Chapter 61.1

Chapter 61.1

“If I’m going to save up the money, it’ll take… maybe a year and a half?”

Juran asked back, looking surprised.

“A year and a half? How much money do you need?”

“I’d have to calculate the exact amount, but according to the study abroad agency, the tuition, rent, and living expenses would cost at least 2 to 2.5 million won per month. Plus, I have to buy a plane ticket. If I get a lot of narrator modeling work, I might be able to save up faster…”

“What model? What kind of job is that?”

“It’s a thing. It’s hard work, but it pays a lot more than a part-time job in a coffee shop. The problem is, the age cut-off for domestic airlines is 25, so time is running out. Unni, so, about that…”

Miran trailed off, watching Juran’s reaction.

Juran, who had been listening quietly, suddenly pushed back her chair, stood up, and went into the room. There was a creaking sound followed by rustling. Soon, she came back to the kitchen and abruptly handed something to Miran.

“What’s this?”

“Can’t you tell by looking? It’s a bankbook.”

Miran held the bankbook tightly in both hands and looked up at Juran.

“Unni…”

Then, Juran creased her eyes and tapped Miran’s cheek.

“It’s the money I set aside for you from selling the supermarket, plus a little extra. I was saving it for when you got married, but it seems like you should use it now. I can always save up more money later. So don’t bother with that narrator model thing, and go study as soon as possible.”

“Oh my gosh, how much is all this…?”

Miran looked at Juran, her lips trembling, as she saw the bankbook with nearly ten million won in it.

“Unni…”

Her chin started to wrinkle like a walnut, and then her face crumpled. She hugged Juran tightly around the waist.

Thinking about her sister, who had worked tirelessly even on weekends to save this money, never able to straighten her back while grilling meat and carrying dishes, always smelling of pain relief patches, Miran felt sorry and grateful, and tears welled up in her eyes.

“Thank you, Unni. I’ll definitely become a stewardess, take you on a plane, and make a lot of money to repay this kindness. I promise, waaaah.”

“Oh, stop it! Why are you crying?”

Juran stroked Miran’s hair as she sobbed, hugging her waist.

“Go and learn English well, and be sure to become a stewardess. That’s how you repay me. I asked around about what it’s like to be a stewardess, and oh my goodness! They said they marry so well!”

Even in this situation, Miran burst into laughter at Juran’s usual repertoire, and Juran giggled and teased Miran.

“My baby, if you laugh when you’re crying—”

“Ah, Unniee! Waaaaah.”

Miran cried even louder, and Juran laughed even harder.

—

‘Tribeca Grill’, a restaurant opened by Robert De Niro in the heart of Tribeca a few years ago, was crowded from early on with young, trendy New Yorkers who worked in the fashion, art, and entertainment industries. As Lorraine had said, they weren’t the kind of people who would recognize them.

Tables covered with pristine white tablecloths lined the walls, which exposed rough brick, and ornate chandeliers cast light through the steel structure of the ceiling.

The perfectly medium-rare cooked tomahawk steak was well-matched with the fragrant truffle butter and juices. André elegantly cut a piece of steak, put it in his mouth, and then hastily swallowed the half-chewed meat.

[What do you want to do?]

[Marriage.]

It was a resolute answer. André’s brow, which had been uncertain, furrowed in bewilderment.

[Are you out of your mind?]

Lorraine lifted her glass with a hand neatly painted with red manicure, sipped the Cabernet Sauvignon wine, and smiled coyly. She had only lightly stirred the salad that came as an appetizer and was replacing dinner with wine.

[Yes. Perfectly.]

[Ha.]

André chuckled in disbelief and put his fork and knife down on the table. He raised his chin slightly and stared at her with cold eyes.

[Are you drunk? If you’re going to talk nonsense, I’m leaving.]

André turned his head and signaled the waiter to bring the check.

Dinner with Lorraine was a terrible waste of time. He had urged her to get to the point, but she had uselessly rattled on about news from their alumni, and then suddenly suggested they get married.

He sighed.

‘Every minute and second is precious.’

Before coming to dinner, André had been reading a report on the online hotel reservation system from an information technology consultant.