Novel Translation: When the phone rings

Chapter 11

The first time I met Baek Sa-oen was when I had just moved into Chairman Hong’s house.

"The daughter brought in by the lounge singer wife."

Whispers like that reached my ears from the very first day.

My mother, who would only throw cheap makeup in front of my father, would run barefoot with a smiling face to greet Chairman Hong. My beautiful, aloof stepsister would simply ignore me as she walked past. My mother cared more about tending to Chairman Hong’s ashtray than ensuring I had a proper meal.

As a child, missing my father, I would wander aimlessly around the area.

"It’s so big…"

The walls in this wealthy neighborhood were all so high, towering over me. They surrounded massive houses, isolating them like fortresses. Wandering through the narrow alleys between those walls felt like being trapped in a maze.

As a child, yearning for my father, I would often instinctively crawl into dark, cramped spaces. That day was no different from any other.

"…!"

However, I wasn’t alone. Someone was already there, standing blankly.

A tall figure, neither a child of nine like me nor fully an adult, somewhere in between.

An older boy in a school uniform, his face pale as a ghost.

His shoulders were unnaturally hunched, his frame so thin that there wasn’t an ounce of flesh to fill it out. The white short-sleeved shirt billowed in the wind, exposing his gaunt upper body. His pale skin hinted at malnutrition, but what stood out most was his sharp, prominent nose.

His eyes, neurotic and piercing, looked as though they had been carved by a scalpel—razor-sharp and filled with an air of extreme sensitivity and criticism.

I watched this boy up close, finding him utterly fascinating, unable to look away. The club I came from was filled only with old men. Though his face was still youthful, its pale, flawless complexion was strikingly unusual.

"Wow…"

I tilted my head back, craning my neck so far it felt like it might snap, staring up at him.

In that moment, our gazes met.

"…!"

The icy, emotionless boy suddenly started to cry.

For an instant, time stretched unnaturally, as if I were back in school, waiting for the bell to ring.

The moment he realized I was just a child, he lowered his head, steadying himself against the wall.

A strange sense of comfort escaped from him in the form of a quiet sigh.

"Uh… Are you feeling unwell?"

"…"

The boy suddenly fixed his bloodshot eyes on me, his intense gaze making my heart skip a beat. Those red, tear-filled eyes were terrifying, yet I couldn’t look away.

Oh my god…

Just as Hee-joo was about to step back, a hand suddenly reached out toward her.

"…!"

That large hand pressed firmly against her forehead as if it were about to grab her head entirely. The long, slender fingers pressed against her temples, and the palm completely blocked her vision.

Hee-joo nearly screamed, but the boy’s muffled sobs reached her ears first.

"Huh… huh…"

"…"

"Shibal… huh…"

She could have broken free, could have shouted loudly for help. Yet, the sound of his suppressed crying froze her body in place. For some reason, she couldn’t move.

I can’t see anything…

Her obstructed vision rendered her unable to see the boy’s face at all.

I want to see his face so badly…

In the extreme tension of the moment, only her sense of hearing became unnaturally sharp. Every nerve felt like it was devouring the intensity of the situation, hammering against her entire body.

"If you’re Kim Yeon-hee’s daughter, you must be good at singing, right?"

For some reason, this line came to mind. Guests would always say that to Hee-joo while chewing on toothpicks whenever they saw her.

Even when they jokingly asked her to sing, she would always stubbornly keep her mouth shut…

"Little squirrel can’t poop—"

"…"

"Doesn’t like acorns, likes grapes—"

"…"

"Grapes, oh grapes, green grapes—!"

The boy’s sobbing suddenly stopped.

"Stomach growling, grumble grumble—"

"…"

"Rolling around—poof poof—"

"How old are you?"

The rough, hoarse voice of a boy in the middle of puberty abruptly cut off her singing.

"Uh… nine."

The boy was silent for a moment. Finally, the palm pressing against her temples moved away, and her vision was restored.

She looked up into a face that was cold and expressionless.

"Don’t sing again."

Riiing riiing riiing—!

The deafening sound of an alarm clock shattered the moment.

"Ah…!"

Hee-joo jolted awake, startled out of her dream, instinctively rubbing her ears as if the memory still lingered.

The memory of her first meeting with Baek Sa-oen was far more unforgettable than she had anticipated. It had been twenty years ago, yet instead of fading, the details grew sharper with time.

"God, just when I think I’ve almost forgotten…"

The voice she was forced to hear, the way her vision was obstructed—was it because the sound was too overwhelming? Or because the abrupt rudeness had scared her? Hee-joo had felt like a ghost had possessed her, unable to do anything but watch him walk farther and farther away.

Later, at a garden party, she encountered the boy again.

"She said she’d marry me when I grew up," her sister had whispered softly. What kind of expression had she worn when she said that?

