RB - 54

Chapter 54: I Don’t Want to Kill the Rabbit

A cold glint passed through Jung-hyuk’s eyes as he chastised Seo-yeon in a voice dry with despair.

“What do you know? Every time Shin Joon-hyuk came home every few years, something disastrous happened. He almost killed a housekeeper once and even swung a golf club at my father. His violence is pure madness.”

Seo-yeon felt a surge of frustration, like an unquenchable thirst. While she couldn’t call the Joon-hyuk she met an “angel,” it was clear that something was twisted here. Why was an autistic patient who should be in Boston secretly in Korea without his family knowing?

“Shin Jung-hyuk, listen to me. If one thing seems suspicious, everything else needs to be questioned too. You can’t just pick and choose what you want to believe. You know this—even with all your chaebol power, not everything goes your way in life.”

Despite her sincere advice, Jung-hyuk left the room coldly, issuing a ridiculous warning for her to stay confined in her hospital room.

Her migraine worsened. She gulped down cold water, but the burning thirst in her throat wouldn’t subside. It wasn’t physical thirst—it was mental anguish.

“This is driving me crazy.”

Biting her lower lip hard, Seo-yeon fidgeted anxiously, feeling like someone being chased. She had a strong conviction that everything was connected, yet finding the thread to unravel it all seemed impossible. She began slowly organizing the events that had unfolded around her.

“Park Yeo-wan, who has been donating long-term to the orphanage…”

Seo-yeon muttered a curse under her breath, pressing her temples. Her beautifully arched eyebrows drooped pitifully. Only now did she realize why finding the thread was so difficult.

“She yearned so deeply for her biological mother, only to have that same mother reject her existence.” This painfully clear answer was something Seo-yeon had refused to accept, choosing instead to look away. Acknowledging this devastating truth would open the prologue to an enormous secret.

The foggy outlines of clues began to take shape. Taking another sip of cold water, Seo-yeon steadied herself. She relentlessly speculated about why Joon-hyuk called her “Your Majesty.”

“Jin-hyuk also calls someone ‘Your Majesty’—his mother…”

Finally, she found the connection. How likely was it that these strange nicknames coincided around the same time? Could it all be a coincidence?

The more she reasoned, the thicker the suspicion grew, its color a deep, bloody red. An uncomfortable expression spread across Seo-yeon’s face. Clearly, something linked the orphanage and the hospital, and uncovering it would require help from others.

A powerful ally—and someone she’d already worked with before—Shin Jin-hyuk was the perfect partner. Shin Jung-hyuk, who had warned her to “stay put,” was obviously out of the question.

“Seriously, did he think I’d actually listen to him?”

Glancing outside, she saw that morning had already broken. Quickly typing a message, Seo-yeon stared at her phone screen for a while before finally hitting send.

—Jin-hyuk, I need your cooperation. This concerns both of us, so hurry over.

If her reasoning was correct, Jin-hyuk would soon discover the secrets of the “Your Majesty” he revered—his mother.

“Park Yeo-wan… Jin-hyuk’s mother, Your Majesty… That’s the only way the puzzle fits…”

Seo-yeon wondered if she was opening the gates of hell into Jin-hyuk’s otherwise peaceful world. Maybe ignorance truly was bliss? Torn by painful deliberation, she forced herself to rest. She needed to maintain at least minimal strength to face the unknown monster.

Seo-yeon spent the entire morning lying motionless in her hospital room, sleeping.

“Patient Han Seo-yeon, it’s time for breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry. Take it away.”

She rejected the perfectly balanced hospital meal and ignored the nurses’ inquiries about how she was feeling. With a clear warning not to bother her, she locked the door and collapsed onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling for half the day made her restless, but she endured.

Her plan was crystal clear.

First, she had to confront the insidious man monitoring her—Professor Sung Ho-yeon. This wasn’t just about the Shin brothers. For reasons she couldn’t yet understand, one strand of this tangled mess was firmly tied to her as well.

With a serious expression, Seo-yeon pursed her lips tightly, muttering under her breath.

“If Professor Sung is surveilling me under Park Yeo-wan’s orders, it makes sense. She must have been horrified at the thought of her abandoned daughter getting close to her stepson.”

Seo-yeon now understood why Jung-hyuk’s mother had unleashed such venomous words days ago. She hadn’t expected to be called a “baseless wench” by the mother she’d dreamed of reuniting with.

