MHD - 17

“…Let go of my hand.” 

Though her words said to let go, Hee-soo didn’t actively try to pull her hand away. Jae-hyuk’s large hand enveloping hers felt so warm and comforting that she almost melted into the sensation. 

To her words, Jae-hyuk tightened his grip instead and emphasized, “Trust me.” 

“Enough,” Hee-soo replied indifferently, turning her head away. 

Her cold response to his heartfelt confession wasn’t because she didn’t care—it was because she already knew, even at their young age, that no matter how steadfast Jae-hyuk promised to be, they were destined to remain apart. 

Every time Jae-hyuk indirectly confessed his feelings, Hee-soo lamented her circumstances. 

If only I were more famous. 

If only I hadn’t been born into such an unfortunate environment. 

…If only I weren’t Seo Hee-soo. 

Back then, just as now, the worlds Jae-hyuk and Hee-soo lived in remained vastly different and distant. 

She kept reminding herself that this was their inevitable fate, that it was only natural—but tears continued to flow down her cheeks despite her efforts to stop them. 

The silence inside the house was tomb-like. 

Aside from the occasional sound of her sobs or the labored breaths she tried to suppress, there was nothing but emptiness. When she held her breath, it felt as though no one lived there at all. 

Her phone, which had rung incessantly for a while, had long since died. By now, Manager Cha should have barged in through the door, but strangely, everything remained quiet. 

‘I wish I could just disappear.’ 

Hee-soo imagined her body slowly becoming transparent until it dissolved into thin air. She buried her face in the pillowcase, dizzy from lying in bed without eating properly. 

Beep—beep— 

A familiar buzzing noise echoed from somewhere, relentless and unyielding. 

Assuming whoever it was would give up after pressing the intercom a few times, Hee-soo was surprised to find someone continuously ringing. Unable to ignore it any longer, she went to the entrance and found a familiar face filling the intercom screen. 

It was her younger sister, Hee-jin. 

“Hey, sis. Long time no see! How’ve you been? Ugh, look at this fridge. What have you been eating? It’s completely empty.” 

Hee-jin placed several containers of side dishes on the dining table and casually asked how Hee-soo had been. 

It had been years since they last saw each other face-to-face. While Hee-soo felt a bit awkward, Hee-jin showed no hesitation and kept talking nonstop. 

Sitting on the couch with an expressionless face, Hee-soo finally spoke in a dry tone when Hee-jin paused for a moment. 

“Do you need money?” 

Hee-jin, who had been busily transferring the containers into the fridge, slammed the door shut and grinned sheepishly. 

“…Yeah. Sorry about that.” 

Hee-soo stared at Hee-jin’s embarrassed smile for a moment before turning her gaze elsewhere. 

Her family only ever reached out to her when they wanted something. Their predictability had once made her so disgusted that she cut off contact entirely. 

Ironically, the more financially stable she became, the more she craved human connection. 

The more applause she received from strangers and the more she solidified her position as an actress, the lonelier she felt. Eventually, she reached out to her family again and shared meals with them after a long time. 

Looking back now, it had been a foolish decision. 

Ever since then, this family had never removed the straw they’d stuck into her back. They even saddled her with debt, tightening their chains around her. 

But foolish Hee-soo didn’t mind—even that. 

She thought, I can always spend less money, but family isn’t something you can just acquire. Though they had never been helpful throughout her life, she was grateful that they still sought her out.

This was how Hee-soo had thought back when she was earning well. 

But once her acting career collapsed and her income dried up after abruptly leaving a production midway, her family changed again—just like ten years ago, when she was penniless and cast out of Gangrim Group to fend for herself on the streets. 

Once there was nothing left to gain from her, their calls became fewer and farther between. Eventually, they stopped calling altogether—even on her birthday. After three years of silence, here was Hee-jin, barging in uninvited. 

“How much do you need?” 

Hee-soo didn’t have the energy to feel angry or hurt. 

She didn’t bother asking what the money was for. She already knew the answer would be a lie anyway. 

“About five million won?” 

At least Hee-jin had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, though the amount she demanded was anything but decent. 

“…” 

When Hee-soo remained silent, sitting motionless, Hee-jin stuttered and added unnecessary explanations. 

“T-The house is struggling these days. You know how it is—Mom’s running the business alone while Dad’s always out gallivanting.” 

Without a word, Hee-soo turned on her phone and opened her banking app. To her bitter amusement, her account balance showed just over five million won—exactly the amount Hee-jin had requested. 

If I give this away, I’ll be completely broke in a month or two. 

Finding her situation laughable, Hee-soo let out a dry chuckle. 

Any sane person would have kicked their shameless sibling out without a second thought. 

But Hee-soo couldn’t bring herself to refuse. The reason lay in the deep-seated emotional void that had haunted her since childhood and never fully healed. 

From a very young age, there had been blatant and cruel favoritism within the family. 

Her parents’ blatant preference for her younger sister left Hee-soo perpetually anxious. Before catching Chairman Lee Jung-chul’s eye, Hee-soo had always been treated as the unwanted child of the family. 

