DD Ch 13

Jung Taeon, the CEO, had his phone ringing dozens of times.

The hotel room’s doorbell rang even more desperately. By the time his secretary’s frantic voice came through the door, calling for him in a panic, Jung Taeon was nestled between Sahee’s legs, rubbing his face against her. Even after several climaxes, he showed no sign of letting up.

He watched lazily as Sahee, gauging his mood, tried to slip out of the bedroom toward the bathroom. Following her, he grabbed her in the living room, pinned her to the sofa, and began devouring her wet folds.

“Yeon Sahee.”

Pulling the blanket toward her, Sahee looked at Taeon, who was changing into a new suit.

“Didn’t you say you’d leave early?”

Taeon draped a tie around his neck, flashing a crooked smile.

She remembered the glistening face from earlier. He had been the one to dishevel her, yet it oddly felt like she was the one left in shambles. Her ears burned again as she recalled the shameless sight of him handing their fluids-stained clothes to his secretary without a care.

“…I’ll go.”

“Stay and rest. It’s just going to be a booze-filled night since you’re meeting old friends, isn’t it?”

His hand brushed her cheek affectionately.

“I’ll come pick you up after my schedule. Just answer when I call.”

“….”

“Don’t drink too much, okay?”

Sahee was about to ask why he cared, but before she could, Taeon leaned down and planted a quick kiss on her forehead.

* * *

Gangnam was always bustling with a variety of people.

Students carrying backpacks. Office workers with ID tags. Couples on dates. Groups out for fun. People holding placards, preaching.

After spending so much time at a secluded, narrow theater, it was easy to forget how diverse the world was. Taking it all in, as if pulling her vision out of a deep well, Sahee carefully observed the crowded streets of strangers.

The bar supposedly run by Juhwan’s acquaintance had a terrace on the first floor. Even though it wasn’t yet evening, some tables were already filled with people drinking. Glancing at the laughing and chatting crowd, Sahee opened the bar door and stepped inside.

“Yeon Sahee!”

The door hadn’t even fully swung open before a hand shot up. Instantly, the attention of everyone in the spacious bar turned toward her.

Feeling awkward, Sahee walked toward the table where her friends had gathered. Their faces, already flushed red from drinking, greeted her enthusiastically.

“Is it really Yeon Sahee? Not some ghost?”

“Hurry and sit down!”

“You’re late!”

Park Minjae, whose eyes were already unfocused, banged bottles on the table with a loud thud.

“Park Minjae, you crazy idiot, cut it out!”

“Why is he drunk already?”

Sahee slung her bag over the back of her chair and gestured toward Minjae with her chin. Sitting next to her, Yujeong clicked her tongue as she chewed on a piece of squid.

“Why else? Haven’t you heard from Kim Juhwan? He’s still going on about love.”

“Why do they keep breaking up and getting back together?”

“This time, it seems serious.”

Yujeong linked arms with Sahee and pointed to the large screen on one side of the bar. Sahee followed her finger, turning her head. A baseball game was playing.

“A friend who went to today’s game said they saw his girlfriend with some other guy.”

“Wow.”

“So now this idiot, Park Minjae, has been guzzling drinks and glaring at that screen, thinking she might show up in the crowd. What a loser. Does he seriously think squinting like that will help him see anything?”

“She could be there with family! A cousin!”

“This is clearly a sign from above telling you to break up already, you moron.”

“Ughhh.”

Yujeong cackled as she quickly emptied her glass.

It felt surreal how nothing had changed, even after meeting again for the first time in years. The lively atmosphere transported Sahee back to her university days, bringing an unbidden smile to her lips.

“Yeon Sahee, we need to see your face more often,” Yujeong said, plopping a soju glass in front of Sahee with a playful pout.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Drink up.”

“Okay.”

Sahee accepted the glass with both hands as it was filled with clear liquor. Yujeong giggled and poured a full glass for herself as well. Meanwhile, teasing remarks flew in from every direction.

“I thought Yeon Sahee had finally turned into a nun after holding out for so long.”

“Even monks check their messages these days, Sahee.”

Ignoring the comments, Sahee downed the drink in one go. The bitter taste made her grimace, prompting Yujeong to skewer a green grape with her fork and push it into Sahee’s mouth. Caught off guard, she ate it, and Yujeong grinned mischievously.

“How’s work going?”

