Four years have passed since she stepped into this world alongside Hyon Hyung. Rachel, now 23 years old, has undergone noticeable changes. Her height has increased, and her figure has taken on a more pronounced hourglass shape. The once-flowing blonde locks have been trimmed to shoulder-length, a practical decision to ease her movements in the hustle and bustle of their everyday life.
As the first light of day pierces through the curtains, Rachel rises promptly at 5:00 am. In this makeshift family they've constructed, she plays the dual role of breadwinner and the head of the household. The responsibilities of leadership rest on her shoulders, a weight she willingly carries.
With precision and efficiency, she steps into the kitchen to begin her morning routine. The sizzle of eggs hitting the pan resonates in the quiet kitchen, accompanied by the rhythmic bubbling of rice on the stove. The scent of breakfast fills the air as Rachel orchestrates the morning symphony of flavors.
Lunch preparations follow suit. Rachel meticulously assembles lunchboxes, each compartment filled with golden-fried chicken and accompanied by a side of hot, savory gravy. It's a routine she's perfected over time, a testament to her dedication to the family she and Hyon Hyung have built together.
The kitchen becomes a hub of activity as she moves with purpose, a silent conductor orchestrating the harmony of their daily life. The morning routine is a ritual, a commitment to providing for the family she's chosen.
In these quiet moments, as the world outside is still wrapped in slumber, Rachel takes on the mantle of responsibility with grace and determination.
Rachel has always been a quick study, effortlessly mastering tasks with just a handful of attempts. Over the past four years, she has honed her skills as a babysitter, performing the role of a doting mother to her 'acting' husband, Hyon Hyung, and their incredibly cute daughter.
After deftly assembling lunchboxes for herself and her daughter, and leaving a carefully packed meal in the fridge for Hyon, Rachel ascends the stairs. The second floor holds the room of a certain little girl, and on the door, cute lettering spells out "Evandel." With a soft touch, she turns the handle and steps inside.
The room is adorned with pastel colors and whimsical decorations, a reflection of the tender care Rachel invests in creating a warm and comforting environment. She approaches a small bed where a blonde little girl, Evandel, sleeps peacefully. Rachel, with her innate grace, kneels beside the bed, her movements careful not to disturb the tranquility of the room.
Gazing upon Evandel's innocent face, Rachel's heart swells with a mixture of love and responsibility. The bond between them is more than just an act; it's a connection forged through countless moments like these. Rachel's fingers brush a few strands of hair away from Evandel's face, and a fond smile graces her lips.
In this quiet moment, surrounded by the soft breaths of a peacefully sleeping child, Rachel embraces the role she's crafted for herself. As a versatile and flexible woman who seamlessly balances the responsibilities of a caregiver, she finds fulfillment in the simplicity of these moments.
The room is filled with a sense of warmth and maternal love, a testament to Rachel's commitment to her 'fake' family, a commitment that transcends the make-believe nature of their roles.
Rachel gently nudges the four-year-old, Evandel, who is still wrapped in the coziness of sleep.
"Wake up, Del, wake up..." she whispers, a soft urgency in her voice.
Evandel, in her half-asleep state, mumbles, "Mom, five minutes..."
Chuckling, Rachel persists, "Wake up, Del. You'll be late for school. Do you want your teacher to be angry with you? How about your friends? Won't they miss you? Come on, up! Up! Up!"
She playfully nudges Evandel, trying to coax her into the waking world. The room is filled with the warmth of morning light, and Rachel's affectionate encouragement fills the air, creating a gentle rhythm to the start of their day.
Evandel opens her eyes, the sleep slowly giving way to consciousness. Seeing Rachel by her bedside, she calls out, "Mom?"
"Morning, sweetie. Time to get up," Rachel replies with a warm smile.
Evandel hesitates, then asks, "Can I be absent from school today?"
Concern creases on Rachel's forehead. "Why, Del? Is something wrong?"
Evandel looks away, a bit reluctant to share, but finally confesses, "They make fun of my hair at school."
Rachel's eyes narrow, a protective instinct rising. "Are they bullying you, Evandel? Tell me what's going on."
