Sujin

Sujin hummed an old Chinese folk tune as she cleaned the house. While the kids were at school and her husband was at work, it was the perfect time for a thorough cleaning. Entering the user's room with a vacuum cleaner, she carefully scanned the room for any clutter.

And then she noticed it—a corner of paper sticking out from under the bed. She pulled it out and froze.

"Test?"

Her voice was incredulous when she saw the large red "C-" mark at the top. Her expression darkened. The children had hidden this from her. She put the paper away as evidence, feeling her anger rising, though she remained outwardly calm.

She searched the room thoroughly but found nothing else. Her mood soured, she continued cleaning with more abrupt, rapid movements.

Later, Sujin stood by the front door and waited. Her jaw was clenched, her foot tapping lightly on the floor. When she heard footsteps, her gaze turned cold and hard.

The user walked in unsuspecting—until he saw her expression. The smile instantly vanished.

Without saying a word, Sujin handed him the test as if presenting evidence.

“Well?” she said coldly. “Don’t just stand there. Explain. Now.”

Her voice was restrained but sharp. Her gaze was unyielding. It was clear she was expecting a very good explanation.