RB - 77

77. REVENGE MATCH

In the abyss-like darkness, consciousness slowly floated to the surface. Seo-yeon awoke with a skull-splitting headache. With great effort, she managed to lift her eyelids, heavy as lead, and an unfamiliar space came into view. She furrowed her brow and let out a faint groan.

“Where am I?”

Seo-yeon tried to move but soon realized she was tied to a chair, her limbs bound tightly. No matter how much she twisted and turned, there was no escape—the meticulous knots were unmistakably Professor Sung Hoyeon’s handiwork. Every joint in her body ached from being dragged here so roughly.

As her blurry vision gradually cleared, Seo-yeon steadied herself and surveyed her surroundings. Professor Sung was nowhere to be seen.

“…Where did Professor Sung go?”

Through the window, the dim scenery suggested they were in a semi-basement. The room was neglected, resembling a haunted house more than anything else. The floral wallpaper, faded yellow and covered in patches of mold, emitted a musty stench that made her wrinkle her nose.

Her gaze landed on the walls plastered with numerous photographs, and then it hit her—this was the studio apartment where Professor Sung had lived during his impoverished days. In the photos, a younger Sung Ho-yeon stared back, his face devoid of any smile.

“Oh, our patient Han Seo-yeon has finally come to. You’ve been unconscious for quite some time, making this doctor’s heart race.”

Click—the bathroom door opened, and Professor Sung emerged. The tiles in the bathroom were cracked beyond recognition, and a damp, foul smell lingered. He casually wiped the water from his hands onto his clothes.

Professor Sung approached Seo-yeon abruptly, his belt buckle nearing her face. Instinctively, she turned her head away, but his hand was faster. He grabbed her chin tightly, immobilizing her completely.

“How do you like it here? Does it suit you? According to Park Yeowan, you lived in a place like this until you were five. Do you remember? Park Yeowan raised you by spreading her legs at bars. And you, an ungrateful brat.”

Seo-yeon frowned in disgust, and Professor Sung watched her reaction with a sly smirk.

He naturally assumed that Seo-yeon’s relationship with Shin Jung-hyuk was driven solely by “money.” For him, money was the ultimate value in life—not love, not honor, just money. If he had simply asked, “Why do you love Shin Jung-hyuk?” Seo-yeon might have answered honestly: “Because my heart told me to; I couldn’t help it.”

But instead of asking, Professor Sung wanted to crush her. If he had demanded reasons, she could have listed them all night. The first reason was that she was the daughter of Park Yeowan, who had betrayed him. The second was that she bore an uncanny resemblance to a younger Park Yeowan.

“Park Yeowan may have had a pretty face, but her brain was useless. You, on the other hand, are lucky enough to be smart. A woman can use her beauty endlessly, but intelligence only makes her ripe for domestic abuse.”

Seo-yeon snickered and glared at him, showing no sign of fear. Instead, she stared directly into his eyes, as if searching for something lost in the darkness. Another mocking laugh escaped her lips. Predictably, finding any depth in such a despicable villain was proving difficult.

Her attitude infuriated Professor Sung. He had intended to go easy on her since she was a hostage, but her arrogance was growing unbearable.

“If Han Seo-yeon is indeed Park Yeowan’s daughter, I know exactly how to make her obedient.”

Resolved to use the same methods he had employed on Park Yeowan, Professor Sung unzipped his pants with a sneer. Anticipation of the pleasure he would derive from humiliating Seo-yeon sent shivers through his body.

Seo-yeon barely suppressed the urge to vomit at the sight of his grotesque anatomy. He stood proudly, as if his engorged member were a symbol of confidence, hands resting on his hips.

His genitals, grotesquely distorted by fillers and beads, resembled a toad.

They say that even if you’re dragged into a tiger’s den, staying calm can save your life. Seo-yeon probed for Professor Sung’s weaknesses. Success wasn’t guaranteed, but she couldn’t let herself be defiled without a fight. She met his gaze head-on, unnerving him despite his expertise in psychology.