Evandel starts to tear up, her voice trembling, "It's because my hair is different. They say it's weird, and they laugh at me."
In a country where dark hair is the norm, Evandel's blonde hair and foreign features make her stand out. Rachel takes a deep breath, controlling the surge of anger that wells within her. "Hey, hey," she says, gently wiping away Evandel's tears. "No one should make you feel bad about who you are. We'll figure this out, okay?"
Rachel knows she needs to tread carefully. Hyon, her 'acting' husband, is a firecracker when it comes to matters involving their daughter. She doesn't want to ignite his temper. So, she takes Evandel into her arms and reassures her, "I'll talk to your teacher, and we'll make sure this stops. You don't have to worry, Del. We love you just the way you are."
Rachel's mind drifts back to a vivid memory, a scene etched into her recollection like a photograph. It was that day, the beginning of Evandel's kindergarten journey. A random old lady had crossed paths with them, uninvited opinions spilling from her lips like bitter poison. The target of her critique—Evandel's hair.
In the echoing corridors of her memory, Rachel can still hear the disdainful words and see the judgment in the old lady's eyes. The criticism had struck a nerve, even back then, and now it resurfaces with a fresh sting. Hyon, Rachel's 'acting' husband, had reacted in a way that still makes her pause in disbelief.
Recalling the incident, she vividly remembers Hyon, usually calm and collected, rising like a tempest against the old lady's words. In a sudden burst of fiery protectiveness, he had challenged her to a fistfight. It had escalated absurdly fast, with Hyon even threatening to unearth the resting places of the old lady's ancestors—a chilling promise that resonates with a strange mix of shock and dark humor.
The absurdity of the situation had hit Rachel at that moment, a surreal blend of amusement and concern. Hyon, a man of composure and restraint, had been pushed to the edge by the mere mention of his daughter's hair. It had been a spectacle, an unexpected display of fierce devotion.
Now, as she navigates the complexities of Evandel facing ridicule at school for the same reason, Rachel can't help but ponder the contrast. The memory of Hyon's fiery response lingers, proof of the lengths he would go to shield their daughter from judgment and scorn. Yet, the challenge now is different—an old lady's words can be dismissed, but a child's tender heart needs a more delicate touch.
Rachel sits down with Evandel, offering a comforting presence amid the turmoil.
"Hey, sweetie, I know it's tough, but you still have to go to school," Rachel says, gently wiping away Evandel's tears.
"But Mom, they make fun of me," Evandel protests.
Rachel takes a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "You're stronger than you think, Del. Sometimes, people say mean things because they're jealous. Your hair is unique and beautiful, and not everyone can appreciate that. But if you show them how tough you are, they might start seeing things differently."
Evandel looks at her with wide, watery eyes, searching for reassurance.
Rachel continues, "Being strong doesn't mean ignoring your feelings. It means facing challenges head-on and not letting them break you. You're my brave girl, and I believe you can handle this."
As Rachel imparts this lesson to her daughter, a pang of sadness flickers within her. In a world where trivial problems like teasing over hair color take center stage, she can't help but compare it to the dangers of the original timeline she left behind.
"In my world," Rachel reflects, "there were monsters and super criminals. People didn't have time to worry about the more inconsequential problems like depression. When danger is imminent, survival becomes the priority. In this peaceful world, the smallest issues seem to take on more significance."
She gazes at Evandel, feeling a mix of protectiveness and sorrow. "You see, Del, in a world without imminent danger, people sometimes focus on things that don't really matter. But remember, no matter what challenges you face, you have the strength to overcome them."
Rachel, with a gentle smile, approaches Evandel who is still groggy from sleep.
"Here, let me help you get a good shower," she offers, propping Evandel up. But Evandel, not fully awake, tilts backward, a clear indication of her reluctance to leave the comfort of the bed.
"Come on, Evandel," Rachel coaxes, "Mom still has work."
"Yes, Mom," Evandel replies with a drowsy acknowledgment.
Undeterred, Rachel takes charge, deciding to shift the focus. "Let's go have breakfast," she suggests, scooping Evandel up over her shoulders effortlessly. With her daughter in tow, she heads downstairs, ready to start the day.
