“Are you awake?”
Seung-hyeon’s voice reached him before his eyes were fully open. The events just before he fell asleep came rushing back, jolting him into clarity. A wave of belated embarrassment washed over him, but with Seung-hyeon sounding so calm and composed, it was obvious that acting awkward now would only sour the mood.
Seon-woo forced himself to act unfazed and slowly opened his half-lidded eyes. His gaze immediately locked with Seung-hyeon’s, who was smiling brightly. He sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair beside the bed, looking down at Seon-woo.
“…You could’ve just laid down next to me or grabbed another chair, you know.”
His voice came out hoarse and cracked. Clearing his throat didn’t help—this wasn’t just from sleep. His voice had been wrecked from moaning far too much and wouldn’t recover easily. Seung-hyeon just kept smiling without responding, so Seon-woo didn’t say anything else and turned his attention to his own condition.
He’d been changed into a fresh hospital gown. It was hard to tell whether the sheets, which they’d both tried to keep from getting too messy until the very end, had been replaced, but they were at least clean now. The clothes Seung-hyeon had worn—soaked in all kinds of bodily fluids—were now pristine as well.
A perfect cleanup. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, Seon-woo pressed at the corners of his eyes to ease the tension and sat up.
“You can lie down a bit longer if you want. They said there’s nothing wrong with your condition anymore, but you can rest until you feel ready to be discharged.”
“Feels wrong to just sit around doing nothing.”
Seung-hyeon looked concerned and tried to stop him, but Seon-woo couldn’t bring himself to keep occupying a hospital bed with no injuries. It also didn’t sit right with him to slack off while Gwak Sang-hwa was struggling to manage everything with her husband.
“They told me not to get involved since most of it’s already been handled. Your aunt will be reaching out soon…”
That definitely sounded like something Gwak Sang-hwa would say. But that didn’t mean there was nothing left to be done. Now that they could no longer rely on any sort of help from the system, he would need to be prepared—somehow—if he wanted to continue working for the company as he always had.
But before Seon-woo could respond, a vibration interrupted the conversation. Seung-hyeon paused mid-sentence and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“One moment.”
He answered with a puzzled expression. The call didn’t last long. All Seung-hyeon said was something along the lines of “Really? Yes. Got it,” so all Seon-woo could do was watch him curiously.
When Seung-hyeon ended the call, his face was a mix of confusion and uncertainty as he spoke—unexpectedly reversing his earlier statement.
“Looks like you do need to get discharged…”
“Who was that?”
It felt like he’d just gotten something handed to him without lifting a finger, but curiosity trumped gratitude. At Seon-woo’s question, Seung-hyeon replied, still dazed:
“They said the Chairman’s regained consciousness.”
***
Ever since the Chairman fell into critical condition, events had unfolded so rapidly that it was hard to keep track of time. But even if things had been calmer, no one would have expected him to wake up this quickly. The fear that they might soon be hearing bad news now seemed almost laughable in hindsight.
Apparently, by the time word got out, it had already been a full day since the Chairman had regained consciousness. It seemed they’d kept things under wraps while monitoring his condition. His recovery had been so swift, it was almost as if the entire brush with death had been fabricated.
Even though Seon-woo rushed through the discharge procedures the moment he heard the news, it still didn’t feel like enough time to properly prepare.
In the end, before he even had time to mentally brace himself, Seon-woo was summoned by the Chairman. Contacting Gwak Sang-hwa would have to wait—he’d been called in for a meal with the Chairman first. Of course, he wasn’t the only one summoned. Both Seung-hyeon and Sang-hwa were to attend as well. It was an unexpected meeting with Sang-hwa even before they could have a proper conversation alone.
When Seon-woo and Seung-hyeon arrived at the reserved restaurant, Sang-hwa was already there, seated and waiting. There was still a bit of time left before the scheduled hour, and perhaps that was why the Chairman had yet to arrive.
The moment he laid eyes on Sang-hwa, Seon-woo’s neck instinctively stiffened. It was the tension. Sensing it immediately, Seung-hyeon lightly grabbed and released the sleeve of Seon-woo’s shirt as if to calm him down. It was absurd how that small touch actually helped ease some of the tension.
Sang-hwa turned her head slowly and gave a small nod in greeting. Her exhaustion was evident at a glance. Realizing that both she and Seon-woo had something to say to each other, Seung-hyeon tactfully took his seat without interrupting.
“Are you doing okay?”
Seon-woo didn’t waste time and asked directly. Sang-hwa took a brief moment before replying.
“I didn’t expect that to be the first thing out of your mouth.”
Truthfully, Seon-woo had assumed he’d immediately start asking about the case the moment he saw her. But when he saw her face—so drawn and pale—all he could do was ask how she was holding up.
“You don’t look well.”
But it seemed Sang-hwa had no intention of indulging that line of conversation.
“You’re curious about what happened, aren’t you?”
She got straight to the point. And really, there was no need to drag out pleasantries. Seon-woo gave a slight shrug, silently prompting her to continue.
“I’ve been in contact with the prosecution—they’ll be filing charges soon.”
Even as she spoke, she seemed to struggle to compose her emotions. Pressing her lips tightly together, she wet her parched mouth and continued in a calm, measured tone.
