The spring rain fell with a rhythmic *tap-tap* against the dry earth.
Passing through the brief interval between Qingming and Lixia, Yeonwoo stepped out of the police station with sluggish, drained movements.
Yeonwoo, ground down by the suffocating obsession and gaslighting of her superior, had sought help from the police, but the outcome was devastating. She was no match for the five lawyers from a powerhouse firm that her superior had hired.
“Ms. Ji Yeonwoo. If you aren’t careful, you’re the one who will be punished for filing a false accusation. You really ought to have a kinder heart. It seems to me that Cha Yoonseok’s way of expressing affection was just a bit excessive; don’t come to the police station like this—go back and try talking it out. It’s not like he’s a man who doesn’t listen to reason.”
Yeonwoo stared blankly at the thick, relentless downpour. Amidst an atmosphere as gloomy as the dark clouds hanging overhead, a vehicle pulled to a stop in front of her.
It was her superior’s sedan.
The window rolled down and Cha Yoonseok smiled, causing Yeonwoo to turn her head away. It was a sweet-looking expression, but the viper-like glint in his eyes terrified her.
“Yeonwoo. I told you repeatedly not to do anything useless. Wasting money, wasting time—there is absolutely nothing for you to gain here, is there?”
His voice was laced with mockery. Yeonwoo opened her umbrella without a word, trying to move as far away from him as possible while descending the stairs at an angle.
Then, the car door opened, and Cha Yoonseok stepped out. The sound of the door closing made Yeonwoo quicken her pace, but she was caught in an instant.
Without warning, he shoved his way under her umbrella.
“If you’re going to treat someone like trash, you should at least offer an apology before leaving. The only reason I held back the lawyers from having you charged with false accusation is because I’m thinking of your bright future. You should know how to be grateful. Don’t you think?”
When his venomous eyes swept over her face, it gave her chills, as if something filthy were smearing onto her skin.
As if his greatest joy in life were studying Yeonwoo’s dark, hollow expression, he let out a victor’s laugh. Then, he leaned in abruptly and whispered into her ear.
“Yeonwoo. Don’t struggle; just give up. You can’t escape me.”
It was a voice so faint that the recorder she had turned on would be rendered useless.
“If you try to screw me over like this one more time, I won’t just sit by. When I treat you like a human being, just accept it. As long as Ji Yeonwoo is alive, her only man is Cha Yoonseok. That’s how it is.”
“…….”
“If you die, then I’ll let you go.”
Cha Yoonseok straightened the umbrella Yeonwoo was holding. He stepped back out into the rain and gave a small wave.
“I’ll mark today and tomorrow as paid leave, so come to work tomorrow. You know what happens if you don’t show up, right?”
For a fleeting moment, madness flared in his eyes.
“I’ve told you time and time again—finding one person is nothing for me. Don’t make me angry anymore and come to work quietly. There’s a limit to how much I can overlook.”
Only after he had finished speaking and sauntered back to his car did Yeonwoo bite her lip until it turned white. As his vehicle pulled away, the lawyers’ cars followed in its wake.
The rain, pouring down heavily all day, drummed against the top of her umbrella. Watching the rainwater flowing into the sewer, Yeonwoo slowly began to walk.
.
.
.
That night, at three in the morning, long past midnight.
Yeonwoo left her home with a single suitcase. Even though her lease still had time left and she hadn’t submitted her resignation, she left Seoul behind that very instant.
‘Don’t make me angry anymore and come to work quietly. There’s a limit to how much I can overlook.’
Cha Yoonseok’s voice wouldn’t fade, as if it had clung to her skin; the further she moved from Seoul, the more her fear surged.
But no one could help her. If she kept trembling, she would never be free.
So, she had to run. Because the only way to escape was to vanish completely.
If you die, then I’ll let you go.
Or, as he said, end up dead.
*
It was just as the gray, bluish dawn was fading.
After driving for a little over three hours from Seoul, one could reach Yangto Township in Moksan-Gun, cradled by the foothills of Mount Yeosong.
Seeing that the rain was finally subsiding, President Nam Tae-jin of Seoryang Construction groaned and turned his gaze to the window.
“Looks like the rain has finally stopped. That was a hell of a spring rain.”
Nam Seongheon, who was sitting next to him reviewing documents after yielding the seat of honor to his uncle, looked up. Watching the mist rise thickly around the mountains, he could feel the thin, damp morning air.
“That’s a relief.”
“Indeed. I was so anxious about whether it would rain during the ceremony.”
Seongheon turned the page without much of a reply.
Nam Seongheon, Executive Director of Seoryang Construction.
The reason he had arrived in Moksan-Gun at such an early hour was because today marked the groundbreaking of their large-scale resort project.
A few years ago, hot spring water had been discovered in Moksan-Gun by chance. Moving quickly on the news, Seoryang Construction bought up the entire area, including the plot where a small motel had been slated to be built. It was the start of a project that signaled Seoryang Construction’s determination to turn the region into a landmark for hot springs in Korea.
It was a complex featuring hot springs, an amusement park, a ski resort, and a golf course, and Seongheon had driven the project from start to finish.
“Anyway, Moksan-Gun should be grateful to our Nam family. Ever since the old days, our family has been the one keeping this place alive, don’t you think?”
Nam Tae-jin, born and raised in Moksan-Gun, crossed one leg over the other and tapped his foot.
