The man with the dark hair, who looked like someone I certainly didn't want to cross, leaned back in his
chair, a bored expression on his face as he took a sip from his dark red drink.
"I'm a busy man, you know," he stated, his voice low and demanding. "Shut up and give me the money."
I sat across from him, dressed in my school uniform, and simply stared. The silence hung heavy, broken only by the faint music of the establishment. The small, cold glass of water I had wasn't helping my nerves.
A cold, uncomfortable dread settled in my stomach as he looked at me again. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing.
"I guess the money I gave you..." he began, his tone a mix of feigned surprise and thinly veiled threat, "...just wasn't enough."
My hands trembled slightly under the table. There was no point in arguing or trying to explain. I reached into my bag, pulling out a white envelope. My heart hammered against my ribs as I pushed it across the table.
"Here. Take it," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "This is all the cash I have."
His hand, with its sharp, defined knuckles, slid the envelope closer to him. He didn't even bother to open it; he knew I wouldn't dare to lie. His eyes met mine one last time, a chilling finality in his gaze.
"Please don't come back," he commanded. The words were a dismissal, a threat, and a plea all at once.
I nodded, standing up quickly, the scraping of my chair against the floor sounding deafening. I didn't look back as I hurried toward the exit, the taste of fear and defeat bitter on my tongue. I could only pray that this time, he meant it.
Ajin shrank back slightly in the corner booth, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. She didn't want to be here, witnessing this uncomfortable exchange. Her eyes flicked between the two men. One was dressed in a sharp, dark outfit—a truly intimidating figure—and the other, a young man, was uncomfortably formal in a school uniform.
The dark-haired man leaned across the table, his tone cutting through the low murmur of the establishment. "I'm a busy man, you know. Shut up and give me the money."
Ajin instinctively tensed. The air felt heavy with menace. The young man across from him simply stared, his face pale and set.
The intimidation continued. The man in dark clothes took a sip of his drink, his eyes narrow and calculating. "I guess the money I gave you... just wasn't enough." His words were a cold, sneering accusation.
Ajin could only imagine the fear pooling in the young man's gut.
Finally, the young man reached into his coat and produced a thick, white envelope. He slid it across the table. "Here. Take it. This is all the cash I have."
The hand that took the envelope was quick and efficient, a blur of movement that clearly indicated this wasn't a friendly transaction. The man in dark clothing didn't even check the contents. He just gave one last, chilling instruction.
"Please don't come back."
The young man stood, the silence of his departure speaking volumes. He moved quickly toward the exit, shoulders hunched, leaving Ajin with a lingering sense of unease and a question: What kind of trouble was h
I instinctively drew myself further into the shadows of the booth, trying to be an invisible observer. My eyes kept flickering between the two men at the table—the dark-haired one, radiating a casual but absolute menace, and the young man in the school uniform, who looked like a rabbit trapped under a spotlight.
The dark-haired man leaned back, taking a slow sip of his red drink, his voice cold and flat. "I'm a busy man, you know." He set the glass down with a slight thud. "Shut up and give me the money."
A knot tightened in my stomach. The silence that followed felt heavy, oppressive. The young man just stared, his expression unreadable, though his eyes betrayed his fear.
The older man pressed on, a sneer touching his lips. "I guess the money I gave you..." He paused, letting the implication hang in the air, before delivering the final, painful blow. "...just wasn't enough."
I watched as the young man, his hands trembling only slightly, reached inside his jacket. He pulled out a thick, white envelope and slid it across the table. "Here. Take it. This is all the cash I have."
The other man's hand was swift and practiced as it swept the envelope up. He didn't check it; he didn't need to. He just gave one final, chilling order, his gaze a warning shot.
"Please don't come back."
I held my breath as the young man rose quickly, his exit silent and swift. He was gone, leaving the intimidating figure alone with the envelope and the aftermath of a transaction I wished I'd never overheard.
The air hadn't even settled after the last exchange when the young man's voice, though quiet, cut through the tension with sudden, firm resolve.
"What did you just say...?" he challenged, his gaze unwavering. "I want you to stay away from us."
He leaned in, his voice dropping but his intent becoming crystal clear. "We want nothing to do with you."
The man in dark clothing, who had been relaxed only moments before, finally looked irritated. A smug, unsettling smile spread across his face. "That's no way to talk to your 'father' now, is it?" he drawled, pushing the word "father" out with a sickening sense of entitlement.
But the younger man wouldn't back down. He stood up, towering over the table as he delivered his final demand. "Don't contact us, even if you're lying in your death bed."
The dark-haired man's pleasant facade shattered. His eye, shown in a tight, angry close-up, was cold and furious. His voice became a snarl.
"Listen, dipsh*t. Ajin is my daughter."
He shuffled the cash in his hand, his eyes burning with outrage. "Who's gonna stop me from seeing my own kid, huh? I've just fallen on hard times and need a little help, that's all. Who do you think you are, kid?"
I shrank further into the booth, hoping to disappear. The word "daughter" echoed in my mind. This wasn't just about money; this was a toxic family drama unfolding right in front of me, and the mention of Ajin confirmed the true, horrible nature of the confrontation. The young man wasn't just paying a debt; he was desperately trying to buy his family's peace.