“Eh, just okay.”

“Doesn’t sound great.”

“Well, I like that I can keep drawing.”

Yujeong’s eyes widened at the unexpected response.

“Really? You seemed like you were ready to leave it all behind when we graduated.”

“Back then, I didn’t think I’d still be drawing. How about you? How’s work at your company?”

“Terrible. There’s someone I want to kill.”

Yujeong’s voice dropped a tone, sounding dead serious, which made Sahee burst out laughing. “For real,” Yujeong whispered in mock solemnity. Understanding the joke, Sahee played along and poured a drink into Yujeong’s glass.

“By the way, you and Yujeong are both doing that study abroad program, right? The one Juhwan’s older brother manages?”

“Even Phillip applied.”

“How many people get selected?”

“Twooo.”

Yujeong downed her drink in one gulp and made a V-sign with her fingers.

“Yeon Sahee, let’s beat Lee Phillip and go, just the two of us.”

“Lee Phillip is sitting right here, you know!”

Phillip, seated diagonally across, shouted indignantly.

“I can’t hear you~,” Yujeong sang, covering her ears and humming.

Caught between them, Sahee awkwardly fiddled with her glass. Just then, Juhwan burst out from the kitchen.

“Hey! Yeon Sahee! You should’ve said something when you got here!”

Wearing a bright red apron, Juhwan strode over and plopped a pot of tteokbokki onto the table. In an instant, the relaxed group came to life, and half the tteokbokki vanished as everyone dug in.

“You greedy pigs, take it easy.”

“Boss, can we get a seafood ramen too? Make it extra spicy, and load it up with seafood—just don’t tell the owner.”

“Ugh, act your age, will you?”

“Says Kim Juhwan, of all people.”

“I’m still better than you, though.”

It didn’t even take ten minutes for another childish argument to break out. Watching the scene, Sahee couldn’t help but laugh along.

Her initial resolve to clear her thoughts about Jung Taeon, the CEO, had failed miserably since coming to Seoul, but at least she could forget about him briefly while surrounded by her friends. Thinking about him always stirred a mix of anger and tears, yet she couldn’t stop, which only made it harder.

Sahee emptied the rest of her drink in one gulp.

“Yeon Sahee.”

At that moment, Juhwan dragged a chair over and sat down beside her.

“Was it hard coming up here?”

“…No, not really. I’m fine. Aren’t you watching the game? Isn’t your favorite team playing?”

She tried to push down the thoughts threatening to resurface. Forcing herself to focus elsewhere, Sahee glanced at her friends, who were boisterously chatting about the baseball game.

Juhwan, who usually joined in at moments like this, seemed oddly indifferent as he watched them.

“It’s fine. Have you thought about it? What do you think?”

Sahee fidgeted with her glass, avoiding his gaze.

In truth, she still hadn’t made a decision. Even after reading through the program’s informational packet multiple times, her hesitation outweighed any desire to go. She didn’t even know what challenges lay ahead, so taking the first step felt daunting.

Still, she occasionally thought it might be good to go—ironically, those thoughts arose whenever Jung Taeon, the CEO, came to mind. Keeping herself busy would make it easy to forget their fleeting escape at the arthouse cinema.

How pathetic.

Mocking herself, Sahee glanced at Juhwan.

“I think I…”

“I knew it,” Juhwan interrupted, cutting her off with a deep frown that didn’t let her continue.

“Look, not everyone who applies gets selected, so don’t overthink it. If you’re chosen and feel it’s not right, you can pass the spot to the next person. Just start by filling out the application and decide as you go.”

“But still…”

“Stop being so serious about it.”

Confused and a little taken aback, Sahee closed her eyes briefly. That was when a name she wished to forget cut sharply through the air.

“Whoa, no way. Jung Taeon’s here. Hey, Jung Taeon’s here!”

“Oh, it really is him.”

Sahee’s head turned instinctively toward the screen. It wasn’t a common name, after all. And there he was—Jung Taeon’s face appeared on the screen, leaving Sahee momentarily dazed.

Leaning casually against a railing, he was chatting with someone. His expression was relaxed, and when he smirked, the screen cut back to the game. Only then did Sahee notice the two characters displayed in the corner: Jeongmun.

Jeongmun Dragons.

