Chapter 24: Darkness

“Move.”

Soo-hyun’s commanding voice left no room for pause. His eyes were fixed on her furrowed brow, a look of discomfort etched across her face.

If he held her long enough, embraced her until the pleasure dulled into familiarity, maybe then he could erase her from his heart. Perhaps corrupting her, tainting her until she became meaningless to him, would make everything easier.

For a brief moment, Soo-hyun steadied the wavering emotions within him.

Truthfully, seeing Hae-in clutching her discarded skirt, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, was endearing—so much so that he couldn’t help but smile faintly.

But when the words “first night” slipped from her lips, the softness that had begun to seep into his heart hardened instantly.

It struck him then: all of this was just another game orchestrated by Chairman Park.

Yes.

Yoon Hae-in, too, was someone sent by Chairman Park. No matter how she tried to seduce him, behind every action lurked the shadow of Chairman Park.

Once that thought took root, nothing else Hae-in said registered. Anger surged within him, threatening to consume him whole.

Though he currently bowed low under Chairman Park’s thumb, it didn’t mean Yoon Hae-in could mistake herself for having power over him through the chairman’s backing. That misconception needed correcting—immediately.

Hae-in slowly raised her half-lidded eyes to meet his gaze. The moment their eyes locked, Soo-hyun paused mid-motion, his hand hovering near the back of her head.

Her eyes were the problem.

The way she looked at him, tears pooling in her gaze—it unsettled him. Her exposed vulnerability, the unspoken plea in her expression, ignited something deep within his chest, only to leave it as ashes.

You shouldn’t have come here.

Soo-hyun scanned the area around the bed, searching for something to cover her eyes.

________________________________________

As Soo-hyun held her close with such burning intensity, what was he thinking?

Lost in her daze, Hae-in pondered the man who now enveloped her.

Her mother’s words echoed in her mind: people who hurt others and build walls often do so because they themselves are fragile inside.

Perhaps Soo-hyun’s wounds ran so deep that he feared anyone prying into his heart. His actions were always contradictory—he pushed her away while simultaneously craving her presence.

“If I keep accepting him... if I stay by his side no matter what, will the pain in his heart fade someday?”

It was strange. Despite his cruel behavior, she didn’t hate him. On the contrary, every time he tried to wound her, she felt an overwhelming urge to embrace him.

Wanting to see his face, Hae-in turned her head slightly.

She believed that reading his eyes might help her understand his heart better. But he refused to show his face, leaving her only fleeting glimpses when he occasionally turned.

“Stay still.”

When she tried to turn her head again, he immediately restrained her. Darkness enveloped her once more.

________________________________________

Afterward, for what felt like an eternity, the two remained tangled in the sheets, day and night blurring together.

The relentless movements finally ceased after an indeterminate amount of time. During those days, they rarely left the bedroom.

Throughout, Hae-in wore a blindfold.

Whenever she heard noises outside, she tensed, wondering if the staff were coming or going, but they never lingered long.

Meals were delivered punctually, yet beyond that, it was as though the two of them existed in isolation.

No one intervened, and neither showed any intention of stopping.

Despite countless encounters, Soo-hyun never made a single mistake.

Though his methods weren’t foolproof contraception, Hae-in didn’t mention it. If there was even the slightest chance, she wanted to preserve it.

She lost count of how many times she clung to him, cried, and experienced the dizzying heights of climax. Each time she tried to escape his grasp, only to be consumed by emptiness once the peak subsided.

What finally broke the endless cycle was a phone call.

“Hmm. Understood.”

Soo-hyun hung up, his expression grim. Having just finished their latest session, Hae-in watched his back silently as he stood facing away from her.

His broad shoulders tapered into a well-defined back, muscles neatly aligned along his spine. His long legs stood out starkly.

“Don’t go anywhere. Stay in the house.”

After ending the call, Soo-hyun issued his dry command before stepping into the shower.

Only then did Hae-in exhale deeply. Her body was drenched in sweat and semen, yet she lacked the strength to lift her eyelids.

As the sound of water hitting the shower floor ceased, Hae-in drifted into the haze of unconsciousness.

________________________________________

She had no idea how long she slept.

When Hae-in opened her eyes again, she assumed she was still wearing the blindfold. The darkness before her eyes felt familiar, as if days of confinement had conditioned her to it.

