to burst into tears, she wondered if she had gone too far. But with no grandchild after two years of marriage, she felt it more effective to pressure Igyeol than to scold Dohyeon. Truthfully, she didn’t actually believe a recessive would only bear inferior children.

Even recessive omegas, when paired with dominant alphas, usually produced dominant offspring. But Igyeol likely didn’t know that, and that ignorance kept him so downcast. Though she pitied him faintly, she had no intention of correcting herself, let alone apologizing. Instead, concerned her harsh words might reach her father-in-law’s ears, she softened her tone with a quick fix.

“Child, it was just a way of speaking. You know?”

“……”

“Are you pouting, upset just because I said that?”

“It isn’t like that. I know you didn’t mean anything bad by it, Mother. Please don’t worry.”

Even with his polite reply, her dissatisfaction lingered on her face. Clicking her tongue, she rose from her seat. Igyeol, who hadn’t dared sit at all, followed behind at a careful distance. Passing through the dining room and into the kitchen, she summoned two of the working staff moving briskly about.

“Chairman’s been craving fresh kimchi. While you’re at it, teach our child here the recipe as well. Dohyeon has the same tastes as his grandfather, after all.”

“Yes, madam.”

“Make sure Igyeol learns properly today, understand?”

Her beautiful smile, as flawless as if painted on, complimented her face, which barely showed her age. A smooth hand touched lightly against Igyeol’s back. His whole body stiffened, then snapped him back to himself.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be stepping out for a while. Make sure to teach him well, and prepare some for Director Seo to take back home.”

“Yes, madam. Take care.”

Still disoriented at hearing her call him “our child,” our Igyeol, he bowed deeply as she left. Yeonhui glided away soundlessly, slippers even hushed, disappearing with elegant grace. Only after the door shut with a click did the lowered eyes of the staff slowly rise, focusing on him.

“…Please, don’t mind me. Show me how.”

“Then help us with the mixing. Just taste-testing, really.”

“I’ll help with the chopping, too. I’ve heard your family doesn’t do kimjang¹—do you always prepare fresh kimchi like this instead?”

“Chairman’s palate is terribly picky. Even a little fermented, he won’t touch it.”

Gathered staff bustled about, treating it like nothing new. One cautiously handed him a basket of green onions.

“Wash the roots well for the broth, set them aside. Then split the stalk and slice them thickly, not too fine.”

“Should I wash these outside? There are too many for here.”

“That’s usually what we do, but it’s cold outside. Will you be all right?”

Concerned but not insistent, they let it be. Indoors, the bulk would take up too much space. Quietly, they hoped he might finish the washing and trimming before returning inside.

“I’ll clean them outside.”

“The outdoor tap doesn’t have hot water, so if it gets too cold, come in soon.”

“All right.”

Taking the basket brimming with onions, he stepped out. It was March, still tinged with winter’s bite despite spring’s name.

It took longer than expected. Cleaning away the dirt from the roots, cutting them off and setting them aside, then chopping the stalks into proper lengths—his hands plunged in and out of cold water until they turned a raw red.

He had worn only a thin cardigan, not expecting such work. The sharp early-spring air sliced his skin, and he sniffled constantly. Even so, it was better than sitting inside choking back nausea over food smells. Silent and resigned, he continued preparing the onions.

Time passed, unmeasured. The sky, now flushed crimson, told him how long he’d been.

“How long has it been…”

Green onions piled in mounds rolled over the cutting board. Bowl after bowl had been filled and carried away, yet more remained. He wanted to bring this batch himself. The cold stung, his numbed hands ached, and yet he straightened, wiping his nose, staring at the reddening sky. He hadn’t known kimchi took so many onions.

“…My back hurts.”

Brushing dampness from his apron, he sighed. That was when he heard someone behind him. Turning instinctively, his eyes met Seo Dohyeon’s—his brows furrowed into an angry scowl.

“…Ah—why are you… Hello.”

“Hah.”

Even to himself, his greeting was absurdly stupid. But he had no idea what else to say. Why was Dohyeon here now, at the main house? Why had he shown up at this exact moment?

“What on earth are you doing?”

“…They’re making kimchi. I was preparing onions…”

“And who told you to do that?”

“Mother said—it was one of your favorite dishes, and I thought I should learn.”

Dohyeon’s brow furrowed in disgust, as though he’d stumbled upon something vile. Breathing frosted the cooling dusk air.

“Come here.”

“But I’m not finished yet—.”

“When did I tell you to learn this kind of useless thing?”

“……”

He strode over, seized Igyeol’s arm, and yanked him upright. The apron, poorly tied, was ripped from his waist and tossed aside. Then, dragging him briskly across the yard, he led the way firmly.

“W-wait, please. If I disappear like this, it’ll be awkward! People will—”

“Who?”

“Eh?”

“Who’s it going to be awkward for?”

Under the sharp stare, Igyeol faltered, lips parting wordlessly as his eyes fell. The staff inside, busy working—wouldn’t they think it odd if he simply vanished? Surely he should at least say goodbye?

“The staff, inside…”

“Unbelievable. Just shut up and walk. I’m not in the mood for polite farewells.”

“…But if I go like this, I’ll be the one… stuck in an awkward position.”

Twisting his wrist out of Dohyeon’s grip, Igyeol whispered,

“I’ll just tell them quickly. That you came to get me, and I’ll take the kimchi home later—.”

“That’s unnecessary. I don’t even like it that much. At most, I ate it when it was there.”

“…Then let me at least say goodbye.”

Rubbing his wrist where pain lingered, he bowed slightly, picked up the basket, and ran off toward the outdoor tap.

“Fucking hell. Why’d he take that with him?”

Dohyeon muttered through clenched teeth, unable to contain the foul curse. Watching Igyeol, fragile in body and temperament, standing outside in the freezing night, hands raw and red, he felt his blood boil upward until his head spun.

Footnotes

1. 김장 (Kimjang): The traditional Korean practice of preparing large quantities of kimchi, usually in late autumn. Refers to making and storing enough for the winter season. Here, “fresh kimchi” contrasts with aged kimchi and would be a delicacy tailored to the chairman’s picky palate.

2. Sijipsari (시집살이): A cultural concept in Korea, describing the difficulties traditionally endured by a bride living in her husband’s parental home, under the authority of her mother-in-law.