MHD - 59

Chapter 59: The Decisive Evidence

Cha Joo-won’s eyes darted left and right as he frantically calculated the pros and cons in his head.

He had assumed that a little intimidation would weaken Jae-hyuk’s resolve. Instead, it only seemed to fuel his anger further.

Joo-won was overcome with primal fear, like a mouse caught before a tiger. Unconsciously, he began trembling one leg nervously.

What if I just blurt out everything?

Jae-hyuk gazed at him with calm, emotionless eyes—eyes so devoid of sentiment they appeared chillingly detached. Unlike Joo-won’s earlier bravado, there was no trace of bluff in those eyes. They conveyed absolute certainty.

Lee Jae-hyuk was capable of anything. He could bring Joo-won down swiftly and effortlessly if he so desired.

Cornered, Joo-won scrambled to recall the past.

A specific scene came to mind.

As he thought about Seo Hee-soo sitting in the hospital, another memory flashed through his mind—a news report about a third-generation chaebol heir who had enlisted in the military during a time when celebrities were notorious for avoiding service.

That heir was none other than Jae-hyuk.

“Oh, shit. I’m screwed.”

The realization hit Joo-won like a ton of bricks. If the timeline aligned, there was no way their paths could have crossed during that period.

While Joo-won mentally pieced together the timeline, Jae-hyuk tapped the desk impatiently.

“President Cha?”

“Ah, well… uh…”

Seeing Joo-won stutter, Jae-hyuk pressed again.

“I don’t have much patience or time right now.”

His gaze flicked briefly to the clock on the wall before returning to Joo-won.

Their eyes met, but Joo-won couldn’t find the words. Should he feign madness and lash out, or should he bow his head in apology? He couldn’t decide.

“If you have nothing to say, I’ll take my leave.”

“N-no! Vice Chairman Lee!”

As Jae-hyuk rose from his seat, Joo-won hastily dropped to his knees and pleaded.

“I’m sorry! I’ll do whatever you ask, just please…”

“It’s too late for that.”

“Vice Chairman Lee! No one knows Hee-soo better than I do. I won’t make any reckless moves—I just need one more chance.”

Joo-won’s voice trembled with desperation as he clung to his position.

Having confirmed that Joo-won’s earlier threats lacked substance, Jae-hyuk remained indifferent to his pleas. With finality, he delivered his verdict.

“For starters, stop spreading false rumors immediately. And stop using her family to hold her back.”

“Yes, yes! Anything you say.”

It was unclear how long Joo-won’s submissive act would last, but regardless, he was undeniably resourceful.

After briefly weighing whether keeping Joo-won in place would benefit Hee-soo, Jae-hyuk decided to give him a temporary reprieve.

“We’ll be watching.”

“Y-yes. So… does this mean everything’s okay now?”

“You may go.”

Joo-won hesitated, as if wanting to say more, but Jae-hyuk dismissed him with a few casual gestures. An alert popped up on his monitor, notifying him of a new email.

Without sparing a glance at Joo-won, who was backing out with exaggerated bows, Jae-hyuk turned his attention to the monitor and opened the email. Several photos appeared on the screen.

They depicted Hee-soo dining with Choi Han-young at a restaurant in Seoul.

---

“Th-thank you.”

Seated in Han-young’s car, Hee-soo hesitated before expressing her gratitude.

Contrary to her initial wariness, the lawyer introduced by Choi Han-young had proven invaluable. His extensive experience handling similar cases brought Hee-soo some measure of peace.

Han-young accompanied her to a couple of meetings with the lawyer.

At first, they arrived separately in their own cars, but the second time, Han-young rode with Hee-soo in her car. Today, for the third meeting, she had ridden with him. While a manager had always been present during the previous two meetings, this was the first time they were alone. It was also their first dinner together, just the two of them.

As Hee-soo reached for the seatbelt in the passenger seat, Han-young gently took it from her hands and fastened it for her.

“What are you thanking me for?”

Han-young responded nonchalantly, but their hands briefly brushed against each other. When their eyes met, he flashed his trademark bright smile.

His dazzling grin softened his handsome features, exuding charm. 

But to Hee-soo, it stirred no emotion whatsoever.

“For introducing me to the lawyer and helping me with various things.”

Hee-soo clasped her hands together on her lap and replied politely. Sensing her subtle boundary-setting, Han-young quickly withdrew his hand and returned it to the steering wheel.

“We’ll be seeing each other every day on set for the next year. Isn’t it only natural that I look out for you?”

Was he always this kind to everyone?

Reflecting on Han-young’s words, Hee-soo mentally reviewed what she knew about Choi Han-young.

He was undeniably kind on set, and rumors of romantic entanglements followed him frequently. While whispers of his romantic history circulated, there were no sleazy scandals—Yoon-seok had discreetly mentioned that much to her before.