“The Chairman has no intention of covering this up. And he has no reason to. So he’s going to do real time. No way he’s coming back from this.”
Even though she was talking about her husband, her voice was as detached as if she were discussing a stranger. Seon-woo glanced at her, reading her expression.
He was curious—what exactly had they uncovered, where and how? Through his conversation with Eun-jae, he’d learned that in the original work, the culprits had been Nam Jeong-dong and Gwak Sang-cheol. But he didn’t know anything beyond that. Still, it wouldn’t be right to admit his ignorance now, especially after she’d been the one to suggest he investigate her husband in the first place. So Seon-woo simply kept his mouth shut and waited for her to speak.
“I suppose it goes without saying, since the divorce proceedings are already finalized.”
Her tone was calm, almost indifferent, but the fingertips resting on the table were blanched white. Seon-woo pretended not to notice and asked quietly.
“Did you ask him why?”
It was a reasonable question under the circumstances—and one that gnawed at his curiosity. What exactly was Nam Jeong-dong’s motive? Gwak Sang-cheol, after all, was a man whose ambition far outpaced his actual competence, whose selfishness far outweighed any love he might have had for his family. It made sense he’d make a move like this to seize control. But what about Nam Jeong-dong, the one who put him up to it? What was he thinking? Was it also just about self-interest? Did that mean his marriage to Gwak Sang-hwa had an ulterior motive behind it from the start?
Surely, Sang-hwa must have had similar thoughts. Perhaps that’s why, even though she had answered everything else without hesitation, this time, she seemed to waver just a little.
“He said… he did it for me.”
Her voice dripped with scorn. But whether that scorn was directed at Nam Jeong-dong or at herself, it was impossible to tell. Her words spilled out like a bitter monologue.
“He couldn’t stand the fact that someone like Gwak Sang-cheol outranked me in the line of succession. Said he wanted to reclaim my rightful place with his own hands. That kind of predictable, empty talk.”
“Predictable, sure. But not necessarily wrong.”
Seon-woo cut in, just slightly.
Whether Nam Jeong-dong was truly a twisted romantic who did it all not for himself but for Sang-hwa—or whether he was just a selfish, shameless man using pretty words to dress up his actions—was anyone’s guess. But there was no denying that it must have stung for Sang-hwa to be pushed aside for someone like Gwak Sang-cheol.
Sang-hwa shot him a sharp look.
“What exactly are you implying?”
“Only that, had you kept quiet, you could’ve taken care of both my father and me. Then the management rights would’ve naturally fallen to you.”
If she had chosen to cover up what her husband had done, things could’ve become very messy. What Seon-woo wanted to know was what she had felt at that moment. Had she truly seen it as betrayal? Or, even knowing that he claimed to have done it for her sake, hadn’t her heart wavered even a little?
Only with a clear answer could Seon-woo confirm whether he had judged her correctly—and whether she was someone he needed to keep watching.
Sang-hwa gave a faint, scoffing smile.
“And you? What, were you asleep all this time?”
“You could’ve covered it all up before I ever got involved.”
He parried coldly, but her response was even and unbothered.
“If I had, you would’ve been the one in trouble. So why are you bringing up a hypothetical that never even happened?”
“Then it would’ve been my mistake for misjudging you.”
A long silence fell between them. Sang-hwa, who had seemed unlikely to ever open up, suddenly parted her lips—slowly.
“That’s what he told me. That if he didn’t go that far, I’d never succeed. That the Chairman would never recognize me as anything more than just another child until the day he died.”
“Maybe he genuinely hated seeing me being undervalued… or maybe he just needed an excuse for his own ambitions.”
Her voice was carefully neutral, as if none of it mattered. But the bitterness behind it was impossible to miss.
“Either way, I don’t think he realized it wasn’t the undervaluing that horrified me—it was those words.”
Seon-woo couldn’t help but understand. He’d already trusted that she would deal with whoever was responsible fairly, regardless of who it was. Still, her words carried more weight than he’d expected. While he remained silent, she gave a slight shrug and continued.
“Anyway, that’s what it means. What’s the point of holding a position I gained not through my own ability but thanks to someone else’s scheme? Especially if I have to protect, with my own hands, the man who killed more than one of my blood relatives.”
“Hearing you say that… puts me at ease.”
Rather than showing any emotion, he responded in a dry tone. Sang-hwa, watching his expression carefully, suddenly spoke—her timing catching him off guard.
“I made a mistake with you.”
“Pardon?”
“And I take full responsibility for that.”
Was she referring to having suspected him? Seon-woo had never really considered it her fault. Instead of answering directly, he simply raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in quiet reply. It was just like her—not to actually say the words I’m sorry.
“You gave me the chance to end it with my own hands, so I suppose I should thank you.”
Her voice was solemn, her expression showing the sting to her pride. That irony made Seon-woo smile, and he opened his mouth, ready to say something in response.
Just then, the door opened.
Until now, Seung-hyeon had been silently seated like a decorative plant. Suddenly, under the table, he grabbed Seon-woo’s hand—an unspoken warning to stay quiet.
Seon-woo closed his mouth at once and turned his head.
At last, the Chairman appeared.
Uhmm, yo también pensaba que el esposo de ella era un psicópata que mataría por ella, pero quien sabe si es verdad 🤔