Now that she thought about it, the Jeongmun Dragons were indeed owned by Jeongmun Group. The name of the baseball team, which had previously seemed meaningless, suddenly felt vivid and significant when connected to him.

“Wow, he’s ridiculously good-looking.”

“And loaded. He buys whatever players the team needs. He really went all out this season.”

“Can Jung Taeon buy our team too? Please, I’m begging. We seriously need a solid catcher.”

This wasn’t the first time Sahee had seen Jung Taeon on a screen. In fact, she was far more familiar with this version of him than with the man she had met in person. She was fully aware of the distance between them.

But today, that distance felt especially heavy. The man she’d glimpsed through her friends’ chatter seemed impossibly far away. Perhaps she was finally realizing that theirs was a relationship she could never speak of.

Her mouth felt dry, and she poured herself another drink, swallowing it down in one go.

“But I heard some weird rumors going around,” someone said.

“Like what?”

“There was a post online saying some players were caught gambling.”

“What the hell?”

“I saw it before it got deleted, but yeah, apparently a few players were gambling, and word is they’re from the Jeongmun team.”

“What happens to Jeongmun this season if it’s true?”

“Who knows?”

“This is insane. These days it’s either gambling or drugs. Is this some kind of trend? Feels like I’m the only one in the country who hasn’t tried it.”

“Right?”

Listening quietly, Sahee froze at the mention of gambling. The word brought Chae Yoonbok to mind. As the thought surfaced, Juhwan grabbed the bottle she was holding.

“Yeon Sahee.”

“Huh?”

Startled, she turned to Juhwan, who was smiling at her.

“You’ll crash if you keep drinking on an empty stomach. Want me to make you some ramen?”

“…”

“Don’t want any?”

“…I’ll eat.”

“Seafood?”

“Sure.”

Juhwan stood up, and Sahee hugged Yujeong, who stumbled over and clung to her, wailing dramatically. Sahee forced a smile as she returned the embrace.

* * *

The Jeongmun Dragons secured victory in their home opener thanks to Park Daeho’s game-winning hit.

After greeting the players and staff and appearing briefly on camera, Jung Taeon had done just enough—neither excessive nor lacking in formality.

It was already evening.

As Taeon left the stadium, a fleeting thought of Sahee crossed his mind. She was probably tipsy by now, laughing freely in the company of old friends.

To him, she was always a woman on edge, guarded and wary. But with her friends, she could laugh openly, her expression clear and bright.

Taeon frowned in displeasure as he prepared to get into his car, glancing at his final schedule of the day.

“CEO Jung.”

A voice called out from behind him, and Taeon turned his head. It was Park Joonghoo, the president of the Jeongmun Dragons, looking visibly tense.

“It’s been a while, President Park.”

“…Yes, it has. Good to see you again.”

“I heard there’s a company dinner. Why aren’t you attending?”

Taeon smiled faintly, a gesture that didn’t reach his eyes, as Park Joonghoo approached.

The former player, who had climbed the ranks from coach to president, was one of the few people who could meet Taeon’s gaze at eye level.

“I have something urgent to discuss.”

“With me?”

“…Yes.”

Taeon studied him curiously, unsure of what to make of the request. Park Joonghoo swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly.

There were still about 40 minutes left until Taeon’s next appointment. As Taeon’s secretary, Kim, checked the time and subtly signaled to dismiss Park Joonghoo, Taeon spoke up.

“Come in.”

“Pardon?”

Secretary Kim looked startled, turning to Taeon, who merely shrugged.

“I don’t have time to go anywhere, so we’ll have to talk in the car.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

Park Joonghoo let out a heavy sigh of relief. Taeon motioned for Secretary Kim to guide him into the car and then stepped in himself.

It had only been three years since Taeon had taken over the Jeongmun Dragons, a team that had been temporarily managed by a proxy following the death of his uncle, Jeong Seongryeol, who had inherited the role of team owner from the founding chairman.

“Take responsibility and handle it.”

The directive had come down curtly, though the team had languished at the bottom of the professional baseball rankings for a decade. It was hardly a crown he was eager to wear.

Upon his appointment, Taeon promised full-scale support and restructured the team’s salary system. He aggressively revamped the old-fashioned image of the team and launched marketing campaigns to attract younger fans. Last year’s runner-up finish in the Korean Series was a tangible result of those efforts.

But not long after that, news of the team’s misconduct reached Taeon’s ears.

