FTC Chapter 2(Part 3)

Jaebin was asleep.

The moment Mooyoung left, he had drifted off, just like that.

Seoyeon’s gaze flitted across him—quickly, yet chaotically, unable to settle.

She lowered herself onto the couch, aligning her eyes with his reclined form.

His hair was styled with pomade, but sweat had loosened a few strands, letting them fall over his forehead. His lips, unmoving. His thick, soft eyebrows. Without thinking, she studied his face—the face she had never truly looked at before.

His eyelashes were long. His eyes, horizontally wide.

His brow bone was sharply defined, his nose high-bridged. With his dark, prominent brows and strong features, she realized—he looked different than she had ever noticed before.

He was always impeccably dressed in suits, yet now, he had no tie. His shirt was undone at the top, revealing his collarbones, which rose sharply beneath his skin. Below that, the faint outline of a tattoo—angel wings? A bird?—peeked through, the same one she had glimpsed yesterday.

And then—

Her eyes widened.

It had been wiped off, but blood remained.

Tiny, dried splatters clung to his forearm and neck, their shape and pattern intact. It was unmistakably blood.

It had been there long enough to darken, congealing into something no longer fluid.

Someone’s final moments had been scattered across his skin like paint.

His hands—unprotected, vulnerable—had extinguished a life.

And now, he was sleeping.

Deeply.

Something felt… off.

The feeling was nothing like what she had expected. It wasn’t fear.

Nor disgust.

It was—

…

She watched him for a long time.

The same hands that had once gripped her wrists so tightly now lay slack, as if they could slip away with the slightest nudge.

And without her permission, an image formed in her mind—an hour ago, what he must have looked like.

With those emotionless eyes, he must have watched as someone faded away.

Discarded even the last desperate glance clinging to his leg.

A breath—one final, frantic gasp—must have shot toward him in a desperate arc.

And with these very hands, he had crushed it. Mercilessly. Destroyed it.

“Let go. Stop.”

The same hands that, for a brief moment, had also saved her from Hyunju.

…

His long eyelashes fluttered slightly.

He opened his eyes.

Before she could even swallow her breath, their gazes locked.

“Killing, erasing someone—”

Why, so desperately? So relentlessly?

Jaebin didn’t look away.

Neither did she.

As his eyelids fell and lifted again, Seoyeon rose to her feet.

Without a word, hoping he would sink back into sleep, she left the living room.

Her breath trembled.

 

* ~ *

 

The night was long. Sleep didn’t come easily, and after tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Seoyeon finally managed to close her eyes only after drinking a warm glass of water.

And then, she dreamed.

Of all things, it had to be a dream about Jaebin.

Knock, knock—

“Baek Seoyeon.”

A grand wedding hall. The ceremony was just about to begin, and all the guests were looking straight at her, standing at the end of the virgin road.

At that moment, dressed in formal attire, Jaebin turned to face her from the other end of the hall.

Just as his figure began to appear beyond the dazzling lights, moving in slow motion—

She woke up with a start.

As if on cue, almost as if he had sensed it, Han Mooyoung knocked on her door.

What kind of ridiculous dream was that?

“Please eat.”

His voice didn’t linger beyond that.

Sitting up in the middle of the queen-sized bed, Seoyeon ran a hand through her hair, catching her breath.

But what baffled her even more was what Jaebin had said to her in the dream.

“You’re the most beautiful.”

That lunatic. Even in a dream, he had the audacity to say something like that.

And it wasn’t just in the dream.

It was what Jaebin had told her yesterday.

Of course, he couldn’t have meant it, so she had ignored him, assuming he was being sarcastic.

The memory of her own indifference flashed through her mind.

Seoyeon ruffled her hair in frustration and abruptly got out of bed.

Grabbing the cold water from the bedside table, she took large gulps before glaring at the door where Mooyoung’s voice had just been.

…

After a shower, she stepped into the living room.

Just as Mooyoung had said, the house was filled with the rich aroma of food.

It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn’t had a proper meal since coming here.

The thought that she had never once shared a meal with her so-called husband made her laugh bitterly.

Not that she wanted to eat with Jaebin.

In fact, she couldn’t even picture him eating.

His face, devoid of all emotion, made him seem less like a person and more like a vampire—or something beyond that.

She couldn’t imagine someone like him engaging in normal human activities like eating or sleeping.

And yet, the sight of him yesterday had left a deep impression on her.

…

Covered in blood.

Asleep.

Motionless.

For the first time, she had seen him completely unguarded.

As she walked into the kitchen, she saw a massive dining table—large enough to seat ten people—laid out with a lavish meal.

Beyond an open glass door, two housekeepers in their forties were finishing up, setting the utensils in place.

None of it surprised her.

What did surprise her was the man already sitting at the table.

…

Jaebin, dressed as sharply as ever.

The only difference was that he hadn’t put on his jacket yet.

He was in a crisp white dress shirt with a dark navy striped tie, nearly black in color.

The breakfast spread was traditional Korean, yet in front of him sat a glass of whiskey, as if it were nothing more than a morning cup of water.

Their eyes met.

And in that instant, the image of him from the night before slammed into her.

The blood.

Did the person survive?

“Are they dead?”

She asked as she slowly took a seat at the table.

