RB - 11

The next day, a cruelly bright Sunday morning. 

“Haa... My head is killing me.” 

Seo-yeon groaned as she opened her eyes, assaulted by a splitting headache and the burning sensation in her stomach. 

Through her half-open eyelids, blinding sunlight poured in. 

Out of habit, she pulled the blanket up to her chin but immediately felt an odd sense of discomfort from the plush goose-down bedding. 

“Ah!” 

With a scream, she bolted upright. There was no need to assess the situation—she was in Shin Jung-hyuk’s bedroom. 

When the mental shock is too great, physical pain momentarily fades. Instead of the headache and nausea, a wave of intense self-reproach overwhelmed her. 

Hugging her knees tightly, Seo-yeon tried to piece together the events of the previous night. 

There was Boram—the girl with the lovely dimples, or rather, “Bora”—who had been furious not so much about Jung-hyuk maintaining two households or taking a concubine, but about him undergoing a vasectomy. 

“Jung-hyuk Oppa, please tell me clearly! This is a matter of dignity for both our families. Whether or not your child can grow inside me! Tell me right now!” 

Boram’s tearful shouts echoed loudly enough for everyone around to hear, leaving Seo-yeon mortified. 

Unable to get the answer she wanted, Boram didn’t hesitate to rise abruptly and storm out. Even though they were both from wealthy families, Boram’s position was far weaker than Jung-hyuk’s. If she couldn’t even bear children, divorce would only be a matter of time. 

Infertility in a love-based marriage and infertility in an arranged marriage were entirely different dimensions of problems. 

Seo-yeon couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young woman in her early twenties who had run out crying. In her heart, she silently cheered: It’s such a waste for someone like Bora to be with a man like Shin Jung-hyuk. 

In any case, having completed her mission, Seo-yeon’s eyes sparkled like stars, her gaze fixed on Jung-hyuk’s lips. 

She mentally urged him: Just say it already! Give me the words I want to hear! 

Finally, Jung-hyuk slowly opened his mouth. 

“Congratulations, Kim Bi-ryu has become a scholarship recipient of the Taesung Group’s educational foundation. The privileges you’ll enjoy will exceed your expectations.” 

Stunned, Seo-yeon hiccupped involuntarily, her body betraying her embarrassment. 

The unexpected keyword, “Taesung Group,” scrambled her thoughts. Amidst this, her hiccups continued unabated, adding to her humiliation. 

Seo-yeon snatched the half-empty bottle of wine still sitting on the table. 

“How much does this cost? Hic, it’s expensive, right? I should finish it before I go.” 

Jung-hyuk smirked and held up two fingers, forming a “V.” 

Why is he doing that now? Seo-yeon shot him a look of exasperation before blurting out, 

“200,000 won?” 

“…Are you starting to feel embarrassed?” 

“Is this 2 million won?” 

Without waiting for his reply, Seo-yeon poured herself another glass and gulped it down like grape juice. She had been trying to stop hiccupping, but since it was such an expensive wine, she figured it was all for the better. 

Expensive things always had their reasons. After savoring the dry initial aroma, the lingering fruity sweetness at the tip of her tongue proved its worth. 

Everyone has their weakness when it comes to alcohol. Someone who can handle three bottles of soju might get easily drunk on makgeolli, while someone who drinks beer by the crate might despise soju. 

Seo-yeon, the PR specialist who could hold her liquor fairly well, had a particular weakness for wine. This smooth, easy-to-drink wine, which masked its high alcohol content, was a staggering 20% ABV. 

“I’ve never even had wine this good when entertaining reporters on the company card. The world’s so unfair. You bad guys have all the money, and rich jerks like you get to drink good wine…” 

Seo-yeon thought she was drinking the wine, but the wine ended up consuming her instead. Jung-hyuk watched with amusement as she quickly succumbed to its effects. 

After that, her memory cut off completely. To her utter dismay, she woke up wearing Jung-hyuk’s white t-shirt. 

“Nothing will happen in bed,” she had confidently declared twice, yet here she was, walking straight into the tiger’s den. Seo-yeon muttered bitterly to herself: 

“How low can you sink, Han Seo-yeon? You idiot.”