At that moment, Hee-joo wasn’t seeing the boy who had once sobbed in the shadows of an alley. Instead, she saw the grandson of the Prime Minister, the one who drew everyone’s attention effortlessly.

His complexion was a stark contrast to when she’d seen him in the alley. Though his figure was not yet fully mature, he wore adult clothing that fit him perfectly, standing naturally in the center of the garden instead of hiding in the dark.

Hee-joo had wanted to find the brother from that day, but before she could, he had already approached her. With a perfectly composed expression, he extended his hand.

"Ten? Eleven?"

It was strange. He didn’t seem stupid at all. His polite gesture carried an elusive curiosity, leaving her unsure how to respond.

When I hurriedly shook his hand, he gripped it firmly for a moment. Hee-joo instantly understood—it was a silent warning. What she had seen that day in the alley had become the boy’s weakness.

"What could possibly be a weakness for someone like him?"

"The audacity to threaten him—it’s absurd!"

Even as his assistant grumbled, Baek Sa-oen continued striding briskly through the corridors of the Blue House. He had just wrapped up an impromptu Q&A session with reporters during his morning commute.

In addition to addressing the recent spike in dating violence and kidnapping cases, he had briefly conveyed the President's stance on the matter before heading straight into a meeting with the Chief Public Relations Office.

As he walked, Baek Sa-oen exchanged cold, fleeting glances with colleagues who greeted him, his eyes seemingly asking, “Have the location traces been identified yet?”

"Um, sir…"

"What about the surveillance footage from the roads?"

"We checked all of it, but there’s still no…"

He frowned. "That’s enough. I’ve heard enough."

The assistant, visibly anxious, couldn’t help but offer a weak defense.

"Well, the analysts are saying this threat seems… calculated? Like we’re being toyed with."

"…"

"Within ten minutes, the IP address kept changing frequently. It doesn’t seem like the work of an individual—it’s organized. And all the surveillance footage from that time frame has been erased. It’s a real headache."

"Organized…"

"Sir, what exactly does this person want?"

"Two hundred million."

"What?!"

The assistant’s jaw dropped.

"In exchange for what?"

"They’re threatening to expose my private life."

"What?!"

This time, the assistant’s eyes widened so much they seemed about to split.

"Your private life? Sir, you don’t mean…"

Although it seemed impossible, the assistant still cast a doubtful look at his superior.

Private life? Baek Sa-oen was a man whose schedule was planned down to the minute. Could there really be gossip about him worth two hundred million?

The assistant was utterly baffled. If it weren’t about his private life, but rather something related to his work, that might make more sense.

"We’ll discuss this later."

Baek Sa-oen pushed open the door to the conference room, leaving behind a reminder.

"What an unpredictable 

person…" the assistant murmured, shaking his head.

Thank you so much!!!! Please upload more chapters

Chapter 13:

---

Do you smoke?
"…What?"
I’m asking if you smoke.
"Ah, no, I don’t."
How about drinking?
"Um, I don’t really…"

Hee-joo reflexively answered the series of questions. They had nothing to do with the blackmail, which made her lower her guard.

Are you married?
"Married, no, I’m not—wait, that’s not…"
When was your first time?
"…What?"

His voice was cold and steady, like a host presenting a news program. That made his words stand out even more.

Hee-joo thought she hadn’t understood because of some technical jargon.
"First time…?"

When was your first time using your lower half?
"…!"

How could this be? The Blue House spokesman, so utterly disgraceful… Hee-joo opened her mouth like a fish gasping for air but couldn’t make a sound.

From what she remembered, Baek Sa-oen had always been an upright, model student council president. Every year, despite changing grades and schools, he held some leadership position, never absent. His only deviation was in his early twenties when he traveled through conflict zones like Tikrit, Fallujah, and Erbil, suddenly becoming a war correspondent.

Because he was a man admired by everyone, such indecent questions felt utterly wrong.

Perverted bastard, I’m talking to you.
"What? Who’s calling who a pervert now?"
Using cheap trash photos to fantasize, sexually harassing me, and defaming my wife—you realize this constitutes a crime of sexual misconduct using communication tools, right?
"What trash photos!"

Hee-joo bristled, thinking of the effort she’d put into getting that photo.

Even threats should have some level of quality.

His previously monotonous voice suddenly turned mocking.

So stop pestering me. It looks pathetic.

Just then, the timer beeped. She should hang up. She should...

Don’t waste time with things that will be exposed immediately. If you want to threaten me, at least do proper research on my background. I know exactly how upright that woman is—don’t drag her into this carelessly.

At that moment, a switch was flipped.

You, her so-called husband—what do you even know…?!

"Then prove it. Let’s see if that thigh isn’t from some trash photo!"

Yelling this felt like having cold water dumped over her head. She sobered instantly.

Wait, no. This isn’t right…! Something is really wrong here…!

Her stiff fingers hurriedly pressed the end-call button.