My guardian's panicked voice carried into the room: "I thought you said we'd only have to keep her around until the insurance payout!! You never told me we'd have to keep her for this long!."
And her father's reply, which she also hears:
My father's voice, low and callous, replied: "Calm down... I'm trying to find a way to make a buck off of her!"
If you meant the interaction between her and the person she calls "Hyeong-ju" (her protector), the most relevant sentence showing his double-edged defense is:
He leaned in, his voice dropping slightly but still audible. "Someone might actually think... that you're really her dad!"
"Blood is thicker than water. Family isn't something you can cut off with a couple words like that," he said, the words slithering out. His gaze met mine, cold and challenging. "I'm her father, and there's nothing you can do about it..."
In that moment, everything I had fought for—the carefully constructed distance, the facade of normalcy—felt meaningless. All my planning, my calculations... they were nothing to this casual declaration of ownership.
"...You little fker**." The words formed silently in my mind as I looked at him. I wanted to scream them, but I didn't. I held his gaze. I felt the paper-thin folder beneath my hand—the documents I had prepared for him. I pushed it across the table.
I saw the man I was with get up, sensing the confrontation, ready to leave. I watched him go, a blur of decency disappearing from the room. I felt a chill, then looked down at my hand covering the folder.
CLOSE. That's the piece of sh*t I know... What did I even expect?
"We want nothing to do with you." The lie tasted like ash. I knew Hyeong-ju was the only thing standing between me and being permanently drawn back into the chaos he represented. I had to find a way to make his words a reality. I had to push back, even if it was just an echo of the conversation Jaeo had just escaped.
The cold air bit at my lips, which were chapped and starting to bleed from the stress of the day. A persistent, jarring sound cut through the quiet: RRRRING RRRRING RRRING.
I pulled my phone out from my pocket, glancing briefly at the caller ID, and brought it to my ear. I was standing next to a weathered brick wall, illuminated faintly by a harsh, overhead light.
"HEY MISTER. IT'S ME, AJIN." My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a carefully crafted mask. "WHERE ARE YOU?"
I took a few steps, my eyes scanning the street, and pushed through a glass door. SLIDE. As I entered the building, a disembodied, cheerful voice chirped, "THANK YOU, COME AGAIN!" The contrast with my own state made my stomach clench.
My eyes were still darting around as I continued the lie on the phone. The lie was everything; it was my only weapon.
"ARE YOU LOOKING FOR MY DAD BY ANY CHANCE? IF YOU ARE, HE'S..." I paused, trying to sound helpful, innocent.
I spotted him—sitting alone, hunched over a table. He was the only one in the room.
My focus snapped away from the phone. I abruptly ended the call, shoving the device back into my pocket. I had all the information I needed. I walked toward the counter, placing my hands on the smooth, worn wood.
PUSH.
As I walked out a few minutes later, the confrontation already a cold, bitter memory, I found myself back by the brick wall. My phone was still in my hand. I stared down at the screen, my expression unreadable.
TAP TAP TAP. I sent one last text message, a final, necessary cut. The monster was temporarily gone, but I had to ensure the door was slammed shut behind him. I tucked the phone away and walked into the night.

I sat across the booth from the man, my hands politely clasped on the table. This wasn't the monster I had played along with at the school gate; this was another layer of rot in Ah Jin's life—her step-father. I knew who he was, and I knew how little he mattered, but I had to hear him out.
He took a slow, deliberate sip from his drink, then leaned forward, his eyes narrowed and critical. The air of fake authority he put on was repulsive.
"I'm only going to say this because I was your step-father, but…" he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, yet hateful, whisper. "...you should get away from that b*tch while you still can."
I remained silent, watching him. Let him talk. Let him reveal the true measure of his filth.
"She's not normal," he insisted, casually swirling the ice in his glass. "If you stick around her, she'll mess up your life. Got that?"
A flicker of something—contempt, maybe pity for his ignorance—crossed my face. He took my silence for compliance, the fool.
"ARE YOU LISTENING?!" he demanded, his voice suddenly sharp.
I simply met his gaze, my expression flat. "..."
He sighed, already bored with the effort of lecturing.
I finally spoke, my voice calm, contrasting sharply with his agitation. "ARE YOU DONE?" I waited a beat, watching the anger spark in his eyes, before delivering the real question. "Hey, just out of curiosity... do you even feel sorry toward Ajin?"
He froze. The question was too simple, too direct for his convoluted, selfish mind.
"WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" he snapped, snatching up his glass and taking another defensive drink.
I didn't need an answer. His confusion was all the confirmation I required. He truly saw her as a disposable object, a problem, a threat—never a victim, and certainly never a daughter. He was just another obstacle I would have to remove. I stood up from the booth, leaving him to stew in his own self-serving malice. I knew what she was. I knew what she had endured. And he would never come near her again.

I watched him across the table, my
silence pushing him to the edge. He had asked if I was listening. The question was whether he was listening to the unsaid answer.
"..." I paused, then delivered the truth with a simple finality. "NO."
He visibly stiffened, the confident smirk fading as my calm composure began to shred his false authority. He had told me to get away from I; now it was my turn to flip the script.
"I think YOU'RE the one who needs to get away."