Click. 

The sound of the door opening interrupted Seo-yeon’s brooding. Through the gap, Shin Jung-hyuk appeared, impeccably dressed as always. 

He looked worlds apart from her—she was drowning in oversized clothes with her hair a disheveled mess. Silently, Seo-yeon mouthed a curse. 

“You’re showing it all when you curse like that.” 

Jung-hyuk didn’t let it slide and pointed it out. Then, with long strides, he approached her where she remained trapped under the blanket and stroked her head affectionately, as if they were lovers. 

“Let’s eat. My housekeeper made ox-blood soup before she left. She’s an incredible cook.” 

“…Do I look like I’m going to sit here and have a cozy meal with you?” 

“It’d be better for you to eat quietly and leave.” 

“You don’t have any leverage over me anymore! Bi-ryu’s scholarship, the building rent—it’s all settled!” 

Seo-yeon put up a brave front, but Jung-hyuk shattered her defiance with just one sentence: 

“If you go home like this, you’ll spend the next few days worrying yourself sick. Wasn’t your ovulation date fifteen days ago?” 

What? Seo-yeon wanted nothing more than to bury her face in her plate of food. There was only one way Jung-hyuk could know about her ovulation date. 

She had confessed it herself. 

At the dining table, steam rose from the bowl of ox-blood soup placed between them as Seo-yeon and Jung-hyuk sat facing each other. 

Seo-yeon moved her spoon mechanically, too anxious to notice whether the soup was going into her mouth or up her nose. 

While she struggled through the agonizing meal, Jung-hyuk lit a cigarette. Even as he flicked his lighter to ignite it, his gaze never left her. In fact, he narrowed his eyes slightly, making her feel even more uncomfortable. 

From her perspective, his gaze felt insidious. Questions buzzed relentlessly in her mind: 

Who changed my clothes? Did we… go all the way last night? Did I really fool around with him? 

She couldn’t bring herself to ask any of it. On the verge of losing her mind, Seo-yeon voiced another suspicion in a sharp tone: 

“Did you drug my wine yesterday?” 

“I may be trash, but I’m not that kind of trash. Who would let someone drink that much high-alcohol wine alone?” 

“I didn’t know it had such a high alcohol content! It was my first time drinking something so expensive—it went down so smoothly! You should’ve at least warned me!” 

“Why would I? I figured watching you act drunk and cause trouble would be entertaining enough.” 

“Wow… Are you framing me? I’ve never caused trouble or acted rowdy during my entire career. What’s wrong with you?” 

A fleeting hint of cruelty crossed Jung-hyuk’s lips. He was clearly enjoying this situation. Narrowing his eyes further, he scanned her silhouette from top to bottom before speaking: 

“If you’re curious, I can tell you what kind of trouble you caused last night, what you begged me for… It was quite a handful dealing with you.” 

Without another word, Seo-yeon buried her head and focused on eating her ox-blood soup quietly. 

Begged him? Could I have asked him for money after finding out about Taesung Group? Despair crashed over her like lightning. 

Jung-hyuk burst into laughter, openly mocking her. He exhaled a puff of smoke, then abruptly stubbed out his cigarette carelessly on the plate in front of him. 

It was appalling table manners, but Seo-yeon wasn’t in a position to criticize him. Her own problems were far too overwhelming. 

“Oh, this? Cigarette smoke isn’t good for the baby.” 

Jung-hyuk took the liberty of explaining why he had put out the cigarette, and Seo-yeon’s world plummeted into an abyss. 

At the same time. 

Inside a quaint greenhouse tucked away in a suburban countryside home with sprawling gardens. 

Exotic imported plants with dazzling leaves filled the space, while tender new sprouts brimmed with freshness. 

In the center stood Shin Jin-hyuk.

He stood as still as one of the plants, a pair of sharp-edged pruning shears in his hand. 

Shin Jin-hyuk, a man often described as “handsome” or even “delicately beautiful,” would not seem out of place with a hobby like gardening. 

But alas, his interests leaned sharply in the opposite direction. 

After savoring the earthy aroma of the greenhouse for a while, Jin-hyuk turned his attention to the carefully nurtured stems of the plants. 