The outline of the monster was becoming clearer, but she still couldn’t figure out why Joon-hyuk had mentioned the word “plastic surgery” when he saw her. Clenching her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms, Seo-yeon wondered what the hazy truth hidden beyond the mist could possibly be.

“Patient Han Seo-yeon, you need to eat lunch. Please open the door.”

As various hypotheses swirled chaotically in her mind, a pounding headache set in. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Glancing at the clock, Seo-yeon saw it was exactly 12:30 p.m.—lunchtime.

“Patient, if you keep this up, we’ll have no choice but to force the door open. It’s hospital policy.”

Jin-hyuk had arrived during the nurses’ attempts to persuade Seo-yeon. Spotting the firmly locked door, he spoke in a grave tone.

“Manager Han, it’s me, Shin Jin-hyuk.”

A trustworthy ally had arrived. Seo-yeon quickly opened the door, leaving the nurses stunned.

“Manager Han, what’s wrong with your complexion? Did you not sleep?”

The evident exhaustion on Seo-yeon’s face unsettled Jin-hyuk.

“Come in. Only you, Jin-hyuk.”

After taking the meal tray from the nurse, Jin-hyuk stepped inside. Before Seo-yeon could say anything, he handed her a spoon and cut her off succinctly.

“Meal first.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat breakfast either, did you?”

“I usually skip breakfast.”

“You were a busy office worker before, but now you’re a frail patient, right?”

“Well… I’m not exactly frail…”

“Does a healthy person just collapse on the street? Do you know how fast I had to run carrying you that day?”

As Jin-hyuk scolded her earnestly, he tapped his shoulder and waist to stir her guilt.

“My back still hurts. Remember when you used to worry about my future as a bright new employee? What happened to that?”

The effect was immediate. Seo-yeon hastily mixed rice into her seaweed soup and began eating. Watching her silently, Jin-hyuk asked,

“Were you on some kind of hunger strike?”

“I just didn’t want to see the nurses.”

Jin-hyuk found Seo-yeon strangely unfamiliar today. She seemed anxious, like prey being hunted.

“You said something about cooperation in your text. What do you mean?”

Revealing the grim truth to Jin-hyuk, someone she needed help from, made Seo-yeon feel sickened by her own actions. But she concluded that Jin-hyuk deserved to know the truth eventually, and hiding it further would only deceive him. After a brief hesitation, she spoke.

“Jin-hyuk, do you trust me?”

Seo-yeon’s already slender frame had grown even thinner in just a few days. Reading the anxiety in her expression, Jin-hyuk replied firmly.

“It’s strange—I’m usually bad at reading people’s expressions. One of my treatments as a child involved learning to interpret facial cues.”

Demonstrating, Jin-hyuk pulled down the corners of his eyes with two fingers. “This means sadness or pity.” Then he raised them sharply upward. “This means anger or discomfort.”

“But Manager Han’s expression… I don’t need training to read it. It’s painfully obvious. You’re pretending to be fine, but you’re anxious and sad, aren’t you?”

Jin-hyuk described himself as if he were a psychopath or sociopath. Why was he portraying himself as a monster? Why? Seo-yeon sighed shallowly and shook her head.

“Do you remember the day you came to the orphanage with scissors? The day you said you wanted to see the rabbits?”

“I remember most of it.”

“Why did you come that early in the morning?”

“…Because I wanted to kill the rabbit.”

Seo-yeon slammed her spoon down and grabbed Jin-hyuk’s shoulders tightly.

“I heard a sound and went to the rabbit hutch. A boy was crying. He was begging, ‘I don’t want to kill it! Please stop me!’”

Jin-hyuk looked incredulous, and soon cold sweat trickled down his handsome forehead.

“Are you sure I said that? It can’t be. I clearly felt murderous intent when I went there.”

“My memory is correct. When I got there, you were holding scissors over the rabbit’s head. But do you know what? I was so shocked I just stood there frozen. I couldn’t stop you. But you never killed the rabbit—you just kept crying, saying you didn’t want to!”

Jin-hyuk was overwhelmed by a shock akin to being struck on the head with a hammer. He had no memory of this, and he was certain he had gone there with murderous intent. Yet, staring into Seo-yeon’s unwavering eyes, he felt an intense desire to believe her.