David's Husband (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 8

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Ha Yeon marveled at his facial features up close. A walking statue of David—it was easy to see why he was described that way.

From his delicately sculpted forehead and perfectly arched eyebrows, to his sharply defined nose and sensual lips—each feature was handsome on its own, but together, his face elicited nothing but pure awe.

Moreover, people had their own preferences. Kang Min Jae’s face seemed as though it had been crafted by a divine hand, reflecting one hundred percent of Ha Yeon’s ideal type, striking precisely her personal taste.

Perhaps that explained it. Seeing his firm arm supporting her waist and his breathtakingly handsome face, she froze completely—her ability to think, let alone react, utterly paralyzed.

Still cradled in his arms, blinking wide-eyed, Min Je chuckled softly and lightly flicked Ha Yeon’s nose with his finger.

“You’re just like a cat.”

A particularly cheeky one—but he held back the rest and simply smiled.

Only then did Ha Yeon snap back to her senses, flailing as she scrambled out of his embrace.

“W-what—what was that just now?”

Suspicion flickered in her narrowing eyes at his questionable behavior.

“Oh—Unnie, your nose has gone black!”

Ji Hoo giggled, watching Ha Yeon’s expression.

“What? What did you say?”

Ha Yeon hurried to the mirror and saw her reflection—her nose was pitch black, as if she were an animal cast in a children’s musical.

“Hmm… So this is how you want to play, is it?”

At Ha Yeon’s icy tone, Min Je’s smile stiffened instantly.

“Oh—sorry. It was just a joke.”

Sensing the terrifying aura radiating from her, Min Je slowly backed away—then swiftly pulled Ji Hoo in front of him like a human shield. Flustered, Ji Hoo waved his hands frantically toward the approaching Ha Yeon.

“I—I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Sorry, but that excuse won’t work on me. After all, fathers and sons are always a package deal, aren’t they?”

Ha Yeon deliberately gripped a paint container in full view. At the sight, Ji Hoo’s shoulders flinched.

“Dad, do something!”

Ji Hoo turned and pleaded with Min Je—but he, too, had no idea how to stop her.

“The best option is… run!”

Taking Min Je’s words as the signal, the two immediately scattered.

“You two—don’t even think about standing still!”

Ha Yeon charged forward, paint container in hand.

Aaah! Crash-bang! Chaos erupted in the art studio. Later, once they regained their senses, both Min Je and Ji Hoo had somehow each ended up holding a paint bucket themselves.

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“What on earth… happened here?”

Mi Ran, having finished lunch preparations, gasped at the three of them—covered head to toe in paint from their wild play.

Like children scolded by their mother, none of them dared utter a word.

“At this rate, we can’t even sit down for a meal. Go wash up quickly—I’ll have to reheat the soup, too…”

Hearing Mi Ran’s sigh-laced words, they slinked quietly out of the kitchen—then, the moment their eyes met, burst into laughter.

It had been so long since any of them had laughed so purely, so unreservedly, without a care in the world.

“I’ll be right back after washing up.”

Min Je stood still, watching silently until Ha Yeon and Ji Hoo disappeared up the stairs—getting along like siblings.

Having never received affection, he hadn’t even known how to give it. So he lived strictly by rigid principles—principles he guarded fiercely. He was such an extreme stickler for rules that the only time he’d ever broken his own code was exactly once, three years ago.

He upheld the lines he drew for himself without fail—and anyone who crossed them never went unpunished. That was how Kang Min Jae lived.

He knew full well that no matter how lenient he tried to be toward the world, it would make no difference. The world, independent of his feelings, remained relentlessly harsh.

Having learned how to survive at far too young an age, he preferred being called “ruthless”—it felt like acknowledgment of the life he’d endured.

Yet again, he felt that familiar sensation—the unsettling feeling that his principles were crumbling, just as they had three years ago.

Well, perhaps it was only natural. After all, bringing Ha Yeon into his home at Ji Hoo’s request had already been an exception to begin with.

Entering the bathroom to wash up, he glanced into the mirror—and chuckled again. That woman had even joked his clothes might be ruined. Had she anticipated this outcome all along?

His entire body was splattered with paint stains. Seeing himself, Min Je couldn’t help but laugh—this was the first time in his life he’d stood before a mirror looking like this.

But one thing was certain: he didn’t dislike it at all.

[This is the timeline separator]

It was a drowsy spring afternoon, with a gentle breeze drifting through. After reading a bit, doodling a bit, and growing bored, Ji Hoo finally set down the colored pencil in his hand.

Ha Yeon, who had been reading an art magazine beside him, smiled faintly and asked,

“Bored? Want to go outside and play?”

Trending

“What could we even do out there?”

Ji Hoo’s skeptical expression tugged at Ha Yeon’s heart with bitterness. If her guess was correct, he likely spent most of his time indoors.

“Ji Hoo—you haven’t played outside much, have you?”

“I’ve been to art museums and galleries with Dad a lot, though.”

Calling that “playing”? She couldn’t even begin to fathom how deeply this father-son duo needed intervention. But by definition, for a child Ji Hoo’s age to claim they’ve “played,” they ought to be drenched in sweat.

“The yard is this spacious, you know.”

Ha Yeon murmured to herself, then locked eyes firmly with Ji Hoo.

“I’ll make sure you’re not bored—so don’t worry.”

Though he wasn’t really worrying to begin with, Ji Hoo found himself nodding, mesmerized by her confidence.

Knock, knock, knock—Min Je set down the file in his hands at the sound.

“Come in.”

