RB - 25

25. A Safe Fence, Yet Also a Prison

Jung-hyuk withdrew his hand from the empty air and asked in a calm voice:

“Han Seo-yeon, should I punish him for you?”

This childish remark somehow brought comfort. Tears welled up in Seo-yeon’s eyes with impeccable timing, as if they had been waiting to spill over all along.

In truth, these were tears she should have shed ten times over by now—but hadn’t she held them back until now? Why was it happening at this very moment? Seo-yeon felt flustered.

Before Jung-hyuk, her contractual boyfriend and pseudo-partner, Seo-yeon finally broke down into sorrowful sobs. As the sedan filled with her choked cries, Jung-hyuk’s expression hardened, and his anger deepened uncontrollably.

His younger brother, Shin Jin-hyuk—ever since that dangerous man began approaching Seo-yeon, Jung-hyuk had anticipated trouble. Wasn’t that why he had rushed back from abroad, setting aside everything else? He had even hung the childish sign of Café R’amant, hovering around Seo-yeon, and ultimately ensnared her with money to keep her close.

But the tragedy had already begun. The Jin-hyuk Jung-hyuk knew was someone who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals, unhesitant to push those around him off cliffs. Though Jung-hyuk himself was no saint, his younger brother operated on an entirely different level.

A bitter, self-mocking smirk spread across Jung-hyuk’s otherwise grim face. It was cruel irony.

The filthy Shin brothers always ended in ruin like this. How could Han Seo-yeon’s future possibly be rosy when both brothers simultaneously desired her?

“The bastards who committed adultery—should I destroy them socially? Make sure they can never pretend to be human again, crush them so thoroughly they’d wish for death? I’ll do it... because I care, Seo-yeon.”

Seo-yeon, who had been covering her face with both hands while sobbing, suddenly froze. She abruptly lifted her head, glared at Jung-hyuk, and slapped his thigh hard.

“You call yourself Daniel God or something—do you really think you’re divine? Who are you to trample on someone else’s life, you arrogant bourgeois pig?”

After scolding him, a strange smile spread across her lips. Why did threats of ruining someone’s life feel so comforting? Everything was ironic.

Seo-yeon’s slap stung sharply. Jung-hyuk rubbed his throbbing thigh a couple of times before grabbing her chin and turning her face to the other side.

“Stay still. Let me see. Han Seo-yeon.”

He wondered which cheek it was—the red handprint was said to be there, but was it the right or the left?

Moonlight seeped through the car window, spreading like spilled paint. Somehow, the moonlight shimmering on Seo-yeon’s cheek seemed to dance even more vividly. Jung-hyuk traced the outline of her face with his fingertips, chasing the glow of the moonlight.

The warmth of her skin radiated against his fingertips. At that moment, a faint smile appeared on Seo-yeon’s lips. A wave of relief washed over her, as natural as any physiological response.

When she lived in the orphanage, she used to hold onto the hope that her mother would one day come for her. In her childhood fantasies of a tearful reunion, Seo-yeon imagined running to her mother after fights with friends. In her mind, her mother would ask:

“Who did you fight with? Who teased you? Are you hurt anywhere?”

But those tender imaginings ended when she realized her mother wasn’t coming. From then on, Seo-yeon built calluses around her heart. If the cruel world wounded her, she vowed to endure it alone.

But damn Shin Jung-hyuk—he kept softening her hardened heart and making her depend on him. His presence was both a prison and a safe fence. Without realizing it, Seo-yeon leaned forward, offering her left cheek.

“It’s the left one. The mark’s already gone. It was my first time being slapped—it really hurt. How much did Ethan tell you? Is he spying on you too?”

Jung-hyuk placed his hand gently on her left cheek. He wanted to say, You’re too precious to let out into the world—I want to keep you locked safely within my fence. But instead, he said:

“He told me you were slapped and that the woman cried and begged for forgiveness. That’s all.”

Seo-yeon asked an unrelated question, one that didn’t fit the context. Perhaps it was a form of sulking. Her heart had grown fragile, soft like tofu.

“Why weren’t you at the café? A café owner shouldn’t leave their shop unattended often. Half of Café R’amant’s revenue is probably thanks to your handsome face, you know. You should live responsibly.”

It was unlike Seo-yeon to sulk like this. A sharp pang of tenderness struck Jung-hyuk’s chest.

“There was an emergency shareholders’ meeting. Unfortunately, my main job is being a chaebol second generation, remember? I told you brewing coffee is just a landlord’s hobby.”

He didn’t mention how he had stormed out of the meeting before the agenda was finalized—or that the agenda involved his own appointment as vice president of Taesung Group.