It’s over. Completely over…!

Second_Call.mp3.

Something had gone terribly wrong.


---

"Sir, we’ve got a signal!"

Assistant Park burst through the door, his head poking in excitedly.

The desk lamp illuminated the room, revealing a cold and urban second office that perfectly matched Baek Sa-oen’s style.

"Although it’s just an approximate range, we’ve narrowed it down to Yeongdeungpo, Seocho, Gangnam, and Songpa Districts. Delaying for a few seconds was worth it, sir!"

"Good."

But Baek Sa-oen simply stared at the suddenly disconnected phone. Even with a slight furrow in his brow, his expression remained as hard as plaster.

"Sir?"

"The more I talk to that person, the more frustrated I get."

"What? Me?!"

Park, preemptively caught in the crossfire, immediately stood upright.

"How dare they bring up Hee-joo using such photos? It’s absurd."

The expressionless man tapped his phone with his palm.

The previously solid and quiet territory seemed to be shifting, a subtle yet unsettling disturbance. For someone like Baek Sa-oen, who tightly controlled and guided every aspect of his life, this kind of disruption was nothing short of irritation.

"When I asked if they were married, they hesitated before correcting themselves."

"What?"

"People’s first words in a crisis reveal their true feelings."

Baek Sa-oen stroked his increasingly rough chin.

"They’re likely married, but dissatisfied with their marriage and recently divorced or considering it. Start investigating from that angle."

"Understood."

"Also, look into men who recently bought or repaired cars."

Park nodded as if inputting data into his mental database.

"When asked about sexual matters, they became visibly flustered. They might have a certain complex. Check for any sexual offense records or activity on the dark web."

"Got it."

Park quickly realized that his superior was in an exceptionally foul mood. The angrier Baek Sa-oen got, the calmer he seemed.

Park’s eyes fell on the pen that had been crushed under invisible pressure but pretended not to notice, lowering his head instead.

He spotted an old photo frame entirely out of place in the sleek, metallic environment.

A sunset photo. Even at a glance, the image quality was terrible.

Park tilted his head, wondering about such odd taste.

"And about that photo’s origin…"

Baek Sa-oen was examining the exposed photo when he suddenly paused.

"Don’t you know Hong Hee-joo’s thigh has a distinctive mark?"
"Is it that you don’t care, or have you never looked properly?"

The altered voice from earlier echoed in his mind, stirring an unfamiliar impulse within him. He bit his inner lip, suppressing the absurd emotion.

"…Sir?"

"Don’t mind it."

Baek Sa-oen closed his eyes, retracting his outstretched hand. As always, he could not tolerate failure.

His ambition was for the summit of power, the sole force driving this cold man.

Power was a privilege that allowed one to shamelessly seize what belonged to others—a cunning, intoxicating allure Baek Sa-oen had yearned for his entire life.

Assistant Park quickly realized that his superior was in a foul mood. The angrier Baek Sa-oen got, the calmer he appeared.

Park Do-jae's gaze fell on the pen, now visibly deformed under Baek Sa-oen's unseen grip, but he pretended not to notice and lowered his head.

He spotted an old photo frame that clashed completely with the sleek, metallic surroundings. A sunset photo. Even at a glance, the image quality was terrible.

Park tilted his head slightly, wondering about such an unusual choice of decor.

"And about the origin of this photo..."

Baek Sa-oen was in the middle of discussing the exposed photograph when he suddenly paused.

"Don’t you know Hong Hee-joo’s thigh has a distinctive mark?"

"Is it because you don’t care, or have you never bothered to look closely?"

The altered voice from the call echoed in his mind, stirring an unfamiliar and unwelcome impulse.

He bit down on his inner lip, suppressing the absurd emotion that had begun to surface.

"...Sir?"

"Ignore it."

Baek Sa-oen closed his eyes and withdrew his outstretched hand.

As always, failure was something he could not tolerate.

Baek Sa-oen’s ambition was for the pinnacle of power, the sole force that drove this cold and unyielding man.

Power is a force that requires no obedience to orders, a position that shamelessly allows one to seize what belongs to others.

This sly and seductive force had been Baek Sa-oen’s lifelong obsession and desire.

Yet now, a pest had crawled into his domain—an unidentified blackmailer threatening his position and attempting to cover up a scandal.

"You abandoned your former fiancée and married her younger sister."

"I’m going to expose it."

"Divorce Hong Hee-joo and bring back your original fiancée."

"Restore things to the way they were."

Pretending to agree to demands was the first step in negotiation.

Baek Sa-oen never intended to let anyone tarnish his life.

Guilt was a concept that had rarely crossed his mind.

His plan was clear: placate the blackmailer, build a relationship of trust, and then utterly destroy them.

"Why is it always the quiet ones who get targeted?"

The blackmailer’s repeated attempts were clearly aimed at Hong Hee-joo, placing him in a predicament he couldn’t easily explain.

