ALDA 06

A Love Doomed to Die 

 Chapter -06   The Beginning of the Job

When the door opened, Mi-jung greeted Eun-hee with a bright smile.

“Oh, Sa Eun-hee.”

Before she knew it, Eun-hee was being led by the hand to the end of a long table. Mi-jung took the seat across from her and gestured toward the man sitting between them.

“This is the lawyer. He’ll notarize the contract for us.”

At her words, the man on Eun-hee’s left gave a polite bow.

Eun-hee stared blankly at the young man for a moment before coming to her senses when he handed her a business card. She read his name and the name of the law firm printed on it.

Then her eyes caught the sheet of white paper lying on the table. Following her gaze, Mi-jung gently pushed the document toward her.

“This is the contract written exactly as you requested, Eun-hee. Take a close look to see if there’s anything you want to add or change.”

Mi-jung had kept her promise — she had emphasized that the deal would be mutually beneficial, and she had written the terms just as Eun-hee demanded, clearly stating the payment amount as well.

Eun-hee carefully checked the retainer fee and the additional sums she would receive each time she secured new evidence. There was no upper limit on the number of pieces of evidence — the more she found, the more she would be paid.

It felt unreal. Could Mi-jung really be willing to pay her this much?

To think that a sum with so many zeros attached would soon be hers — it was like a dream. Eun-hee’s gaze lingered on the numbers, entranced.

A sweet taste pooled under her tongue.

Had she inherited her father’s genes — the man who had cheated people out of their money?

Before this staggering amount of money, her greed swelled like a snowball, large enough to bury her shame. It was ridiculous — to feel so ravenous when she was a woman on the verge of death.

Her eyes continued downward until they stopped at four words.

Success Fee.

The amount to be paid upon completion of the contract — a kind of bonus. And the number was even larger than the one before.

Eun-hee double-checked the name of the bank and the account number where the money would be sent. It was the account she had opened days earlier under Eun-ji’s name.

And finally—

She reread the payment condition, the one she had fought hardest to include during the negotiations with Mi-jung.

The success fee shall be paid upon the death of “Party B.”

Her gaze lingered there for only a blink — brief and emotionless.

Mi-jung’s gentle voice pierced the vacuum of silence.

“I look forward to working with you, Sa Eun-hee.”

Drawn out of her trance by those words, Eun-hee became aware again.

For the first time in a long while, she felt something stirring — a final breath of hope blowing into her short remaining life.

Was this what they called the moment of clarity before death? Her senses felt razor sharp, her mind alert.

With the contract signed, she wanted to begin as soon as possible. Time was short for someone who had already been given a death sentence.

Her sharp, lucid eyes turned toward Mi-jung.

“When should I start?”

She didn’t know what to call the task she was about to undertake, so she left out the subject.

Mi-jung’s lips curved into a smile.

“As it happens, he has dinner plans tonight. The perfect place for you to just happen to join him. What do you say — tonight?”

It was the beginning of the job.

* * *

Heojeong-ro 16-9.
The building had no name.

The moment she stepped out of the taxi, Eun-hee’s peach-colored heels touched the ground.

The high heels of her new shoes were unfamiliar; her ankle wobbled. She thought to herself that she was like an old, creaky chair.

Don’t look awkward.

She straightened her posture and faced forward.

Right after the contract, Mi-jung had handed her a new business card.

“From now on, you’re my personal assistant, Eun-hee. I’ll let Young-hoon know. I’ll tell him I hired you because I’m too busy with wedding preparations.”

Mi-jung had gone to great lengths to explain how hard it had been to convince her mother — how Director Song had been vehemently against it until the day before, and how much persuasion it had taken.

No wonder. They had fired her precisely to keep her away from Cha Young-hoon — and now she was being hired again, as the daughter’s personal secretary.

That meant she would once again be within Young-hoon’s line of sight. To the director, it must have been nothing short of absurd.

“But you know what they say — no parent ever wins against their child. My mom’s strict in public, but when it comes to me, she’s soft as butter.”

Eun-hee could still picture Mi-jung’s playful wink and carefree smile.

It was all part of her plan. Still, it amazed Eun-hee that Mi-jung could act so forgiving toward the woman who was supposed to seduce her own fiancé.

Had she truly lost all affection for the man? Or perhaps, when Eun-hee remembered the scars on Mi-jung’s body, it became easier to understand.

“From now on, I’ll be sending errands to Cha Young-hoon through you. Use those as excuses to get close to him. He’s the kind of man who’s wary of everyone, so don’t overdo it — no need to act too obvious.”

As Eun-hee recalled Mi-jung’s advice, a tingling sensation spread through her fingers.

She loosened her fist, which she hadn’t realized she’d been clenching so tightly, and instead focused her strength in her eyes.

Ahead stood a dark iron door — no signboard, no markings. The dull metallic color gave off an inexplicable sense of pressure.

Cha Young-hoon. He was beyond that door. That must be why.

Eun-hee exhaled deeply and brushed her hands over the wrinkles in her skirt.

Her skin-tone dress hugged her body’s curves. It wasn’t revealing, yet somehow it felt daringly suggestive.

She took out the access card Mi-jung had given her and tapped it against the reader on the wall.

Beep. The heavy metal door slowly creaked open.

Eun-hee carefully descended the narrow staircase leading underground.

Soon, a small hall came into view.

It was silent inside.

Not knowing what to make of it, she looked around.

Just then, a middle-aged man who seemed to be a manager approached and bowed politely.

“This way, please.”

He didn’t even ask who she was. It was clear that only a select few were allowed entry here.

He led her down a side corridor lined with doors spaced evenly apart.

After passing several rooms, they reached the last door at the end of the passage. Judging from its size and placement, it seemed to be the largest room in the basement.

Knock, knock. The manager tapped twice on the gray door before opening it.

The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol poured out into the corridor. Eun-hee coughed dryly.

The manager went no farther. Bowing slightly, he gestured politely toward the open doorway — inviting her in.

When she hesitated, he lifted an eyebrow, wordlessly signaling her to go ahead.

Eun-hee bowed awkwardly in return and stepped into the den.

With her first step, the sound of her heels rang sharply on the floor.

Clack.

“Sir, please, I’m begging you. Please, have mercy on us…”

An older man’s voice, trembling and desperate, echoed through the enclosed space. The heaviness of it froze Eun-hee in place.

Then another man spoke — younger, energetic, full of bravado.

“Come on, Prosecutor Cha, think about it. Isn’t a detention hearing enough? You’d be seen as the righteous prosecutor who pursues justice!”

Clap! Two palms met in a loud, confident smack.

“Perfect. People will only remember that part. Then you can just ask for a five-year sentence. The judge will hand down three years in prison, five years probation. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

But there was no reply. The silence stretched.

The brash voice lowered slightly, continuing in a coaxing tone.

“Prosecutor Cha, my dear classmate Cha Young-hoon, you brilliant rich bastard — you know how this world works. So why make it hard on yourself, huh? Embezzlement of 30 billion? You and I both know it’s just a matter of phrasing. Let’s call it unavoidable loss due to sudden global market changes, how about that? Damn, listen to me — I’m a genius with words.”

Eun-hee bit her lip. The air was so tense it pressed on her chest, but she couldn’t just stand there.

She forced her heavy legs to move again. The sound of her heels echoed through the room.

Clack, clack.

And at that moment, the conversation stopped cold.