10
Sungho belonged at rock bottom. The idea of him enjoying a comfortable, peaceful family life was laughable. The thought of someone with no future plans—what future?—almost made him sneer.
There had been moments when he took twisted comfort in Sungho’s pathetic state. He’d wished Sungho would stay exactly as he was—forever the pitiful hyung he could confide in, who’d listen to his nonsense without judgment. Maybe later, when he built a successful business, he’d buy Sungho expensive drinks and gifts, just to keep him around. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Sungho’s favor, or if he just enjoyed feeling superior to him, or if he wanted to possess something of him. Hyeontae clenched and unclenched his fists—a nervous habit when he was anxious.
He shouldn’t have liked someone so worthless, yet he didn’t outright hate him. Maybe it was because, in the end, Sungho needed him. He hated admitting it, but he liked how Sungho, shamelessly, would whine to a junior like him. The shame of harboring such warped affection gnawed at him, but it was true. His sadistic tendencies, which he hadn’t yet acknowledged, fantasized about dragging Sungho deeper into depravity—imagining him trembling and begging even for absurd demands. Hyeontae was already a natural sadist; he just didn’t realize it yet.
His dark eyes betrayed no thought as he listened to Sungho ramble about marriage with a strange confidence. Hyeontae smiled faintly and asked, “When are you getting married?”
“Hmm… probably after graduation.”
Still no plan. Of course. Hyeontae inwardly relaxed—maybe it was just idle talk. The bottles on the table emptied one by one.
Time passed, and Hyeontae nearly forgot about Sungho’s marriage declaration. He was busy laying the groundwork for his upcoming business, running around to secure sponsors, when he overheard whispers in the department. People were gossiping about Sungho—how he’d been seen leaving a motel with a bright handprint on his cheek.
Sure enough, that evening, Sungho called him.
That day, Sungho was unusually quiet. He drank heavily, and only when he was thoroughly drunk did he finally speak:
“Yu-jin… she doesn’t want to marry me.”
Hyeontae thought, No surprise. Whatever had drawn her to Sungho in the first place, they were never a good match. Who would choose a man with no future?
“Hey… fuck, am I that pathetic? Is Kim Yu-jin really looking down on me that much?”
Hyeontae didn’t answer. The honest answer was yes. Sungho was pathetic—a man who got slapped by his girlfriend and then came whining to a junior over drinks. That’s what Hyeontae thought.
“…I will marry her. There’ll never be another woman like Yu-jin in my life.”
“…Why’d she slap you, then?”
Hyeontae doubted she’d rejected a marriage proposal with a slap. Listening to Sungho, he realized just how much of a trash human being he was. Sungho had deliberately poked holes in condoms, repeatedly sleeping with Yu-jin to trap her. And now, with her on the verge of landing a job at a promising company, his confession must have hit her like a thunderbolt.
Hyeontae almost admired Yu-jin for only slapping him. Sungho, mistaking her restraint for some kind of victory, recounted the story as if it were a proud tale. Hyeontae didn’t bother responding. No matter what business he built, Sungho’s reckless behavior made him feel like any problem that arose would be trivial in comparison.
The next day, Sungho, blackout drunk, asked what had happened. Hyeontae brushed it off—“You just drank yourself into a stupor and passed out at my place.” When Sungho asked if he’d said anything embarrassing, Hyeontae nodded vaguely.
Watching Sungho stumble out the door, Hyeontae clicked his tongue.
A storm of emotions churned inside him. Why was Sungho so obsessed with Yu-jin? Was it just because she was the most successful woman in their department? Did he think she’d fill the void of his own inadequacy? Or maybe—Hyeontae’s thoughts darkened—maybe Sungho saw him as an easy target because he wasn’t successful yet.
The realization only fueled his determination to build his business bigger.
To outsiders, their fight seemed like just another lovers’ quarrel. They graduated, and soon after, Hyeontae received a wedding invitation—from them. He tore it to shreds and threw it in the trash.