Two players from the Jeongmun Dragons had gambled with Jeong Taejun, splurging over 8 billion won of embezzled company funds during a two-month spree, complete with women as companions.

Eight billion wasn’t even the full extent of it. Taejun’s personal accounts had been emptied, and he had sold off several assets—an indication of how lavishly they had indulged during those months.

It was Park Joonghoo, the team president, who had first tipped Taeon off about investigating the matter.

Now, sitting in the car, Taeon turned to glance at Park Joonghoo in the seat next to him. After briefly scanning Secretary Kim, who stood a step away outside the vehicle, Taeon broke the silence with a faint smile.

“Why didn’t you take this directly to the chairman?”

The atmosphere inside the car instantly chilled.

Park Joonghoo hadn’t come to report the players’ misconduct. He had come to plead for mercy, hoping to protect his cherished juniors.

Once a franchise star of the Jeongmun Dragons, Park Joonghoo was widely respected, both by his superiors and his juniors. His close relationship with the players had led him to discover the scandal by chance, and fearing the media would break the story first, he had approached Taeon.

Taeon, however, had no intention of wasting the opportunity. While he couldn’t save the implicated players, he had promised to secure Park Joonghoo’s position as long as the latter refrained from meddling further.

But Park Joonghoo hadn’t stayed quiet. He had gone over Taeon’s head to Chairman Jeong and undermined him.

The only thing Taeon had miscalculated was Park Joonghoo’s arrogance regarding the chairman. Having risen to his position through the chairman’s favor, Park Joonghoo likely believed he was untouchable. But would the affection for a once-dazzling star outlast blood ties?

Unlikely.

Even Jeong Taejun was blood thicker than blood—dark, curdled blood brewed and stewed over nearly a decade since Uncle Jeong Seongryeol’s death.

Even Kang Moonjoo, an innocent department head, had voluntarily gone in for questioning. President Park Joonghoo would soon be dismissed as well, under the pretext of poor player management. That he only sought Taeon now, after realizing his position was precarious, struck Taeon as pathetically belated.

“There’s nothing I could do about that matter…”

“Didn’t I tell you before to keep your distance from this?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand what you expect me to do about it.”

Taeon smiled faintly, as though genuinely regretful. Park Joonghoo clenched his hands tightly into fists atop his thighs.

“CEO, I have four children.”

“I know.”

“My in-laws are both in care facilities, and… all my kids are studying abroad in the U.S. I can’t afford to stop working right now.”

“Then don’t.”

“Pardon?”

“Why not move back to your hometown and open a baseball academy for young people? You were once a franchise star, after all.”

Taeon was sincere, but Park Joonghoo’s face darkened visibly.

“CEO…”

“President Park.”

“….”

“How could I possibly overturn the chairman’s decision? I assumed you’d considered all this when you chose to side with him.”

“…I was foolish. I truly only wanted to save my juniors.”

“You call those guys juniors—the ones who skipped training to party with women? That’s amusing.”

“….”

“I’ve always known you had a surplus of misplaced compassion, President Park. That’s what makes this all the more unfortunate.”

Taeon’s eyes, devoid of any real sympathy, curved into a faint sneer. Time was ticking away.

“Apologies, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you.”

“CEO…”

As Taeon gestured for Secretary Kim to see Park Joonghoo out, the latter grabbed his arm. Taeon turned to him with a displeased expression, only to see Park hastily pull a phone and a USB stick from his jacket pocket.

“What is this?”

“It’s player Woo Sunho’s second phone.”

Woo Sunho—one of the players implicated in the gambling scandal.

A promising third-year player who had once won the Rookie of the Year award. With a decent appearance and broad appeal across demographics, he had been highly favored by fans and peers alike. Inflated by all the praise, he had inevitably overstepped and caused trouble.

Rumors of the Jeongmun Dragons’ misconduct were already beginning to circulate, and it wouldn’t be long before the gambling scandal exploded into public view.

Woo Sunho would make for a convenient scapegoat. After all, to shield Jeong Taejun, someone like Kang Moonjoo was needed for accountability, but someone with Woo Sunho’s recognition was essential as a decoy.

“When I interrogated him about this, I found out they’d been sharing a secret SNS account among themselves. It contains photos of those involved.”

A secret SNS account.