Even the act of pretending to agree made him feel nauseated.

This morning, he had planned to address the president’s stance on the increasingly severe issue of dating violence, delivering a statement of "regret."

And then came the demand for 200 million won.

The precise sum of the breach of contract penalty—was it really just a coincidence?

If it wasn’t someone close to them, there’s no way they would know the inside details of this political marriage.

The blackmailer spoke as if they knew Hee-joo intimately, deliberately provoking Baek Sa-oen.

And then there was that photo.

…Yes, that damned photo.

If it were fake, it would be easy to disprove. But the shape of the knee, the scars, even the edge of the foot and toes in the picture—all unmistakably belonged to Hee-joo.

On the surface, it seemed like an attempt to extort money, but in reality—

Baek Sa-oen’s expression turned icy cold.

The threats, the demands, and the blackmailer’s motives…

"Let’s observe a little longer."

He unfastened his cufflinks, rolled up his sleeves, and exposed his forearms.

---

Hee-joo clutched her head and eventually drifted into a restless sleep.

Perhaps it was the tension keeping her body tightly curled up.

At some point, she felt something strange and opened her eyes.

The room was dimly lit without a nightlight.

In her blurry vision, she saw a massive shadow.

"…!"

The figure in the darkness began moving closer.

The long shadow reached the side of her bed and slowly bent down.

What’s happening?

Her mind felt sluggish.

The man pressed his palm and knee into the mattress, his eyes locking onto hers. His sharp features were strikingly vivid in the shadows.

Terrified, Hee-joo instinctively tried to sit up, but he was faster.

"You’ve been very quiet," Baek Sa-oen said softly, his hand gently holding her shoulder down.

"I thought you were staying obediently within my control."

"…"

"Was I mistaken?"

His face was devoid of any emotion, making his pale complexion all the more frightening.

"Lately, there have been so many incomprehensible things."

His cold pupils glimmered faintly in the darkness.

His gaze on his wife was as if he were looking at an inanimate object, a look Hee-joo had grown used to.

But for the first time, she sensed something different—a strange heat in his expression.

No, it wasn’t just heat; it was more like… obsession and arrogance.

"Hong Hee-joo."

When his deep voice called her name, Hee-joo didn’t dare blink.

His eyes were fixed on her face, then drifted downward, lingering on her lips, her collarbone, and the loose neckline of her shirt.

His icy gaze slithered like a serpent over the outline of her legs beneath the thin blanket.

"If you knew what I wanted to confirm, you’d be terrified."

"…!"

He wore a mocking smile as one hand grabbed the blanket. The problem was, he grabbed Hee-joo’s leg along with it.

Her feeble resistance only made the blanket rustle powerlessly.

"There’s nothing about Hong Hee-joo that I don’t know."

His face was so cold and indifferent that it was unbearable to look at directly.

His fingers tapped lightly on the blanket, as if deliberating his next move.

When his grip tightened, a sharp numbness shot through her thigh.

"Lately, your name has been exceptionally annoying to me."

"…"

"You’re too loud."

What did he mean by that?

Hee-joo froze in place, unable to comprehend.

The man finally stood up after a long pause.

"Soon, the Blue House will release a job posting for a sign language interpreter."

Hee-joo blinked in confusion.

"It’s safer there than at home, and easier to monitor."

…What did he just say?

"If you don’t want to be dragged into your father’s campaign, you’ll take the position at my side, no matter what."

He delivered the non-negotiable order and left the room without a second glance.

Hee-joo remained frozen for a long time.

In the end, she stayed awake all night.

GOD SENT THANK YOU!!

Chapter Chapter 15:

"-Do you think I'm just some loser jerking off at home? I'm going to kill you, kill you. I really will kill you."

"Cough, cough!"

The instant she heard the voice, the hairs on the back of Hee-joo's neck stood up.

And that voice-it was disturbingly familiar...

"-You bastard! I won't let you off! I'll never let you off! I'll stab your cheek with a knife...! Drench you in filth...! Then chop you into pieces...! Scatter your ashes...! Make you disappear...!"

What... What is this?

That's my distorted voice recording...!

Her face turned ghostly pale, drained of all color.

Though a few phrases belonged to the blackmailer, the majority were her own

They had cleverly spliced together things Hee-joo had said, crafting an entirely new persona for the blackmailer.

Her jaw dropped wide open, completely unable to close.

"-If you don't want your car to be totaled, then fork over 200 million...! Aren't I being kind?"

""

"-Shall we begin? Tomorrow, I'll kill you without mercy."

What... What is going on here...?

Who could have made such an edit…?

With a grain of rice still stuck to her lips, Hee-joo staggered to her feet and stood in front of the TV.

Her mind was completely blank, and her hands trembled uncontrollably.

At that moment, her hypersensitivity kicked in, and she turned her head sharply.

