T3

Chapter 3. That Bastard Who’ll Die Soon

An advance payment of one hundred million won.
An annual salary of three hundred million.

Eun-young’s eyes widened slightly as she looked through the employment contract.

“Since we’re asking you not only to be his personal physician but also to live in, we didn’t want to be stingy.”

Tae-woong spoke gently, as if soothing a startled animal.

“And there’s one more document I’d like you to sign.”

Next to the contract lay another sheet of paper.

A confidentiality agreement.

It stated that she must never disclose any secrets or private matters learned during employment.
At the very bottom, a peculiar clause stood out:

“Under no circumstances shall the employee approach Kwon Ji-woong with impure intentions. Should any inappropriate incident occur, the employer reserves the right to pursue both civil and criminal charges.”

“It’s just a formality. Is that uncomfortable for you?”

Tae-woong tilted his head, stroking his chin.

“Not at all. I’m a doctor — I treat patients as patients. You don’t have to worry.”

He smiled that gentle, disarming smile of his.

Being a live-in doctor for a chaebol family meant enduring a certain level of insult — she had already accepted that.
This wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

Though his polished exterior masked something unsettling beneath, Eun-young reminded herself that her patient was not this man, but his younger brother.

The pay was surprisingly high, enough to make her blink — but she accepted without hesitation.

Eun-young picked up the pen and signed.
Tae-woong watched the delicate motion of her hand with a faint smile.

That night, a message came from him.
He said he’d changed his mind — that he, too, wanted the best for his brother and would do his utmost to help as her partner in care.

All that for money, of course.
But beneath the pretty phrasing, she could see the fragile pride of a man trying to protect his image.

After signing, Eun-young gave a polite smile.

“I look forward to working with you.”
“Same here.”

If that’s what you want, I’ll play along, she thought.

Contrary to her initial worries about Tae-woong, his brother Ji-woong turned out to be gentle and kind.

Despite rumors of a recent suicide attempt, Ji-woong welcomed her warmly.
Calling her “Doc, Doc,” he followed her around like a little brother.

Ji-woong was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy six years ago — when he was in his first year of middle school.

Once a fencing prodigy, he began to lose physical strength without explanation.
At first, everyone thought it was just pressure before a big competition.
Even after quitting the sport, his symptoms worsened until he could no longer ignore them.

Muscular dystrophy eats away at the muscles — slowly, inevitably.

Now twenty years old, he often relied on a wheelchair.
A once healthy, athletic boy losing the ability to move — it was no wonder depression followed.

Yet, before Eun-young, Ji-woong still smiled.

But not today.

“So you’re Ji-woong’s live-in physician?”
“Yes, Chairman. She’s not only treating his immune issues but also helping with mental care.”

Before Eun-young could reply, his mother quickly cut in.

They were at the family’s grand estate, attending the birthday party of Ji-woong’s maternal grandfather — the chairman of the Lee myung Group.

All the way from the annex to the main house, Ji-woong had been in a dark mood.
He had scolded the butler for choosing the wrong suit.

“Well, if Tae-woong hired you, you must be quite capable.”

Originally, Eun-young wasn’t supposed to attend.
But when Tae-woong called saying he’d be late, Ji-woong grew anxious, and she agreed to accompany him.

His complexion only worsened as the dinner went on.

“And what about Do-hyuk? Where’s he headed next year?”
“He’s decided on Columbia University.”
“Splendid. Truly splendid.”

Even as the conversation shifted, Ji-woong’s expression stayed bleak.
His mother looked equally strained — there was tension between them, obvious even to an outsider.

“Doc, can I go to the restroom?”

While the others chatted noisily, he slipped away.
Since wheelchairs were inconvenient in the old mansion, he used crutches.
He refused Eun-young’s offer to help.

When too much time passed, she went looking for him.
After asking several staff, she found the restroom — and Ji-woong, hunched over, vomiting.

“Are you okay? Want to go home?”
“No. I just need to hold out until dessert.”

He was watching his mother nervously.

So that’s what this is about.
He’s sick — and still trying to perform.

“Maybe some fresh air would help?”
“…Okay. I’ll wait outside. Can you grab my coat and scarf?”

“Of course.”

She hurried to the dining hall, picked up his things, and headed for the garden.

From afar, she spotted Ji-woong — and beside him, two young men she recognized from dinner.

“Oh, look who’s still alive.”

Eun-young froze mid-step.

“You’d been gone so long, we thought you’d died somewhere.”

The two cousins laughed.
Ji-woong stood silent, leaning on his crutch.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

She raised her voice as she approached.
One of the men dropped his cigarette.

“Who the hell— oh, the doctor, right?”

“Doc, it’s fine. Let’s just go.”

“So you’ve got yourself a pretty little nurse now, huh? What, are you two… doing it?”

“Ha! As if Kwon Ji-woong could even—”

The man made a vulgar gesture, laughing.
Ji-woong bowed his head lower. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Eun-young stepped closer — and the man faltered.
Her eyes were cold.

“You’ve got jaundice in your eyes. Drank too much wine earlier, didn’t you? Keep that up and you’ll be in liver failure before you know it.”
“What?”
“Also, close your filthy mouth. The stench of smoke is nauseating.”

“You crazy bitch. Think you’re something just ’cause you’ve got a dying chaebol brat under your care?”

The man raised his hand — and Eun-young flinched, closing her eyes.

Why is it that men like this can’t exist without violence?

She stepped between him and Ji-woong.

Then, a low voice cut through the air.

“That’s enough.”

“T-Tae-woong hyung…”

The man’s hand fell limp. Fear washed over his face.

“Been a while,” he stammered.
“Didn’t you beg me last time to get your wife’s surgery scheduled in the VIP ward?”
“Ah, that was—”

“Kwon Ji-woong. Let’s go.”

Without another glance, Tae-woong grabbed his brother and led him away.
Eun-young followed silently.

The drive back to the annex was heavy with silence.

Ji-woong didn’t leave his room for the rest of the night.
When Eun-young confided what had happened to Housekeeper Jung, the woman sighed and began to talk about Ji-woong’s mother — Han Myeong-sook.

“The Madam’s always been cold to him. Never affectionate — and after he got sick, she practically stopped looking at him altogether. So please, keep an eye on him, Dr. Myung. You’re already doing a wonderful job.”

Apparently, Mrs. Han’s obsession with her husband’s approval made her treat her sons as mere tools.
The father’s long-standing affair was already public knowledge.

Eun-young couldn’t shake the image of Ji-woong’s downcast face.
He must have relied only on his older brother since childhood.

Later that night, unable to sleep, she threw on a coat and went outside for some air.

“Got a lighter?”

She turned — and there was Tae-woong, leaning against a tree.
Dressed in a black knit and slacks, hair falling loosely over his forehead, he looked unusually young.

A cigarette hung from his lips. His eyes were slightly unfocused.
A faint trace of alcohol drifted in the wind.

“You really shouldn’t smoke around someone who’s ill.”

He chuckled softly.

“As expected from the famous doctor.”

It was strange hearing her old nickname — The Prodigy Doctor — from him.

As he pushed off the tree, he staggered slightly, and she instinctively reached out.
He ended up leaning against her shoulder.

“Don’t step in next time,” he murmured. “That bastard’s got bad hands.”

His warm breath brushed her ear, carrying the sharp scent of whiskey.
The chill on her cheek melted under his heat.

For a moment, she forgot to breathe.