Snip, snip. 

Without hesitation, he cut through them, his focus razor-sharp, as if performing some sacred ritual. 

Though no blood flowed, the act was undeniably cruel and grotesque. 

After mutilating the greenhouse for what felt like an eternity, Jin-hyuk stepped out. To the butler standing rigidly nearby, he said: 

“I’ll give you a week. Fill it up nicely again. Oh, and I prefer fresh, sprouting buds—put extra care into those.” 

The butler suppressed the shivers running down his spine and bowed his head briefly with a quiet, “Yes.” 

Over a decade ago, eight-year-old Jin-hyuk trembled every night, drenched in cold sweat that soaked his pillow and blanket. 

The cause? An overwhelming “thirst” that consumed his entire being—a chaotic, insatiable desire to create destruction. 

It was a burden too heavy for a child to bear. From killing ants, his cravings had escalated to larger creatures. 

One day, his eyes fell upon the soft, fluffy rabbits kept in cages at a nearby orphanage. 

In the early hours of dawn, unable to resist the thirst gnawing at him, eight-year-old Jin-hyuk crept into the orphanage armed with a pair of scissors. 

Creak. He carefully opened the cage door, and the rabbit, accustomed to human touch, hopped toward him. 

Looking at the adorable, delicate creature, he didn’t feel an urge to kill—but perhaps deep down, he hoped someone would stop him. 

As he raised the scissors high, a girl suddenly grabbed his wrist with firm resolve. 

“What are you doing? Who are you?” 

It was the arrival of a savior he hadn’t known he was waiting for. Young Jin-hyuk let out a short sigh. 

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. His stepmother would handle things with money, but what Jin-hyuk couldn’t endure was the way people looked at him—as if he were a monster. 

“You’re not going to pretend you didn’t see this, right? I haven’t killed it yet, so can you let it slide? I don’t want to be hospitalized again.” 

After a brief moment of thought, the girl offered an unexpected response: 

“I’ve heard that when a man draws a knife, he should at least slice something—so since you’ve got scissors, why don’t you try cutting something else?” 

Jin-hyuk looked up at the girl, who was taller than him despite her worn but clean clothes. Her eyes were the most beautiful he had ever seen—more captivating than those of the enchanting stepmother who was often accused of being a fox spirit. 

Entranced, Jin-hyuk took her hand, and they walked together toward the orphanage’s greenhouse. 

“Look at this—it’s pretty, isn’t it? These are sprout vegetables. They need to be cut anyway since we’ll eat them.” 

With a knowing smile, the girl winked at him. 

Slowly, Jin-hyuk raised the scissors and began cutting the sprouts. 

Snip. The sensation of severing something sent a thrill through him. He went wild, cutting sprout after sprout. 

“I read in a book once—do you have trouble sleeping at night? Does your heart race?” 

“You’re asking the same questions as the doctor.” 

“Well, whenever you feel angry at my rabbits, how about coming here to cut these sprouts instead?” 

“…These?” 

“Yeah. If you cut them, I’ll grow them back for you. They grow really fast—in just a week!” 

Something inside Jin-hyuk shifted. He had been diligently taking the medication prescribed by the doctor and undergoing behavioral therapy with his stepmother, but this strange sense of liberation was entirely new. 

It wasn’t until his fifth visit to the greenhouse that he learned the crescent-eyed girl was “ten years old” and her name was “Han Seo-yeon.” 

“Here, take this—it’s sprout vegetable seeds.”

“You’re telling me to grow them myself now? I don’t want to.” 

“I’m moving to another orphanage tomorrow. Think of this as my parting gift. Thanks for cutting the sprouts for me while I was here—I got to eat well because of you.” 

Caught off guard by this unexpected farewell, Jin-hyuk couldn’t contain his irritation. 

He slammed the scissors down roughly and stormed out of the greenhouse. Just as he reached the doorway, Seo-yeon’s voice followed him: 

“What’s your name?” 

But he never turned back to answer. 

It was the anger of an eight-year-old boy—angry at the first love who had tamed him in her own way and was now leaving without a second thought.