Bang, bang, bang—!

Someone roughly pushed open the inner door.

A disheveled man stormed in, bringing with him the smell of smoke.

Usually immaculately groomed, his hair was now messy and hanging over his brows. His white shirt was stained pitch black with soot, and his jacket and tie were nowhere to be seen.

As he approached, the scent of something scorched hit her full force.

"…!"

An ominous feeling of foreboding enveloped her.

Could it be…?

She forced herself to ignore the doubts rising within her.

It shouldn’t be possible, right…?

Their eyes locked, neither able to look away.

"I want to see your thighs."

"…!"

Hee-joo’s mind went completely blank, and she blinked rapidly.

Did I… Did I mishear that?

"Should I take it off, or will you?"

His gaze dropped openly to her lower body.

So, she hadn’t misheard.

Wait, thighs? Why would he want to see my thighs now…?

Seeing the blood drain from her face, he casually added,

"Someone set fire to my office."

His deep, lazy eyes bore down on her.

"It’s that guy."

"…!"

He nodded slightly, motioning toward the news report on the screen.

…What? No, no, that’s not it…!

Yes, the voice in the recording was mine, and I’m the one who made the threats, but I didn’t set the fire! Absolutely not!

"I just provoked him a little, and he couldn’t help but lash out—"

Baek Sa-oen brushed his disheveled hair out of his face and murmured coldly,

"You really need to break that bad habit of yours."

His eyes gleamed with an eerie light as he fixed his gaze on the news broadcast, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

It was a rare sight to see Baek Sa-oen smile, but this wasn’t a smile.

It was more like a distorted mask.

…So it was you!

At that moment, Hee-joo was struck with a lightning-like realization.

"You’re the one who edited that recording…!"

Hee-joo realized everything: this was her husband’s strategy to suppress the blackmailer.

He wore the sly expression of someone deliberately provoking a fight.

Why… why did things have to get so complicated?

Using immense willpower, Hee-joo suppressed the urge to faint.

But at that moment, her distorted voice was already being broadcast nationwide.

"So, I need to confirm something. Right now, the only lead is you."

His gaze burned with icy intensity.

Whoosh—

Baek Sa-oen walked straight into the bathroom, letting the water wash away the smoke and ash clinging to him.

"I won’t let you off. Don’t regret this!"

"—You’re dead meat!"

In that instant, he remembered the red flames—not at the Blue House, but at his private office.

He didn’t know how the blackmailer had found it, but he had clearly become a target.

Baek Sa-oen recalled the image of the man in the black jacket and baseball cap.

The guy had deliberately lifted the brim of his hat to look directly at the security camera in the corner of the ceiling, knowing full well it was there.

Though his face was obscured by a mask, the mischievous glint in his young eyes was unmistakable.

And that same guy had lightly swung his phone during their call.

The mild burn on Baek Sa-oen’s shoulder blade throbbed angrily.

Scrubbing his face with neurotic intensity, he tried to rid himself of the lingering acrid scent.

"It’s been a long time since someone got the better of me like this."

A faint smirk crept onto his lips.

"Since they sent the first blow, I should return the favor."

As soon as his hyperbaric oxygen treatment ended, Baek Sa-oen rushed to his third office.

Only an hour had passed since the blackmailer maliciously edited and leaked the recordings.

Coincidentally, manipulating events and media was Baek Sa-oen’s area of expertise.

Instead of going back to the hospital, he returned home, driven by one reason alone.

Wrapping a large towel around his waist, he clenched his teeth.

"I didn’t want to drag her into this."

His expression darkened as his gaze turned icy.

"Hee-joo, come here."

Hee-joo, who had been clearing the table, flinched violently at his words.

Despite everything, she still couldn’t believe Baek Sa-oen was serious about this.

"Stretch out your leg."

Water dripped from his damp hair, seeping into his shirt.

From the very beginning, his purpose had been clear.

He still treated their marriage as part of his work.

This stark indifference made Hee-joo feel even more humiliated.

As she slowly backed away, Baek Sa-oen’s eyebrows arched slightly.

"If they can find my office, this house is no longer safe."

"…"

"So cooperate. I need to figure out what that guy knows, how much he knows, and how he knows it."

With a forceful tone, he stepped closer and abruptly scooped her up.

"Ah…!"

She struggled desperately, but he shot her a cold glance and said,

"Good girls obey."

"What…!"

Hee-joo’s neck burned with embarrassment.

Baek Sa-oen carried her like a child, cradling her effortlessly, and strode through the hallway into his bedroom.

Though they had lived under the same roof for three years, she had never set foot there.

Respecting each other’s spaces was as important as silence to this cold couple.

He tossed Hee-joo onto the bed like an object.

"I need to see for myself."

Baek Sa-oen’s figure loomed over her.

As Hee-joo wrinkled her nose at the faint scent of antiseptic, she felt his hands grip her waistband.