The rumors, if any, seemed to stem from his close friendship with actor Oh Tae-joo, who was embroiled in baseless gossip himself. Despite being friends with someone rumored to be promiscuous, Han-young maintained a clean image, proving he was meticulous about self-discipline.

So, perhaps his kindness toward her was genuinely rooted in wanting his co-star to focus better on filming?

As Hee-soo mulled over Han-young’s intentions, she let out a soft sigh. Her inability to easily accept anyone’s kindness—a byproduct of her upbringing—was starting to wear on her.

“…It’s not like I’m kind to just anyone, though.”

At the sound of her sigh, Han-young glanced at her briefly before responding.

“Really? Am I the only one you’re being kind to?”

His question carried a hint of caution, but Han-young quickly flashed his signature smile.

“You did say you were a fan, right?”

“Oh, goodness. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“What fans want is simple: they just want their favorite star to shine. Isn’t that right?”

Han-young’s response made Hee-soo’s brow furrow and then relax repeatedly.

She had initially doubted his intentions, but now she wondered if she was overthinking it. Maybe he really was just a fan?

Hee-soo was weak when it came to people who were openly kind to her. Besides, she couldn’t exactly spit in the face of someone smiling so warmly. Awkwardly, she mirrored his smile as a form of reply.

“…And we do have to act like lovers on set. I thought getting closer might help. You completely change the moment the camera stops rolling, so it’s been hard for me to adjust.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I just acted on my own.”

“I’ll be more mindful going forward.”

Acting like an inseparable couple in front of the camera, only to revert to her usual self once the lights went off, was second nature to Hee-soo.

Sometimes, male co-stars who couldn’t adapt to this dynamic would blur the lines between work and personal life, attempting to approach her as if they were still in character.

Had she built her walls too high?

On the other hand, keeping too much distance could make it harder for both her and her co-star to immerse themselves in their roles. While she didn’t mind, it could hinder the other actor’s performance.

Lost in these thoughts, one conclusion came to mind:

Choi Han-young was excellent at playing push-and-pull.

She understood his kindness, his overt displays of goodwill—but he also didn’t shy away from subtle physical contact, all while reminding her it was for the sake of focusing on work.

I need to stay alert.

Without a word, Hee-soo turned her gaze toward the window.

Her only experience with romance had been with Jae-hyuk—though whether that could even be called a relationship was debatable.

Whenever she tried to push him away, he only drew closer, leaving no room for her to think. That was how Jae-hyuk operated. Perhaps that was why she expected him to behave the same way upon their reunion.

A parting gift.

She never imagined Jae-hyuk would be the one to bring up breaking up. How foolish of her. Ten years had passed, yet she had hoped everything would remain unchanged in her memories.

Things seemed the same, yet they weren’t. As the world changed around her, she felt stuck in the past.

Hee-soo stared blankly at the night view of the Han River flowing past the car window. In the distance, beyond the river, the city lights twinkled.

“Shall we listen to some music?”

Perhaps finding the silence awkward, Han-young turned on the car’s audio system.

The moment the sweet prelude began, Hee-soo recognized the piece.

“…Tchaikovsky.”

“I figured I’d need to listen to it often since it’s featured in the film’s climax.”

“That’s right. It is.”

There was a pivotal scene in the latter half of the movie where the female lead, left alone in the studio, danced until her feet bled, and the male lead tried to stop her. Overwhelmed by hatred, she pushed him away and screamed.

“Do you remember the lines? I’ve read ahead several times.”

Prompted by Han-young, Hee-soo recited a line from memory.

“I hate you. I loathe you. I wish you’d fall into hell for doing this to me.”

“Good. Channel that hatred into your acting. Let the desperation of hating and despising me drive your performance. Don’t worry about hurting me—it’s all part of the act.”

Han-young responded flawlessly, as if he had memorized the entire script.

They were still in the early stages of filming, but realizing that Han-young was already so familiar with the later parts of the script made Hee-soo feel a sense of camaraderie toward him.

“…The next part transitions into a dance scene, right?”

“Yes, exactly. The second half has a lot of dance scenes, so it’s going to be tough. We’re using a stunt double for some parts, but there are a few scenes I’ll have to do myself. What about you?”

“Same here. I’ve been taking ballet lessons every day.”

“Want to practice together?”

Hee-soo hesitated for a moment. She felt obligated to accept since he had done so much for her already. Besides, practicing together could help them synchronize their performances, which didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“All right.”

At Hee-soo’s response, Han-young exclaimed, “Great! I’m so glad,” clearly pleased.

Watching his enthusiasm, Hee-soo couldn’t help but smile faintly. She realized she might be getting drawn in, but she didn’t mind—it felt harmless enough.

It might even be the perfect opportunity to immerse herself more deeply in the role.

For the rest of the ride home, the two exchanged interpretations of their characters and discussed how to bring their roles to life. For the first time in a while, Hee-soo found herself distracted from thoughts of Jae-hyuk.