Chapter 130

The afternoon had fully settled into the mansion now-golden light filtering through carved wooden windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the air like they belonged to the same centuries as the portraits themselves.

Lisa had officially entered what Jennie’s mother now referred to as “the questioning phase.”

Jennie sat on a wide floor cushion near one of the side rooms, gently feeding Ruby warm milk while the baby stayed half-asleep, tiny fingers curled loosely against Jennie’s shirt. The scene looked peaceful-almost domestic-if not for Lisa pacing in front of them like a woman conducting an extremely serious investigation into a centuries-old mystery.

Jennie’s mother sat nearby with calm composure, sipping tea as if she had prepared for this interrogation her entire life.

Lisa stopped pacing.

Then immediately started again.

“Okay,” she said firmly. “We’re doing this properly now.”

Jennie didn’t even look up. “We’ve been doing this properly since you walked into the mansion.”

Lisa pointed at her. “No, that was emotional shock. This is structured questioning.”

Jennie’s mother smiled faintly. “Go ahead, dear.”

Lisa took a deep breath.

“First question.”

She raised a finger.

“Was there ever a male Kim?”

Jennie’s mother didn’t hesitate.

“No,” she said simply.

Lisa blinked. “No hesitation?”

Jennie’s mother shook her head gently. “The Kim lineage is matriarchal. It has always been women.”

Lisa narrowed her eyes. “That feels like an incomplete answer.”

Jennie, still feeding Ruby, finally spoke. “There were male relatives in extended branches, but the direct line-what you’re seeing in the portraits-is always passed through women.”

Lisa pointed at the wall. “So every important decision, every inheritance, every… whatever this historical romantic ecosystem is… was run by women?”

Jennie’s mother nodded. “Yes.”

Lisa exhaled. “Okay. That explains the emotional complexity. Proceeding.”

She lifted a second finger.

“Second question.”

Her tone sharpened.

“Why did they only fall in love with the same kind of woman-born with male reproductive systems-across different eras?”

Jennie paused feeding for a moment, gently patting Ruby’s back as the baby swallowed and settled.

Then she answered calmly.

“It is not that they were ‘programmed’ or bound by rule,” Jennie said. “It is more like… pattern recognition across generations.”

Lisa frowned. “That sounds like psychology trying to avoid responsibility.”

Jennie’s mother chuckled softly. “It is simpler than that, and more human.”

Lisa folded her arms. “Explain.”

Jennie’s mother set her teacup down.

“Kim women have always been raised in environments where emotional intelligence, independence, and sensitivity were highly valued traits,” she said. “Historically, they were not encouraged toward conventional expectations.”

Lisa listened carefully now, despite herself.

Jennie continued softly, still rocking Ruby.

“So when they met women who had both softness and strength… women who lived between definitions… they recognized something familiar,” she said. “Across eras, the form changes, but the emotional structure stays the same.”

Lisa slowly nodded. “So you’re saying it wasn’t ‘the same type of body’-it was the same type of energy.”

Jennie smiled. “Exactly.”

Jennie’s mother added, “The physical trait simply became historically recorded because it was consistent among their partners.”

Lisa sighed. “That is still the most specific ‘type’ I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Jennie glanced up at her. “You married into it.”

Lisa pointed at her. “Stop saying that like it’s a natural law of physics.”

Jennie smiled and went back to feeding Ruby.

Lisa exhaled again, then raised a third finger.

“Third question.”

Her voice dropped slightly.

“Is there a chance that all Kim women have a wife who looks like me?”

Jennie immediately paused.

Jennie’s mother also paused.

That silence lasted a little longer than the previous answers.

Then Jennie’s mother spoke carefully.

“It is not exact replication,” she said. “But… there is a recognizable pattern.”

Lisa narrowed her eyes. “Define ‘pattern.'”

Jennie’s mother gestured toward the founder portraits upstairs.

“Across generations, Kim women often gravitated toward partners with similar expressions, softness in facial structure, and a certain temperament,” she said. “It is not identical appearance, but… familiar resemblance.”

Jennie added lightly, “You noticed because you’re in it.”

