Chapter 125

The Kim Ancestral Mansion stood quietly on a hill wrapped in old trees and soft morning mist, as if it had been waiting for them for centuries.

Jennie adjusted the small carrier on her arm where baby Ruby rested, while Lisa stood frozen at the grand gate like she had just walked into a museum of chaos she didn’t sign up for.

“Babe…” Lisa blinked slowly, looking up at the enormous traditional house. “Why does this feel like I’m about to be judged by 300 years of ancestors?”

Jennie smiled, unbothered. “Because you are.”

From behind them, Jennie’s mother let out a warm laugh, stepping forward with the calm confidence of someone who had watched generations of the same family reaction.

“Come in, Lisa dear,” she said gently. “You’ll get used to it.”

Lisa hesitated, then followed anyway, still holding onto Jennie’s hand like it was emotional life support.

Ruby made a tiny noise in the carrier, her little face squishing adorably as she shifted. Jennie instantly softened.

“Hi, my baby,” she murmured, tapping Ruby’s cheek. “We’re home.”

Lisa glanced down at their daughter. “She doesn’t even know she’s walking into a generational interrogation room.”

Jennie laughed. “It’s a family visit, not a court trial.”

But Lisa wasn’t convinced.

The moment they stepped inside the main hall, Lisa stopped completely.

The entire wall—floor to ceiling—was lined with framed portraits.

Dozens of Kim women stared back at her from every generation. Elegant hanboks. Calm eyes. Perfect posture. And without exception—

“Mandu cheeks…” Lisa whispered.

Jennie nodded proudly. “Mm-hm.”

Lisa stepped closer, squinting at one portrait. Then another. Then another.

Every single woman had the same soft, round cheeks like steamed dumplings. The same slightly lifted, cat-like eyes that looked both gentle and dangerously observant at the same time.

Lisa slowly turned to Jennie.

“Why do all your ancestors look like they’re about to adopt me and scold me in the same sentence?”

Jennie smiled sweetly. “Because they probably would.”

From behind them, Jennie’s mother chuckled again, clearly enjoying this too much.

“Yes, dear,” she said, walking past them toward the portraits. “All Kim women have that signature trait.”

She gestured casually at the wall like she was presenting a family trademark.

“Mandu cheeks and cat eyes. It’s been consistent for generations.”

Lisa blinked. “That’s… genetic branding.”

Jennie leaned closer to Lisa, whispering, “You married into it.”

Lisa pointed at Jennie’s face. “You didn’t warn me it was a package deal with historical cuteness intimidation.”

Jennie only smiled wider. “You said you liked my face.”

Lisa opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“…I didn’t know it came with an ancestral army.”

Ruby let out a soft squeak, and Jennie immediately shifted her attention back to her, gently rocking her.

“See?” Jennie said softly. “Even Ruby got it.”

Lisa looked at their daughter again, and her expression melted despite herself. Ruby’s tiny cheeks were already round and soft, her eyes half-open but unmistakably shaped like Jennie’s.

“Oh no,” Lisa whispered. “It’s hereditary.”

Jennie’s mother stepped closer, peering at Ruby with fond amusement.

“She’s very clearly a Kim,” she said. “Look at those cheeks.”

Lisa gasped. “She’s six months old. She hasn’t even developed personality yet and she’s already been assigned family membership.”

Jennie’s mother patted Lisa’s shoulder. “That’s how it works here.”

Lisa turned slowly back to the portraits, as if hoping one of them would offer her an escape route.

Instead, all the women stared back at her with serene, slightly amused expressions—like they had already decided she was part of the family drama and were just waiting for her to catch up.

Lisa sighed dramatically. “I feel outnumbered by cheek genetics.”

Jennie reached for her hand. “You’re fine.”

“I’m not fine,” Lisa replied immediately. “I’m surrounded by dumpling-cheek royalty.”

Jennie laughed, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Lisa’s cheek.

“That just makes you the official in-law of dumpling cheeks,” she said.

Lisa froze for a second, then softened despite herself.

“…That sounds like a title I didn’t apply for.”

Jennie’s mother watched them with quiet fondness, the kind that came from seeing her daughter exactly where she belonged.

“You’ll get used to it, Lisa,” she said again. “All Kim women eventually bring home someone who reacts exactly like you.”

Lisa pointed weakly at the portraits. “Do they all survive this?”

“Oh, yes,” Jennie’s mother said cheerfully. “Some even learn to love it.”

Jennie tilted her head at Lisa. “Too late to run?”

Lisa looked down at Ruby, then at Jennie, then back at the wall of generational cat-eyed women silently judging her existence.

“…I ran out of the house,” she said slowly, “and ended up marrying the entire lineage.”

Jennie smiled brightly. “Correct.”

Ruby made a small sound again, as if agreeing without knowing why.

Lisa sighed, then gently rested her forehead against Jennie’s shoulder.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But I’m still protesting the mandu cheek monopoly.”

Jennie kissed the top of her head. “Noted.”

Behind them, Jennie’s mother laughed softly once more, watching her daughter, her daughter-in-law, and her granddaughter standing together in the heart of their ancestry.

And for the Kim family, that was already enough to feel like continuity.