The elastic seemed ready to snap at any moment.

Panicked, she grabbed his hand tightly, stopping him in his tracks.

"Wait, wait...!"

A flicker of defiance flashed in her eyes.

The man clicked his tongue impatiently and reached for the car key on the bedside table.

Then, without hesitation, he unfolded the small knife attached to the keychain and slashed through Hee-joo's pants.

"What the...!"

The fabric tore roughly at her upper right thigh, leaving her pale skin exposed before she could even process what had happened.

"It's lucky he didn't strip me completely, but this... this is worse...!"

He pressed down on her soft thigh and pushed it to the side.

Seeing the utterly detached look on his face, Hee-joo felt like nothing more than a beaker in a laboratory.

"Ah...!"

Despite herself, a dull ache spread somewhere deep inside, her heart sinking rapidly.

The undeniable physical sensation made her curl her toes tightly.

At that exact moment, his thumb scraped firmly against a specific spot.

"There really is a mole."

His breath warmed her bare skin.

"... There it is."

He furrowed his usually smooth brow, muttering to himself.

Baek Sa-oen's gaze lingered on her thigh, unwavering.

With meticulous precision, he compared the moles to the photo, checking whether they were authentic or digitally fabricated.

Three vivid red moles.

The unique moles—exactly like the ones in the photo.

For a moment, an unmistakable flicker of displeasure crossed Baek Sa-oen's otherwise emotionless, pale face.

"I thought it was unlikely to be fake."

"…."

"Hee-joo, how should I interpret this?"

Hee-joo bit down on the twitching muscles of her cheek.

Go ahead, feel utterly confused…! Let the headache make you miserable! If you don’t deal with your wife, your political career won’t even begin!

"When exactly was this photo taken…? No, never mind. Forget it," he muttered, running a hand over his face.

"Hand me your phone."

"…!"

His unexpected words froze Hee-joo in place.

Her gaze remained unmoving as Baek Sa-oen leaned closer, his sharp senses not missing a beat.

Of course, the faint hospital scent still lingered on him.

"I need to check if your phone’s been hacked, then I’ll return it to you."

"…."

"Give it to me."

His calm demeanor left Hee-joo feeling slightly disappointed.

Unlike what she had feared, he didn’t question the photos at all.

His focus wasn’t on the obscene nature of the pictures but on tracing how the files had leaked.

'…Even after seeing the garter belt, his expression is still so dull.'

She begrudgingly admitted, making him flustered or confused was an incredibly difficult feat.

Whether it was facing an embarrassing vulnerability with unwavering confidence or maintaining his usual cold detachment…

"Ah…!"

Before she could finish her thought, his hand suddenly clamped down on her soft thigh with brutal force.

The pressure was enough to make her wince in pain.

In an instant, he stood and turned away, his movements abrupt and sharp.

Baek Sa-oen gripped the back of his head, his breathing becoming irregular.

Hee-joo sat there, stunned, staring at the red handprint on her thigh.

It burned—hot and numb at the same time.

Chapter 17:

"I... I wiped the blood off briefly..." the caregiver added apologetically.

As soon as Hee-joo had seen the familiar nursing home on the screen, she'd dashed out in a panic. Throughout the journey, her mind was a blur, and her throat burned from suppressing the urge to scream. Simultaneously, the nurse's frantic messages, like blaring disaster alerts, bombarded her.

An overwhelming sense of fear clouded her thoughts. Who...? In moments like this, who could she turn to for help? For a fleeting moment, she thought of her husband, but quickly dismissed the idea-he was clearly not the right person.

With trembling hands, Hee-joo carefully wiped her father's face.

"Are you the family member?" a police officer approached, holding a towel.

Hee-joo nodded silently. The officer hesitated before unfolding the towel.

"Uh...!" She felt bile rise to her throat.

"You'll need to come to the station to file a report," the officer said grimly.

Inside the towel lay four bloodied molars, uprooted entirely and scattered.

The source of her father's bleeding was now painfully clear.

Goosebumps rose across her entire body. Her father seemed to have struggled fiercely-his room was a chaotic mess. Blood wasn't just on the bed; it streaked the wallpaper, splattered across the floor, and even stained the glass windows.

"I stepped out for a moment, and when I returned, his face was already covered in blood..." the caregiver sobbed, her voice shaking.

Dad...

Hee-joo couldn't shake the shock that gripped her. There was no one else who could have committed such a violent and cruel act-no one except that hostage-taker.

All because of one phone call.

Because Baek Sa-oen hadn't answered the kidnapper's threats for a few days, the man resulted to ripping out someone's molars.

Hee-joo's eyes burned with fury.

"Ugh..."

Her father's swollen cheek twitched faintly.

He continued to stare weakly at some invisible point in the room. Then, suddenly, his parched lips moved.

