RB - 26

Chapter 26: Affection Is Also a Disease, and You’re a Critical Patient

Thud, thud. Seo-yeon knocked on the door while repeatedly pressing the doorbell—ding-dong, ding-dong.

Cries could be heard leaking from inside the house, yet no one came to open the door. Seo-yeon bit her lower lip anxiously and muttered:

“Jung-hyuk, what should we do? Should I call 112 first? Or is it 119?”

Fortunately, before Seo-yeon had to resort to calling emergency services, the front door finally opened. At the sight of Kim Hyeon-ae, her forehead and lips split open and smeared with blood, Seo-yeon instinctively covered her mouth in shock. Witnessing domestic violence firsthand was an experience she had never encountered before.

“...I’m sorry, Miss Seo-yeon... sob... I remembered your words about calling if he hit me again... sniffle.”

Behind Hyeon-ae, who was sobbing uncontrollably, peeked a young girl. She looked to be around first grade, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Ko Myeong-soo’s features—his daughter.

Ah, right. She had mentioned having an elementary school-aged daughter. Did the child witness her mother being beaten?

Seo-yeon’s heart sank, but she forced herself to stay calm as she stepped into Hyeon-ae’s home.

“Was it HR Manager Ko... no, that bastard Myeong-soo who did this?”

“Sob, he left about an hour ago. He probably won’t come back tonight... Whenever he beats me badly, he always stays out overnight. I didn’t know what to do, so I called you. I wanted to call 119, but then I remembered someone telling me to leave evidence... Am I being too presumptuous? I’m so sorry.”

Seo-yeon gave Hyeon-ae a reassuring look before surveying the interior of the house.

Ko Myeong-soo’s home was a modestly furnished villa, around 30 pyeong. Compared to the pretentious image he projected at work, his household was surprisingly humble—and now, utterly devastated. It seemed he had resorted to smashing things in his rage.

Myeong-soo had apparently shouted at his wife, who was preparing dinner: “How dare you cause trouble at my workplace, you wench? Haven’t you been punished enough?” before unleashing his violence. The burnt pot of stew on the stove bore silent witness to the abuse.

That despicable piece of trash deserved to be chewed up and spat out.

Seo-yeon took deep breaths, as if starved for oxygen amidst the remnants of this violent scene. Jung-hyuk placed a hand on her shoulder, then proceeded to take photos.

He had initially protested her over-involvement, but now he was cooperating quite willingly. Seo-yeon felt glad she’d brought him along as she turned to Hyeon-ae:

“I’ll call 119 first. You’re badly injured.”

Hyeon-ae stomped her feet in fear, looking nothing like the venomous woman who had slapped Seo-yeon earlier. With a terrified expression, she pleaded:

“I’m scared. My husband... he hates it when I go to the hospital. I’ve never called 119 before, even after all the times he’s hit me.”

What kind of nonsense was this? Seo-yeon’s face hardened as she raised her voice:

“You told me today! That you didn’t want to live like this anymore, that you needed help! Tell me now—what scares you more? Your daughter growing up in this environment, or your husband’s anger?”

Hyeon-ae’s panicked gaze shifted to her daughter. The pale face of the young elementary school girl—the precious face of her beloved child—finally broke her resolve.

Her sobs escalated into full-blown wails, her pitiful figure blending seamlessly with the wreckage of the house.

“Please help me. You said there was a way. You said you knew an expensive lawyer! Please save me... sob. I don’t want my daughter to live like this.”

Seo-yeon grabbed a wet wipe and gently cleaned the blood trickling from Hyeon-ae’s lips. Upon closer inspection, Hyeon-ae was a woman who once exuded elegance and refinement.

Hadn’t she been the object of Ko Myeong-soo’s fervent pursuit at one point? Why was her radiant smile now marred by blood?

As Seo-yeon empathized with Hyeon-ae’s tragedy, memories of HR Manager Ko’s boasts surfaced in her mind:

“My wife used to be a top hairstylist in Gangnam. She was incredibly famous. That’s why I don’t go to barbershops—she styles my hair at home.”

Why had that once-renowned hairstylist ended up living such a miserable life, battered and broken?

They say meddling is a disease, and in that sense, Seo-yeon was critically ill. Watching silently, Jung-hyuk moistened his dry lips with the tip of his tongue, though nothing could quench the burning within him.

The cold edge in Jung-hyuk’s voice cut through the women’s shared sorrow. After withdrawing his contemptuous gaze from Hyeon-ae, he spoke:

“If you want to leave evidence, you need to call 119. Being taken away in an ambulance will all be documented and can be submitted as proof.”

Without hesitation, Jung-hyuk dialed 119 and relayed the situation. When the rescue operator asked for the address, he handed the phone to Seo-yeon.