Jaebin’s hand paused for a brief moment.

“The person whose blood was all over you yesterday.”

So many questions fought to rise to the surface, all jumbled and incoherent.

But the one that burned the most, the one that pressed against her tongue, was—

Why do you go that far?

But she swallowed the words.

She didn’t want to admit that she had even thought them.

That beneath the hatred, the anger, and the shock, there was something else she couldn’t quite define.

“Secretary Ahn.”

Jaebin picked up his chopsticks.

It was a perfectly arranged Korean breakfast.

Across the room, Jisoo lowered her tablet at his call.

He didn’t answer.

As if he hadn’t heard her at all.

Mooyoung stood nearby, hands clasped, watching her with that usual displeased expression.

“From 10 AM to 5 PM, you have a wedding photoshoot at K Studio in Cheongdam-dong. A light finger food bento has been prepared for your meal.”

…

“What about Go Hyunju?”f

Jaebin asked in a low voice as he continued eating.

Seoyeon stared at him, her own question left unanswered.

“After the shoot.”

At that, both Jisoo and Mooyoung bowed respectfully.

Just as they were about to leave the living room—

“No.”

…

“Keep going. I’m curious too.”

Seoyeon finally picked up her chopsticks.

Despite hearing her mother’s name, despite knowing that whatever Jisoo was about to say would likely paint her in an unflattering light, she didn’t so much as blink.

“I want to see how exactly you plan to win against my mother.”

Jisoo and Mooyoung both turned to look at her.

Their sharp, wary gazes made it clear—they didn’t take orders from anyone but their boss.

But Seoyeon didn’t flinch.

Jaebin’s words from last night echoed in her ears.

“She’s not your daughter anymore.”

“Now that I belong to you, is there anything I shouldn’t hear?”

Yesterday, his rage had surged because someone dared to touch what was his. Seoyeon knew all too well that not even a sliver of that emotion was directed at her. When he grabbed her mother’s hand and led her out of the party hall, Seoyeon had felt something—just for a moment, something strange. But as soon as they returned home, that unidentifiable feeling vanished without a trace. Because Mooyoung  had locked every window and door from the outside.

That was the proof.

The proof that when Jaebin stopped Hyunju from reaching out to her, it wasn’t out of consideration or any sort of feeling for her. It was simply because he couldn’t tolerate someone else intruding on what was his. And even now, he refused to answer her question.

Trapped in that situation, all Seoyeon could do was search the house again for the ledger. Her goal was clear—escape from this lunatic who had bound her here. And at the same time, ensure that her gallery opened without any setbacks.

To break free from the two people who were using her as a tool.

“Get out.”

Jaebin continued eating without even looking at her. Mooyoung  and Jisoo gave a respectful nod. As if her words were meaningless, the two men left the kitchen without hesitation. Seoyeon was no longer surprised by this.

In an instant, the vast kitchen was empty except for the two of them.

“How do you want it done?”

Seoyeon looked at him. Beneath the neatly pressed white shirt, she suddenly saw the black-winged angel she had glimpsed yesterday.

“Do you want me to kill her?”

Jaebin met her eyes. Seoyeon let out a small laugh.

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

Her mocking smile reflected in his dark pupils.

“Tell me why you locked the doors.”

Seoyeon had no interest in whether he killed her mother or not. If anything, she hoped they would destroy each other. Two psychopaths who treated people like tools—if they fought, they wouldn’t just ruin themselves but everyone around them. If Mooyoung , who always watched her so closely, got caught up in it too, wouldn’t that be perfect?

Jaebin spoke in a dry tone.

“Because you can’t die or run away.”

“…”

“Baek Seoyeon can’t.”

The mention of death made the image of his bloodstained hands flash before her eyes. Her entire body tensed involuntarily. But it was the word “run” that truly unsettled her.

“There’s actually someone out to kill me?”

Ridiculous.

“Who?”

“Exactly.”

“…”

“If you leave my house, how easily do you think you’ll die at his hands?”

“His hands?”

Seoyeon had never associated her own name with the concept of death before. But now, two simple words crashed together in a way that left her speechless.

“…”

Her brows furrowed. A third-generation chaebol being threatened—this was something out of a B-rate drama, not her life. She had been dragged into a forced marriage, and within a week, there was already someone targeting her? It was unbelievable.

She cursed herself for that fleeting moment yesterday when, unknowingly, she had felt something while watching him sleep. That strange moment when the word burial ground crossed her mind. What was I thinking, even for a second, about a bastard like this?

She needed more information. Right now.

Information about this man.

And about this mysterious “he” who supposedly had the power to kill her.

“So.”

Seoyeon took a slow breath.

“If I try to run away, what will you do?”

“…”

“Kill me? Like yesterday?”

The sharp scent of blood from last night still lingered in her memory. Jaebin’s eyes remained eerily calm as he looked at her.

“I haven’t killed him. Yet.”

How could such a terrifying sentence sound so casual?

Jaebin had finally answered her first question. A belated response to whether the man from yesterday was dead or not. The yet at the end made Seoyeon tilt her head.

Crazy bastard.

Jaebin lifted his glass and swallowed the whiskey.

“He was right in front of me.”

His gaze remained fixed on her.

“Staring at me for a long time.”

Off-topic. He was hitting a nerve.