Once the resort project was confirmed, positive developments followed. With a previously unplanned train line and a highway extension finalized, it was no wonder Nam Tae-jin was in such a good mood.
“Anyway, it’s great. Just great! I don’t know for sure, but those bastards at Ungsu Construction must be so bitter right now. Serves them right, those idiots.”
Thinking of the distress of his competitors, who had lost their edge, a raspy laugh erupted from him. The fact that the once-dominant Ungsu Construction had been knocked from their top spot was a triumph engineered by Seongheon.
There was likely no other shark in the industry quite like Seongheon. It was a testament to his sheer competence.
Nam Tae-jin laughed until his body heated up, then caught his breath and stole a glance at his nephew.
Seongheon had an extraordinary eye for business and a “bulldozer” personality—he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. The performance report of Seoryang Construction, which had skyrocketed since Seongheon joined the management, was evidence enough. Seongheon had no plans he couldn’t execute and no goals he couldn’t reach. At least, not yet.
“…….”
The conversation lapsed. As the monotonous road continued, Nam Tae-jin glanced at Seongheon again. He had ridden in the same car hoping for some company, but his nephew was too quiet.
‘I should have just taken my own car if I had known.’
Nam Tae-jin arched his brows and tried to strike up a conversation again.
“Seongheon. So, how long are you staying here?”
“Well. About a month, according to the plan.”
“A month? Isn’t that too long? Is it okay to leave your position at headquarters vacant for that long?”
“The President is there, so why worry about a vacant Executive Director position?”
“Hey, don’t rely on me. I don’t know a thing about what you do, kid.”
Seongheon lowered his documents and turned on his tablet.
“The initial phase after breaking ground is the most important. I’ll make sure there’s no confusion in the headquarters’ operations. Don’t worry.”
Once he finished speaking, Seongheon fixed his eyes on the tablet, and silence fell again. Nam Tae-jin straightened his back and rolled his neck.
“Alright. If you say so. Anyway, I keep getting in your way while you work, don’t I? I should just take my own car.”
Seongheon glanced ahead.
“It’s already too late. We’re almost there anyway, so let’s just keep going.”
“No, no. I need to close my eyes for a bit. I’ve been hitting the greens for several days in a row, so the fatigue is catching up.”
A while later, both vehicles stopped. Nam Tae-jin climbed into his own car, and Seongheon moved to the seat of honor, fixing his gaze back on his tablet PC.
「Yangto Township, Domyeongjae」
‘Domyeongjae,’ listed on the intermittent road signs, was a modern cultural heritage site and the ancestral home of the Nam family—the place where Seongheon would be staying for the next month.
He drove along the empty, dawn-lit road toward the place that lit his path: Domyeongjae (道明齊).
*
The highway ended, and the genuine country road began.
The sun had risen, and Seongheon’s vehicle followed behind Nam Tae-jin’s.
As the rain stopped, a dense, rice-water-thick fog rolled in. The mist, wrapping like a donut around the peaks of Mount Yeosong, created an ethereal atmosphere.
“Whoa!”
The vehicle came to a sudden halt, and Seongheon’s body tilted forward slightly before settling back. The startled driver turned around.
“Executive Director, my apologies. Are you alright?”
Seongheon gave a small wave of his hand.
“What is happening?”
“Well, the President’s car stopped abruptly. It seems he splashed water on a woman standing there.”
“Water?”
Seongheon leaned his head to the side and looked ahead. The vehicle had stopped at a bus stop, and he could discern that the woman standing there had been drenched in muddy water from the waist down.
The heavy tires of the large vehicle hadn’t navigated the pothole smoothly. Seongheon lowered the window slightly. He could hear the driver, who had hurried out so as not to wake the soundly sleeping Nam Tae-jin, standing before the woman.
“Hey there. What are you doing, standing so close when a car is coming? My goodness, are you alright?”
Seongheon tilted his head, observing the situation.
She must have been through a sudden and embarrassing ordeal, but the woman just kept her head down without a word, brushing off her pants.
The fact that she was silently brushing off her clothes, knowing well that it wouldn’t remove the stains, was not a normal reaction. Standing there and being hit like that—it would be common sense to vent one’s unfair frustration, wouldn’t it?
The driver pulled out his wallet and offered a 50,000-won bill to the woman. It was for the dry cleaning.
“I’m sorry. We’re in a rush, so we don’t have time to delay. There’s a very important person in this car. Take this money and have your clothes cleaned. You understand?”
The woman glanced at the bill and looked up. At that moment, as if staged, the fog briefly dissipated, and her face was clearly revealed.
Seongheon, who had been watching with indifference, felt his brows twitch.
A calm, gray-toned shirt, light-colored jeans, sneakers revealing her Achilles tendon, and hair that fell to the small of her back.
Her appearance harmonized with the low-saturation surroundings, yet her face stood out vividly. The harmony contained within her small features was striking, even from this distance.
For the first time, Seongheon’s gaze, which had been fixed on his tablet PC, was anchored to the wet landscape and the stranger.
“I said we don’t have time! A very important person is in this car. Didn’t you hear me?”
She wasn’t a local. She couldn’t be a traveler, either. Was she leaving, or returning?
Seongheon harbored a question beyond what was necessary.
“Unless you’re protesting for more money, just take it. It doesn’t look like the cleaning bill will be much anyway.”
Watching the driver’s nagging, Seongheon opened the car door.
His long, sleek leather shoes touched the ground, and the thick mist swirled beneath his feet.