Chapter Two
When noon arrived, so did the expected phone call.
The voice on the other end was deep and gravelly, carrying the weight of age. Hye-Jin estimated his age to be approximately 54. He didn't bother with pleasantries, didn't ask for her name. Instead, he got straight to the point, his tone sharp and businesslike.
»This is Kim Joon-Ho,« he announced, as though his name alone should command respect. Hye-Jin didn't flinch. She dealt with men like him daily- powerful, entitled, and utterly indifferent to the people they deemed beneath them.
Kim Joon-Ho wasn't unique in seeking Sung Jin-Hun's service. Her boss had built his reputation by taking cases others wouldn't dare to touch.
From divorce inquiries by wealthy women, legal representation for business executives accused of fraud, even murder and rape cases where the defendants were undeniably guilty.
For the right price, Sung Jin-Hun could make the impossible possible. Justice, in his world, was just another commodity to be bought and sold.
And Kim Joon-Ho was no exception. His voice carried a cold urgency as he laid out the details. »The prosecution has charged my brother, Kim Hyun-Ho, with human trafficking, enslavement, and sexual offenses. The deal's established and I've sent out the details you'll need. Prepare the case and get him off the hook.«
Hye-Jin's grip tightened on the receiver, though her voice remained calm and professional. »Understood, Mr. Kim. I'll begin preparations immediately.«
She hung up, her expression unreadable. This was the part of her job she despised — the moral compromises, the quiet complicity. But she knew better than to let it show.
In Sung Jin-Hun's world, survival meant playing the game, no matter how dirty it got.
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At 4 p.m., the speaker on Hye-Jin's desk crackled to life, Sung Jin-Hun's voice cutting through the silence of her office. His tone was sharp, impatient — a command rather than a request. »Hye-Jin, in my office. Now. Bring the case details.«
She rose without hesitation, clipboard in hand and her expression as composed as ever.
This manner of call was nothing new; Sung Jin-Hun's abruptness was as much a part of his persona as his tailored suits and polished presentation. Before entering his office, Hye-Jin adjusted her tight business costume, and only then did she enter his office, ready to deliver the information with her usual efficiency.
Once inside, she noticed the smell of bodily fluids. It was clear Sung Jin-Hun didn't bother working on anything else but the woman with him.
As Hye-Jin closed the door behind her, the faint sound of the latch clicking into place, she found Sung Jin-Hun sitting at his desk, the blonde model, whose name was still unknown to Hye-Jin - probably because Jin-Hun didn't intend to see her again - perched atop his desk before him, legs spread and feet put on either side of his office chair's armrests.
Jin-Hun removed his face from the model's private parts, making said woman glance over her shoulder with a sulky pout, clearly displeased by the interruption.
He was looking nothing like his usual polished self.
His blazer was nowhere to be seen, the white dress shirt hung partially unbuttoned off of him, and his meticulously styled hair had unraveled into disarray.
Sung Jin-Hun leaned back in his chair, deliberately casual, though his jaw tightened as the echo of Hye-Jin's heels drew nearer.
The sharp, rhythmic clicks grated against his nerves, each one a reminder of her maddening indifference. By the time she had opened the door and entered, clipboard in hand, he had forced his face back into its usual mask of self-assured charm.
Or at least, what was left of it.
Her entrance, as always, was calculated and professional. Not so much as a glance in his direction, not a flicker of acknowledgment at his disheveled state, he knew she couldn't possibly miss. Unless she had lost her ability to see in the last hours.
His sharp gaze slid to Hye-Jin with an almost
Hye-Jin wondered if he even possessed the ability to feel embarrassed — or if he was just unaware of how unprofessional this all looked — but whatever it may be, he never let it show.
The blonde perched on his desk shifted uncomfortably before jumping off and scurrying towards the couch at the other end of the room. But Hye-Jin paid her no mind; she didn't even bother to register her presence. It was as if the entire scene, carefully engineered to needle her, didn't exist.
It infuriated him.
Then again- Hye-Jin didn't spare either of them so much as a glance.
Her expression remained steadfast, an
The sharp, rhythmic sound of her heels echoed in the room, cutting through the charged air as she began to speak. The noise - to Jin-Hun - the sound of impending doom.
Her voice was steady, poised, and matter-of-fact — as though the scene before her was nothing more than a faint shadow, unworthy of her acknowledgment.
»Regarding Kim Joon-Ho's case,« she began, her voice like ice — calm, solid, and utterly detached. »These are the details provided during his call earlier. The requested materials and preliminary preparations are outlined here.«
She recited the case details with perfect efficiency, spreading out the sheets neatly in front of him on his desk without so much as meeting his eyes. That clipboard might as well have been a shield, one Jin-Hun couldn't break through, no matter how hard he tried.
And to him, Hye-Jin knew exactly what she was doing. That was what infuriated him the most. Her every movement, her every word, radiated control. Sung Jin-Hun was used to being the center of attention, used to bend people to his will with little more than a smirk or a well-placed word. But not her. Never her.
The thought only made him want Hye-Jin more. It wasn't just her looks, though she was beautiful in a way that felt almost unfair - there was a precision to her appearance, as though every detail had been meticulously chosen to emphasize her elegance without drawing attention.
Her honey-blonde hair, styled into a neat and flawless bun, framed her delicate features perfectly. Fair skin and icy-blue eyes — sharp and striking — gave her an almost ethereal quality. Even the soft red on her lips and cheeks, paired with subtle brown shades on her eyelids, seemed calculated, as though she had mastered the art of understated allure.
But it wasn't just her beauty that captivated him. It was the challenge she posed, the wall she had built around herself that he couldn't scale.
Hye-Jin's ignorance wasn't ignorance at all— it was deliberate. A strategy. And damn it if it wasn't working.
Sung Jin-Hun's fingers drummed against the desk as she continued, that practiced, infuriating smile fixed firmly in place.
Did she know how much it bothered him? Did she enjoy it, seeing him unsettled in a way no one else dared to attempt?
Her words cut through the heavy air of the room, a sharp reminder of the world outside Sung Jin-Hun's office — and of her refusal to be rattled by his antics.
He leaned forward as she finished, resting his elbows on the desk as his gaze narrowed on her. »Thank you, Hye-Jin,« he said, his tone smooth but laced with something darker. »That will be all.«
Her polite nod was the only response she gave before turning and leaving, her heels once again clicking rhythmically against the floor. He watched her go, tension coiling in his chest like a spring.
She would look back.
She had to.
But she didn't.
And that only made him want her more.