I watched him drop to his knees, his broad shoulders beginning to shake. It was a pathetic sight, and yet it didn't give me the satisfaction I craved. He had to understand. He had to know what he was to me.
"W-what are you doing...?" Seongyu Baek choked out, his voice already thick with unshed tears. He was dressed in that comfortable gray hoodie and black jacket—the same outfit he wore when he'd first confessed to me, a lifetime ago.
I kept my voice even, measured. "I gave you the best I could. I worked so hard to be a good partner for you." I knelt down opposite him, closing the small gap between us. I needed him to see the sincerity in my eyes, even if the words were poison.
"Or are you just not smart enough to see why my attitude toward you suddenly changed overnight?" I asked, a rhetorical question laced with a bitter sting. He deserved that cruelty. He deserved the truth, laid bare and ugly.
"I used you, just like Rena did!"
The words hung in the air, a physical blow. Baek's eyes widened, a fresh wave of tears spilling onto his cheeks. The shame and devastation in his expression were profound.
He finally managed to whisper, "Did... did you ever love me...?"
I paused, allowing the silence to stretch, to let him truly feel the weight of the moment. Then, with a cold clarity that surprised even myself, I gave him my answer.
"I did..."
I stood up, walking a few steps away to survey the man I was leaving behind. "I loved everything you had to offer. Your fame, money, connections... and all the other benefits that came with you. I loved it all. That's why I dated you."
Slap!
The sound echoed, sharp and immediate. I hadn't even processed his movement before his open palm cracked across my cheek. The force of it knocked my head back, leaving a burning redness. He was on his feet now, his body trembling, tears streaming.
I recovered quickly, tasting a coppery tang on my lip. I looked him in the eye, my own expression completely blank. "You can hit me some more, if that helps you feel better. Or should I do what Rena did?"
He stared at me, uncomprehending. The shock had rendered him speechless, all but a tearful, whispered, "...?"
"Stand up... will you please just stand up?" I said, my voice dropping back to that careful, condescending tone. "I just want you to know that I tried to be as considerate as possible when I ended things with you." I reached out, taking his arm to try and pull him up, but he yanked it away.
"I told you how I felt about our relationship in person, and handled telling the news to the media about our split. I tried the cleanest break possible for both our sakes."
"STOP IT, AJIN!" he yelled, his hands covering his ears.
I lowered my voice, my gaze hardening. "You didn't even lose anything by breaking up with me. But you put me in a difficult spot because you could only think about your feelings. You made me angry... just like... Seongyu Baek, the human being I despised the most."
I turned, leaving him alone in the crushing darkness, his broken sobs chasing me out the door. The performance was over. My freedom was worth the guilt.
The Aftermath: Seongyu's Despair
Baek stood there, the sting on his hand from the slap a dull sensation compared to the searing pain in his chest. I used you, just like Rena did! Rena. The woman who broke him before. Ajin had known that, and yet she'd weaponized it.
He stumbled, falling back to his knees. The darkness of the empty space seemed to swallow him whole. His hands gripped his head, his tears falling fast and silent now. I loved everything you had to offer. Your fame, money, connections...
He'd loved her. He had worked, struggled, tried his best just to be a good partner—a good man—for her. And all he was, was a wallet, a stepping stone, a convenience. He was a fool.
The image of her final, venomous words echoed in his mind: Seongyu Baek, the human being I despised the most. The worst part? She was right about one thing. He hadn't lost anything material. He had only lost the last shred of his belief in love, and in himself. He felt utterly and completely exposed, ruined by the two people who were supposed to care for him the most. He was alone with his despair, and the crushing knowledge that for both of them, he had simply been a means to an end.
He was still kneeling on the floor, his face soaked with tears. He couldn't grasp the reality I was handing him.
"Didn't lose anything...?! What the hell do you think we were?! This wasn't a business transaction. We were in love!" he screamed, his voice raw with disbelief and grief.
His pain barely registered with me. It was an inconvenience, a delay.
