MHD - 14

Hee-soo, who had been silently glaring at the glass in front of her, slowly raised her gaze to meet the eyes of Lee Jung-chul sitting across from her. 

It could be called the stubbornness of youth. She lacked the ability to actively resist injustice, but she also refused to kneel down and submit quietly. 

As much as she wanted to grab the glass and throw its contents in his face, she instead clenched her teeth and held his gaze, refusing to back down. 

“Heh. Look at this.” 

Reading the defiance in Hee-soo’s unwavering stare, Lee Jung-chul clicked his tongue and laughed. It was the same warm, approachable smile he displayed whenever he appeared in the media. But behind that benevolent facade, he was a man casually asking, “How should I ruin your life?” 

“Why can’t you understand what I’m saying?” 

“…” 

“I’m telling you not to get close to Jae-hyuk. Don’t let your existence taint anything related to Gangrim!” 

As Jung-chul’s voice rose, Hee-soo swallowed the question bubbling up in her throat. 

You’ve taken everything away from me, leaving only Lee Jae-hyuk. Are you saying even that isn’t allowed? I wasn’t trying to take anything—I just wanted to see him occasionally. That was enough for me. 

Hee-soo tried hard to hold back her tears, pressing her eyelids tightly shut to keep them from spilling over. 

“When kids play with fire, they always end up getting burned. Don’t you know that?” 

The man, confident in his dominance, didn’t bother filtering his words. Though she had so much she wanted to say, the right to speak belonged solely to him. 

Her sense of injustice swelled until it finally spilled out of her mouth. 

“…What if it’s not… just ‘playing with fire’?” 

It was an impulsive response. The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to ask: What if your son insists on not giving up on me? What then? 

Isn’t it said that no parent can truly defeat their child? If that child clings to me desperately, wouldn’t the one holding the reins be me, not you? 

“What if… I were to get pregnant…?” 

In the icy silence, Hee-soo blurted out whatever came to mind, like a cornered animal lashing out in its final moments. 

“Pregnancy?” 

The stillness shattered as Jung-chul’s sharp, cutting gaze flew toward Hee-soo. His eyes were so cold that she instinctively began trembling. Her hands shook so violently that when she reached for the glass of water in front of her, she accidentally knocked it over. 

“…I-I’m sorry…” 

The reflexive apology slipped out, and with it came a sudden rush of tears. 

It was an old habit. In front of Lee Jung-chul, she had always kept her head bowed, never daring to look up. When he asked, she would obediently make coffee or bring water, just like any other employee. 

Yes, she had no pride. 

Even while being treated this way, she had felt special whenever he claimed to treat her like a daughter, always keeping a close eye on her. She had foolishly believed she was someone important to him, someone who mattered. 

Memories of her younger self—naively happy to be treated specially among countless ballet dancers—flashed through her mind like a slideshow. 

She told herself not to cry, not to let the tears fall, but they streamed down her cheeks anyway, clinging to the edges of her eyes before spilling over. 

The spilled water spread in a round puddle across the transparent glass table. 

“Let me say just one thing.” 

As Hee-soo watched the water ripple outward and drip off the edge, Lee Jung-chul slowly opened his mouth.

“There are so many beautiful things here, don’t you think? Even the carpet you’re standing on is a work of art crafted by generations of Middle Eastern artisans.” 

As Jung-chul spoke, Hee-soo hurriedly tried to catch the droplets of water falling from the table with her palms. 

But Jung-chul didn’t stop his monologue, even as he watched her scramble. With a tone as if lecturing a child, he continued in a seemingly kind voice. 

“You looked very pretty to me too. That’s why I kept you where I could see you. Things that catch the eye have value, you know. They enhance my image just by being in my possession.” 

The calm tone of his voice suddenly shifted as he raised it sharply. 

“Art? Don’t make me laugh.” 

His mocking words grew sharper and more biting. 

“You thought you were doing art, didn’t you? But something that doesn’t gain recognition has no value. In other words, anything without worth isn’t worth anything at all.” 

How dare such vulgarity exist. 

The finality of Jung-chul’s muttered words struck Hee-soo like a dagger. The water pooling in her palm felt as though it carried poison, burning wherever it touched. 

“Without someone assigning value to it, art is no different from graffiti on the streets or noise in an alley. Only when it’s applauded and revered does it earn the title of ‘art.’“ 

As Jung-chul spewed his venomous words, Hee-soo stole a glance at Yoon Ji-sun. 

According to rumors circulating in the ballet troupe, Jae-hyuk’s grandfather, Lee Myung-gyu—the former chairman of Gangrim Group—had arranged a strategic marriage between Jung-chul and Ji-sun. Believing that selling mid-to-low-priced appliances alone wouldn’t elevate the company’s image, he married Jung-chul to Ji-sun, the eldest daughter of Yeon Cultural Foundation, which dominated the arts and culture scene at the time. 

