Chapter 7
It was late in the evening when a cab pulled up at the side of the road. Lucy came out of the cab still hin her uniform, thanked the driver and walked to the house.
Getting inside the house,she was surprised to see her adopted parents Seated in the living room with two big traveling bags.
She walked up to them and stood in front of them, curious.
"Mom, dad what is going on?"
She asked gazing from Mr. Hanuel to Mrs.Hanuel " what is the problem? Why are your bags out in the living room?"
Mr. Hanuel sighed loudly and reached for Lucy hands and pulled her and made her sit between him and his wife.
"Lucy,we have something to discuss with you".
Mr. Hanuel begin " we are going for a business trip that will take about two to three months".
"What? Months? Why?"
Lucy asked looking from her dad to her mom.
Mr. Hanuel sighed,and pull Lucy into a firm hug. The scent of his cedarwood cologne, usually a comfort, now felt like a countdown to his departure.
"Three months is a season, Lucy," he murmured against her hair. "By the time we return, the cherry blossoms will be replaced by the heat of mid-summer. We aren't doing this because we want to miss your graduation or your birthday; we are doing this so that when those days come, we can afford the life you deserve."
Lucy pulled back, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I don't want a fancy life! I want my parents. Who is going to help me with my advanced calculus? Who is going to argue with me over which K-drama to watch on Friday nights? You're leaving me in this big house with nothing but silence."
Mrs. Hanuel stepped forward, taking Lucy's hands in hers. Her grip was trembling slightly, betraying the stoic face she tried to maintain for her daughter. "Your Auntie Ji-woo will be staying in the guest wing. She's already promised to stock the pantry with your favorite honey butter chips and Samyang noodles. And we will video call every single night. No exceptions. Even if the time difference in Europe is difficult, we will be there on that screen."
"It's not the same," Lucy whispered, her voice cracking. "A screen can't hug me back when I have a bad day at school. And what about the boss? Why does he need both of you? It's unfair. He's taking my whole world away just for some corporate merger."
"Mr. Park is demanding, yes," her father admitted, his expression hardening slightly with the reality of their professional burden. "But he is also the reason we have our health insurance and your tuition. In the Seoul corporate world, loyalty isn't just appreciated—it's required. If we stay behind while the rest of the executive team travels, we become invisible. And in this economy, being invisible is the first step to being replaced."
Lucy looked at her parents, seeing the exhaustion etched into the corners of their eyes. She realized then that they weren't just leaving; they were fighting. This trip was a sacrifice they were making to keep their family afloat in a city that never stopped moving.
Slowly, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and took a shaky breath. The "puppy face" faded, replaced by a somber, growing maturity. "Promise me one thing," she said, her voice regaining some strength.
"Anything," Mrs. Hanuel said reaching out to brush a stray hair from Lucy's forehead.
"When you come back, no more business trips for a year. Not even for a weekend. You owe me three months of undivided attention."
Mr. Hanuel smiled, a genuine one this time, and pulled both his wife and daughter into a tight circle. "It's a deal. We'll be home before you know it, Lucy-ah. Just watch the moon; every time it changes shape, you're one step closer to us landing back at Incheon."
The family of three hug each other and remain like that.
**********
The digital clock on the bedside table bled a harsh crimson 12:14 AM into the dark room. Kim Jo winced, the light piercing through a migraine that felt like a rhythmic hammering against his skull. He groaned, rolling over to find the other side of the bed cold and empty—a reminder of the very problem currently splitting his head open.
Stumbling toward the ensuite, he didn't bother with the overhead lights. He splashed freezing water onto his face, the shock momentarily dulling the throb in his temples. Droplets clung to his jawline as he stared at his ghostly reflection in the moonlight filtering through the frosted glass. He was a man who lived for melodies, but lately, his life was nothing but discordant noise.
He moved back into the bedroom, reaching for a glass of water, when the sudden, aggressive vibration of his phone on the nightstand made him jump. The buzz felt like a literal drill against his nerves. Without checking the ID—assuming it was his manager or a late-night inspiration check from the studio—he pressed the device to his ear.
"Hello?" he rasped, his voice thick with sleep and pain.
"Just calling to remind you," a cold, authoritative voice cut through the line. Kim Jo's heart plummeted, hitting his stomach with the weight of an anchor. It was his father. "Three months to bring your wife home. If you can't, don't even think about going back to your music career. I'll pull the funding for the label myself."
The silence that followed was heavy. Kim Jo gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. Music wasn't just his job; it was his breath. His father knew exactly where to twist the knife.
"Father, it's midnight," Jo managed to say, his voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and fury.
"Time is irrelevant when your reputation is rotting," his father snapped. "The elders are asking questions. The board is watching. You have ninety days to fix this 'artistic' rebellion of yours and show the world a stable family man. Or you can spend the rest of your life as a failed son with a silent piano."
The line went dead. Kim Jo stared at the darkened screen, the headache now a blinding roar. Three months. The exact same timeline Lucy's parents were facing for their trip. In a city as small as Seoul, the clock was ticking for everyone.