Did she hear that right?
Having dinner with him? Every week?
Areum cleared her throat to ease the awkwardness. In theory, it was normal for a father and daughter to share a meal. But she and Sanghyun—their history was far from the kind that would make such a gesture feel natural. After all these years, beyond being blood-related, what real connection did they truly have?
There was no genuine relationship between them, and she had no interest in pretending otherwise.
She scanned his auric field. Outwardly, he appeared composed and unreadable. But his aura betrayed him, revealing a swirl of anticipation, guilt, and quiet desperation.
It felt like a silent plea: Let me show up this time, even if it's too late.
Areum wanted to believe him. She could see his sincerity, feel the weight of his regret. But emotions were fickle. Sincerity today didn't guarantee consistency tomorrow. The fear that she might once again be left behind—that this flicker of effort was just a passing phase—clung tightly to her chest.
Trust, once broken, was not so easily mended. Would he still be there when the guilt faded? Would he still care when remembering her no longer hurt?
She wasn't sure she was ready to find out.
"You don't have to trust me," he said, his voice softer now. "Just let me show you."
Areum shot him a side-eye. Was he reading her mind or something?
Seeing the look on her face, a faint tug pulled at the corner of his lips—an expression he couldn't quite suppress. For a brief moment, he found her… adorable.
Areum glared. What is so funny?
Fine—she didn't have to trust him. She could just observe for now. Besides, agreeing to dinner once a week was a small price to pay for the freedom to live alone.
"Alright. I can do that." Before he could express any joy, she added, "But I'm not living with a nanny. You can assign someone to check in and clean once or twice a week, but no one stays over."
His jaw tightened, brows furrowing for a beat, but then he relented with a slight nod.
"Also, I'm not going to Daehyun Academy."
Sanghyun paused, caught off guard. His usually cold demeanor cracked as he stared at her, incredulity flashing in his eyes.
Areum looked away, avoiding his gaze. Enrolling at Daehyun Academy would entangle her in the novel's main plot. If she were just a nameless background character, it might not have mattered—but she wasn't. Even though she was meant to die before the main plot of the novel began, she was still the illegitimate daughter of one of the Four Pillars families—and that alone would make her stand out like a sore thumb.
More than that, she was exhausted. In her past life, she had studied endlessly in pursuit of meeting others' expectations. And in this life, the original Han Areum had also been buried under the weight of her mother's selfish aspirations. She was done living for other people's approval.
Right now, all she wanted was the freedom to live her own life, without pressure, without performance, without anyone telling her what to do.
The only problem was her age. Legally, she was still a minor—and judging by Sanghyun's behavior, it was unlikely he'd be willing to leave her alone.
"Daehyun Academy is the best high school in the country, and ranks among the top ten in the world. Your grandparents and I both went there." He paused, making sure she grasped the weight of it. "As someone from one of the Four Pillars families, you're guaranteed admission. You wouldn't have to sit through the grueling entrance exam—"
"It's not about whether it's a good school or whether I'm confident in getting in through my own effort. I'm simply not going to school. I'm done studying."
"No," Sanghyun said sternly, his expression darkening. "Do you know what you're saying?"
Areum flinched. Seeing this, Sanghyun hurriedly took a deep breath, trying to calm down. She always seemed so mature for her age—it made him forget that she was still just a child.
"You're ten, Areum. I don't want you making emotional decisions now and regretting them later. As your father, it's my responsibility to make sure you get an education. Not just any education—the best."
He studied her, searching for any sign of understanding, only to find her looking away, pouting. A bead of sweat slid down his back, and a dull headache began to form.
As someone used to commanding absolute authority, he wasn't accustomed to dealing with defiance—least of all from a child. Even his children from his legal wife never dared to talk back.
But with Areum, he couldn't bring himself to raise his voice or act any more sternly. Guilt clung to him like a shadow, and concern for her emotional state kept him restrained.
After all, it was because of him that she had suffered years of abuse. The extent of her trauma was still unknown to him, and he didn't want to risk aggravating her any further.
Areum didn't respond right away. She didn't want to argue—he was already reacting poorly. If he ever found out she wanted to open a holistic healing shop—offering mana-healing sessions, herbal tea, and selling plants and crystals—he'd probably dismiss it as childish fantasy.
Better to save that fight for another day. After all, she was only ten right now. Maybe if she could prove herself to be mature and responsible, he would eventually leave her be. And if worse came to worst, she could just disappear quietly.
"Okay..." she mumbled, her voice barely louder than a mosquito's.
But Sanghyun heard it—and smiled.
However, his smile faded almost instantly when he heard her next question.
"What about my mother?" Areum asked softly, her voice calm, her true emotions unclear.
Sanghyun's gaze flickered away for the first time. "She's... being dealt with," he said curtly, his tone carefully neutral. "You don't need to worry about her anymore."
He didn't elaborate. Just folded the topic neatly away, like a document he didn't want to read again.
Areum didn't mind. She, too, wanted nothing more to do with her mother. In fact, it would be ideal if they never crossed paths again. Revenge felt like a pointless detour—what she truly wanted was to live her life fully, on her own terms.
"Get some rest," Sanghyun said briskly, as if eager to close the subject of Jiwon. "Once you're fully recovered, your new living arrangements will be ready."
He reached into his coat pocket and handed her a phone. "Here. My number is already saved."
The device gleamed in her palm—sleek, cutting-edge. It was the latest RYUX Z1 model, with a silver phoenix emblem etched near the base—a symbol of the Ryu Group's elite tech division.
The phone felt oddly heavy in her hand.
A gesture of care?
A tool for control?
Areum glanced at Sanghyun's mana field and saw nothing but genuine concern. Seeing this, she accepted the gift without a word.
"Call me if you need anything," he added, straightening. "I'll come by again in a couple of days."
With nothing more to say, he awkwardly patted her head, then turned and left—the soft click of the door closing behind him. Areum sat in silence, slightly bewildered by the entire exchange.