His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly. He looked down at the cup he was holding as if seeking an answer in the cold liquid. "WHAT...?" he mumbled, clearly blindsided. His two associates, who had been looming quietly behind him, shifted uncomfortably, sensing the sudden, unfavorable change in the atmosphere. The conversation was over. There was nothing more to say. I rose from the booth and walked away.
The Impact
A short while later, I was standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. My mind was still replaying the day's various confrontations—my father, the step-father, the traitorous girl—when a sound like a thunderclap erupted nearby.
THWACK!
It was the sickening sound of metal hitting flesh, followed by a screech of tires. The crosswalk light changed from a solid red hand to the glowing, walking green figure.
Suddenly, a voice pierced the chaos from behind me. "YOUNG LADY!! WAIT!!"
I paused, freezing instantly in the crosswalk. Dash... dash... The sound of rushing footsteps was coming toward me. I looked over my shoulder, a question mark forming in my mind.
"? IS SHE TALKING TO ME...?" I was just a student in a uniform and a cap, blending into the city. Why was someone shouting at me? I turned fully, my eyes narrowed, preparing for yet another unavoidable entanglement.
I turned to see the source of the commotion: a man, slightly disheveled and clearly out of breath, sprinting toward me. He skidded to a stop, clutching his chest and heaving.
"PANT PANT PANT," he gasped. "OH MY GOSH, I'M SO OUT OF BREATH!"
I just stared, my face blank. "WHAT...?"
He ignored my confusion, pushing the words out between deep, ragged breaths. "WOULD YOU BE INTERESTED IN BECOMING AN ACTOR BY ANY CHANCE?!"
The absurdity of the question, right after the chaos of the hit-and-run and my own family drama, almost made me laugh. This was what he was running for? Not to help the accident victim, but to recruit me?
He straightened up, brushing his hand through his hair with a practiced, reassuring gesture. He forced a wide, unnervingly bright smile.
"STAY CALM! DON'T WORRY! THIS ISN'T SOME KIND OF SCAM."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek, dark business card, presenting it with a flourish.
"HERE. THIS IS MY BUSINESS CARD." He held it out, revealing the gilded logo of "LONE STAR ENTERTAINMENT" glinting under the streetlights. "YOU'VE HEARD OF OUR COMPANY, RIGHT?"
I finally accepted the card, my fingers brushing his. I looked down at the card, then back up at him. His desperate energy and my own deadened calm made for a strange juxtaposition. An actor. A mask for a living. The idea wasn't absurd at all.
I looked at the card, then at the name of the company that promised to make me a "star," and a cold, strategic thought solidified in my mind: A new stage. A new role. A new way to survive. I remained silent, letting my neutral expression betray nothing, but the thought of becoming someone else had already taken root.
I stared at the business card in my hand, the embossed "LONE STAR ENTERTAINMENT" shimmering under the dim streetlights.
"LONGSTAR ENTERTAINMENT...?" I murmured, the name tasting foreign on my tongue. I lifted my gaze, my expression unreadable. I hadn't truly processed the words spoken by the frantic man, only the opportunity they represented. A new stage, a different identity. A chance to be someone else entirely.
My mind, however, was a cold, calculating machine, already weighing the implications, the potential. I felt a faint stir of something akin to curiosity, though my face remained impassive. The possibility of escape, of reinvention, felt tantalizingly close.
Meanwhile, not far from where I stood, the insidious plotting against me continued. Seonghee, clutching her phone like a lifeline, typed furiously, a smirk twisting her lips.
"THIS RECORDING WILL PROVE WHAT A PIECE OF SH*T JUNSEO IS!" she muttered to herself, her eyes alight with spite. She scrolled through her phone, convinced she had the upper hand, unaware that her machinations had already been intercepted by Junseo himself, who had shown his true ruthless side.
A harsh voice cut through the night. "HEY, SEONGHEE!!!"
She flinched, startled, looking up. The sudden sound made her clench her phone even tighter.
"HA! THROW ME OFF THE TOP OF A BUILDING?!" she scoffed, a desperate bravado in her tone. "YEAH, RIGHT!! AS IF THAT EVEN SCARES ME!"
She knew the threat was real, yet she refused to back down, her hatred overriding any sense of self-preservation. Her eyes narrowed, fixed on some unseen target.
"I WON'T TAKE THIS LYING DOWN!!" she screamed, her voice cracking with fury. Her fingers flew across the screen, convinced her digital evidence would be her salvation. "YOU'RE SO DEAD!"
She was so utterly consumed by her vengeance that she didn't see the true depth of the game she was playing, or the players far more dangerous than herself.
held the slick, dark business card in my hand, the gold lettering for 'LONE STAR ENTERTAINMENT' catching the faint street glow. The man who gave it to me had just rushed off, leaving me with this absurd offer.
"LONGSTAR ENTERTAINMENT...?" I murmured, the name a dull echo in the silence.
I didn't need to ask if I'd heard of them, even though the man had. My gaze was fixed on the card, but my mind was focused inward, calculating. The idea was simple, cold, and perfect: a mask for a living. This was a way to transcend my wretched reality and become the ultimate actor—not just in life, but on a stage. My expression remained entirely neutral, giving away none of the strategic gears turning in my head.
