The housekeeper came several more times after that.

At first, Seoyoon found herself tidying the apartment before each visit.

It'd be embarrassing if the house was too messy when the cleaner comes.

By the third visit, she stopped.

She was paying precisely so someone else could do this work.

Cleaning before the cleaner arrived was ridiculous.

Twice a week.

Three hours at a time.

For the first time, blank spaces appeared in Seoyoon's week.

She also enrolled her daughter in the art academy.

It was close enough to go straight there after kindergarten.

Her daughter was thrilled from the very first day.

(Child): “Mom, do I get to draw again today?”

(Seoyoon): “Yep. Wonder what you'll make today?”

As soon as the academy door opened, her daughter ran in without looking back.

Seoyoon stood at the glass door and watched her for a long time.

Once, she had calculated that 180,000 won over and over.

Now it didn't feel wasteful.

When her husband heard about the academy, he asked,

(Husband): “Art academy? All of a sudden?”

Seoyoon hesitated, then said,

(Seoyoon): “Dad gave me some money and told me to let Seoyi try something.”

(Husband): “Your dad?”

(Seoyoon): “Yeah. He said to spend it on his granddaughter.”

Her husband nodded without much suspicion.

(Husband): “If she likes it, sure.”

Another small lie.

It pricked at Seoyoon, but she still wasn't ready to tell him about the 3.2 billion won.

The art academy gave her another free hour.

And on housekeeper days, her mornings were free too.

Suddenly, she had time.

At first, she simply enjoyed it.

She went to a department store.

On weekday mornings, it was quiet.

She could walk into a shop without immediately checking the price tag and leaving.

She tried on clothes she liked.

The woman in the mirror looked unfamiliar.

It was the sort of outfit she would have worn beautifully to an important meeting or dinner back when she worked.

After a long debate, she bought it.

At home, she tried it on again.

It was pretty.

Then she hung it up and suddenly thought,

Where am I going to wear this?

Kindergarten drop-off?

The supermarket?

A café?

She loved the clothes, but the realization that she had nowhere to wear them felt strangely sad.

She met a friend too.

Before, if a friend texted,

[Lunch on a weekday this week?]

Seoyoon's first thought was always the cost.

Lunch, coffee, maybe a taxi—it could easily turn into tens of thousands of won.

Her husband had never complained.

Still, after losing her own salary, those expenses somehow felt much larger.

This time was different.

After they ate, Seoyoon reached for her card first.

(Friend): “Hey, why are you paying?”

(Seoyoon): “Just because. My treat today.”

(Friend): “What is this? Something good happen?”

Seoyoon smiled.

(Seoyoon): “I'm just in a good mood.”

It felt good.

To buy someone lunch without recalculating the month's household budget.

She also started exercising.

Pilates, something she'd wanted to try for years.

The first class was hard enough that she could barely follow a single movement. The next day, her whole body hurt.

Still, she felt good.

She had spent an hour on her own body.

On housekeeper days, she exercised and went to cafés.

Some days, she took a bus to a traditional market she'd always wanted to wander through slowly.

She bought clothes for her daughter.

And clothes for herself.

Once, she bought a small accessory from a street stall—just five thousand won because it was pretty.

She had no idea buying something so small without checking the price could feel so good.

For several weeks, it was fun.

Cafés.

Shopping.

Friends.

Exercise.

Markets.

She was doing, one by one, all the things she hadn't been able to do.

Then one day, sitting alone in a café, an odd thought came to her.

I still have time today.

The housekeeper is coming tomorrow.

The day after that, Seoyi has art academy.

Time kept appearing.

Was she really going to spend all of it like this?

Shopping was nice.

Good food was nice.

Exercise was nice.

It was all genuinely enjoyable.

But somehow, it wasn't enough.

Seoyoon turned her coffee cup between her hands.

She remembered the things she had wanted to try but had been too afraid to begin.

Buying products wholesale and selling them online.

Making small things and selling them herself.

Learning an entirely new field.

Doing work that had nothing to do with her old company.

For a while after quitting, she had searched for things like that constantly.

Then stopped because courses cost money.

Because she was afraid to invest and lose.

Because if she tried and failed, she wasn't sure she'd have enough emotional room left to try again.

So she always told herself,

I'll research a little more.

When I'm ready.

And postponed everything.

But now was different.

She had money.

She had time.

A small failure wouldn't shake the household.

Seoyoon suddenly smiled.

Maybe what she'd lacked all along wasn't ideas.

Or courage.

Maybe it was simply the room to fail and still be okay.

She took out her phone and, after hesitating for a while, typed:

“How to start selling online.”

Results flooded the screen.

Courses.

Wholesale.

Inventory purchasing.

Smart Store.

Product sourcing.

There were terms she'd never seen before.

Seoyoon slowly scrolled.

This time, she didn't close the window.

Should I try it?

It was the same thought she'd had three years earlier, on the day she quit.

Back then, it had been vague.

This time, it felt different.

She opened one course and read the curriculum all the way to the end.