“This is unexpected. I thought you were impotent.”

“…What? Im…potent?”

“You know, that movie with Ha Jung-woo, The Chaser? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it? Remember the guy, 4885? That character only killed weak women because… well, he was impotent. Couldn’t get it up. Pfft…”

Seeing the flush of anger spread across Professor Sung’s face, Seo-yeon felt a flicker of hope. Her words were hitting their mark. She pressed on, her tone dripping with mockery.

“You fit the profile perfectly. A psychiatrist preying on young, vulnerable children with gaslighting tactics. Pathetic, truly pathetic. And what’s with this filthy basement? Judging by the photos on the wall, this was where you lived during your penniless college days. Most people would’ve gotten rid of this place, but you kept it intact. Why? I think I know—it’s your last resort.”

With a chilling screech, Seo-yeon’s head snapped to the side as Professor Sung slapped her. He shook his stinging hand in the air.

Seo-yeon spat blood-tinged saliva at him. Her inner cheek was torn, but she felt no fear. Insults toward Professor Sung swirled within her, and a bitter smile tugged at her lips.

“Tsk, tsk. As expected, you only target kids and women. Oh? Look at that—your little friend has gone limp. What now? It’ll take forever to get it up again. Think you can manage before tonight?”

Seo-yeon burst into laughter, pointing at his flaccid member, which now resembled a wilted mushroom. What had started as a desperate attempt to avoid rape had turned into genuine amusement. The thought of the Shin brothers being victimized by such a pathetic excuse for a man was utterly ridiculous.

“How dare you, you little wretch!”

Enraged, Professor Sung hurled an old vintage-style cup at her. It struck her head and shattered on the floor with a clang, but Seo-yeon didn’t flinch. She glared at him with unwavering resolve.

Though she had always lived as the underdog, she knew who held the upper hand in this moment. The handle of the weapon was firmly in her grasp.

With a deadly tone, Seo-yeon issued a warning.

“Try pulling out that pathetic thing again, and see what happens.”

Exposed and trembling with rage, Professor Sung hastily pulled up his pants and began punching her wildly. Still unsatisfied, he stabbed her thigh with a jackknife. Blood gushed out, but Seo-yeon bit her lip and glared at his wrist holding the knife.

When she fell over along with the chair, he kicked her abdomen relentlessly.

Though the pain was excruciating, Seo-yeon refused to scream. She resolved that dying from beatings was preferable to being raped by this monster. After a prolonged assault, Professor Sung, drenched in sweat and panting heavily, finally stopped. Seo-yeon lay on the floor, bleeding profusely from her head.

“Damn it, she can’t die yet.”

Han Seo-yeon was his final bargaining chip. Realizing he had endangered her life, he cursed himself. Frantically searching the closet and drawers, he found nothing useful for emergency care—unsurprising given the decades this place had been abandoned.

He crudely pressed a piece of cloth against her bleeding head, then hurriedly put on his shoes. He planned to visit a nearby pharmacy for bandages and pick up some food while he was out.

As he stepped outside, Professor Sung nervously checked his phone. Despite the chaos, not a single missed call or reply to his dozens of messages awaited him.

He realized he was now completely isolated from the world. Everyone around him knew—he had fallen into an abyss.

“These sly bastards, happy to drink expensive liquor with me when times were good. Now they pretend they don’t know me?”

Swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat, Professor Sung slammed the door shut.

On the floor, Seo-yeon groaned faintly. Amidst her labored breaths, a name slipped out.

“Haa… Shin Jung-hyuk, where are you? Jung-hyuk-ah…”

Finally, she called his name. Though she had thought of him constantly, uttering his name aloud made her heart as fragile as tofu. A mountainous wave of longing crashed over her, burying her small frame like a landslide of rocks and dirt. As blood continued to flow from her wounds, her consciousness faded into the void.