Only Mi Ran or Ha Yeon ever knocked on his bedroom door in this house—and Min Je guessed, with high probability, it was Ha Yeon.

Sure enough—the door opened, and Ha Yeon peeked in.

“Busy?”

“If I say I’m busy, I’m busy. If I say I’m not, then I’m not.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

Seeing her scrunch up her nose in annoyance, Min Je grinned.

“It means I’ll decide whether to make time depending on what you need.”

Her eyes darted as she weighed where her request fell on that scale.

“Anyway—just tell me plainly.”

When Min Je waved his hand, Ha Yeon pouted her lips slightly.

Tch—first giving the illness, then the cure. But she quickly composed her expression. She could’ve easily played with Ji Hoo on her own—but it was glaringly obvious that this household urgently needed some father-son relationship repair.

“Would you like to play badminton with us?”

Clearly, her meddling, motherly nature—so reminiscent of her own mom—was incurable for life.

‘Well… it’s just kind of sad, isn’t it?’

Ha Yeon giggled to herself, rationalizing her own meddling.

“Badminton?”

Caught completely off guard, Min Je stared at her incredulously.

“Yes—badminton. Surely you’ve played it at least once before?”

This kind of question almost always worked on men.

“Of course I know how to play.”

Exactly as expected.

“Then that’s perfect. Ji Hoo and I are about to play in the yard—join us. It’s a chance to build some memories with him, too.”

Min Je hesitated for a moment—but since he’d made the request himself, he couldn’t exactly refuse now.

“I’ll be out shortly.”

“Okay, I’ll head out first, then.”

As Ha Yeon left with a cheerful smile, Min Je groaned softly and rubbed his tired face. Suddenly, the paint incident from a few days ago flashed through his mind.

“Well… it’ll be fine.”

Though he inexplicably felt a twinge of dread about this outing—sapping both stamina and mental energy—he shook off the thought, chalking it up to nerves.

*

Standing on the newly sprouted grass, Ha Yeon smiled, gazing at the brilliantly blue sky and the garden beginning to deepen into lush green.

“The weather’s absolutely perfect.”

On days like this, even her mood seemed to lift effortlessly. Hearing Ha Yeon’s cheerful murmur, Ji Hoo replied with an unimpressed look.

“Feels kind of hot to me.”

Ha Yeon, mid-stretch, momentarily stiffened.

Come on—no need to react to every word a clueless little kid says. Internally scolding herself, she dramatically swung the badminton racket she’d pulled out.

“Ever played badminton before?”

“No, never.”

As Ji Hoo curiously handled the racket like a strange artifact, Ha Yeon’s lips curled upward. Heh—just as she’d suspected. Ji Hoo was clever—he’d pick up anything quickly once taught.

“Back in the day, I was known as the ‘Flying Squirrel of Sillim-dong’—so leave it to me; I’ll teach you well.”

ads

“Huh? What was that? Flying… squirrel…?”

Just then, Min Je—who’d stepped outside—let out an audible deflating sound upon hearing her boast.

Unaware he’d arrived (her back still to the front door), Ha Yeon gasped.

What impeccable timing—of all moments, he had to choose *this* one to appear? But instead of embarrassment, she narrowed her eyes defiantly.

After all, “Flying Squirrel of Sillim-dong” wasn’t even her only nickname—there was also “Dancing Wildcat” and “Crazy Fighting Cockerel.” Looking back, they were all animals—but at least she hadn’t made any of them up, so she had nothing to be ashamed of.

“So what if I’m a flying squirrel? It just means I’ve got excellent reflexes.”

Hands on hips, she declared proudly—but rather than being intimidated, Min Je bit his lip tightly, struggling to suppress a laugh.

Whoever had given her that nickname clearly possessed exceptional insight. Min Je forced himself not to picture a tiny, adorable creature flailing about desperately.

“Ahem—I didn’t say a thing.”

He barely managed to stifle his laughter and raised both hands in surrender.

“Even though your expression says otherwise… I’ll let it slide—for now.”

After shooting him a long, measured glare, she turned to Ji Hoo and explained how to play badminton.

“…Just keep the shuttlecock from hitting the ground. Got it?”

“I’ll give it a try.”

When Ji Hoo nodded, Ha Yeon turned to Min Je.

“Let’s do two against one—you and Ji Hoo on the same team.”

“Huh? Not the other way around?”

Min Je tilted his head. Even though Ji Hoo was a beginner, two versus one should still be advantageous—no need to handicap themselves intentionally.

“Oh—never mind what you just heard.”

She waved her hands dismissively, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

Ah—Flying Squirrel? Min Je exhaled sharply in disbelief, then slowly rubbed his jaw. Well… he *was* curious to see a flying squirrel play badminton.

Though his mindset resembled that of someone watching a circus bear perform tricks, he nodded anyway.

“Fine—let’s do it that way. But in return, you serve first.”

“Sure, got it. Let’s start with a few practice rallies.”

Soon, Ha Yeon stood some distance away from Min Je and Ji Hoo, waving cheerfully.

“Alright—let’s begin!”

Her smile shone as brightly as the sun sparkling high in the azure sky.

What on earth could possibly be so joyful? Watching her inexplicably radiant smile, Min Je’s eyebrows twitched—mesmerized, momentarily lost in thought.

In that instant, the shuttlecock Ha Yeon launched arced gracefully through the air—and landed with a soft *thud* right on top of Min Je’s head.

“Aiming straight at me, huh…”

So—a bold little flying squirrel, after all. Min Je smirked, his lips curling into a sly grin.

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