TIOAWN Chapter 46

“Did you forget that I used to clean after your shit for you?”

 

Tap, tap.

 

Moo-geon lowered his hand and flicked the cigarette, scattering ashes onto the tip of Song Woo-jin’s shoe. It was a deliberately provocative act.

 

“What do you think you’re doing, CEO Cha Moo-geon?”

 

Song Woo-jin unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, fuming.

 

“You seemed to enjoy playing with young women.”

 

Moo-geon murmured as if talking to himself.

 

“But playing with a reckless brat isn’t fun at all.”

 

After shaking off the last of the ashes, Moo-geon tossed the cigarette onto the carpet without hesitation. Then, crushing it under his shoe, he met Song Woo-jin’s gaze.

 

Moo-geon was a head taller, so when he leaned down to meet his eyes, Song Woo-jin stiffened his neck in defiance, his pride wounded.

 

“Should I take a turn going in and out of the prosecution office instead of Executive Director Kim?”

 

If you want, I can go in for questioning as a witness. I don’t know what I might say once I get there, though. His voice was level, as calm as his indifferent expression.

 

“You son of a bitch.”

 

Song Woo-jin placed a hand on his hip and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. Moo-geon glanced at his watch as if he were busy, making Song Woo-jin even more frustrated.

 

He had set a trap to wipe the smug look off Cha Moo-geon’s face, only to get caught in it himself. And in the dumbest way possible.

 

Damn it, this is humiliating.

 

“…The scaffolding accident.”

 

Song Woo-jin swallowed dryly.

 

“What’s the point of digging up the truth of the incident now?”

 

Yeah, all that matters is picking someone to take the fall. Moo-geon’s lips curled into a faint smirk—a relaxed, arrogant smile. His composure set Song Woo-jin’s blood boiling.

 

“I intend to follow Vice President Song Woo-jin’s decision.”

 

If I have to take the prosecution’s investigation instead of Executive Director Kim, so be it.

 

His unwavering stance made Song Woo-jin realize he had lost. Now, his right-hand man was about to be cut off just like that…His pride was bruised, but there was no gain in pushing any further. Song Woo-jin clenched his teeth.

 

“I’ll discuss it with Executive Director Kim and get back to you, CEO Cha.”

 

His voice, still trembling with anger, sounded pitiful.

 

“I’ll take it that the scaffolding accident is settled this way.”

 

He had said he would discuss it and get back to him, but Cha Moo-geon acted as if it were already decided that Executive Director Kim would take responsibility.

 

As soon as Moo-geon left, Song Woo-jin stomped furiously on the carpet before grabbing the internal phone.

 

“Tell Executive Director Kim to come to my office. Bring the Chief Secretary as well.”

 

His arm tensed as he leaned on the desk.

 

“Ah, damn it.”

 

Tap, tap, tap.

 

Growing anxious, Song Woo-jin repeatedly tapped the desk with the disconnected phone receiver.

 

“Woo-jin, Song Woo-jin, damn it. Use your head.”

 

The phone fell off the desk with a loud thud.

 

“Should I try shaking down that woman he’s with?”

 

How did Cha Moo-geon react when I threw that out there?

 

“Shit. Now that I think about it, this is getting interesting.”

 

Every time I mentioned young women, especially that one, his brows subtly twitched, his forehead creased in discontent. His pitch-black eyes turned even darker, free of any impurities.

 

“That wasn’t like Cha Moo-geon at all.”

 

Now I’m curious. Song Woo-jin’s eyes gleamed.

 

“Whoever she is, maybe I should keep her for a while.”

 

Let’s see if Cha Moo-geon still holds his head high and runs his mouth when that happens. Song Woo-jin smirked.

 

***

 

After finishing her meal, Ha-yoon cleared the dishes while Doctor Yang remained still.

 

She simply observed her every movement, scrutinizing her as if she were keeping watch.

 

“Ah, the painting…”

 

I should’ve asked.

 

Why did he suddenly buy me art supplies? What does he expect me to do with them?

 

I didn’t have the presence of mind to ask. Every time, every moment, whenever Cha Moo-geon came near, I was too busy being swept away.

 

“What? Painting?”

 

Ignoring Doctor Yang’s response to her murmuring, Ha-yoon walked into the next room. A strong scent of new materials filled the air. Canvases, easels, brushes, and all sorts of tools—enough to fill the large room and then some.

 

A studio had suddenly appeared. And he had come by.

 

“It’s all real. Then why…”

 

He hadn’t said anything. Not a single word about painting. I thought he’d grab me by the shoulders and push me until I produced a satisfactory piece. Confusion clung to Ha-yoon’s face.

 

What should I do? What would be good? What does he want?

 

Ha-yoon stood frozen, lost in thought for a long time.

 

She remained in the same spot, dazed, until Doctor Yang entered to administer antibiotics and instruct her to eat lunch.

 

It’s black rice again.

 

Not a single speck of white in sight. Ha-yoon uneasily took a spoonful. She felt queasy, heavily indebted as she was. Wouldn’t refusing to eat be an act of shamelessness?

 

Really, Doctor Yang was never wrong. Forcing herself to eat, Ha-yoon eventually put down the spoon.

 

“I’m done.”

 

Her stomach felt bloated, her solar plexus ached, but she didn’t let it show.

 

“So you can eat, after all?”

 

It was revolting when she had refused, but seeing her clean her plate was infuriating in a different way. What happened now?

 

“I just couldn’t eat before.”

 

With that pale face, she had feigned innocence like a cunning fox.

 

“Are you saying you’ll eat well now?”

