Chapter 20
The apartment was in terrible condition—barely fit for habitation.
Cracks ran across the walls like spiderwebs.
Someone had made a halfhearted attempt at painting the ceiling, but the parts that had crumbled off were still visible through the thick layer of white.
Cobwebs covered the single dusty window, and lying squarely in the center of the windowsill was a dead cockroach.
Evidently, it had been there for a long time.
Its shell was shriveled up; its little legs were dried stiff.
In the bathroom, Dahye peered at the tub and saw mold blooming around the grout between the tiles.
“The other unit is occupied by a Chinese family,” the landlord said loudly. “They’re fine tenants. Won’t bother you at all. In fact, I often forget that they’re even there.”
“I wasn’t worried about them,” Dahye muttered, looking around. The vent in the bathroom was dry and dusty. She tested the faucet, and a weak stream of water dribbled out.
It was such a gloomy place, but it was the only thing she could afford. All the other places she had called had wanted a jeonse—a large deposit—and most required a minimum of one hundred million won. She had nowhere near that amount in her savings.
At least it wasn’t a studio. The bedroom was small, but looking around she thought, it could be worse.
“Will you take it, then?” the landlord asked hopefully.
What choice did she have? It was either this dump or return to Bora’s apartment, which she couldn’t do.
“Yes,” Dahye said. She reached into her pocket for the money she had withdrawn from the ATM. Ten million won for the deposit, plus three hundred thousand won each month for rent. She tried not to think about her nearly empty bank account.
“Oh, good,” he said. “I’ve been trying to fill this space for a while. Nobody wants it! I can’t understand why.” He shook his head, then added, “The digital lock has been broken for a little while, but now that you’re here, I’ll get someone to fix it.”
She could sense that he was lying. He handed her the keys and shuffled out, leaving Dahye to drag her suitcase inside. She sat on top of it and looked around. There was a small refrigerator, a microwave, and a combined washer and dryer that smelled of mildew.
She opened the drawers one by one. The previous tenant hadn’t cleaned them out.
Inside, she found a dull set of utensils, a stack of disposable chopsticks pilfered from a nearby chicken shop, some stained napkins.
A cleaver, rust creeping across the blade.
Three off-white, uneven candles, each one the size of her palm, their wicks black with soot.
She closed the drawers, then dragged the suitcase all the way into the bedroom and stopped, panting.
Flopping backward onto the bare floor, she stared at the awful ceiling.
In her head, she tallied all the things she would need to do to make the place habitable.
She would have to pick up cleaning supplies, an inflatable mattress, some blankets.
She winced as she remembered the sum left in her bank account and took out Hyukjoon’s wallet, thumbing through his cash. She pocketed it.
There was a loud crash next door, and Dahye jumped, startled.
She popped out of the room and pressed her ear flat against the wall.
The neighbors, it seemed, were fighting.
She heard a man’s voice, guttural and low, and then another crash.
She considered calling the police before thinking better of it.
As long as they didn’t bother her, it was none of her business.
But if they did bother her … She went to the drawer and picked up the cleaver.
Maybe she would sleep with it under her pillow—after she got one, anyway.
Dahye took the knife back to the bedroom and lay back down, holding it tightly to her chest.
How different her life was now. She had lost everything, and it had happened so abruptly. So much of her sense of stability, she realized, had been tied to Hyukjoon.
She picked up her phone and searched for his name on Instagram.
Hyukjoon didn’t have an Instagram, but several fan accounts popped up.
Dahye made a face. She had always found it strange that Hyukjoon had fan accounts, considering he wasn’t in the public eye very often.
Nevertheless, she tapped on the first one: JangHyukjoonNewsOnly.
Images of Hyukjoon populated the screen, and she felt a painful twinge in her chest.
The most recent posts were about the scandal.
The hashtags #WeLoveYou, #WeStandWithYou, #JangHyukjoonLove, and #HimToo were featured prominently in the captions.
There was a story up as well, and Dahye tapped on it.
It was a screenshot from a tabloid website and contained an image of Hyukjoon in a suit.
His arms were around a woman, and Dahye felt the world come screeching to a stop.
It was the woman she had seen at his house. The woman she’d thought—hoped—was his sister. Seoyeon.
SEOULBUZZ EXCLUSIVE: Chaebol Playboy Jang Hyukjoon ENGAGED to Billionairess Lee Seoyeon
This morning, SeoulBuzz confirmed Jang Hyukjoon’s engagement to Lee Seoyeon, eldest daughter of Seoul’s billionaire shipping magnate Lee Jinho.
The two have reportedly been dating for the last five years and first met in New York while both were attending Columbia University.
A source close to the couple claims Jang proposed with an eye-watering 10-carat oval diamond ring, estimated to be worth two billion won, in front of their family and friends last weekend, and that they are looking to have their lavish wedding next spring at Aston House at the Grand Walkerhill Hotel in Seoul.
Jang, who is the son of YS Media Group CEO Jang Insu, recently made headlines in Seoul after nude videos of him were leaked in a molka scandal.
In a recent interview, Jang claimed that the videos were filmed years ago during a break in their relationship and that the bond between the couple is stronger than ever.