A short distance away, the night air crackled with venom. Seonghee, fueled by fury and humiliation, was hunched over her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.
"THIS RECORDING WILL PROVE WHAT A PIECE OF SH*T JUNSEO IS!" she hissed, a desperate, ugly smirk stretching her lips. "I'll—"
A voice, sharp and commanding, ripped through her concentration. "HEY, SEONGHEE!!!"
She flinched, but her rage quickly overtook her fear. She knew Junseo had threatened her, but she refused to be intimidated.
"HA! THROW ME OFF THE TOP OF A BUILDING?!" she scoffed into the phone she was clutching. "YEAH, RIGHT!! AS IF THAT EVEN SCARES ME!"
She typed her final, malicious thoughts, her braid whipping slightly as she shook her head in defiant, defeated fury. "I WON'T TAKE THIS LYING DOWN!!" she shrieked, her face contorted with hatred. "YOU'RE SO DEAD!"
Oblivious to Seonghee's self-destructive outburst, I finally slipped the business card into my bag. I had just found the means to reinvent myself completely, leaving the petty, screaming betrayals of my past far behind.
Seonghee hunched over her phone, a twisted grin on her face. Her voice was low and consumed by spite. "THIS RECORDING WILL PROVE WHAT A PIECE OF SH*T JUNSEO IS!" she muttered, hitting the keys rapidly. "I'll—"
A distant shout cut her off: "HEY, SEONGHEE!!!"
She looked up sharply, clutching her phone as if it were a talisman. She was standing alone near the railing of a bridge or overpass. Ahead of her, a group of students blocked the path.
"W-WHAT...? WHAT ARE THEY ALL DOING HERE...?" Her momentary confidence dissolved into panicked confusion. They stood in a grim line, their faces dark and accusatory.
The leader of the group stepped forward, his eyes burning with anger. "WE HEARD YOU'RE BEING TRANSFERRED TO ANOTHER SCHOOL!!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the early evening air.
Another student chimed in, equally furious: "YOU'RE JUST GONNA RUN AWAY, HUH?!"
The hostility was palpable. They weren't just angry; they were there for retribution.
"YOU NEVER EVEN APOLOGIZED TO US, YOU B*TCH!!" the first boy spat.
Seonghee staggered back, her face a mask of disbelief and fear. She had been so focused on ruining Junseo and I, she hadn't accounted for the network of people who actually cared about I's reputation.
She stumbled, then regained her footing, screaming back at them, her plotting forgotten in the face of this sudden threat. She was cornered, and the truth slipped out, twisted by her own jealousy. "AJIN WAS RIGHT!" she shrieked, her own self-serving malice exploding. I had clearly warned people about her, and now her transfer—her forced escape—was being intercepted by a vengeful mob. The retribution she had planned for others was now raining down on her instead.
Seonghee was oblivious to everything except the small screen glowing in her hand. A smug, victorious smile spread across her face as she typed, convinced she was securing her revenge.
"HEH. THIS RECORDING WILL PROVE WHAT A PIECE OF SH*T JUNSEO IS!" she muttered. "I'll—"
The sharp sound of a voice sliced through the cold air. "HEY, SEONGHEE!!!"
She snapped her head up. A wave of confusion and immediate panic washed over her as she took in the sight. A group of students was blocking the path ahead on the bridge, standing shoulder-to-shoulder like a grim firing squad.
"W-WHAT...? WHAT ARE THEY ALL DOING HERE...?" she whispered, her eyes wide. They stood in silence for a tense moment, their faces shadowed with hostility.
The middle student—a boy with a furious, rigid expression—stepped forward. "WE HEARD YOU'RE BEING TRANSFERRED TO ANOTHER SCHOOL!!" he yelled, his voice cracking with outrage.
Another student pushed past him, fueling the confrontation. "YOU'RE JUST GONNA RUN AWAY, HUH?!"
Seonghee stumbled back, her defensive facade crumbling. She had been so consumed by her hatred for I and Junseo that she hadn't realized how many people she had alienated or how many were loyal to the people she tried to destroy.
"YOU NEVER EVEN APOLOGIZED TO US, YOU B*TCH!!" the middle student spat, stepping closer. The rest of the group surged forward, the collective anger closing in on her.
Cornered and desperate, Seonghee let out a frantic shriek, the full extent of her jealousy and defeat finally breaking through. Her plotting was exposed, and her only escape—the transfer—was being blocked by the consequences of her own malice. "AJIN WAS RIGHT!" she screamed, condemning herself in her own final, bitter admission. She raised her phone, ready to fight, but she was entirely surrounded. Her time was up.
Seonghee was entirely surrounded, their faces contorted in furious accusation. The truth of her malicious schemes was now fully exposed, and the crowd was baying for retribution.
A girl in the front line shrieked, her voice high-pitched and laced with contempt: "YEAH! YOU MADE US LOOK LIKE IDIOTS!!!"
Seonghee threw up her hands in a desperate, last-ditch attempt to halt the onslaught. She tried to appear rational, the calculated student she pretended to be. "WHAT ARE Y'ALL TALKING ABOUT...?" she pleaded, her voice wavering. She took a nervous step back. "JUST CALM DOWN FOR A SECOND AND--"
Her plea was instantly and violently rejected. The students didn't want reason; they wanted revenge.
