Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 45: The Second Child

Lee Mihyun couldn’t believe it.

That Ha Giyeon had calmly passed her by and gone upstairs to his room.

Did that kid really mean it when he said it was fine if they kicked him out? She kept doubting her ears, but there was no mistake—it was what Ha Giyeon had said right in front of her. The boy who once couldn’t even meet her eyes, stammering every word, now looked her straight in the eye.

The eyes that used to dart around, desperate for affection, had turned dull and expressionless. His tone wasn’t puffed up or laced with empty bravado.

He’d meant it. Every word.

‘No, no... that can’t be.’

Ha Giyeon couldn’t possibly leave this house. After having lived so comfortably, what could he even do out there with nothing? How could he survive?

She had started to follow him upstairs but stopped halfway.

‘And what would I even say?’

She couldn’t actually tell him to leave the house. There was the family’s public image to consider, and without a concrete reason, she couldn’t just throw him out. If he got caught in some scandal or started hanging around the wrong crowd, then she could justify sending him abroad or something later.

With that in mind, she turned around.

What she didn’t realize was—

Ha Ilwoo had been watching from the study doorway.

Ha Dohoon’s father, Ha Ilwoo.

A perfect businessman, husband, and father, he had walked the elite path all his life. Raised by a gentle mother and an arrogant father, he was an only child in a wealthy and harmonious household. His life had been predictably monotonous.

With his brilliant mind, he could do anything. And with the wealth he was born into, he could get anything. But somehow, none of it felt right. The only thing he’d truly earned through effort was his academic record—everything else he wore, ate, and lived in had come from his parents.

Ha Ilwoo wanted to own something of his own. Because he, too, was nothing more than a product of his father’s success. To change that, he needed money. He already had academic skills; now he needed the fundamental base to support it.

He learned to invest, to turn a profit, to plan businesses. He refused to accept failure, so he studied, trained, and prepared for a perfect success.

That first business he launched after college—

It was built on money not from his parents, but earned by himself. Ignoring his father’s offer to help and his mother’s worries, he pushed ahead. And in the end, it was an overwhelming success.

Ha Ilwoo rose as the head of a trading company.

It wasn’t at a level that threatened major corporations, but anyone in the industry knew his name. The business continued to grow toward greater success. His parents bragged about him as if it were their own victory, and relatives either envied or resented him—or tried to worm their way in for a piece.

He had achieved his first goal.

He had surpassed his father and seized something of his own. But even with that success, he didn’t feel fulfilled. Instead, he was consumed by a sense of emptiness. That level of achievement wasn’t enough.

His company, his money, his belongings, his lifestyle—his complete independence.

The one thing he didn’t have was a family.

So, Ha Ilwoo decided to build the perfect household. Not because he found deep meaning in the word “family”—but because it made no sense for others to have something he did not. He had to experience and possess everything. There could be nothing in the world that he didn’t have.

Besides, to grow his perfect company, he would need someone to succeed him. He saw family as being just as important as his career.

A perfect family.

Just as his own parents had raised him in relative harmony, he would raise a child in comfort and satisfaction. If lesser people could find happiness that way, then he should certainly be able to as well.

When he decided to marry, his parents sought out suitable women. Most were only daughters of major corporations or daughters of political families. These women came from similar backgrounds to his, but he rejected them all.

They were either too extravagant or lived messy lives. Such women would pose problems in the perfect household he wanted—and people who were already “ruined” never changed.

So Ha Ilwoo searched for someone himself.

Someone from a background similar to or slightly below his, someone who valued career and image. He didn’t care if she put her own life first—he did too.

Such people might be called selfish, but to him, that just meant they had strong self-esteem and were disciplined. They’d do whatever it took to maintain perfection, which meant fewer problems in the long run.

Because there were so many ruined people out there, it took a long time to find someone suitable. Of course—it was a lifetime partner he was looking for. But the process filled him with a great deal of disgust.

