ALDA 50

Chapter – 50

The Final Night

She needles her with her very name.
If it were any other day, Mijeong would have screamed back at him. But in front of Younghoon, she never seems to find her courage.

“Y-Yes… yes….”

All she manages is a small, shrinking voice.

“And since this is a marriage of convenience, there’s really no reason for us to interfere in each other’s private lives. Don’t you agree?”

Mijeong recalls Younghoon’s past warning.

“Let’s not cross boundaries. Stay quietly within your own territory. I’ll find my own entertainment.”

Suddenly, her insides twist. The heat that had risen to her face drains away, leaving her delicately made-up features cold and rigid.

Her lips press tightly together. Over her silence, his ruthless words fall.

“That’s why, Park Mijeong.”

“……”

“Let’s keep it reasonable, hmm?”

Despite the soothing tone, his eyes gleam red with menace.

Hostility rises from her solar plexus, her breath trembling violently. Mijeong does not look away, as if daring him.

Come to think of it, Cha Younghoon had always been consistent.

With her.
And with Sa Eunhee.

“And it’s not that I deliberately pretended not to know you at that party.”

“……”

“I just wasn’t angry enough to acknowledge you.”

“Haah……”

An icy wind slips between them. At the faint gust, Mijeong staggers.

Younghoon grabs her arms, pulling her upright. His grip is hard as iron.

Under that crushing strength, her body feels like it’s collapsing, like a deflated balloon. The unfamiliar sensation of defeat leaves her disoriented.

“Hngh……”

“Then we’ll see each other on the wedding day.”

Younghoon lowers his gaze indifferently, then turns his back and walks away as if unhurried.

Had his chill seeped into her legs? A cold pain spreads through her body. Mijeong clutches her chest and exhales raggedly.

She glares at his retreating figure for a long time. The longer his shadow stretches, the more her resentment grows.

“You know, so why don’t you doubt her?!”

She shouts after him, but his black silhouette only grows smaller.

Clutching at her last straw, Mijeong unleashes her fury in a roar.

“Just look around for a second—there’s suspicion everywhere! Why do you pretend not to see it? If you act like it never happened, does that erase it? Does that make her innocent? You’re not that naïve, are you?!”

Her fists tremble violently. The brown mink shawl slips from her shoulders and falls to the ground, but she no longer feels the cold.

Then, clearly and deliberately, a number slips from her lips.

“Ten billion won.”

“……”

“That’s how much she’s taken from you by selling her body. And three more billion!”

At last, Younghoon stops.

His jaw tightens sharply. Facing the dark void, there’s no way to know what kind of expression he’s wearing.

Only the tense stillness is palpable—an uneasy calm like the moment before a typhoon.

But the water had already spilled. Having come this far, Mijeong decides to drive the blade in deeper, determined to force him to his knees.

“That money is the final payment for a contract that ends today. A success bonus for successfully hooking you.”

But her efforts are in vain. His halted body moves forward once more.

As he fades into a small, blurry dot, Mijeong raises her voice even louder.

“You think only the woman was used?”

“……”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You were the one used! Your price—thirteen billion won! To her, you’re a thirteen-billion-won man!”

She wanted him to grab her by the collar and demand what the hell she was talking about.

She wanted a conversation—any excuse to cling to him, to keep him from leaving.

But reality offers only the hollow wind lingering where he stood. Dry leaves tumble across the ground, leaving behind a dull scent of dust and earth.

“Haah……”

Mijeong takes a long time to steady her breathing. Soon, she steels herself, returning to her original resolve.

If Cha Younghoon intended to treat her like less than an insect, then she owed him no courtesy in return.

She screams inwardly:

Let it hurt—suffer for the love you can never have.
As deeply as you love her, watch her life tighten like a noose.
And in the end, drown in guilt for driving Sa Eunhee to her death—rot in hell.

Mijeong leans against the wall, barely holding herself upright. She pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

Then she takes out her phone. As if making a great decision, she exhales sharply and opens her messages.

Each time her neatly manicured fingers slice through the darkness, letters appear on the screen.

Sa Eunhee, you’ve worked hard. Today is your last day.

She hits send and drags deeply on the filter.

Smoke fills her mouth as she looks up at the sky. Like offering a solemn prayer, she carefully puckers her lips and softly whistles.

“Hooo……”

The smoke disperses into the air, slowly clouding the dark sky.

The heavens turn ash-gray.

* * *

Beneath the protruding canopy at the hotel’s main entrance, luxury cars repeatedly stopped and departed.

Screech—!

A car slammed to a sudden halt. Eunhee’s shoulder jolted forward and snapped back.

“Are you alright?”

The driver turned toward her anxiously.

“I’m sorry. Someone suddenly ran in front of the car—ah… ah?”

Following the driver’s startled gaze, Eunhee turned her head. The man who had blocked the car circled around and approached the rear door where she sat.

Bang! Bang!

He began kicking the door violently.

“That man—seriously—”

As the driver opened his door to stop him—

“Driver, please wait.”

Eunhee stopped him.

Leaving that request behind, she opened the car door.

The moment it clicked open, Yeongchun’s bloodshot eyes filled her vision as he yanked the door wider.

“Well, would you look at that—my daughter Eunhee!”

He grinned broadly, revealing yellowed, worn teeth.

Spreading his arms wide like wings, he welcomed her as if she were a triumphant child returning home. His booming voice drew the attention of everyone nearby.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet and talk, Father.”

Eunhee said calmly, gripping his arm and guiding him behind a large pillar supporting the pilotis ceiling, out of public view.

“My goodness, you’ve gotten so thin. It breaks your father’s heart. Are you eating properly?”

Yeongchun looked at her with exaggerated concern.

Had her father ever worried about her like this before? Eunhee stared blankly at his face. Seeing the deeply creased wrinkles etched into his withered skin stirred a flicker of pity.

“I heard you were dying, but here you are, coming to a fancy hotel. What’s going on? Who’s taking such good care of you?”

The probing tone made Eunhee’s eyes waver slightly.

She never expected her father to appear reformed overnight—but disappointment still crept in.

“Who told you that?”

She asked calmly.

Instead of being surprised, Yeongchun coughed awkwardly, flailing his arms in exaggerated denial.

“Well, does that really matter right now? Your child is sick—what kind of parent could stay away? Hey, where’s the hospital? Let’s go together tomorrow!”

He rolled up his sleeves and stomped his foot.

When Eunhee didn’t respond, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, hesitating.

Then he quickly rearranged his expression and spoke in a solemn voice.

“I heard you need surgery.”

“……”

“……Do you really have to do it?”