Growing up, she lived in constant fear of being thrown out if she fell out of her parents’ favor. 

Her mother, who knew nothing about the arts, always scolded Hee-soo for pursuing ballet. As a result, Hee-soo wore the same pair of pointe shoes for months, mending them repeatedly until they were beyond repair. Sometimes, she even wore hand-me-downs from friends whose shoes had worn out. 

Her spoiled younger sister, on the other hand, grew up unable to take care of herself even as an adult. 

And yet, Hee-jin was the only person who occasionally visited Hee-soo. Regardless of her motives, Hee-soo couldn’t bring herself to coldly turn away someone who came to see her. 

You’re lucky. Having a sister like me must be nice. If I had a sister who’d give me money whenever I asked, I’d be happy too. 

Though she muttered bitterly to herself, Hee-soo still transferred the remaining money in her account to Hee-jin. 

The only thing she had left to her name was the small apartment she lived in. Even that was paid for by selling her previous home and scraping by on the leftover funds over the past few years. 

Should I sell this place too? At this rate, I’ll wither away. 

Even if she were to die alone, Hee-soo wondered if Hee-jin would at least come to collect her body someday. Would she even do that much? 

With a detached sense of resignation, Hee-soo imagined the day of her death. 

She felt no motivation to live anymore. 

“Considering you’ve been out of touch for ten years, you must have gotten quite a lot.” 

Jae-hyuk’s words, which had driven a stake through her heart, resurfaced in her mind. 

Fool. 

If I had received so much money, would I be living like this? 

As Hee-soo stared blankly at her now-empty bank account, Hee-jin checked her phone and cheered loudly. 

“Wow, sis, you’re the best! I knew you’d save me!” 

Once the money was deposited, Hee-jin quickly grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. 

“Are you leaving already?”

Even though Hee-jin was like this, it had been so long since anyone other than herself had been in the house. Without realizing it, Hee-soo felt a pang of reluctance and called out to stop her sister. 

But Hee-jin paid no heed to Hee-soo’s feelings and grinned casually. 

“Ah, sis, take it easy. Let me know when you’ve eaten all the side dishes. Next time, I’ll come with Mom.” 

The thought of her mother visiting filled Hee-soo with dread. 

What did they plan to squeeze out of her now? She had nothing left to give. 

To her family, her existence was nothing more than collateral to be exchanged for money. 

When Hee-soo had been selected as an arts scholarship recipient by the Gangrim Cultural Foundation, her parents’ joy stemmed not from her achievement but from their anticipation of what they could gain from it. 

Hee-soo watched Hee-jin bustlingly pack her bag and stand up, her gaze dry and emotionless. Perhaps because she hadn’t eaten properly in days, her thoughts weren’t connecting logically. 

“Sis, see you later.” 

Hee-jin disappeared like a flash, closing the door behind her. While waiting for the elevator, she immediately began talking on the phone. 

“Hey, hey! I’ve got money now. I’ll treat everyone. Let’s make a reservation right away!” 

Of course. If I died, they’d probably strip me naked and sell my clothes too. 

Was there even any room left in her already bruised heart to feel more hurt? Hee-soo pressed her aching chest and turned her gaze toward the balcony. 

The once-blue sky outside had turned yellowish before gradually reddening again. The crimson sunset seeped through the window, staining Hee-soo’s body red. 

Sitting on the living room sofa, Hee-soo stared at the sky outside and let time slip by. 

When she finally came to her senses, night had fallen, and darkness enveloped the room. Sitting in the dark without turning on the lights, the intercom buzzed again. 

Thinking Hee-jin might have returned, Hee-soo buried her face in her knees. 

The persistent ringing forced her to reluctantly get up. 

“Who is it?” 

Her dry lips parted to ask, and the person on the other end responded loudly. 

“Ms. Seo Hee-soo? I’m Attorney Woo Chan-sung from the law firm handling Chairman Cha Joo-won’s legal affairs.” 

“…Huh?” 

Unable to fathom who this person was, Hee-soo frowned. 

“I have something to deliver to you. Your phone was off, so I came in person.” 

The man held his business card up to the intercom lens. 

Law Firm Yulhyun – Attorney Woo Chan-sung 

Yulhyun was a well-known, large-scale law firm. Furrowing her brow, Hee-soo cautiously opened the door slightly. 

“What is this about?” 

Through the narrow gap in the door, the man handed over the same business card he had shown earlier. As Hee-soo examined the physical card, the man continued speaking. 

“Chairman Cha Joo-won plans to file a lawsuit against you. A formal notice will also be sent soon. Before it’s officially submitted to the court…” 

“Huh? Wait, I don’t understand what you’re saying.” 

Hee-soo couldn’t grasp what the man was talking about. Looking straight at her, the man reiterated his explanation, as if confirming she knew nothing about it. 

“It’s a claim for damages due to breach of an exclusive contract. The estimated amount of damages is still being calculated, but it’s likely to be around 1 billion won. I wanted to check if negotiations were possible, but we couldn’t reach you by phone. According to Chairman Cha…” 

She didn’t hear the rest of his words. Hee-soo pressed her brows together and then collapsed onto the floor.