"If you never loved me, then what the hell have I been doing for a year?" he pleaded, trying to cling to my arm, his eyes wide with a desperate, crushing realization. "A clean break...? Did you really think a clean break would even be possible after I found out that I was the only one who was ever in love?!"
I pulled my arm away and crouched down, meeting his gaze with a chilling indifference. "That's not my problem..."
"What...?" He could only stare.
I stood up and spoke with finality, pushing my fingers lightly against his chest to put distance between us. "If you're done, please get out. I'll call the police if you keep yelling at me."
He took a shaky step back, his eyes finally seeing me clearly—not the woman he loved, but the stranger who had just shattered his world. "There's something... really wrong with you..." he whispered, the truth cutting through his despair.
My expression didn't change. I merely gestured toward the door. "Take that on your way out. It's a box of your things."
I looked at his face one last time, my eyes cold and steady. "If you don't take it, I'll just toss them all."
I watched him go, a weeping, broken shell of a man, before turning away, the intense scene already fading from my mind.
The Aftermath
That's when it hit him... that I had really been... the only one in love all this time.
It also dawned on him then... that the Ajin he loved... had never been in love, or had ever lost love.
The memory of the break-up was immediately replaced by the sound of a creaking door.
SQUEAAAK
I saw a figure standing in the doorway of a bedroom, a figure who had clearly been hiding during the scene.
"You told me not to come outside, no matter what..." the figure said, stepping out, their voice flat. "Why'd you say those things to his face...? You could have calmed him down and just asked him to leave."
I glanced back toward the door Seongyu had just walked through, my expression softening slightly now that the performance was over.
"I said those things to him because I had to."
I walked over to the nightstand, where a small lamp cast a dim light. "Have you been taking a nap on my bed...?" I asked, dismissing the intense breakup that had just happened. "I half expected you to burst out, swinging your fists."
"Anyway, is there a way to remove the sound from the video of the living room?" I asked, my focus now completely shifted.
The figure's eyes were shadowed, contemplative. They didn't look happy with my actions.
"... It won't be useful unless the sound can be removed and some of the footage can be cut out."
I nodded, the immediate threat of my ex-boyfriend was gone, and now only the problem of controlling the narrative remained. The cold, calculating process of cleaning up the 'clean break' had just begun.
I walked toward the man who had been hiding. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders still tense.
"You said you did what you had to do, right?" he asked, looking up at me with a steady, if tired, gaze. "Look, I trust you, so I don't think you'd say and do those things without good reason. That's why I stayed put."
I pulled a chair over and sat opposite him. "I'm telling you this because I think you're overreacting, and is making a lot of weird assumptions about me."
He shook his head, looking away. "And here I was thinking you were going to tell me something really serious."
"It would be okay if they stayed as assumptions," I countered, leaning in, my voice serious. "But I can't have him go around spreading rumors about me. That footage is my insurance. I need some cards in my hand."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But I don't plan on releasing the video."
"What? Then why...?" he asked, confusion replacing his mild frustration.
"Inkang's brother overheard something..." I began, my gaze drifting to the floor as I explained the added complication.
He listened, then let out a long, weary sigh. "Jeez, Ajin. You live a complicated life." He flopped back onto the bed, covering his eyes with his arm. "Is that normal in your industry...?"
"Umm, I don't think so?" I replied, watching him. He was trying to rationalize my chaos.
He spoke again, his voice muffled. "If you use the people around you and treat them like that, you'll only end up with a headache. You should just stick to using me, like I told you."
I watched him for a moment, letting his words sink in. He reached out and grasped my hand, a reassuring gesture. "I don't understand, but I'm choosing to believe that you're going through something I don't fully understand."
My eyebrows raised slightly. "So...? What exactly are you trying to say?"
He turned his head to look at me, a worried expression clouding his face. "You can do whatever you want. Just don't start anything I can't clean up. God, you're making me so worried, I don't know how I'm going to leave you."
The Pity Trap
I shook my head and withdrew my hand. "Don't worry. I'm using you enough already. Also, where did you get the idea that I pity you? I did what I did to Inkang because the opportunity presented itself."