He didn’t attend the wedding. When he heard they’d married in haste due to an unplanned pregnancy, a cold wind seemed to blow through his chest.
He wasn’t sure if he was angry because his once-admired senior had stooped so low, or if he was disgusted by the sordid truth of someone he’d once respected. Or perhaps it was something more primal—the raw, instinctive rejection of their union.
His expectations for Sungho had always been nonexistent, so maybe it was just the raw, animalistic resentment of their marriage itself.
After graduation, Hyeontae worked like a demon. He learned to charm people with a disarming smile, to persuade, to push his body to its limits. Thanks to his sharp business instincts and adaptability, his venture thrived. On the surface, no one would guess the nature of his company. When he stepped out in a tailored suit, no one treated him like they used to.
And then, after a long time, he saw Yu-jin again.
It was a business gathering. Yu-jin, who had delayed her career due to childbirth, was now working in a position far below what she deserved—half the authority, half the prestige she should have had. To outsiders, she might have seemed impressive, but to Hyeontae, it was clear: she had sacrificed everything.
“Long time no see, sunbae.”
“Yeah… it has been. How’ve you been?”
Polite small talk. They hadn’t been as close as he and Sungho, but they’d been friendly enough. Hyeontae, knowing the full story, worried she might resent him for his past association with Sungho. Given Sungho’s personality, their marriage couldn’t possibly be happy.
Fortunately, Yu-jin wasn’t the type to let personal feelings ruin professional relationships. If anything, she respected Hyeontae for building a business from scratch. They began meeting occasionally for meals, gradually rebuilding something resembling their old camaraderie. Of course, Sungho knew nothing about this.
Yu-jin sometimes shared stories about Hyeonjun growing up, or personal anecdotes. She never hid her disdain for Sungho—bordering on hatred. She never outright called it rape, but Hyeontae already knew. Her complaints about her husband were always the same: his incompetence, his lack of planning. And even then, she only gave curt answers when Hyeontae casually asked after him. Fortunately, she never suspected Hyeontae knew the full extent of Sungho’s depravity.
He still resented the fact that Sungho had managed to secure a respectable family. No matter how dysfunctional their household was, to the world, Sungho was a graduate of a prestigious university, a former campus couple success story with a beautiful, capable wife. When Yu-jin mentioned she planned to divorce Sungho once their child was grown, Hyeontae’s conviction solidified: Yu-jin is too good for you. You belong in the gutter.
He had no right to judge, but he wanted to crush Sungho beneath his heel. Maybe it was betrayal he felt.
Nothing about Sungho’s life fit. Yu-jin sighed, saying she wasn’t even sure if the money he deposited monthly was from a job or a loan—maybe he was even unemployed. Hyeontae, comforting her, let his true feelings slip:
“Sunbae… you and him don’t suit each other.”
“I know. Everyone thinks so.”
“…Yeah. Honestly, it pisses me off.”
This wasn’t out of sympathy for Yu-jin. But it was enough to make her open up. She needed someone to listen.
And Hyeontae was excellent at listening.
He decided he would take everything from Sungho. His house. His son. Even his wife. And finally, Sungho himself. He’d overstepped, lived beyond his means, enjoyed his ill-gotten privileges long enough. It was time.
His obsession with Sungho, unnoticed even by himself, had festered into something grotesque—a twisted, vengeful sense of justice.
He hadn’t planned how to destroy him, only that he would. And then, years later, when Yu-jin told him she’d finally stamped the divorce papers, Hyeontae made his offer:
“Sunbae. Want to get married? A marriage of convenience—with me.”
He spun a tale of how it was a shame to see her talents wasted, how forty was the perfect age to finally stabilize and pursue her dreams. He didn’t want a real marriage, he confessed—marriage itself didn’t interest him, but at this age, his family pressured him, and the legal and financial benefits would help his business. It was purely transactional.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