Giving up on others was easy. But he would never allow himself to give up on himself.

After several failed attempts, he finally found someone like him. Someone who prioritized their career, who always put themselves first, who had never caused any scandal, who had walked the elite path and succeeded by their own power.

That person was announcer Lee Mihyun.

He’d heard about her through a formal introduction arranged by her family. She, too, was a perfectionist—an ideal match for him.

Apparently, she wanted someone like him too, because once they met, they quickly agreed to marry. Their personalities matched well. Even when opinions differed, they could discuss and resolve things rationally.

Only one thing was missing from their near-perfect family:

Pure love.

If either of them had desired it, the marriage might have collapsed. But because their styles of love were different, they were able to maintain the household.

And then came the first child.

At the perfect time, with their careers stable, their first child, Ha Dohoon, was born. They weren’t stuck in outdated gender ideas—but still, Ilwoo wanted a son to succeed him. A child who would carry his name, resemble both Mihyun and himself, beautiful and intelligent.

And Ha Dohoon was exactly that. The perfect son. Exceptionally good-looking, sharp-minded, arrogant without shame, and intolerant of failure.

He was talented in everything. No matter what he started, he surpassed his peers. If he fell behind, he worked harder and sought perfection.

Ilwoo was extremely pleased. He never doubted that Dohoon would follow in his footsteps.

Until Ha Giyeon was born.

In the midst of their happy family life, Giyeon’s arrival changed everything. Their second child had been completely unplanned. Mihyun had looked visibly displeased at the news. After having Dohoon, she had returned to work in cultural broadcasting as a news anchor.

Even among the fierce competition of rising younger announcers, she had reclaimed her position. But then, just a few months later, she had to take maternity leave again.

Mihyun was under enormous stress from the ruined trajectory of her career and didn’t care for the child.

Ilwoo, understanding her, would have supported a decision to terminate the pregnancy. But news had already spread at her workplace. A junior colleague who’d spotted her at the OB-GYN had leaked the story, and Mihyun couldn’t publicly admit she planned to terminate.

So, in the end, she decided to carry the pregnancy and had to step down early from her program. She’d hoped to wait until later to quit, but the severe morning sickness forced her to stop midway.

Her career derailed, extreme nausea, and chronic itching.

As her husband, Ilwoo also endured considerable stress trying to care for her.

During delivery, the pain was so intense she passed out. Afterward, she became thinner and looked ill. From the womb to birth, Ha Giyeon had never felt like a welcome presence.

Dohoon had looked °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° nothing like him and still turned out perfect. But this child—Mihyun seemed to dislike him, not just for ruining her career but for how he turned out.

Truthfully, disliking someone because they didn’t look like you was irrational. Once a child was born, they were family. You took responsibility.

But from his face to his personality to his behavior, there was nothing about Ha Giyeon that resembled either parent—and both Ilwoo and Mihyun felt uneasy. They couldn’t help wanting to avoid him.

Unlike with Dohoon, whom Mihyun had raised personally, she handed Giyeon off to a babysitter and returned to work immediately. Ilwoo also became buried in backlogged work, overseas business trips, and nonstop obligations. Before they knew it, the child was walking on his own.

When Ilwoo looked into the boy’s eyes, sometimes they were filled with fear—other times, with expectation.

Ilwoo felt nothing but disappointment.

The complete opposite of Dohoon.

He stammered, cried easily, moved slowly, smiled dimly like a fool. Maybe that was normal for a child his age—but to Ilwoo, Dohoon had been the standard. Naturally, he compared the two.

Even Ilwoo’s own parents clicked their tongues at Giyeon. They said he was stupid, nothing like their son. Asked who the boy could possibly take after.

They were insulting his own child, but Ilwoo didn’t respond. He couldn’t argue. If the boy were truly his, shouldn’t he be able to hold his head high? He didn’t like how the kid kept his head bowed. He would’ve preferred arrogance over that.

“Shouldn’t we get a DNA test?”

His father had asked him.