“I’m technically your boyfriend for now. What does a boyfriend usually do when his girlfriend gets slapped? Tell me.”

Seo-yeon replied in an exasperated tone:

“Kill him? First, you listen to the full story, then you give her a hug.”

Realizing how awkward her words sounded, she quickly tried to backtrack:

“No, wait—I mean, that’s what people normally do. But we’re not normal, so I wasn’t asking for a hug. Don’t touch me.”

Ignoring her protests lightly, Jung-hyuk pulled her closer, pressing her forehead against his chest. His musky scent wafted through the air, invading her lungs.

“...I told you to change your cologne.”

Embarrassed, Seo-yeon blamed the cologne and pushed against his chest, but he only pulled her head closer, forcing her arms to wrap around his neck.

As the rapid flow of blood pulsed near his Adam’s apple, Seo-yeon found herself completely vulnerable. When his breath brushed against her neck, an inexplicable thirst surged within her. She craved water—or perhaps something else desperately needed resolution.

No longer resisting, Seo-yeon nestled into his embrace and murmured softly:

“I still feel like a minor... like I haven’t fully grown up. My heart feels that way... my heart.”

“Why all of a sudden?”

“I don’t even love you, yet here we are. This just proves I’m not emotionally mature. I went to counseling once—they said I have emotional neglect issues. Funny, right? You’re shamelessly exploiting my weak spots.”

Seo-yeon had laid bare her vulnerabilities, her deepest insecurities. Jung-hyuk’s palm slid down her slender waist as he murmured:

“Your body is definitely no longer that of a minor, so don’t worry. You’ve grown up plenty.”

Her attempt at seriousness was lost on him, and Seo-yeon let out a resigned laugh as his hands wandered beneath her shirt. The burning thirst within her sought release, and she didn’t resist. Her long eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings.

The fiery tension between the two was abruptly shattered by the loud ringing of a phone. Pushing Jung-hyuk away, Seo-yeon picked up the call. He sighed deeply in frustration, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck.

“Do you really have to answer it now? Are you this cruel?”

“Move aside for a sec.”

Upon seeing the caller’s name—Kim Hyeon-ae—Seo-yeon visibly froze in shock. Jung-hyuk glanced back and forth between her startled expression and the three letters on the screen before speaking in a frosty tone:

“This woman… another reason to kill her just popped up. Answer it on speakerphone.”

Like an obedient child, Seo-yeon followed his instructions. Hyeon-ae’s frantic voice came through the line:

“Miss Seo-yeon, please help me! Can you come to me right now?”

The urgency in her trembling voice made Seo-yeon instinctively sense something was wrong. Memories of Hyeon-ae’s earlier claim that her husband sometimes hit her flashed through her mind.

“I’ll be there soon, Hyeon-ae. You’re in Myeong-dong, right? Please send me the exact address via text.”

Where does she think she’s going now? As confusion spread across Jung-hyuk’s face, Seo-yeon urged him:

“What are you waiting for? Start driving. Take me there.”

Jung-hyuk glared at her, his patience evaporating. The musky scent around him now carried a murderous intent.

“So you’re seriously saying you’re going to help the woman who slapped you? Tell me you’re joking right now.”

“You heard me correctly, so hurry up and start driving.”

Jung-hyuk’s brow furrowed instantly, his murderous gaze now directed squarely at Seo-yeon. What on earth was this reckless woman planning? Was she even sane?

It was becoming increasingly clear: to endure the merciless love of the Shin brothers, Han Seo-yeon herself couldn’t possibly be in her right mind.

“Han Seo-yeon, snap out of it. First, you ask if I’m God, and now you’re acting like one yourself. Do you think you’re divine? Overflowing with compassion?”

Seo-yeon shot him a fierce glare and retorted:

“Yes, overflowing. That’s what happens when you grow up in an orphanage with emotional neglect. That’s why I tremble over strangers like Biryu, whose blood isn’t even related to mine, and why I end up entangled with bastards like you who toy with people’s hearts. Are you going to drive or not?”

Still baring his claws like a beast, Jung-hyuk bristled as Seo-yeon delivered her final ultimatum:

“Fine, I’ll take a taxi then.”

Under her threat, Jung-hyuk’s sedan finally roared to life. He drove recklessly, fully venting his foul mood, while Seo-yeon repeatedly snapped at him to drive more responsibly.

Thanks to his aggressive driving, they arrived at Hyeon-ae’s villa faster than expected.

Ignoring Seo-yeon’s protests, Jung-hyuk followed her inside. How could he let her go alone—to the very person who had slapped her?