Chapter 9
[Exclusive Report! Student of Oh Yeontaek Makes Shocking Revelation!]
[Student A claims to have been repeatedly sexually assaulted. The truth behind Oh Yeontaek?]
[A fallen star of the art world — what happens to the value of his paintings now…?]
[An artist who abused his power to sexually assault students — Oh Yeontaek! Is Korea’s art world safe?]
The day Oh Yeontaek’s life, devoted entirely to painting, came crashing down, Seoyeon saw the green bottle for the first time. A green glass bottle rolling around on the floor. As a child, she’d once thought the bottle sparkled beautifully and tried to play with it, only for her mother to snatch it away.
She could almost hear her mother’s firm voice saying it’s not a toy.
And that was the first time Seoyeon ever heard her mother scream.
“Honey!!”
That sharp, bone-deep cry echoed in Seoyeon’s ears.
It had been the day her father collapsed after days of drinking without eating. She had watched her mother, frantic, calling someone on the phone, while she herself had cried until she fainted.
After that day, her father hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol.
But now, her father was drinking again.
“Let go, let go!”
Oh Yeontaek shook off his daughter’s hand as she tried to stop him. He shoved her away with surprising force, but Seoyeon grabbed his arm again. The soju bottle on the dining table tipped over, spilling liquor everywhere.
“Dad, please! Why are you doing this? You have to think about your health — if you keep drinking, it’ll get dangerous!”
“Let go! I told you to let go!”
He’d already been heavily drinking before coming home. His mind was hazy, his vision swimming. Lost in that haze, his emotions boiling over, Oh Yeontaek shoved Seoyeon with all his strength.
“Ugh!”
Crash! With a loud bang, Seoyeon slammed into the refrigerator. The impact made it shake violently.
To her, falling to the floor felt like everything slowed to a crawl. A groan of pain escaped her lips.
Oh Yeontaek’s body went rigid. As if his half-scattered mind suddenly snapped back, his gaze cleared for a moment.
“Se… Seoyeon.”
His voice trembled as he called her name.
Seoyeon sat slumped on the floor, gasping for breath, looking like she might faint at any second. Oh Yeontaek’s face drained of color. He stumbled toward her and knelt down, carefully gripping her shoulders.
“Seoyeon, Seoyeon… Are you okay? Hmm? Seoyeon…”
He kept repeating her name, half out of his mind. Never before had the lack of an answer scared him so much.
“Seoyeon, Seo—”
“I’m… okay.”
Her voice was faint and broken. She couldn’t even lift her head as she slowly raised her hand and placed it over her father’s hand on her shoulder.
“It’s okay, Dad.”
At those words, Oh Yeontaek broke down again. He squeezed his eyes shut.
There was no way to deny what he’d done anymore. He pulled Seoyeon into his arms. Without a word, he clung to her, as if wanting to wring every last drop of moisture from his body — crying so bitterly it seemed he wished he could die.
Seoyeon gently patted his back until he calmed down.
Who knew how much time passed. His sobs finally faded. Seeing this side of her father for the first time, Seoyeon cautiously spoke up.
“What happened, Dad?”
“…”
She waited quietly for his answer. No pressure, no pushing — she just stayed by his side. After a long moment, Oh Yeontaek finally spoke.
“Director Cha… he told me. To sell him my eleventh painting.”
At his words, Seoyeon sucked in a breath. Her pupils trembled violently as she looked at him. Kang Ryun’s face in his study flashed through her mind — the empty teacup he’d left behind. Oh Yeontaek began to pour everything out, like a confession.
“There was debt that had to be paid off by the end of the year. If I didn’t, we’d lose this entire house.”
“Debt? But you told me you’d paid it off, that I didn’t need to worry.”
“…That was a lie. I wanted you to focus fully on your big exhibition.”
Oh Yeontaek let out a deep sigh.
“Director Cha knew about it and offered to pay the debt. He said it so easily, like it was nothing. To me, it was an impossible sum…”
Seoyeon clenched her fists tight, her hands trembling. She just looked at him in silence, afraid to hear what came next. Oh Yeontaek slowly closed his eyes. His face was a map of resignation and regret.
“So I sold it to him. The painting of Yooran — your mother. There was no other way.”
His voice cracked apart. Pride, dignity — all long gone.
“I’m a failed artist. A father who can’t protect anything. I hated myself for having to go that far. But looking at you now, I think maybe it was right. Even so — being your father, showing you this pathetic side — I’m so ashamed.”
She remembered all the pain she’d endured as a child — the years she’d survived beside him. Oh Yeontaek couldn’t bear to look at her face. He covered his eyes with a shaking hand. His chest felt like it was being ripped apart.
Seoyeon felt like something was choking her throat shut. She forced back the tears welling up, then finally spoke, her voice steady.
“It’s just a painting, Dad… It’s okay.”
Oh Yeontaek looked at her. Her tear-filled eyes were steady and resolute.
“So the debt’s settled now, right? Everything’s okay now?”
“Yes. The debt’s paid.”
“Good. That’s all that matters. If you think about it, this is a good thing — so don’t be like this anymore.”
Tears streamed down his cheeks once more, endlessly. He didn’t even sob anymore. Seoyeon wrapped her arms around him.
“Dad, to me… Mom is important, but you — the dad here with me — you’re more precious. Don’t feel guilty. I’ve always been happy.”
Haa… A trembling sigh slipped from his mouth.
He felt Seoyeon’s warmth — she was already as tall as him now — but he couldn’t bring himself to lower the hand covering his eyes. Oh Yeontaek lifted his shaking arms and hugged her tightly.
His shoulders were wet with tears.
Sunlight poured across the hotel bed. A man lay there, buried under the blanket up to his face, savoring a rare lazy weekend morning. It was his first moment of peace in a while.
But it didn’t last long.
His phone, lying on the bedside table, started to ring noisily.
A call this early on a weekend morning made him mutter a curse under his breath.
The white blanket shifted a few times before an arm reached out. Veins stood out on the pale hand that snatched the phone off the table with an irritated swipe.
“Hello.”
His voice was low and rough from sleep, tinged with faint annoyance.
—Ah, I must have woken you up. I’ll call you back later.
“…Seoyeon?”
Hearing that familiar voice, his half-closed eyes snapped open.
A glance at the screen confirmed it: ‘Oh Yeontaek’s daughter, Oh Seoyeon’ appeared in white letters.
Inho hurriedly pressed the mute button and cleared his throat.
A few seconds later, he unmuted and answered again in his usual warm tone.
“No, it’s fine, Seoyeon. What’s going on this morning?”
—It’s about the publishing event. I wanted to talk to you about it.
“Publishing event? Sure — go ahead.”
He pulled the phone away from his cheek for a second to check the time. It had just passed 8 a.m. Any other day, he would’ve been annoyed — but now, he let a faint smile slip onto his lips and sat up.
As the blanket slid off, his bare, lean torso was revealed in the sunlight. His skin was marked here and there with faint, messy red stains. He ran a hand through the hair falling over his eyes, brushing it back slowly. The strands of his platinum-blonde hair tangled around his fingers.
Just then, the bathroom door in the hotel suite swung open — and a woman stepped out.