To the public, Lee Jung-chul, a businessman to the core, and Yoon Ji-sun appeared to be a harmonious couple. 

But Jung-chul’s words were not only an insult to Hee-soo—they were also a jab at Ji-sun. Yet Ji-sun remained by his side, her face devoid of energy or resistance. 

Ji-sun’s past speeches to the troupe, praising them as cultural treasures and urging them to take pride in their work, now felt hollow and meaningless. 

“Don’t cross the line. Live by my warnings. Never think of setting foot in this house again. If you dare step over this threshold one more time, you won’t leave alive.” 

Jung-chul concluded his threat in a chilling tone. Just as he was about to rise from his seat, Hee-soo grabbed him. 

“W-Wait… please.” 

It was unbearable. So unbearably unjust. 

Lee Jung-chul had unilaterally cut off her sponsorship, and that wasn’t enough—he had exerted pressure everywhere to ensure she couldn’t dance ballet again. And now, even harboring feelings for Jae-hyuk was forbidden. 

“How… how will you punish me if I disobey your orders?” 

Her trembling lips barely managed to form the words. She swallowed hard, her breath hitching. Despite shaking uncontrollably, Hee-soo stared directly into Jung-chul’s eyes. 

“Hah. Hahaha.” 

Finding something amusing, Jung-chul burst into loud laughter. 

“Hee-soo, this is why I always liked you. There aren’t many who can keep their eyes open like you in this situation. Even those old snakes who’ve lived longer than you would tremble before me, yet here you are.” 

Clicking his tongue, Jung-chul shook his head as if lamenting the loss of something precious. 

“Be grateful you’re still alive. Considering what you’ve done, this is a great act of mercy on my part.” 

There was no compassion in his words. And when he mentioned “mercy,” Hee-soo’s heart began to race wildly. 

Mercy? Calling this mercy? 

Like a dam bursting, her pent-up injustice exploded. Without realizing it, Hee-soo shot up from her seat. 

“Mercy? You call this mercy?” 

With tears brimming in her eyes, she glared fiercely at Jung-chul. In that moment, her vision turned white. 

Slap! 

Only when the sting registered did she raise a hand to her throbbing cheek. Her jaw felt disjointed, as if it had been twisted out of place.

“You just quit because you didn’t feel like it anymore. You didn’t even appreciate the gratitude of being raised and supported. And now, out of boredom, you’ve stopped seeing Jae-hyuk too. That’s just the kind of person you are. Understand?” 

No, no. That’s all a lie. 

Hee-soo clutched her swollen cheek and shook her head, denying Jung-chul’s words. Without hesitation, Lee Jung-chul raised his hand again. 

Slap! 

Her vision turned white once more. Unable to withstand the force of the blow, her body collapsed. As she fell, her hand accidentally knocked something over. The sound of shattering glass rang out, accompanied by Jung-chul’s piercing voice drilling into her ears. 

“Because of Jae-hyuk, I’ll let you live. But in return, don’t ever get involved with us again. Never show your face around here. This is the last bit of mercy I’m showing you.” 

The water that had spilled from the table dripped steadily onto Hee-soo’s knees. The droplets soaked into her clothes, leaving dark, uneven stains on the fabric. 

“Remember my words.” 

Jung-chul bent low over Hee-soo, who was sprawled on the floor, and spoke in a low, menacing tone. He grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him. 

His eyes, flashing with cold intensity, sent an unspoken warning. 

Stop resisting. 

Looking into Jung-chul’s wide, glaring eyes, Hee-soo felt an overwhelming sense of terror. A chilling sensation prickled her skin, sending goosebumps across her entire body. 

Ah, this man could kill me. 

It wasn’t just a fleeting thought or delusion. Though his face was emotionless, the icy shadow beneath his eyes served as a clear warning. 

In front of Lee Jung-chul, who had overseen the massive conglomerate Gangrim for thirty years, she was nothing but a mere twenty-year-old girl. 

No matter how hard she tried to resist, biting down on her trembling lips, an instinctive fear coursed through her body, making her shake uncontrollably. 

Her dry throat burned from swallowing repeatedly, and it felt as though her windpipe was collapsing inward, suffocating her lungs. 

“I hope you understand now.” 

With those final words, Jung-chul straightened up and left without a moment’s hesitation. 

“Take her out.” 

His command blended with the fading sound of his footsteps. 

There was no time to wallow in self-pity. The men who had dragged Hee-soo into the house earlier entered the reception room. 

“Get up.” 

Hands reached out to grab her. Desperately, Hee-soo batted them away and clung tightly to Yoon Ji-sun instead.