Chapter 7. Informal Speech
Eun-young’s face turned pale when she saw a text message from her aunt.
Her aunt’s messages had never brought good news, but this one hit her like a hammer.
It said her aunt had somehow gotten money from Eun-young’s boss.
“He seemed like a good man. Make sure you thank him properly.”
Eun-young’s blood boiled. She felt it rush backward through her veins.
She couldn’t let Ji-woong notice, so she forced herself to act normal until he went to bed.
The moment he did, she called Tae-woong.
Her phone kept ringing with no answer—only the recorded message that the number could not be reached.
So she texted.
Did you lend my aunt money?
When are you coming home?
Where are you right now?
Tae-woong always dropped by to see Ji-woong after work, even if just for a few minutes.
If he hadn’t shown up before Ji-woong went to sleep, that meant he wasn’t home yet.
Each message she sent showed as read, but there was no reply.
Then, after a long wait, a single message came through.
Just an address.
It meant come if you dare.
Eun-young grabbed her coat and wallet and headed out.
* * *
Inside a club flashing with brilliant lights, Tae-woong stood out like a beacon.
The place was packed—so crowded you could hardly see faces—but the moment he appeared, all eyes turned to him.
Among people dressed in casual, chaotic outfits, his immaculate suit made him look completely out of place.
There was something about him—an aura of quiet intimidation—that kept others from approaching.
His secretary squeezed through the throng, struggling to keep up.
Tae-woong stopped by the second-floor railing, and the secretary leaned close to whisper something before leaving.
He loosened his tie and exhaled.
The air was thick with cigarette smoke and sweat. The pounding bass grated on his nerves.
Then, looking down absently—he saw her.
Eun-young.
She wore a white turtleneck, navy cardigan, beige long skirt, and a black coat.
Even from afar, he recognized her instantly.
At the entrance, she looked around anxiously, scanning the crowd but never glancing upward.
Tae-woong watched her from above.
She tapped the shoulder of a man with a similar build, then quickly bowed in apology when she realized her mistake.
Look up, he thought.
Like that night—you should have known I was always above you.
Just as he thought it, Eun-young finally lifted her gaze and spotted him.
She frowned and started for the stairs.
The crowd was drunk and rowdy, bodies swaying into her path. Watching her struggle through them felt almost painful.
When someone nearly bumped into her, Tae-woong moved—grabbing her arm and spinning her toward him.
From behind, he held her shoulders and whispered at her ear:
“You should be more careful, teacher.”
The music happened to dip just then, making his voice ring clear and intimate.
For a moment, Eun-young thought even the heavy beat had stopped.
He gently straightened her disheveled coat.
She could feel his large frame behind her—broad, solid, too close.
Snapping back to herself, she turned on him.
“Did you do it? Did you?!”
Her voice broke between the blasts of music; some words vanished under the bass.
Tae-woong kept pretending he couldn’t hear, gesturing that the music was too loud.
When she glared, his secretary appeared, bowed to Eun-young, and whispered something to him.
Tae-woong nodded and motioned for her to follow.
They walked down a long corridor, led by one of the club’s staff.
Deeper and deeper inside, until they reached a private room.
The staff and secretary bowed and left.
As soon as they were alone, Eun-young’s thoughts turned sharp and bitter.
So this was how he unwound—no better than the rest of them.
Even a rich heir is just another man who hides in a club and drowns himself in expensive liquor, she thought.
Meanwhile his sick little brother lies at home alone.
Tae-woong removed his jacket, sighed, and opened a bottle of whiskey.
He poured a glass and sat casually.
“Would you like a drink too, teacher?”
“No. I’d prefer an answer to my text.”
“Which one?”
“Did you lend my aunt money?”
“And if I did?”
“Then I’ll return it.”
She took an envelope from her coat and dropped it on the table.
“It doesn’t look like enough.”
“Then deduct the rest from my salary.”
“Do you know how long that’ll take?”
“However long it takes—do it.”
Her tone was firm, mechanical.
Tae-woong tapped his fingers against the glass, a dull tok-tok echoing between them.
Laughter and slurred shouts drifted through the door—drunk voices, lewd jokes.
He finally spoke.
“It’s not a lot of money to me. Just take it. Think of it as a bonus.”
Eun-young’s jaw tightened.
“I said I’m not taking it.”
The abrupt drop of honorifics caught him off guard. Then he laughed softly.
“Are you speaking informally to me now, teacher?”
She stared back, expressionless.
“Fine. Then pay me back, if that makes you feel better.”
“Just ignore my aunt from now on.”
“I try to be kind, and this is how you respond? That’s disappointing, teacher.”
The way he tacked on teacher—polite, mocking—made her skin crawl.
“I’m done talking. Goodbye.”
Without another word, she left, the door slamming behind her.
Her faint scent lingered in the air.
Tae-woong’s jaw tightened, muscles standing out beneath his skin.
Her defiance… it amused him.
For someone trudging through such a dull life, she still has fire.
And that envelope—full of crumpled bills, even a few thousand-won notes—proved she’d scraped together everything she had.
He almost laughed.
How long can she last, now that she’s given all her money away?
If I raise her salary, will she faint?
No—this was better.
As long as I can have her when I want… that’s enough.
Money had brought her closer once. Something else could, next time.
He was smiling faintly when a knock sounded.
“Executive Director, he’ll be here soon.”
It was the secretary.
“Alright. Take this envelope. And pull all of Ms. Myung’s account records.”
The secretary nodded and left with the envelope.
Moments later, the noise outside grew louder—then the door burst open.
“Drinks are on me!”
It was Won-jun, shouting as he and his friends cheered their way inside.
Then he froze.
His face drained of color as he saw Tae-woong.
“H-Hyung…”
Tae-woong was still smiling—but there was something chilling behind it.