Jeong Taejun wouldn’t have passed on such an ostentatious indulgence. Still, by now, he’d likely confessed through tears and wiped everything clean. Taeon wasn’t optimistic.

“Oh… this…”

Park Joonghoo, fiddling with the phone, looked flustered. He had clearly brought it to show Taeon, but it seemed the device wouldn’t turn on. Taeon waved dismissively, indicating the phone wasn’t necessary, and picked up the USB instead.

“Have you backed this up?”

“Yes, yes… I have.”

“I’ll check it. But I’m not sure why you’re giving me this. It won’t save your juniors, you know.”

“No, no, I’m not hoping for that anymore. I should have listened to you. I sincerely apologize.”

Park Joonghoo waved his hands in frantic denial. He opened his mouth as if to say something further but hesitated for an uncomfortably long moment.

“I just thought… this might be of some help to what you’re doing, CEO. I’m not expecting anything right away.”

Taeon chuckled softly, as though genuinely entertained.

Speculation about who would inherit Jeongmun Group was splashed across the media daily—nothing surprising there. But for Park Joonghoo to essentially offer a key to strike at one side, all while the family publicly maintained a façade of unity, was a different level of audacity.

Was it naïveté from his background as a former athlete? Or should he be commended for at least attempting to speak indirectly? It was hard to say.

“…If you happen to think of me later, I’d appreciate the chance to treat you to a meal.”

Knock, knock.

Just then, Secretary Kim tapped on the car window. It was time to depart. Park Joonghoo hastily straightened his disheveled jacket.

“I seem to have taken too much of your time, CEO. I’ll be leaving now.”

“Go ahead.”

“Yes. Thank you for your time.”

“President Park.”

“Yes?”

“You might want to hold off on heading back to your hometown for now.”

Taeon smiled at him pleasantly.

For all Taeon knew, the next time Park sought him out, it wouldn’t be for a private plea—it could very well be to expose the truth about Jeongmun Group to the media. A little insurance wouldn’t hurt.

“Thank you, thank you.”

Park Joonghoo, seemingly on the verge of tears, bowed deeply. Taeon nodded lightly, and Park exited the car with repeated bows.

“What did you talk about?”

After seeing Park off, Secretary Kim fastened his seatbelt and glanced at Taeon. Crossing his legs, Taeon didn’t bother to hide his irritation.

“Well, I’m about to find out.”

Apologies, pleas, and then… what? All that mattered was whether it was a useful exposé.

Taeon connected the USB Park had left behind to his phone. A quick check of the stored files made him chuckle. Whatever paranoia Park had felt, he’d gone all out—videos, photo captures, and more.

Taeon clicked on the topmost photo. It was nothing special: a man and a woman sitting side by side in what appeared to be Jeong Taejun’s house. The interesting part lay in the tags beneath the photo. Stroking his chin, Taeon lowered his gaze.

[#TaejunOppa #CelebrationParty #WeAreJeongmunFam]

JeongmunFam. What a wonderfully provocative word.

The photo included Jeong Taejun, two Jeongmun Dragons players—Go Doohyung and Woo Sunho—a female celebrity who’d modeled for Jeongmun Marine a few years ago, and… Taeon frowned.

“Secretary Kim.”

“Yes, CEO.”

The car had stopped at a red light. Secretary Kim turned to face Taeon.

“Do you recognize this woman? The one sitting on Woo Sunho’s lap.”

From the center console, Taeon angled the phone toward Secretary Kim. Kim leaned in to examine the image, his expression stiffening as recognition dawned.

“Yes… I do.”

“Does she have any connection to Jeongmun?”

Kim hesitated briefly. In the meantime, the light turned green, and a blaring horn from behind startled him. Quickly focusing on the road, Kim drove off and exchanged a brief glance with Taeon via the rearview mirror.

“She’s… the second granddaughter of Yeonghwadang. You know, the one who does ballet.”

* * *

A chilly night breeze swept through the entrance of Yeonghwadang. Standing opposite each other, Chae Hyunji and Lee Hyungu remained silent for a long time.

“I…”

The first to speak was Lee Hyungu.

He looked far more haggard than the last time they had gone on a date. His unshaven beard and unkempt appearance suggested he hadn’t even bothered to clean himself up.

“Is it true, what I heard?”

“…What did you hear?”

“That you broke off the engagement.”

“……”

“Hyunji, did you really have a man you were going to marry? Huh? Is that true?”