Hee-joo bent down sharply, pressing her ear closer to him.

"Call... call..."

!"

"Sister... call..."

A single tear finally escaped from her father's rigid, swollen eyes.

In that moment, Hee-joo broke down completely.

Her pale cheeks rested limply against the backseat of the patrol car. Hee-joo’s mind was a blank slate, caught somewhere between dazed and numb. It wasn’t until the two officers climbed into the front seats that she remembered she had agreed to accompany them to the police station. Every action and response leading to this moment had been purely mechanical.

Her last clear memory was of her father, finally asleep after receiving a painkiller injection.

She stared out the car window, rubbing her fingers together as if trying to erase the sensation of blood still lingering on them. The metallic scent that only she seemed able to smell churned her stomach.

"…Huh? What's going on here?"

"What are you doing?"

"No, Officer Kim. It’s nothing."

"Just focus on driving."

Hee-joo squeezed her eyes shut, but calm eluded her. Every time she tried to center herself, flashes of her father’s extracted molars, the kidnapper’s grinning face, and that unnaturally blue sky filled her mind. Sweat slickened her palms.

Then, the sudden crackle of static from the radio yanked her from the spiral of her thoughts.

At the same time, the officer in the driver’s seat smacked the dashboard hard.

“This is so weird...”

“You idiot, are you always this annoying?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just… this…”

And then—

—a high-pitched noise erupted from the radio, sharp enough to make all three of them wince.

"What the hell is that?" Officer Kim twisted the dial, trying to tune it out, but the sound only grew louder, an eerie, grating frequency that filled the car.

The driver slammed his palm against the radio again. "Is this thing busted? What’s going on?"

Before anyone could respond, the noise abruptly cut out, replaced by an unmistakable voice:

"Hello, sister."

Hee-joo’s entire body froze. Her blood ran cold as the voice reverberated through the car, clear and deliberate.

"Enjoying your ride to the station?"

Her head snapped toward the radio, her breathing shallow and frantic.

The officers exchanged confused glances. "Who the hell is this? Dispatch?"

But Hee-joo knew. She knew that voice, that playful, taunting tone.

"Don’t get too comfortable, sister. We’re not done yet."

The radio crackled once more, and the line went dead.

The car fell into stunned silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them.

Hee-joo’s trembling hands gripped the seatbelt across her chest. Her mind screamed one question over and over: How does he always know where I am?

"——This is JBS Radio, 10:07 p.m. Someone is pouring gasoline and lighting a fire. Cause baby, you're a firework… The suspect harbored resentment…"

The radio scrambled, blending news reports with fragments of pop songs.

Hee-joo flinched violently at the unnervingly familiar sensation of déjà vu.

“What… what’s going on?”

“I’ll fix it,” the officer stammered, slapping the dashboard again. It didn’t help.

Of course, it wouldn’t.

Only Hee-joo, who had lived through this twisted game before, knew what it meant. Her skin turned clammy as cold sweat dripped down her back. She clutched the seatbelt tightly, her breaths growing shallower with every passing second.

“Ugh, I have no idea what’s happening,” one officer muttered.

“Let me try,” said another, reaching for the controls.

As the officers fumbled, their radio equipment began emitting piercing static. The old handheld police transceiver crackled to life with an eerie resonance.

From the crackling void came an unmistakable melody, warped and distorted:

"You can ring my be-e-ell… Ring my bell. You can ring my be-e-ell… Ring my bell…"

“What the hell is this?” Officer Kim exclaimed, gripping the transceiver.

The haunting tune continued, unfazed by the officer’s frantic attempts to stop it.

It was futile, of course.

Because this wasn’t a malfunction.

It was an unshakable message—one directed solely at Hee-joo.

Her trembling hands clenched into fists, her entire body frozen in place.

She knew what came next.

"You can ring my be-e-ell… Ring my bell…"

“This lunatic…” Hee-joo muttered, her nails digging into the skin of her neck.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave: even the police car was under his control.

As the thought took hold, the vehicle seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with its confined spaces. The trunk, the seats, the floor beneath her—they all felt like traps, throbbing with hidden danger.

Her pulse pounded erratically. She couldn’t sit still. Every fiber of her being screamed to get out.

She couldn’t take it anymore. The nausea swelled, and she began banging on the window.

Through the rearview mirror, her panicked eyes met the officers’ puzzled stares.

“Let me out,” she said hoarsely.

“What?”

“Stop the car. Let me out here,” she insisted, her voice trembling.

“You think this is a taxi?” one officer snapped.

“Please, let me out,” Hee-joo repeated, her words urgent.

“No. This is the middle of the road. We can’t—”

“Just let me out, and everything will be fine! I promise—please, just let me out!”

Her desperation reached a breaking point.

“Hey! Calm down! What are you—”

Before they could finish, Hee-joo yanked at the door handle, clawing and pounding with renewed frenzy.

