Everyone avoided direct eye contact with the old woman, Seok-hee, as she stepped forward, her heels clicking against the floor with quiet authority.
She was known for her biting word, just like the late old man. Moreover, she happened to be a well-respected judge, someone whose words carried weight, both in court and in family matters.
The tension in the room thickened as she let out a heavy sigh, eyeing the gathered crowd with quiet disappointment.
"This is disgraceful. Fighting over an inheritance when the man who raised you hasn't even been properly laid to rest."
The third son, a man in his late thirties, scowled as he crossed his arms. "We're his children. We have a right to what's ours."
"Children?" The woman let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. "Where were you when he was suffering? Where were you when he could barely move or breathe? Did any of you bother to take care of him?"
"Of course, we did!" the second daughter interjected.
Seok-hee raised a hand, silencing their protests before they could grow louder.
"Not on his deathbed," she clarified. "I'm talking about the years, the months leading up to his declining health. When he was too weak to stand or even hold a spoon properly. Did you help him then?"
A tense hush followed. No one spoke.
She sighed. "That's what I thought. None of you deserve a single penny."
"But- "
"Don't expect anything," she cut them off. "It's not yours to have."
The weight of her judgment settled over them, leaving nothing but embarrassment in its wake.
But then, a scoff shattered the stillness.
"This isn't fair," Aunt Miyong snapped, planting her hands on her hips. "We're the ones who have been taking care of Jihoon and Haneul all these years. Do you think that was easy?" She let out a bitter laugh. "They drained us dry. We can't even take care of our own children properly because of them!"
Her husband reached for her arm, trying to calm her. "Miyong, that's enough- "
But she yanked away from his grasp and pressed on, bitterness spilling from her lips. "You sit here and judge us, but do you have any idea what it's like to suddenly be responsible for two extra mouths to feed?"
Jihoon stood rigid with his head lowered, too ashamed to look at anyone. His fingers trembled as he tightened his grip on Haneul's hand, swallowing down the burning lump in his throat.
The old woman's gaze turned icy. "Taking care of them? Is that what you call it? You mean taking every bit of aid and money left behind for them?" The old woman's voice was low, but it cut deeper than any shout. "If it wasn't spent on the children it was meant for, then where did it all go?"
Aunt Miyong's face flushed with indignation. "You think we lived in luxury? We barely received anything! It was just a small amount, nowhere near enough to house them properly!"
Her voice rang out, now desperate, but the weight of scrutiny bore down on her as whispers rippled through the room.
The old woman's gaze drifted to Aunt Miyong's designer purse before settling back on her. "You barely had enough?" she mused. "Yet your children attend high-end boarding schools, and you carry a purse worth more than a year's rent while your husband earns a modest salary. Tell me, what's the truth here?"
Aunt Miyong stiffened, her fingers clenching around the purse's strap.
Seok-hee's stare held firm. "If you insist on this nonsense, I'd be more than happy to involve the authorities. Let them uncover exactly where those funds have gone."
Aunt Miyong paled, her bravado faltering.
Sensing trouble, Uncle Dongseok stepped in. "There's no need for that," he said with a strained chuckle before turning to Jihoon. "We took care of you, didn't we? We did our best."
Jihoon didn't answer and remained still. Beside him, Haneul clung to his leg, his wide eyes brimming with tears.
The old woman let out a slow breath before speaking once more.
"Enough. You call it care, but all I see is greed."
Her presence was imposing despite her small frame. "You won't see a single cent of this inheritance. And if I hear so much as a whisper of you taking another penny from these boys, I will make sure the law comes down on you harder than you can handle."
Aunt Miyong clenched her jaw, trembling with suppressed rage as she watched her husband stand there, powerless in front of everyone.
The old woman turned to the rest of the gathered relatives. "This spectacle ends now. If anyone has a problem with the will, take it to court. Otherwise, show some decency and remember that this is a funeral."
An uneasy tension hung in the air before people began to stir. Some, including Aunt Miyong and Uncle Dongseok, stormed out without another word, while others quietly gathered their families, speaking in hushed tones as they prepared to leave. No one wanted to stay any longer.
As the last few stragglers departed, the old woman turned to Jihoon. "Straighten up," she told him. "If you let people walk over you, they will continue to do so."
Jihoon swallowed hard.
Her words were harsh, but they were the truth - one he had known deep down but had been too afraid to face.
The clean-cut lawyer stepped forward. "Jihoon, come with me. We need to go over the will."
The old woman nodded, gesturing for him to go. He then gave her a respectful bow. "Thank you."
Haneul, still sniffling, mimicked his actions before following his older brother out of the funeral home.
The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of incense and damp earth.
The funeral home's warm lights stretched long shadows across the pavement, reaching toward the empty street beyond.
The deep navy sky was dotted with faint stars, their glow flickering between drifting clouds.
Jihoon pulled Haneul closer, his fingers brushing against the boy's damp cheeks as Haneul weakly smiled back at him.
Their shadows trailed behind them as they stepped into the car, the door closing with a quiet finality.