Rachel guides Evandel down into a chair at the breakfast table, where a spread of eggs, rice, and a glass of warm milk awaits. The aroma of a freshly brewed cup of instant coffee wafts through the air.
"Look at this delicious breakfast, Evandel," Rachel says with enthusiasm.
Evandel eyes the spread but frowns slightly, "Where are the pancakes?"
Rachel chuckles, "Not every day, Del. Breakfast should be varied. You can't have pancakes every time."
"But they're fluffy and tasty," Evandel reasons.
Rachel, stirring her coffee, looks at her daughter with a playful smile, "I know, sweetheart, but Mom's a bit tired of pancakes. Let's enjoy something different today."
Evandel makes a glum sound, but she starts to eat her share nonetheless. Rachel joins her at the table, taking a sip of her coffee. The morning unfolds with the rhythmic sounds of breakfast, a daily ritual that weaves the threads of their family life together.
Rachel opens the window, the crisp morning air filtering into the room. She glances outside, and there he is—Hyon Hyung, hunched over a peculiar machine, surrounded by an assortment of tools. His face is smudged with grease, as is the rest of his body. Topless, clad only in boxers, he seems entirely unbothered by the elements and the occasional stares from passing joggers.
For four years, Hyon has dedicated himself to unraveling the mystery of their displacement, tirelessly working on finding a way back to their original timeline, even a method to contact their friends. Despite his chiseled form, a testament to his perseverance, progress is slow. Too slow.
As Rachel observes him from the window, she can't help but feel a pang of frustration. The relentless effort, the countless hours spent tinkering with machines, and the hope that flickers in Hyon's eyes—it's all there. Yet, the elusive breakthrough they desperately need remains just out of reach.
She contemplates the daunting reality that their quest might outlast their own lifetimes. The ticking clock of mortality hovers over their every move, and a sense of futility settles in. In her heart, she fears they may age and pass away in this unfamiliar world before they ever find their way back home.
Rachel leans out of the window, her voice carrying to where Hyon Hyung is engrossed in his work outside.
"Get inside here and eat breakfast!" she shouts.
Hyon Hyung glances up, grease-streaked face contorted in concentration. "Eh? Later…"
"Your coffee will get cold!" Rachel warns, a playful threat laced in her tone.
Hyon Hyung grins, undeterred. "It's fine, cold or hot, it's still caffeine…"
Growing more insistent, Rachel declares, "Get inside here, or else, I will throw your breakfast in the trashcan."
Hyon Hyung looks at her for a moment, then with a sigh, he relents. Without a word, he finally and obediently gets inside the house, leaving his tinkering momentarily behind. The promise of breakfast proving to be an effective lure.
Hyon Hyung settles into a chair, ready to dig into his breakfast, but Rachel interrupts him.
"Hyon, you've got to wash your hands first," she reminds him.
With a slightly exasperated sigh, Hyon Hyung stands, leaves his yet-to-be-touched breakfast, and heads to the sink to wash his hands. The water runs, and he scrubs diligently, determined to rid his hands of the grease and grime.
Despite the fact that he's still sweating and a bit greasy, Rachel nods in approval when he returns to his seat. "Good," she says, "as long as you've washed your hands thoroughly."
The family of three resumes their places around the table, and they begin to eat in relative silence. Little conversation passes between them, for it's ingrained in their routine that it's good manners not to talk while eating. The only sounds are the clinking of utensils against plates and the occasional sip of coffee, a quiet moment of unity in their unconventional family.
Rachel, aware of the ticking clock, turns to Hyon Hyung with a request.
"Hyon, can you wash the dishes for today? We're running a bit late," she says, a note of urgency in her voice.
Hyon Hyung glances up from his plate and then nods. "Sure, it's fine."
After they finish their breakfast, Hyon Hyung wastes no time. He rises from the table and immediately starts to clean up, efficiently taking care of the dishes. The clatter of plates and the running water form a background rhythm as the household gears up for the day ahead.
Announcement I love this chapter because it has a slice of life in it. Moreover, I am very excited to rip this family in a brutal fashion just like how I did Yoo Yeonha dirty. It is going to be fun for me. I don't know about Hyon though.