"HOW DARE YOU TELL US TO CALM DOWN AFTER WHAT YOU DID!!!" shouted the lead boy.
Suddenly, the dam broke. The students surged forward, rushing up the stairs toward her, their figures seeming to loom large and dark against the sky. Seonghee's eyes went wide with pure, paralyzing terror. She had pushed everyone too far, and now the consequences were physical. "...!!"
She fumbled for her phone, uselessly, as the angry students closed the distance, overwhelming her with their collective fury. Her final, spiteful plan had not only failed but had led directly to her own catastrophic downfall.
The angry students were on her in a flash. They didn't hit her; they wanted her to feel their hatred. As one girl grabbed Seonghee's backpack straps, the momentum threw Seonghee forward.
"AAAAH!" she screamed, desperately flailing her arm out, clutching the single item that held her power: her phone. She felt the phone slip from her grasp as she was pushed against the metal railing.
Her eyes, wide and horrified, followed the pink object as it sailed over the edge. It tumbled through the air, briefly backlit by a streetlamp before disappearing into the darkness below the overpass. The sound of a passing vehicle—VROOOOOM—was the last thing she heard before her vision went white with despair.
The mob pulled away, leaving Seonghee collapsed on the ground, bruised but unhurt. She scrambled back on her hands and knees, staring into the dark abyss where her life-ruining recording had just vanished.
Then, from the street below, came a sickening sound.
A black tire, huge and unforgiving, rolled over something small and pink. CRUNCH.
Seonghee watched in paralyzing horror as the vehicle drove away, leaving behind the shattered remains of her phone and the evidence it held.
"NO...!" she choked out, tears finally streaming down her face. She stretched her hand out toward the mangled plastic and metal. "MY PHONE...!"
Her one last weapon, her single piece of leverage against Junseo and I, was gone, crushed into dust by the indifferent machinery of the world. All her plotting, all her spite, had led to this humiliating, final defeat. She was left alone, kneeling on the cold, hard ground, staring at the fragments of her ruin
I sat opposite my biological father, the man who represented every wound I carried. I had come to sever the last, rotten link between us, but his arrogance was boundless.
"BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER. Family isn't something you can cut off with a couple words like that," he declared, leaning back smugly. His eyes held a terrifying confidence, the look of a man who believed his claim over me was absolute. "I'M HER FATHER, AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT..."
My face remained blank, but inside, I tasted ash. I looked at his smirking face, then at the man in the background—the person I cared about—getting up and moving away. I reached out and deliberately pressed my hand down on the file of papers between us, finalizing my own cold resolve.
"...YOU LITTLE F**KER," my father sneered, his voice dropping to a low growl when he saw my unwavering gaze.
I didn't flinch. I just looked at the papers under my hand. CLOSE. That's the piece of sh*t I knew. WHAT DID I EVEN EXPECT? I knew he would never truly leave. That bond of "blood," as he called it, was a chain I would have to saw through myself, one calculated move at a time. I looked up again, catching the light reflecting off the smooth, dark cafe surface.
The Retribution
While I sat in the cafe, detached and planning, the chaos I had helped ignite reached its crescendo elsewhere. Seonghee, the pathetic, screaming girl who had tried to betray me, faced the mob of students. They didn't pause for conversation. They charged.
Her panicked eyes, wet and frantic, pleaded with the approaching group. "YOU STUPID... WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
She was met only with the dark silhouettes of their fury.
On the high overpass, the violence began. There were sharp, sickening sounds of impact: KICK, SMACK, THUD. The students worked quickly, punishing her not with words, but with swift, brutal justice for the trouble she had stirred up.
After the sounds faded, there was only silence and the stark, uncompromising geometry of the world. Above, a bright, lonely overhead lamp cast a warm, artificial glow, illuminating the empty path.
Below, in the cold light, I finally finished my last drink and rose, stepping out of the shadows of the cafe and into the night. The light above my head was brilliant, clean, and entirely under my control. I knew the path forward was to become the brightest light myself, and to ensure everyone else remained firmly in the dark.
The cold, late afternoon air made my chapped lips sting. The insistent RRRRING RRRRING of my phone was a jarring sound against the brick wall I leaned against. I had a cap pulled low, shadowing my face, and a fresh smear of blood on my lower lip—a small sign of stress I was determined to hide.
I answered the call, my voice flat and controlled. "Hey, mister. It's me, I." I knew exactly who I was talking to and why. "Where are you?"
I pushed off the wall and walked toward a nearby business. The door slid open—SLIDE—and a cheerful voice chirped, "THANK YOU, COME AGAIN!" I ignored it, focused only on my mission. I continued speaking into the phone, maintaining the charade. "Are you looking for my dad by any chance? If you are, he's..."
My eyes locked onto him: my father, sitting alone and unaware. I abruptly ended the call without finishing the sentence. The lie had done its job.
I walked up to the counter—PUSH—and placed my order, securing my spot. As I waited, I saw Hyeong-ju sitting nearby, quietly observing. He was my alibi, my shield, and my witness.
The Severing
I sat down across from my father. I didn't waste time on pleasantries; I wanted him gone. He, however, was determined to maintain his illusion of power.
"BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER," he said, leaning back with a sneer. "Family isn't something you can cut off with a couple words like that. I'm her father, and there's nothing you can do about it..."
I saw Hyeong-ju get up from his seat, moving discreetly to leave the cafe, knowing his presence was no longer needed for this stage of the confrontation. My father noticed my unwavering gaze and dropped the smooth talk.
"...YOU LITTLE F**KER," he growled.
I didn't flinch. I reached out and deliberately pressed my hand down on the envelope I had brought. CLOSE. The papers within were the final, official rejection of his claim. I looked at the dark, familiar arrogance in his eye. THAT'S THE PIECE OF SH*T I KNOW... WHAT DID I EVEN EXPECT? I knew a legal document wouldn't stop him, but it was a necessary step.
I left the cafe, pushing back through the glass door. Outside, I paused by the brick wall and pulled out my phone. TAP TAP TAP. I sent a message, confirming the final phase of my plan was underway.
The Aftermath
I found Hyeong-ju waiting for me in a dimly lit, narrow corridor. He looked concerned, but as always, composed.
"WERE YOU WAITING FOR ME...?" I asked, my voice softer now.
"YEAH," he confirmed.
"WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM...?" I already had my suspicions, but I needed the details.
"HIS LOANSHARK CAME BY WITH A BUNCH OF CRONIES," Hyeong-ju explained simply. "I THINK THEY WERE NEARBY AND SAW HIM SITTING INSIDE THE CAFE."
I absorbed the information. The trap was set, the father was distracted, and the threat was neutralized, at least for now. I looked at Hyeong-ju, this complicated friend who stood by me, knowing his silence meant approval. We understood each other perfectly. The confrontation was over, and the stage for my next move was clear.
The persistent RRRRING RRRING of my phone cut through the evening quiet. I leaned against a brick wall, my hat pulled low over my eyes, a tiny cut on my lip the only sign of the stress I kept locked down. I answered, my voice deliberately flat.
"HEY MISTER. IT'S ME, I. WHERE ARE YOU?"
I walked, the phone pressed to my ear. SLIDE. As I entered the quiet establishment, a canned voice chirped, "THANK YOU, COME AGAIN!" I ignored it, spotting my target. "ARE YOU LOOKING FOR MY DAD BY ANY CHANCE? IF YOU ARE, HE'S..." I trailed off and ended the call abruptly. I was already in place.
I walked to the counter, then turned and spotted Hyeong-ju sitting nearby, my silent accomplice. PUSH.
I then sat across from my biological father. He immediately tried to claim ownership. "BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER. Family isn't something you can cut off with a couple words like that. I'M HER FATHER, AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT..."
I didn't react, only watched him. He saw my lack of fear and the true, ugly nature of the man slipped out: "...YOU LITTLE F**KER."
I reached out and pressed my hand down on the file of separation documents. CLOSE. THAT'S THE PIECE OF SH*T I KNOW... WHAT DID I EVEN EXPECT? I knew that leaving the cafe was just the beginning. I stood up and left, pausing outside to send a final text message. TAP TAP TAP. The trap was now sprung.
The Second Monster
My mind flashed back to an earlier confrontation, a conversation Hyeong-ju had with my step-father. The man's words were a fresh wound, echoing my biological father's callousness.
"I'M ONLY GOING TO SAY THIS BECAUSE I WAS YOUR STEP-FATHER, BUT... YOU SHOULD GET AWAY FROM THAT B*TCH WHILE YOU STILL CAN. SHE'S NOT NORMAL. IF YOU STICK AROUND HER, SHE'LL MESS UP YOUR LIFE. GOT THAT?"
Hyeong-ju had met that bile with clinical detachment. "... ARE YOU LISTENING?" the step-father had demanded.
"ARE YOU DONE?" Hyeong-ju asked, before delivering the ultimate blow. "HEY, JUST OUT OF CURIOSITY... DO YOU EVEN FEEL SORRY TOWARD AJIN?"
The man could only sputter, "WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
Hyeong-ju pressed the point, his resolve unshakeable. "... NO. I THINK YOU'RE THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO GET AWAY." The step-father's face twisted in shock. "WHAT...?"
Aftermath and Comfort
My thoughts snapped back to the present. As I walked, I heard a terrible sound nearby: THWACK! The sound of impact was immediately followed by the crosswalk light changing to the WALKING GREEN MAN.
A voice shouted, "YOUNG LADY!! WAIT!!"
DASH DASH. I paused at the curb, staring at the figure rushing toward me. "? IS SHE TALKING TO ME...?" I braced myself.
But the most important entanglement was the one I sought out. I found Hyeong-ju waiting.
I looked at him, searching his expression. "ARE YOU OKAY, AJIN...?" he asked.
"HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL?" I countered, because he knew the answer. He always did.
"OH... I'M SORRY. THAT WAS A STUPID QUESTION," he murmured, his gaze falling to our feet.
Then, he closed the distance. He pulled me into his arms, a rare moment of unguarded warmth in my life. "DON'T WORRY... HE WON'T BE BACK ANYTIME SOON. WE'RE OKAY."
He held me tight. In the dim light, surrounded by the chaos of the world I had just manipulated, his quiet promise was the only truth I needed.