The phone slipped from Dahye’s fingers and clattered to the floor.
She stared at it dumbly. Hyukjoon had been dating someone else the entire time they had been together.
He had known that there was no chance for them—that Dahye’s dream of ending up with him was a childish fantasy.
What had he said again in those texts to his friends?
That he would pay for breast implants if she was still around in a few months?
Dahye shuddered, closing her eyes. She couldn’t escape Hyukjoon’s words.
She didn’t say anything when I put it in her ass.
All this time, she had tried to come up with excuses for his behavior, only for him to deceive her again and again. He had pretended that he loved her. Her hands were clenched, and when she unfurled them, she saw little half-moons indented in her palms.
Wet footprints appeared on the floor. Eunhye stood in front of her, beads of water dripping from her neck. She crouched, pressing one damp palm against Dahye’s cheek.
“Don’t cry.”
“I can’t stop,” Dahye sobbed. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You do.”
Dahye looked at her questioningly, and an image came to her mind. What if it had been Hyukjoon who had followed her into the bathroom last night? What if he had been the one to fall and crack his head against the toilet bowl?
Eunhye’s eyes glowed red as she opened the gaping void of her mouth. She was smiling. “All pigs go to the slaughterhouse to die,” she said.
+
Only the BMW was parked in front of Hyukjoon’s house. Dahye peeked inside the car and saw that the center console was open. Inside, she saw a pack of gum, a lighter, a carton of cigarettes, and a travel-size bottle of cologne.
Dahye ducked, pretending to tie her shoe, and retrieved the cheap GPS tracker she had brought with her from her pocket.
Glancing around, she quickly stuck it underneath the door of the BMW.
She waited a moment to make sure it stayed on, and just as she was about to walk away, the doors to the house slid open.
Dahye leaped back from the car and sprinted across the street, ducking behind a bush.
She peeked out, expecting to see Hyukjoon, but it was his father. CEO Jang stood proudly, his face lined and weathered. His expression was hard. He peered around, and Dahye thought for a second that he was looking for her. Then he opened his mouth and let out a bellow.
“Hyukjoon!”
The dog began to bark wildly.
“Hyukjoon!”
From behind CEO Jang, Dahye heard Hyukjoon’s voice. “I’m right here, Abeoji,” Hyukjoon said, sounding irritated. “I’ve been in the house this whole time. There’s no need to yell.”
“I thought you left again,” CEO Jang said, scowling.
“I told you not to leave this fucking house.” He patted his pockets, and before he said anything, Hyukjoon handed him a cigarette and leaned over with a lighter.
CEO Jang inhaled deeply, looking at Hyukjoon through narrowed eyes.
“If you leave this house again, there will be hell to pay. I’ll send you straight to Guam. Do you understand?”
Hyukjoon said nothing. He lit his own cigarette and blew out a ring of smoke toward the sky.
His father continued, “I don’t give a shit what you do so long as you don’t embarrass the family again. You almost destroyed our relationship with the Lees. Do you even understand the damage you’ve done? I didn’t raise you to be this fucking careless.”
Hyukjoon muttered something Dahye couldn’t hear, and then a resounding slap made her jump. Hyukjoon’s hand jumped to his cheek, surprise and anger flitting across his face.
“I’m a grown man,” Hyukjoon complained. “You can’t control my life forever.”
“You are not a man,” CEO Jang spat. “You are a child. Your mother spoiled you too much. She let you do whatever you wanted, and now look at you—ruining your life over some common whores. Your brother was never like this. You should be grateful I’m allowing you to stay with the company.
” He let out a wheezing cough and tossed his cigarette butt to the ground. Then he turned and walked back inside.
A common whore—was that all she was? Like her sister, Dahye had done everything in her power to make herself a woman of good standing.
She had worked hard to get a degree from a good school.
She had had a good job. She was careful not to get too drunk when she went out, and she didn’t sleep around.
She had slept with only one other man before Hyukjoon—her college boyfriend—whom she had been certain she was going to marry.
She let out a yelp, halfway between laughter and despair.
In the end, none of it had mattered. She had done everything a supposedly respectable woman did, and still she had ended up the whore.
Hearing her, Hyukjoon whipped around. Too late she clamped her mouth shut and heard Hyukjoon’s soft “What the hell?” as he took a few faltering steps toward her.
She shrank deeper into the bush. Branches pricked at her, catching on her clothing. She could hear Hyukjoon’s footsteps coming closer and closer, saw him approaching through the gaps in the leaves.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hyukjoon called out. “I saw you. Stop hiding and come out. Are you a reporter? Paparazzi? You’re not allowed here, you know. I’ll call the police.”
There was nowhere else for Dahye to go. She steeled herself, getting ready to emerge from her hiding place. How would Hyukjoon react? Would he really call the police?
Before she emerged, though, CEO Jang’s voice came from the house. “Hyukjoon,” he said sharply. “Come inside this house now before I tie you down.”
Hyukjoon stopped. Looked at the bushes again, where Dahye was hiding, and, for a second, she thought he would check anyway, in spite of his father’s warning. But his shoulders slumped, and he turned and walked back inside.