Four years have passed since she stepped into this world alongside Hyon Hyung. Rachel, now 23 years old, has undergone noticeable changes. Her height has increased, and her figure has taken on a more pronounced hourglass shape. The once-flowing blonde locks have been trimmed to shoulder-length, a practical decision to ease her movements in the hustle and bustle of their everyday life.
As the first light of day pierces through the curtains, Rachel rises promptly at 5:00 am. In this makeshift family they've constructed, she plays the dual role of breadwinner and the head of the household. The responsibilities of leadership rest on her shoulders, a weight she willingly carries.
With precision and efficiency, she steps into the kitchen to begin her morning routine. The sizzle of eggs hitting the pan resonates in the quiet kitchen, accompanied by the rhythmic bubbling of rice on the stove. The scent of breakfast fills the air as Rachel orchestrates the morning symphony of flavors.
Lunch preparations follow suit. Rachel meticulously assembles lunchboxes, each compartment filled with golden-fried chicken and accompanied by a side of hot, savory gravy. It's a routine she's perfected over time, a testament to her dedication to the family she and Hyon Hyung have built together.
The kitchen becomes a hub of activity as she moves with purpose, a silent conductor orchestrating the harmony of their daily life. The morning routine is a ritual, a commitment to providing for the family she's chosen.
In these quiet moments, as the world outside is still wrapped in slumber, Rachel takes on the mantle of responsibility with grace and determination.
Rachel has always been a quick study, effortlessly mastering tasks with just a handful of attempts. Over the past four years, she has honed her skills as a babysitter, performing the role of a doting mother to her 'acting' husband, Hyon Hyung, and their incredibly cute daughter.
After deftly assembling lunchboxes for herself and her daughter, and leaving a carefully packed meal in the fridge for Hyon, Rachel ascends the stairs. The second floor holds the room of a certain little girl, and on the door, cute lettering spells out "Evandel." With a soft touch, she turns the handle and steps inside.
The room is adorned with pastel colors and whimsical decorations, a reflection of the tender care Rachel invests in creating a warm and comforting environment. She approaches a small bed where a blonde little girl, Evandel, sleeps peacefully. Rachel, with her innate grace, kneels beside the bed, her movements careful not to disturb the tranquility of the room.
Gazing upon Evandel's innocent face, Rachel's heart swells with a mixture of love and responsibility. The bond between them is more than just an act; it's a connection forged through countless moments like these. Rachel's fingers brush a few strands of hair away from Evandel's face, and a fond smile graces her lips.
In this quiet moment, surrounded by the soft breaths of a peacefully sleeping child, Rachel embraces the role she's crafted for herself. As a versatile and flexible woman who seamlessly balances the responsibilities of a caregiver, she finds fulfillment in the simplicity of these moments.
The room is filled with a sense of warmth and maternal love, a testament to Rachel's commitment to her 'fake' family, a commitment that transcends the make-believe nature of their roles.
Rachel gently nudges the four-year-old, Evandel, who is still wrapped in the coziness of sleep.
"Wake up, Del, wake up..." she whispers, a soft urgency in her voice.
Evandel, in her half-asleep state, mumbles, "Mom, five minutes..."
Chuckling, Rachel persists, "Wake up, Del. You'll be late for school. Do you want your teacher to be angry with you? How about your friends? Won't they miss you? Come on, up! Up! Up!"
She playfully nudges Evandel, trying to coax her into the waking world. The room is filled with the warmth of morning light, and Rachel's affectionate encouragement fills the air, creating a gentle rhythm to the start of their day.
Evandel opens her eyes, the sleep slowly giving way to consciousness. Seeing Rachel by her bedside, she calls out, "Mom?"
"Morning, sweetie. Time to get up," Rachel replies with a warm smile.
Evandel hesitates, then asks, "Can I be absent from school today?"
Concern creases on Rachel's forehead. "Why, Del? Is something wrong?"
Evandel looks away, a bit reluctant to share, but finally confesses, "They make fun of my hair at school."
Rachel's eyes narrow, a protective instinct rising. "Are they bullying you, Evandel? Tell me what's going on."