The cold air was a welcome contrast to the burning resentment inside me. A persistent RRRRING RRRING from my pocket demanded attention. I pulled my cap low and answered, my voice steady despite the tiny smear of blood on my lip.
"HEY MISTER. IT'S ME, I. WHERE ARE YOU?"
I walked, the phone pressed to my ear. The door of the cafe slid open—SLIDE—and a cheerful voice chirped, "THANK YOU, COME AGAIN!" I ignored it, spotting my father sitting alone. "ARE YOU LOOKING FOR MY DAD BY ANY CHANCE? IF YOU ARE, HE'S..." I ended the call abruptly. The bait was set.
I walked up to the counter—PUSH—and secured my position. I saw Hyeong-ju (Junseo) in the background, a silent accomplice. I sat opposite my father and let the facade drop.
"BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER," he sneered, claiming ownership. "I'M HER FATHER, AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT..."
He noticed my cold silence and the true ugliness emerged. "...YOU LITTLE F**KER."
I reached out and pressed my hand down on the severance documents. CLOSE. THAT'S THE PIECE OF SH*T I KNOW... WHAT DID I EVEN EXPECT? My blood was cold, my decision final. I rose and left the cafe, stopping only to send a final, decisive text message against a brick wall. TAP TAP TAP.
The Two Monsters
My mind flashed back to an earlier conversation I had instructed Hyeong-ju to initiate with my step-father—another monster I needed neutralized.
I recalled the step-father's disgusting smugness: "I'M ONLY GOING TO SAY THIS BECAUSE I WAS YOUR STEP-FATHER, BUT... YOU SHOULD GET AWAY FROM THAT B*TCH WHILE YOU STILL CAN. SHE'S NOT NORMAL. IF YOU STICK AROUND HER, SHE'LL MESS UP YOUR LIFE. GOT THAT?"
Hyeong-ju, however, did not flinch. He met the malice with an icy challenge. "... ARE YOU LISTENING?" the man demanded. "ARE YOU DONE?" Hyeong-ju countered. "HEY, JUST OUT OF CURIOSITY... DO YOU EVEN FEEL SORRY TOWARD AJIN?" The man stammered, exposed. "WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Hyeong-ju finished it. "... NO. I THINK YOU'RE THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO GET AWAY."
The Distraction and the Opportunity
My concentration was broken by a loud, nearby THWACK! of a car crash. I looked over and saw the crosswalk signal change to the WALKING GREEN MAN.
Then, a frantic voice shouted, "YOUNG LADY!! WAIT!!"
DASH DASH. I paused at the curb. "? IS SHE TALKING TO ME...?"
A man, disheveled and out of breath, collapsed near me. "PANT PANT PANT. OH MY GOSH, I'M SO OUT OF BREATH!" he gasped. "WOULD YOU BE INTERESTED IN BECOMING AN ACTOR BY ANY CHANCE?!"
I stared at him, my expression unreadable. He scrambled to reassure me, forcing a wide, nervous smile. "STAY CALM! DON'T WORRY! THIS ISN'T SOME KIND OF SCAM. HERE. THIS IS MY BUSINESS CARD." He handed me the slick, embossed card. "LONGSTAR ENTERTAINMENT...?" I murmured, my gaze fixed on the gold lettering. "YOU'VE HEARD OF OUR COMPANY, RIGHT?"
An acting career. A mask. A perfect stage for my true self. The thought was intoxicating.
The Finality
I walked away from the chaos, my mind already calculating the angles. I hadn't seen Seonghee's pathetic final efforts—her screaming defiance against Junseo's threat: "HA! THROW ME OFF THE TOP OF A BUILDING?! YEAH, RIGHT!! AS IF THAT EVEN SCARES ME! I WON'T TAKE THIS LYING DOWN!! YOU'RE SO DEAD!"—but I knew she was irrelevant now.
My focus returned to the man in the cafe. The one who shared my blood.
In a quiet moment later, I was reflecting on the blood tie, the source of all my misery. My hand squeezed tight, an unconscious motion of pure resolve.
"JUNSEO HAS NO IDEA..." I thought, my gaze focused on an unseen future. "...THAT THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING. THIS WON'T END UNTIL EITHER THAT BASTARD OR I AM DEAD... ...BECAUSE WE'RE ENTWINED BY BLOOD."
The blood bond was a curse, and the only way to break it was destruction. Whether I pursued the acting career or not, I knew my life's role was now set: eliminate the man who created me.
In the offices of LONG STAR ENTERTAINMENT, the CEO's door plaque gleamed. "CEO'S OFFICE."
"SO? HOW DID IT GO?" a voice asked.
"SHE POLITELY BUT FIRMLY REFUSED," came the reply.
They didn't know I hadn't refused the idea. I had only refused the timeline. The real performance was about to begin.
The cold night air bit at my lip, where a small cut bled slightly. The RRRRING RRRING of my phone was a necessary cue. I had my cap pulled low. "HEY MISTER. IT'S ME, I. WHERE ARE YOU?"
I walked, the call still active. The door slid open—SLIDE—and a saccharine voice chirped, "THANK YOU, COME AGAIN!" I spotted him, my biological father, the ultimate source of my pain. "ARE YOU LOOKING FOR MY DAD BY ANY CHANCE? IF YOU ARE, HE'S..." I hung up. The trap was set.
