Roses and Thorns (Jinlia)

Chapter 19: You Should Know

Two weeks had slipped by since the New Year’s celebration, vanishing like smoke in a breeze. Classes had resumed last Monday, and Jisu had just received word that her mother would be returning home on the third Tuesday of the month.

It was a quiet Sunday when Jisu found herself seated at one of the far corners of Shin International University’s sprawling library. Ryujin had requested a private meetingㅡsomewhere quiet, away from eavesdropping earsㅡand this sanctuary of whispering pages and hushed footsteps had become their chosen refuge.

“Thanks for waiting,” Ryujin murmured as she approached, her voice soft but steady. She slipped into the seat across from Jisu, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket.

“What’s this about?” Jisu asked, curiosity and caution mingling in her tone.

There was a pauseㅡbrief, but heavy. Ryujin hesitated, then exhaled. “I’ve been thinking about... going public with my identity.”

Jisu blinked, stunned. “That’s good... Wait, seriously?” Her voice pitched higher in disbelief, eyes searching Ryujin’s for confirmation.

Ryujin leaned forward, resting her chin against her hand. A tired sigh escaped her lips. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I need to think it through.”

Concern softened the sharp lines of Jisu’s expression. “Ryujin, are you sure? You don’t have to force yourself. Not if you’re not ready.”

Ryujin ran a hand through her hair, visibly wrestling with the weight of it all. “I just want things to go back to normal.”

“Ryujin...”

“Let me explain,” she whispered. Her voice was barely audible, yet the heaviness it carried was unmistakable. “It all started when I was seven years old.”

Jisu leaned in, sensing this wasn’t just about identity. It was deeperㅡan untold trauma, buried and breathing beneath Ryujin’s carefully guarded surface.

“I was seven,” Ryujin repeated, her voice hollow with memory. “And I asked my mom to fire every single person in the houseㅡthe drivers, the gardeners, the maids, the cooks. All of them.”

Jisu’s brows drew together. “What? Why would you... at just seven?”

Ryujin’s gaze darkened, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Because of my father’s death. Everything changed that night.” She drew a breath, one that sounded like it scraped against old scars. “I watched him die. Right in front of me.”

Jisu’s mouth parted in shock. “Oh my God.”

“You don’t have to listen if it’s too much,” Ryujin offered gently, a faint smile on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“No,” Jisu said firmly, reaching across the table to clasp Ryujin’s trembling hand. “You’re the one who shouldn’t push yourself.”

But Ryujin shook her head. “You should know. You deserve to know why I am the way I am.”

The memory unfurled in vivid detail.

The Shin mansion had been cloaked in stillness that night, wrapped in its usual air of opulence and order. Most of the staff had already retired, leaving only the night guards alert. Inside his office, Mr. Shin remained hunched over his desk, immersed in paperwork, unaware of the shadow slipping quietly past every layer of security.

“He didn’t even see the intruder,” Ryujin said bitterly. “Not until it was too late.”

The man who entered the office did so with unsettling calm. And when Mr. Shin finally looked up from his work, a flicker of recognition flashed across his face. This wasn’t a stranger. It was someone he trustedㅡhis personal secretary.

“He asked my father a question,” Ryujin continued, her voice sharp. “He asked if my dad thought he’d been a good employee. And when my father said yes, the man demanded a promotion. He wanted to be named Executive Vice President of the company.”

Jisu listened, frozen.

“My dad said no,” Ryujin went on. “Because that position was already promised to my mother. The paperwork was done.”

The rejection shattered something in the secretary. The calm mask cracked, and rage spilled out.

The noise from the office had roused Ryujin from sleep. Curious, and oddly drawn to the commotion, she slipped out of bed and padded barefoot down the marble corridor, the cold tiles shocking her into full wakefulness.

“I found the door slightly open,” she said, voice thinning with the weight of memory. “I could see everything. My father, standing with his hands raised. The secretary pointing a gun at him.”

Jisu’s hand tightened around hers. “You don’t have toㅡ”

But Ryujin pushed forward, her eyes burning. “The sound must’ve woken my mom too. She came down... but by thenㅡ”

Her voice cracked. “By then, the shot had already been fired.”

Silence wrapped around them, broken only by the soft thrum of the library’s heating vents.

“My mom didn’t hesitate,” Ryujin whispered. “She picked up the gun my dad kept hidden in the hallway drawer. And sheㅡshe shot him. Right there. Right in front of me.”

“Ryujin...” Jisu breathed, her own voice breaking under the weight of empathy and disbelief.

“I saw it all, Jisu. I saw everything.”

And still, Ryujin managed a tight, almost defiant smile.

“So you see,” she continued, “going public with my identity isn’t just about being seen. It’s about reclaiming my life. My story. My name.”

Jisu didn’t respond right away. She let the silence stretch between themㅡsoft, reverent, and full of understanding.