Evandel starts to tear up, her voice trembling, "It's because my hair is different. They say it's weird, and they laugh at me."
In a country where dark hair is the norm, Evandel's blonde hair and foreign features make her stand out. Rachel takes a deep breath, controlling the surge of anger that wells within her. "Hey, hey," she says, gently wiping away Evandel's tears. "No one should make you feel bad about who you are. We'll figure this out, okay?"
Rachel knows she needs to tread carefully. Hyon, her 'acting' husband, is a firecracker when it comes to matters involving their daughter. She doesn't want to ignite his temper. So, she takes Evandel into her arms and reassures her, "I'll talk to your teacher, and we'll make sure this stops. You don't have to worry, Del. We love you just the way you are."
Rachel's mind drifts back to a vivid memory, a scene etched into her recollection like a photograph. It was that day, the beginning of Evandel's kindergarten journey. A random old lady had crossed paths with them, uninvited opinions spilling from her lips like bitter poison. The target of her critique—Evandel's hair.
In the echoing corridors of her memory, Rachel can still hear the disdainful words and see the judgment in the old lady's eyes. The criticism had struck a nerve, even back then, and now it resurfaces with a fresh sting. Hyon, Rachel's 'acting' husband, had reacted in a way that still makes her pause in disbelief.
Recalling the incident, she vividly remembers Hyon, usually calm and collected, rising like a tempest against the old lady's words. In a sudden burst of fiery protectiveness, he had challenged her to a fistfight. It had escalated absurdly fast, with Hyon even threatening to unearth the resting places of the old lady's ancestors—a chilling promise that resonates with a strange mix of shock and dark humor.
The absurdity of the situation had hit Rachel at that moment, a surreal blend of amusement and concern. Hyon, a man of composure and restraint, had been pushed to the edge by the mere mention of his daughter's hair. It had been a spectacle, an unexpected display of fierce devotion.
Now, as she navigates the complexities of Evandel facing ridicule at school for the same reason, Rachel can't help but ponder the contrast. The memory of Hyon's fiery response lingers, proof of the lengths he would go to shield their daughter from judgment and scorn. Yet, the challenge now is different—an old lady's words can be dismissed, but a child's tender heart needs a more delicate touch.
Rachel sits down with Evandel, offering a comforting presence amid the turmoil.
"Hey, sweetie, I know it's tough, but you still have to go to school," Rachel says, gently wiping away Evandel's tears.
"But Mom, they make fun of me," Evandel protests.
Rachel takes a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "You're stronger than you think, Del. Sometimes, people say mean things because they're jealous. Your hair is unique and beautiful, and not everyone can appreciate that. But if you show them how tough you are, they might start seeing things differently."
Evandel looks at her with wide, watery eyes, searching for reassurance.
Rachel continues, "Being strong doesn't mean ignoring your feelings. It means facing challenges head-on and not letting them break you. You're my brave girl, and I believe you can handle this."
As Rachel imparts this lesson to her daughter, a pang of sadness flickers within her. In a world where trivial problems like teasing over hair color take center stage, she can't help but compare it to the dangers of the original timeline she left behind.
"In my world," Rachel reflects, "there were monsters and super criminals. People didn't have time to worry about the more inconsequential problems like depression. When danger is imminent, survival becomes the priority. In this peaceful world, the smallest issues seem to take on more significance."
She gazes at Evandel, feeling a mix of protectiveness and sorrow. "You see, Del, in a world without imminent danger, people sometimes focus on things that don't really matter. But remember, no matter what challenges you face, you have the strength to overcome them."
Rachel, with a gentle smile, approaches Evandel who is still groggy from sleep.
"Here, let me help you get a good shower," she offers, propping Evandel up. But Evandel, not fully awake, tilts backward, a clear indication of her reluctance to leave the comfort of the bed.
"Come on, Evandel," Rachel coaxes, "Mom still has work."
"Yes, Mom," Evandel replies with a drowsy acknowledgment.
Undeterred, Rachel takes charge, deciding to shift the focus. "Let's go have breakfast," she suggests, scooping Evandel up over her shoulders effortlessly. With her daughter in tow, she heads downstairs, ready to start the day.