 

It was disgusting when she threw a fit about not being able to eat, and now, seeing her clean her plate pissed him off just as much.

 

What a joke.

 

It was because I couldn’t eat.

 

With a face as pale as a sheet, she feigned innocence like a cunning fox.  

 

“Now, I’ll eat well, okay?”  

 

Ha. Even thinking about it again made her blood boil.  

 

The way she spoke, it was as if she was trying to cover up her own mistake in front of Cha Moo-geon.  

 

She wanted to fling open the front door and throw her out immediately, but there were too many eyes watching, making even that impossible.  

 

– Does it even make sense for Seo Myung-sik’s daughter to be staying at President Cha’s house? He hasn’t been the CEO for long; he needs to protect his image. Do you know how much Seo Myung-sik has tarnished the waters? If he gets tangled up with that daughter of his, it’s only a matter of time before rumors spread that President Cha is backing him up. That’s why you should kick Seo Ha-yoon out. Coax her into leaving on her own or intimidate her into leaving. Got it?

 

She already found that wretched girl unbearable, and now she hated her even more.  

 

“You.”  

 

She reached out to grab her by the shoulder, but Seo Ha-yoon, as if in a daze, didn’t stop walking.  

 

“What the— Are you ignoring me now?”  

 

But Ha-yoon passed by Doctor Yang as if she were deaf, unable to hear anything, and entered the bedroom.  

 

Painting….

 

The word spun endlessly inside her head, and to shake it off, she turned her gaze to the disheveled blanket.  

 

She bent forward and patted the blanket smooth—tap, tap. But even as she did, she couldn’t shake the thought of the art supplies filling the room next door.  

 

“It feels like I’ve been chewing on paintbrushes instead of food.”

 

Like an indigestion, the thought jabbed at the pit of her stomach. The phantom sensation of those art tools swelled up her throat.  

 

She turned her head to look outside the window. The sun was still up.  

 

“Has a day always felt this long…?”  

 

She couldn’t just keep avoiding it. With resignation, Ha-yoon sat in front of the easel. She stared at the blank canvas, but nothing came to mind. Her fingers stiffened, making it difficult to grip the pencil.  

 

After a long hesitation, she finally raised her hand and swung the pencil across the paper.  

 

A single, long, sharp line slashed through the canvas.  

 

A nameless anxiety tightened around her chest.  

 

Her father wouldn’t feed her until she produced the picture he wanted.  

 

Then why…  

 

Why was Cha Moo-geon—  

 

If he was going to treat her exactly the same way anyway…  

 

In the end, what he wanted from her was—  

 

“Paintings…”  

 

Ha-yoon muttered in realization.  

 

He gave her injections to prevent inflammation from spreading through her body.  

 

He went so far as to change white rice to black rice for her meals, worrying over her diet as if missing even a single meal would be a catastrophe.  

 

But in the end, was it all because he wanted her to paint? To repay her debt?  

 

The painful realization scraped against her throat.  

 

In the end, both her father and Cha Moo-geon—what they wanted from her was nothing but her art.  

 

Then she had to draw.  

 

“If he asks for them, not just dozens, but even hundreds of pieces.”  

 

She had no idea how much money it would take.  

 

Maybe she should just declare that she’d stay in this house and paint for the rest of her life.  

 

That she’d pay off her debt with all her might.  

 

Do you like being locked up in a house, painting for the rest of your life, Seo Ha-yoon?

 

Ha-yoon nodded.  

 

If she were told to go back to her old home and do nothing but paint, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. But being trapped in Cha Moo-geon’s house—  

 

That, she thought she could endure.  

 

No—more than that, she wanted to stay by his side.  

 

In winter, her hands and feet had always been cold. But ever since she met Cha Moo-geon, not once had she felt that way.  

 

Even when he looked down at her with those chilly eyes, no matter how coldly he spoke, strangely, it felt warm.  

 

That’s why she didn’t want to be abandoned.  

 

If I paint as he wishes, then maybe… I can stay.

 

A tiny seed of hope sprouted in her heart. And at the same time, her hesitation in picking up the pencil vanished.  

 

Her fingertips tingled, and her throat felt parched as if it were cracking apart. An uncontrollable urge coursed through her fingers.  

 

She thought she would finish it quickly, but unlike usual, sketching the outline gave her trouble.  

 

It felt as if she was missing something.  

 

No matter how much she willed it, the lines wouldn’t come out smoothly. A vague unease wrapped around her body.  

 

“Ah.”  

 

Ha-yoon let out a small gasp and dropped the pencil from her hand.  

 

What was wrong with her?  

 

She only needed to draw. So why was this happening? What was the problem, Seo Ha-yoon?  

 

No one was forcing her this time. Wasn’t this purely her own decision?  

 

For a brief moment, her vision turned pitch black.  

 

“…What do I do?”  

 

Nothing was coming out.  

 

As the sun set and night fell, Ha-yoon remained in the same spot.  

 

“What is this scribble?”  

 

Doctor Yang’s mocking voice echoed as he entered the room in the evening to administer her antibiotics.  

 

Scribble.  

 

That one word kept ringing in Ha-yoon’s ears.  

 

Just like in the past few months when she hadn’t been able to produce a single proper piece, her chest felt tight, and her breathing slowed.  

 

Her eyes drooped downward, and the pencil slipped from her fingers.  

 

The blood drained from her already pale face.  

 

Like the dying sunlight, despair burned in a deep crimson hue.  

 

If I can’t even paint properly, what happens then?

 

A terrifying fear gripped her.  

 

Would I no longer be able to stay by Cha Moo-geon’s side…?