Lisa stared at her. “That is not comforting.”

Jennie smiled. “It’s accurate.”

Lisa turned away, pacing again.

“So you’re telling me,” she said slowly, “that I might be statistically consistent with centuries of romantic preference in your family.”

Jennie hummed. “Mm-hm.”

Lisa stopped. “That is terrifyingly romantic in a way I did not consent to.”

Jennie’s mother laughed softly. “You are part of history now, dear.”

Lisa pointed weakly at Ruby. “Even she’s judging me silently.”

Ruby, of course, was peacefully drinking milk, entirely unbothered.

Jennie kissed the top of Ruby’s head.

“She’s not judging you,” Jennie said. “She’s digesting.”

Lisa sighed.

“Fourth question,” she said.

She looked up at the portraits again.

“Why are mandu cheeks and cat eyes so prominent? Are all your ancestors’ wives like that too? Or are these just… very strong genes dominating everything?”

Jennie’s mother tilted her head slightly, considering.

“The Kim women themselves have always had mandu cheeks and cat-like eyes,” she said. “That is inherited through the maternal line.”

Lisa nodded slowly. “Okay, that part makes sense.”

Jennie’s mother continued, “As for their partners…”

Jennie smiled faintly. “There is a preference for facial softness and expressive eyes.”

Lisa pointed at the wall again. “So basically, you’re telling me the entire aesthetic ecosystem is ‘soft cheeks meets soft heart meets intense eye contact’ for centuries.”

Jennie nodded. “That’s one way to say it.”

Lisa groaned. “That is the most poetic genetic explanation I have ever heard.”

Jennie’s mother added with a small smile, “We do not consider it genetic dominance. More like… emotional attraction shaping recorded history.”

Lisa rubbed her forehead. “That sentence should not make sense but it does.”

Jennie gently shifted Ruby, now fully asleep again, and placed the baby against her shoulder.

“Last question?” Jennie asked softly.

Lisa looked at her.

Then at the portraits.

Then back at Jennie.

“Fifth question,” she said.

Her tone became more serious.

“Why is the Kim ancestry never publicly known like this? Your family is clearly powerful, wealthy, influential… and this lineage is very specific. How has this never become public news?”

Jennie’s mother’s expression softened slightly.

That question carried a different weight.

She set her teacup down carefully.

“Because it was never meant to be public,” she said. “The Kim women are influential in many areas-business, arts, education-but the family lineage itself has always been protected.”

Lisa frowned. “Protected how?”

Jennie answered this time, quieter.

“Separation between public identity and private family history,” she said. “It’s a way to keep generations safe.”

Jennie’s mother nodded. “There were times in history when families like ours would not have been treated kindly if everything were known.”

Lisa slowly absorbed that.

“…So it’s not secrecy for pride,” she said carefully. “It’s privacy for survival.”

Jennie nodded. “Yes.”

The mansion felt quieter after that.

Even the light seemed softer.

Lisa stopped pacing.

She looked at Jennie holding Ruby.

At Jennie’s mother sitting calmly beside them.

At the portraits watching silently from the walls.

And for the first time since she arrived, Lisa didn’t look confused.

She looked thoughtful.

“…That makes sense,” she said quietly.

Jennie smiled gently at her.

Lisa exhaled.

Then immediately ruined the solemn moment by adding:

“But I still think the mandu cheek thing is suspiciously consistent.”

Jennie’s mother laughed again.

Jennie chuckled, leaning back slightly.

And Ruby, asleep against Jennie’s shoulder, let out a tiny content sound-like she was already used to being part of a family that had been confusing, dramatic, romantic, and very, very consistent for centuries.

Lisa sighed, walking over and sitting beside them at last.

“…I need tea,” she muttered.

Jennie leaned her head lightly against Lisa’s shoulder.

“I told you,” she said softly. “Tea solves everything.”

Lisa looked at her.

Then at Ruby.

Then at the portraits again.

“…Your family is insane,” she said.

Jennie smiled.

“Yes,” she agreed.

A pause.

Then Lisa added:

“…But weirdly organized.”

And for once, even she couldn’t deny she was starting to understand the shape of it all.