Rachel guides Evandel down into a chair at the breakfast table, where a spread of eggs, rice, and a glass of warm milk awaits. The aroma of a freshly brewed cup of instant coffee wafts through the air.
"Look at this delicious breakfast, Evandel," Rachel says with enthusiasm.
Evandel eyes the spread but frowns slightly, "Where are the pancakes?"
Rachel chuckles, "Not every day, Del. Breakfast should be varied. You can't have pancakes every time."
"But they're fluffy and tasty," Evandel reasons.
Rachel, stirring her coffee, looks at her daughter with a playful smile, "I know, sweetheart, but Mom's a bit tired of pancakes. Let's enjoy something different today."
Evandel makes a glum sound, but she starts to eat her share nonetheless. Rachel joins her at the table, taking a sip of her coffee. The morning unfolds with the rhythmic sounds of breakfast, a daily ritual that weaves the threads of their family life together.
Rachel opens the window, the crisp morning air filtering into the room. She glances outside, and there he is—Hyon Hyung, hunched over a peculiar machine, surrounded by an assortment of tools. His face is smudged with grease, as is the rest of his body. Topless, clad only in boxers, he seems entirely unbothered by the elements and the occasional stares from passing joggers.
For four years, Hyon has dedicated himself to unraveling the mystery of their displacement, tirelessly working on finding a way back to their original timeline, even a method to contact their friends. Despite his chiseled form, a testament to his perseverance, progress is slow. Too slow.
As Rachel observes him from the window, she can't help but feel a pang of frustration. The relentless effort, the countless hours spent tinkering with machines, and the hope that flickers in Hyon's eyes—it's all there. Yet, the elusive breakthrough they desperately need remains just out of reach.
She contemplates the daunting reality that their quest might outlast their own lifetimes. The ticking clock of mortality hovers over their every move, and a sense of futility settles in. In her heart, she fears they may age and pass away in this unfamiliar world before they ever find their way back home.
Rachel leans out of the window, her voice carrying to where Hyon Hyung is engrossed in his work outside.
"Get inside here and eat breakfast!" she shouts.
Hyon Hyung glances up, grease-streaked face contorted in concentration. "Eh? Later…"
"Your coffee will get cold!" Rachel warns, a playful threat laced in her tone.
Hyon Hyung grins, undeterred. "It's fine, cold or hot, it's still caffeine…"
Growing more insistent, Rachel declares, "Get inside here, or else, I will throw your breakfast in the trashcan."
Hyon Hyung looks at her for a moment, then with a sigh, he relents. Without a word, he finally and obediently gets inside the house, leaving his tinkering momentarily behind. The promise of breakfast proving to be an effective lure.
Hyon Hyung settles into a chair, ready to dig into his breakfast, but Rachel interrupts him.
"Hyon, you've got to wash your hands first," she reminds him.
With a slightly exasperated sigh, Hyon Hyung stands, leaves his yet-to-be-touched breakfast, and heads to the sink to wash his hands. The water runs, and he scrubs diligently, determined to rid his hands of the grease and grime.
Despite the fact that he's still sweating and a bit greasy, Rachel nods in approval when he returns to his seat. "Good," she says, "as long as you've washed your hands thoroughly."
The family of three resumes their places around the table, and they begin to eat in relative silence. Little conversation passes between them, for it's ingrained in their routine that it's good manners not to talk while eating. The only sounds are the clinking of utensils against plates and the occasional sip of coffee, a quiet moment of unity in their unconventional family.
Rachel, aware of the ticking clock, turns to Hyon Hyung with a request.
"Hyon, can you wash the dishes for today? We're running a bit late," she says, a note of urgency in her voice.
Hyon Hyung glances up from his plate and then nods. "Sure, it's fine."
After they finish their breakfast, Hyon Hyung wastes no time. He rises from the table and immediately starts to clean up, efficiently taking care of the dishes. The clatter of plates and the running water form a background rhythm as the household gears up for the day ahead.
Announcement I love this chapter because it has a slice of life in it. Moreover, I am very excited to rip this family in a brutal fashion just like how I did Yoo Yeonha dirty. It is going to be fun for me. I don't know about Hyon though.