I entered the cafe, walking up to the counter—PUSH. I sat across from the man who claimed me by blood. "BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER," he insisted, his face a mask of smug entitlement. "I'M HER FATHER, AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT..."
I watched him. The true venom emerged. "...YOU LITTLE F**KER."
My own gaze remained cold. I pressed my hand down on the papers I'd brought. CLOSE. THAT'S THE PIECE OF SH*T I KNOW... WHAT DID I EVEN EXPECT? I knew the documents wouldn't stop him, but my real plan was already in motion. I left and paused outside for a final move. TAP TAP TAP.
Earlier, I'd had Hyeong-ju confront my step-father—another monster trying to claim a piece of me. The step-father's advice was predictable rot: "I'M ONLY GOING TO SAY THIS BECAUSE I WAS YOUR STEP-FATHER, BUT... YOU SHOULD GET AWAY FROM THAT B*TCH WHILE YOU STILL CAN. SHE'S NOT NORMAL. IF YOU STICK AROUND HER, SHE'LL MESS UP YOUR LIFE. GOT THAT?"
Hyeong-ju, my shield, had remained calm. "ARE YOU DONE?" he asked. Then, the clean cut: "I THINK YOU'RE THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO GET AWAY." The man was speechless. "WHAT...?"
The Retribution and the Opportunity
As I walked away from the cafe, a sharp noise pierced the air: THWACK! I saw the crosswalk signal change—WALKING GREEN MAN. Then a man, breathless and frantic, ran up to me.
"PANT PANT PANT. OH MY GOSH, I'M SO OUT OF BREATH! WOULD YOU BE INTERESTED IN BECOMING AN ACTOR BY ANY CHANCE?!" he gasped.
I stared at him. "WHAT...?"
"STAY CALM! DON'T WORRY! THIS ISN'T SOME KIND OF SCAM. HERE. THIS IS MY BUSINESS CARD." He handed me the slick black card. "LONG STAR ENTERTAINMENT...?" I murmured, my eyes fixed on the gold letters. "YOU'VE HEARD OF OUR COMPANY, RIGHT?"
A new identity. A new life. The chance to become someone else entirely was the only thing that mattered.
Meanwhile, Seonghee, the fool who dared challenge me, was finding out the true price of malice. She clutched her phone, convinced she had a winning hand against Hyeong-ju. "HEH. THIS RECORDING WILL PROVE WHAT A PIECE OF SH*T JUNSEO IS! I'LL-- "
A group of students loyal to me had surrounded her. "HEY, SEONGHEE!!!"
She backed up in terror. "W-WHAT...? WHAT ARE THEY ALL DOING HERE...?"
They surrounded her, their faces contorted in righteous anger. "WE HEARD YOU'RE BEING TRANSFERRED TO ANOTHER SCHOOL!! YOU'RE JUST GONNA RUN AWAY, HUH?! YOU NEVER EVEN APOLOGIZED TO US, YOU B*TCH!!"
She let out a cry of frantic, exposed malice. "AJIN WAS RIGHT!"
The girl who had been quiet now shrieked, "YEAH! YOU MADE US LOOK LIKE IDIOTS!!!"
Seonghee tried to negotiate, raising her hands in surrender. "WHAT ARE Y'ALL TALKING ABOUT...? JUST CALM DOWN FOR A SECOND AND--"
The boy leading them cut her off. "HOW DARE YOU TELL US TO CALM DOWN AFTER WHAT YOU DID!!!" They charged. AAAAH!
In the struggle, her phone flew over the railing—VROOOOOM—only to be crushed by a passing tire. CRUNCH. She knelt, sobbing. "NO...! MY PHONE...!"
One Year Later
In the offices of Long Star Entertainment, the talent scout pleaded his case. "IT'S THE SECOND TIME IN MY LIFE I SPRINTER IN HIGH HEELS LIKE THAT. I GUESS I REALLY LIKED HER," he sighed. "THE WORST PART IS... I DON'T THINK SHE'S EVER HEARD OF OUR COMPANY... UGH, IF SHE DEBUTS UNDER ANOTHER COMPANY, I'D JUST KEEL OVER AND DIE."
His superior, In-kang, coolly adjusted his sunglasses. "THAT'S WHY I KEEP TELLING YOU... YOU NEED TO FOCUS MORE ON BRAND RECOGNITION, MS. SEO!"
Ms. Seo shot back, "WHAT?! THAT'S YOUR JOB, INKANG! YOU SHOULD WORK HARDER AND GET OUR COMPANY'S NAME OUT THERE! HOW MUCH HARDER DO YOU WANT ME TO WORK?!"
Meanwhile, a report was given to the CEO: "SHE POLITELY BUT FIRMLY REFUSED. I DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO CHANGE HER MIND. SHE HAS MY BUSINESS CARD THOUGH."
The CEO smiled. "YOU MUST HAVE REALLY LIKED HER. YOU'VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT HER FOR HALF AN HOUR."
The refusal was a temporary setback, but the seed was planted.
ONE YEAR LATER
One year later, the world had changed. Seonghee was gone, her malice crushed. My father was preoccupied with his loan sharks. And I? I was ready for my new role. The world was now my stage.