But the one who swiftly snatched it was Hyeon-ae’s young daughter. In a clear, steady voice, the child recited their home address and added:

“Uncle, please hurry. My mom is still bleeding.”

This revealed just how desperately the little girl wanted to protect her mother from further harm. Overwhelmed by guilt, Hyeon-ae collapsed onto the floor. The realization that she couldn’t ruin her daughter’s life struck her like a vice tightening around her neck.

Standing nearby with a cold expression, Jung-hyuk suddenly felt a tug on his shirt. It was the tiny hand of Hyeon-ae’s daughter.

“Uncle, please take pictures of my room too. Mom ran into my room, but Dad chased her there.”

Unlike her tearful mother, the girl was brave. Reluctantly, Seo-yeon and Jung-hyuk followed the child to her bedroom. Opening the door required some hesitation—it was far more uncomfortable to imagine witnessing a child’s abuse than an adult’s.

Upon entering the room, Seo-yeon instinctively clutched the hem of Jung-hyuk’s shirt. But the girl courageously urged him on:

“Hurry, Uncle. Take pictures before the paramedics arrive.”

With a humorless tone, Jung-hyuk replied to the child:

“You called me ‘Uncle,’ so I won’t take them.”

Seo-yeon gaped at him in disbelief and smacked his side hard. Though she couldn’t speak freely in front of the child, her eyes were already hurling every curse imaginable his way.

Jung-hyuk winced as he rubbed the side where Seo-yeon had hit him, but continued taking photos. He muttered quietly under his breath without stopping:

“When the paramedics arrive later, I’ll probably be carried out too. So you better remember that, Han Seo-yeon.”

Seo-yeon’s gaze shifted to the corner of the child’s desk. A vivid bloodstain marked the spot—likely where Hyeon-ae had struck her forehead. The thought that the child had witnessed all this made Seo-yeon feel a pang of guilt for considering her own orphaned state fortunate. She knew it was petty to feel grateful for her circumstances in light of someone else’s suffering, yet the thought lingered.

KNOCK, KNOCK. The arrival of the 119 rescue team interrupted just as Seo-yeon was about to ask the child her name.

Hyeon-ae was swiftly loaded onto a stretcher and taken away. True to form, children were resilient until their breaking point. The brave little girl finally broke down, shaking her small shoulders as tears streamed down her face.

Telling her not to cry felt inappropriate, so Seo-yeon gently patted the child’s shoulder and asked:

“What’s your name? I’m Han Seo-yeon.”

“I’m Yuna. Ko Yuna... Thank you for helping us today, Unnie.”

Surprisingly, it was Jung-hyuk who stopped the child’s crying.

“She called you ‘Unnie,’ but why am I an ‘Uncle’? If you don’t see me as a kid, you need to explain why you’re calling me that.”

Seo-yeon clapped her hand over her mouth in disbelief once again, while Yuna stopped crying and giggled shyly.

An hour later, at Seo-yeon’s apartment:

A tense standoff began between Seo-yeon and Jung-hyuk. Clenching her teeth tightly, Seo-yeon glared at him as he spoke in a tone dripping with condescension:

“Han Seo-yeon, I know a good psychiatrist. Want me to introduce you? Getting so deeply involved in other people’s affairs must have a diagnosis.”

“Stop mocking me! My head’s already pounding enough without your nonsense!”

Jung-hyuk gestured toward Seo-yeon’s bedroom with a tilt of his chin.

“Why did you bring her here?”

Inside, Ko Myeong-soo’s daughter, Ko Yuna, was sleeping soundly. Seo-yeon shot him a fierce glare, careful to lower her voice so the child wouldn’t hear.

“Keep your voice down, Shin Jung-hyuk. And what gives you the right to criticize? Why did you follow us here? Is this why you sent Biryu to boarding school?”

“It works out for both of us. From what the foundation chairman said, Student Kim Biryu seemed to really enjoy it.”

Seo-yeon pressed hard on her temples, trying to stave off the mounting headache. Jung-hyuk watched her discomfort with detached amusement, his cold sarcasm cutting through the air.

“If you’re not going to crush them completely, then you should ignore them entirely. Since when do you meddle like this? Especially with the perpetrator.”

“I will crush them—but not Kim Hyeon-ae. And I’ve got help, so stop worrying.”

Of course, Seo-yeon was referring to Attorney Jung Seung-min, Jin-hyuk’s acquaintance, but Jung-hyuk misunderstood.

“So you’re planning to use your chaebol second-generation boyfriend to your advantage? You’re trusting me now, huh?”

As Jung-hyuk’s expression turned smug, Seo-yeon pressed even harder on her temples. If only you were a little uglier, you’d truly be insufferable.

The faint musk of Jung-hyuk’s cologne lingered in the living room. It was a subtle scent, noticeable only up close, yet it filled the space when she let her guard down. Like an unrelenting invader, it permeated everything.