His eyes looked as if he’d been betrayed.

It was exactly what Chae Hyunji had anticipated since the moment the household staff exchanged glances at the sight of her and her family being summoned by Park Jisun.

In this small town, every passing gaze was a surveillance camera, and every occurrence became headline news.

From the smallest events—like a dog giving birth to puppies—to the biggest scandals—like the Kim family and the Hwang family having an affair—everything spread. What someone overheard in the morning grew into a snowball by the evening.

The brazen ones didn’t even hesitate to gossip right in front of others. To this day, Chae Hyunji could recite the sordid details of the affair between Yeon Sahee’s biological father and Lee Misook.

That messy melodrama had started with Lee Misook practically begging for the man’s attention, leading to an unintended pregnancy with Yeon Sahee. She had stubbornly refused to terminate the pregnancy despite pressure, only to end up abandoned along with her child.

It would’ve been better if it had ended there.

Whenever that man and Chae Yoonbok were compared, Yeon Sahee and Chae Hyunji were always dragged into the conversation. People would say, “Daughters take after their fathers,” as they criticized Chae Yoonbok’s appearance. Even as a child, Hyunji understood exactly what that meant.

As a child, she hated those judgmental mouths. As an adult, she feared that their eyes and ears had seen and heard even bigger secrets. Just walking down the street made her feel as though fingers were pointing at her. That was why she had fled Yeonghwadang.

Now that she only returned once a year, she no longer had to endure those moments—until now. It was obvious how this incident had been twisted and passed along to Lee Hyungu.

“You—you deceived me? You just called off your engagement, and now you’re lying to me? You fucking…!”

Lee Hyungu’s voice quivered as he teared up.

What was so dramatic about a broken engagement? It was no different from dating and breaking up. Hyunji couldn’t understand why he was making such a fuss. She felt an overwhelming urge to smack him on the head just to relieve her frustration, but she couldn’t—not when she still needed him.

Hyunji steadied herself and thought of the 2.5 billion won in debt. It was split into 1.4 billion for Woo Sunho and 1.1 billion for herself.

She never should’ve fallen for Woo Sunho’s words.

When he claimed that the club would collapse if his gambling debts were exposed, she wavered and lent him her name for a loan. Initially, she refused, but her resolve weakened. The amount wasn’t large at first—it grew gradually.

When she hesitated over the exorbitant interest rates, he assured her it was a company run by a trusted senior and that she had nothing to worry about. Even if everything went south, he’d pay it back quickly with his salary. She believed him.

She was afraid that refusing his request would end their relationship. Driven by that fear, she even took out her own loan to impress him.

The reckless love she had believed in ended by throwing her life into a pit of fire. Woo Sunho changed his number overnight, leaving her with nothing but a mountain of debt.

Grinding her teeth, Hyunji lowered her gaze. Losing her temper now would render her performance of sobbing and earning sympathy from Park Jisun worthless.

It was unexpected that Chae Yoonbok’s carelessness had exposed the debt to Park Jisun, but in the end, it worked in her favor.

After all, how could the grandmother turn her back on a granddaughter abandoned at the altar because of her father’s recklessness?

Chae Yoonbok’s vague attempt to bring up a business proposal had long been dead in the water. Hyunji now had to tug at heartstrings and secure money under the pretense of marriage.

“If that’s what you want to believe, then go ahead.”

“What?”

“Think whatever you want. Believe the rumors, just like the rest of the town. You didn’t come here to hear my side anyway, did you?”

“……”

“I’m the one who’s truly disappointed in you.”

Standing her ground, Hyunji could see the unease in Hyungu’s eyes. It was all too obvious.

Was this how Woo Sunho had felt watching her fall for his lies? Looking at Hyungu’s wavering gaze, she felt a nauseating sense of disgust rise in her throat.

“Disappointed? How dare you say that!”

“I was forced into meeting that man!”

“……”

“My father’s business was struggling. They told me I had to marry well and show my grandmother that we were doing fine. I didn’t even love him, but I agreed to the marriage anyway.”

“……”

“But I couldn’t go through with it, so I broke off the engagement just before the wedding. I didn’t even find out about my father’s debts until after that.”

“……”

“And then I met you.”

She didn’t bother with a clichéd line like, “Meeting you taught me what true love is.” Lee Hyungu already seemed to believe that on his own, just as she had once believed in Woo Sunho.