He gave me a wry smile. "You've pitied me since high school. You were nice to me because you felt bad for me, no?" He sat up, his expression serious now. "You could have asked me to dig up dirt on Inkang instead of letting him slap you. Everyone has something on them. Do you still pity me or have trouble trusting me?"
I felt a sudden, sharp defensive sting. "Do you really think I'm capable of feeling bad for people?" I shot back, leaning over him. My face was close to his. "If it isn't pity, then what is it...?"
I watched his face, searching for a sign of understanding.
"I felt a sense of kinship with you... because I grew up being beaten too."
I hadn't intended to say it, and the admission hung heavy in the air. The truth was out, a vulnerable moment in a relationship built on cold calculation. Now that he knew, I had to see what he would do with it.
"Y-you grew up getting beat up?" he stammered, his body jolting as I finished my confession.
I lay back on the bed, my expression calm. "Yup. I'm so used to being hit now. It doesn't even hurt anymore."
He hovered over me, his voice rising in disbelief. "How could you say that with such a calm face?!"
I looked him in the eye, unflinching. "Then am I supposed to cry as I tell you this? No one ever helped me. It was just easier for me to get used to it. If I hadn't, I don't think I'd have survived."
He lowered himself to the bed, propping himself up on an elbow, his face a complex mask of shock, pity, and a new, fierce protectiveness.
"Ajin, if something like that happens again—"
I cut him off, reaching up to cover his mouth. "Don't you dare tell me you'll keep me safe. You're the man that's leaving for Hong Kong this Saturday."
He removed my hand, his gaze intense. "I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. I will fly here at a moment's notice if it's to save you."
"That so...?" I murmured, a faint, almost mischievous smile touching my lips. I wanted to believe him. The promise was tempting. "Let's see if you keep your word."
I settled back against the pillow, watching him. This was the one person who saw my darkness and offered light, despite knowing I was a user. With a hint of challenge, and perhaps genuine need, I gave him my request:
"Save me if you can."
The memory of Ajin looking up at me and smiling that night... became engraved into my mind and never faded. She was smart enough to never get into situations where she needed saving... so what made her say that to me...? I have to wonder... which one of us was the moth that flew into the flames. Was it me for being unable to resist and jumping into her life...? Or was it Ajin, who smiled beautifully up at me with a hint of anxiety in her eyes?
The Parking Lot Incident
BEEP CLICK
Unbeknownst to the two of us, a separate drama was unfolding. Down in the parking garage, a man in a dark suit was speaking into his phone. "Yeah, I'm down in the parking lot right now. Where'd you say you parked your car?"
He was distracted, scanning the rows of vehicles, his phone pressed to his ear. Another man, wearing a long coat, approached him quickly from the side.
BUMP
The two men collided.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" said the man in the long coat, not sounding sorry at all.
"Watch where you're going," the man in the suit snapped, annoyed by the interruption.
In the moment of contact, the man in the long coat, with a practiced, seamless motion, reached out.
SLIDE
His fingers expertly dipped into the inner pocket of the suit jacket. The car keys, still warm from use, were now gone.
The man in the long coat quickly continued on his way, calling back a fake apology as the suited man stood there, fumbling with his brief case.
THUD
The suited man bent down, picked up his brief case, and walked to his car, pressing the key fob. Nothing happened. He pressed it again. Then he felt his pocket. It was empty. The sound of a car door opening and closing nearby went unnoticed as the culprit slipped away, leaving the intended victim stranded, the first subtle move of a larger plot now complete.
"It's been a while, Mr. Lim." I took a sip of the wine I'd ordered, letting him stew in the momentary silence. I was dressed sharply, a complete contrast to the casual clothes I'd worn for the scene with Seongyu Baek.
He looked impatient, a frown playing on his lips. "Let's make this quick. What do you want? If it's to make another deal with me—"
I cut him off with a subtle, dismissive wave. "I heard you're onto fun these days."
He chuckled dryly. "Haha, what do you mean, fun? It's all just work to put food on the table."
"I must have given you a terrible first impression when we first met," I noted, smiling widely. "You always freeze up in front of me."
