Chop, chop, chop.0

Yoon-Hee chopped the green onions with nimble hands, busily preparing to make a new batch of braised chicken before Do-Jun returned.0

Meanwhile, Karsiel was wide-eyed, looking around the rather small house that was just over sixty square meters. She cautiously approached Izaas—no, Yong-Yong—who was lying on the sofa, giggling at the TV.0

“Lord Izaas, is this really the new nest you spoke of…?” she asked.1

Yong-Yong ignored her question and continued watching the TV screen as his eyes grew wider.0

⌜Here’s the money. Just stay away from our Yoon-Sung.⌟0

⌜M-mother.⌟0

⌜Mother? Why are you calling me mother?! It looks like you tried to use my Yoon-Sung to turn your little life around, but I won’t stand for it. I don’t even want to talk to you anymore, so get out of this house now!⌟0

“Why are these dramas always the same?” Yong-Yong grumbled but still didn’t take his eyes off the TV for a single moment—at least not until the doorbell rang.0

“Master’s home!”0

Yong-Yong hurriedly ran to the front door, and Yoon-Hee, who had been adding the chopped green onions to the pot, also stopped...0