“Let me out! Let me out!” she screamed, her voice raw.

“Hey, stop that! Stop!” the officers shouted, fumbling to regain control of the escalating chaos inside the car.

The radio continued its relentless loop of “Ring my bell, ring my bell…” The repetition pounded in Hee-joo’s ears, making her head feel as though it would explode.

“Calm down! You need to calm down!” one officer shouted from the front seat.

“Please, I’m begging you…” Hee-joo barely managed to speak before her stomach heaved. “Ugh—”

“Officer Kim, the family member doesn’t look well. Ma’am, are you feeling unwell? Should we take you to the ER?”

“Just let me out. Please, I’m fine—just let me out, thank you,” she said, her voice thin and strained.

Her sweat-soaked bangs clung to her forehead as she gripped the seat for support. Seeing her pale, trembling form, the officer slammed on the brakes.

The car jerked to a stop, and Hee-joo immediately unlocked the door and stumbled out, doubling over by the roadside.

“Ugh…ugh…!” she retched violently, her stomach producing nothing but bitter acid.

What voice could replace mine? What messages could replace me?

What does he want me to relay? What does he need to hear from Baek Sa-oen?

The thought of the kidnapper—someone who could hack into a police car and take over its communication systems—made Hee-joo feel as though a boulder was crushing her chest. Her judgment, already frayed, began to dissolve completely under the weight of it all.

She thought she had survived so much, endured countless trials, but it had been so long since she’d felt this powerless, this directionless. The emotions were overwhelming, clawing at her insides.

Fighting back tears, she dropped to her knees, her hands digging into the dirt as she struggled to hold herself together.

That call… I can just redial it…! she told herself, her determination clawing its way back through the chaos.

To protect her father and finally break free from the political marriage she had vowed to end, Hee-joo steeled herself. "I’ve already decided to see this through to the end!" If she didn’t make this call, everything could spiral out of control.

The kidnapper, though absurd at times, was highly unstable. No one could predict when he might completely snap.

“…Huh?”

One of the police officers, who had followed Hee-joo out of the car, suddenly let out a startled noise. He removed his glasses and put them back on, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.

His gaze was so intense it seemed his eyeballs might pop out.

Parked beside the roadside was an enormous black vehicle that stood out like a sore thumb. The suspicious vehicle had stopped right alongside their police car, and even more intriguingly, a man stepped out of the back seat.

He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit: polished black leather shoes, perfectly creased trousers, a form-fitting vest, and a broad-shouldered blazer that completed the look.

The police officers were the first to react, their astonishment practically spilling over.

“Wow…! Isn’t that the Blue House spokesperson? I’ve seen you on TV so many times!”

“This is unbelievable! Hello, sir!”

“Ah, hello,” the man greeted, his deep, composed voice flowing effortlessly.

“Wow, this feels like a dream…”

“He’s so handsome…”

“Thank you for your hard work,” the man replied smoothly, his demeanor as polished as his appearance.

Baek Sa-oen handled the situation effortlessly, his eyes glancing briefly in Hee-joo's direction. Her disheveled state met his cold gaze, and for a fleeting moment, an unidentifiable emotion flickered across his otherwise impassive face.

The man spoke directly to Hee-joo, her reddened eyes reflecting her turmoil. “You can leave now,” he said calmly to the officers.

“What?”

“She’s my family,” he added.

“…!”

Surprisingly, Hee-joo was the one most taken aback. That one sentence, delivered in a detached tone, lacked any context and completely disregarded her presence. She understood clearly—he had intentionally left out any explanations. To him, they weren’t worth even superficial formalities.

“Thank you for your efforts up to this point,” he added politely, though his tone unmistakably carried the weight of dismissal.

The patrol officer cast a suspicious glance at the two of them.

Baek Sa-oen blocked the officer’s view, firmly gripping his shoulder with calculated pressure. “I will personally handle this case,” he said with authority.

“What exactly is the relationship between you two…?” the officer asked cautiously, stealing a glance at Hee-joo. “She seems to be in poor condition. She really should go to a hospital…”

“You’re quite concerned,” Baek Sa-oen remarked, his voice low and measured.

“Uh… excuse me?”

"Is this how you conduct official duties?" Baek Sa-oen's brow furrowed slightly, his tone edged with disapproval.

"Is... is it?" The patrol officer tilted his head in confusion but answered earnestly, "She seemed quite distressed in the car as well."

"She's my responsibility," Baek Sa-oen stated firmly.

"What?"

"She's my wife."

"Ah...!" The officer's face immediately registered shock, and his gaze shifted toward Hee-joo, now filled with obvious cur

iosity.

As if drawn by the intrigue, the officer leaned slightly forward to get a better look at her, but Baek Sa-oen shifted his stance. His deliberate movement placed his broad shoulder squarely in the officer’s line of sight, effectively blocking any further scrutiny.