Summoning what little energy she had, she rose and pulled back the blackout curtains. It was late afternoon, bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

Since the wedding, days had passed without properly checking the clock or even touching her phone. Time had blurred into a frenzy of sex, as though she’d been possessed.

Barely managing to stand, Hae-in stepped into the shower.

Facing the bathroom mirror, she was startled by her own reflection. The faint red marks that had faded before the wedding had reappeared all over her body, vivid and undeniable.

She raised her hands to trace them, then stepped under the showerhead. Letting the water wash away the remnants of their encounters, she cleansed her body thoroughly. For the first time in days, she rummaged through her small carry-on bag to find something resembling proper clothing.

Inside were a few sets of underwear and outfits she’d packed.

She carefully arranged them in the walk-in closet.

The vast closet was divided into two sections—one entirely occupied by Soo-hyun’s belongings, the other empty save for her meager collection. Hanging her clothes there, they looked sparse and inadequate.

It felt as though the history of her humble, impoverished life had been preserved in this opulent space.

Sighing briefly, Hae-in left the closet.

Soo-hyun’s house was unlike anything she had ever experienced—a sprawling expanse of luxury. Their time together was mostly confined to the master bedroom on the second floor, descending to the first floor only for meals.

The ground floor featured a living room large enough to double as a sports field, a study, a kitchen, and a guest reception room.

Exploring further, she found rooms equipped with giant screens resembling private theaters and others designed like celebrity dressing rooms, complete with oversized mirrors and lighting.

The first floor seemed intended for guests and multifunctional use, while the second floor housed bedrooms and personal living spaces.

The luxurious living room felt awkwardly empty when she sat alone in its center.

Amidst the grandeur, Hae-in thought of her family.

Her modest childhood home, cramped yet cozy whenever filled with people, already felt nostalgic. She craved the simple kimchi stew her mother used to prepare—not because it was exceptional, but because of the warmth shared around the table.

Though each meal here rivaled high-end restaurant cuisine, it lacked soul. Like the food models displayed in shop windows, the dishes were perfect but impersonal.

There was no sign of the person who prepared them, and despite their elegance and sophistication, they failed to satisfy her palate.

Soo-hyun avoided sharing meals with her, instead focusing on work whenever he wasn’t in bed. Hae-in often crawled out of bed just to take a few bites before retreating back to the bedroom.

It was mere survival.

Thinking of the kimchi her mother prepared during kimjang season, Hae-in swallowed hard.

“I miss Mom.”

Realizing she hadn’t contacted her parents since the wedding, guilt hit her suddenly. Frantically, she searched for her phone.

If it had been in her carry-on, she would have noticed while unpacking. Unable to find it, she feared she might have lost it.

“My parents must be waiting… Is Jeongin okay…?”

Rummaging through her bags and pockets yielded nothing. Perhaps she’d left it in the car. After an hour of fruitless searching, Hae-in gave up.

Suddenly hungry, she opened the fridge to find meals wrapped neatly in plastic, ready to be reheated. Yet, strangely, she hesitated.

Searching the kitchen, she discovered a single pack of instant noodles hidden deep inside a cabinet. Checking the expiration date, she saw it was slightly past due.

“...I won’t die from eating this, right?”

Despite the gourmet dishes filling the fridge, all she craved was a bowl of ramen.

Fetching a pot, she boiled water and added the noodles along with an egg she found.

It would have been better with green onions, but the fridge lacked basic ingredients—it was more like a display case than a functional kitchen. Bottles of freshly made fruit juice sat untouched, yet there was no trace of food scraps or peels anywhere.

“This doesn’t feel like a home where people live.”

Placing the steaming pot of ramen on the island counter, Hae-in sat on a tall stool and devoured the noodles hungrily.

Though guilty about filling this lavish house with the smell of instant ramen, the absence of witnesses brought some comfort.

Finishing quickly, she brushed her teeth to rid her mouth of the lingering scent. Fearing Soo-hyun might return unexpectedly, she meticulously cleaned the pot and returned it to its place. Wrapping up her tasks hurriedly, she retreated to the living room.

Air purifiers scattered throughout the house emitted a synchronized red glow, humming softly.

Hae-in sat motionless, staring at the devices as their lights eventually shifted to green, enveloping the room in silence once more.