"I really had to wonder... how I ended up giving you such a horrible first impression of me," I continued, tilting my head. "Maybe it's because I bossed you around, when you were usually the one bossing celebrities around."
He started to object, his impatience growing. "If this is all you have to say—!"
My smile vanished. My eyes narrowed, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I have information you'd love to hear." I set my glass down. "I asked you here to tell you."
I saw the suspicion in his eyes, but also a flicker of professional interest. He was trying to figure out if I was bluffing.
"Please don't be mad, I was just joking around with you because I didn't want to just give it away," I said, leaning back.
He tapped his fingers lightly on the table. "Tsk. Let's see what she has to say. She isn't the type of person to lie outright..." he muttered, barely audible.
I knew he was hooked.
The Key and the Clue
Meanwhile, the man who had stolen the car key from the parking lot (the one in the long coat, who now appeared in a turtleneck) was now safely out of sight, inspecting his haul.
He gave a satisfied, smug smile, dangling the car keys. "Ow, that really hurt..." he chuckled to himself, presumably referencing the intentional bump.
The action cut back to me and Mr. Lim. I rose from my chair. "Oh, excuse me. I'm just going to go to the washroom. Don't worry, I won't be long."
I walked away from the table, but not to the restroom. Instead, I pulled out my phone.
BZZZZ
On my phone screen was a clear image and a text message. The image showed a 2010 Sinyong High School album. The text read: "I've bugged his car. I also found this album."
I sent a quick, affirmative reply.
The man in the turtleneck was now standing by a restroom sign, handing off the key and the phone with the image.
"Where's the car key?" I asked.
"Here," he replied, handing it over.
"Did you find anything else?" I asked.
He held up a small, brown yearbook. "Wait... This is a graduation album from Nojung High."
He thumbed through the pages, finding something that caught his attention. He held his phone over the album. BZZZZ. He took a picture of a student.
"Why the hell does he have this in his car...?" he wondered out loud, looking intently at the photograph of the student from a completely different high school—Nojung High, not the Sinyong High mentioned in the text message.
This was the start of the real plan. The breakup was just a loud, blinding distraction. The real danger lay in the secrets revealed by the bugged car and the high school albums.
I stood by the restroom sign, taking the car key and the phone from my operative. He was the one who had made the initial mistake, mixing up the high schools, but he was efficient.
"I combed through his car, but all I found was that album," he reported, adjusting his jacket.
"The bug is live," I confirmed, gripping the key fob tightly. "Junseo double-checked. He'll take care of the rest."
Junseo. The name of the man who had been hiding in my bedroom, the man leaving for Hong Kong, the man I just asked to save me. He was clearly more than a casual acquaintance; he was part of my network.
I let my eyes fall to the car key in my hand, my lips curving into a cold, determined smile. This wasn't just about controlling the news cycle or getting rid of my ex-boyfriend. This was about retribution.
My inner monologue confirmed the chilling realization: This confirms that the journalist Seonghee spoke to is Heeguk Lim.
Heeguk Lim. The man I had just met in the restaurant. He thought he was meeting with me for a casual chat, perhaps even a potential scoop on my recent high-profile breakup. He had no idea he was already under my microscope, his personal secrets being exposed.
The car key, an object representing his professional life and the connections he used to exploit others, now felt like a weapon in my hand.
I looked out into the distance, my mind already calculating the fallout. Seongyu Baek was a casualty, an easily disposable pawn in a bigger game. My true focus was on people like Lim—those who used information as leverage, who thrived on the pain and scandal of others.
The pain from Seongyu's slap was a distant memory, nothing compared to the scars that drove me. That sense of kinship I shared with Junseo, the memory of being beaten, it wasn't pity—it was a shared understanding of what it means to be a victim, and the resulting desire to control the narrative, to fight back with every available resource.
I raised the car key, almost in a toast to my new target.
"Let's end this, you sly little bastard."
The game was on. The public breakup was a smokescreen, but the bug in the car and the old high school album were the ammunition. I had everything I needed to destroy the man who thought he could use me or, worse, spread rumors about me. I wasn't just surviving anymore; I was taking control