“…”

“Hyunji, you really had a man you were going to marry? Huh? Is that true?”

Her eyes looked as if she had been betrayed.

It was an expected reaction since the moment the household staff began exchanging glances upon seeing Chae Hyunji and her family summoned by Park Jisun.

In this small town, every gaze was a pair of watchful eyes, and every event became breaking news.

From the small matter of someone’s dog giving birth to puppies to the big scandal of an affair between the Kims and the Hwangs—everything became the talk of the town. Even a snippet overheard in the morning would snowball into a massive tale by evening.

The shameless locals wouldn’t even hesitate to whisper right in front of you. Chae Hyunji could still recite the sordid love story between Yeon Sahee’s father and Lee Misook.

The tale of how Lee Misook practically begged for love, resulting in an unplanned pregnancy with Yeon Sahee, and how she endured pressure to terminate the pregnancy only to be abandoned with the child—such a pathetic melodrama.

If only they stopped at that, it would have been fine.

But whenever that man was compared to Chae Yoonbok, both Yeon Sahee and Chae Hyunji would inevitably be dragged into the narrative. “Daughters take after their fathers,” they’d say, alluding to Chae Yoonbok’s broad face. Even at a young age, she understood the meaning.

As a child, she despised those judging lips; as she grew older, she feared that their watchful eyes and listening ears might uncover her bigger secrets. Simply walking down the street felt like an invitation to be pointed at. That’s why she fled far from Yeongwadang.

Now that she only visited once a year, she was glad to avoid those scenes—but here she was, back to square one. It was obvious how this story would twist and reach Lee Hyungu.

“You tricked me? You just broke off an engagement, and now you’re lying to me? You f—…!”

Lee Hyungu’s voice cracked, trembling with emotion.

What was so extraordinary about breaking off an engagement? It was just like dating and breaking up. Why was he making such a big deal out of it? The sheer ridiculousness made her want to smack him across the head to vent her frustration, but she couldn’t—not when she needed him for now.

Chae Hyunji steadied herself and thought about the 2.5 billion won debt. That staggering amount of 1.4 billion and 1.1 billion, split between her and Woo Seonho.

She shouldn’t have fallen for Woo Seonho’s lies.

When he said that news of his gambling debt would ruin his career if it reached the club, she faltered and lent her name to his scheme. She had initially refused but eventually wavered. It didn’t start as a huge amount—it just snowballed over time.

When she hesitated over the absurdly high interest rates, he reassured her, saying the lender was a trusted friend and that her high salary could easily cover the debt even if things went south. Foolishly, she believed him. Deep down, she feared that rejecting his request would sever their relationship. Succumbing to that fear, she even took out her own loan, pretending she could afford it.

The fiery romance she mistook for love ended by dragging her life into the flames. Woo Seonho changed his number overnight, leaving her with nothing but an enormous debt.

Chae Hyunji clenched her teeth and lowered her gaze. Losing her temper here would make all her effort to win Park Jisun’s pity with her sobbing act meaningless.

It was unexpected that Chae Yoonbok’s mishap had exposed the debt to Park Jisun, but now that it was out in the open, it actually worked in her favor.

After all, no grandmother would turn her back on a granddaughter who had been jilted because of her foolish father’s actions.

The business proposal Chae Yoonbok had vaguely brought up was long dead. So, she had to exploit their pity and secure funds under the guise of marriage.

“If that’s what you want to believe, then go ahead.”

“What?”

“Think whatever you like. Think the same way the townspeople gossip. You came here to accuse me without even trying to hear my side, didn’t you? Isn’t that right?”

“…”

“I’m the one who’s truly disappointed in you.”

When she pushed back confidently, Lee Hyungu wavered. It was obvious.

Looking at his faltering gaze, Chae Hyunji felt a nauseating disgust rising, wondering if this was how Woo Seonho had felt watching her fall for him so easily.

“Disappointed? How dare you even say that!”

“I was forced into meeting him!”

“…”

“Because my dad’s business was struggling, I was told I needed to marry well and show Grandma I was living a good life. I didn’t even love him, but I agreed to get married.”

“…”

“But I couldn’t go through with it. I called it off before the wedding because I just couldn’t. I found out about Dad’s debt afterward.”

“…”

“Then I met you.”