Chapter 3
The plane we boarded was a direct flight to Honolulu, Hawaii.
It was fairly full, but she was in first class—settled comfortably in her seat, free from the crowd.
> “Tacky.”
She muttered the word while staring at the ring still in her hand.
We had always surrounded ourselves with beautiful things—elegant, refined, and luxurious. A ring with a single gemstone and no design to speak of? That simply wouldn’t do.
Just as she smirked and moved to return the ring to her bag—
Thud.
> “Ah!”
Someone had bumped into her shoulder with surprising force. Pain jolted through her, and her eyes flared.
> “Oh no, I’m so sorry.”
It seemed to be a fellow passenger, trying to sit in the adjacent seat.
Normally, we would have snapped back with a sharp “Watch where you’re going,” but today was different.
She smiled softly.
> “It’s okay. Have a pleasant flight.”
We were on the brink of total liberation—feeling so light that even a bee sting might make us laugh.
> “What brings you to Hawaii?”
Perhaps it was that gentle smile. The man sitting beside her started a conversation.
She crossed one leg over the other, laid the in-flight magazine atop her knee, and answered casually:
> “Immigrating.”
> “To Hawaii?”
> “Maybe.”
She wasn’t planning to stay long, but there was no need to get into details.
Even as her responses grew increasingly vague, the man leaned out past the armrest, clearly eager to talk.
> “I’m going for business. Things are hectic these days.”
> “That sounds tough.”
> “Not really. You have to hustle. That’s what business is all about.”
He looked rather pleased with himself. We glanced at him.
Late twenties to early thirties at most. A young entrepreneur. And if he could afford first class, he was likely deep into that self-important phase.
> ‘A young version of Go Kyung-chul.’
The man reminded her of her father. She shrugged slightly and turned her gaze back to the magazine.
But the man was persistent.
> “So what do you do?”
> “Ah… I used to work. Quit now. No plans to go back.”
> “You seem pretty used to first class. Must’ve been a good job.”
Even with her evasive answers, he kept trying to steer the conversation. His eyes scanned her—accessories, clothes, the seat itself—reading everything visible.
And from that moment on, he wouldn’t shut up.
> ‘Damn it. I shouldn’t have smiled.’
She regretted letting her guard down.
Still, they had to share the next eight hours. Ignoring him completely wasn’t an option.
> “Yeah, well.”
More passengers boarded. Though the sections were divided, the noise inevitably increased.
The man next to her tapped her seat lightly.
> “A lot of people getting on, huh?”
No longer in the mood to chat, we simply nodded slightly. But he pressed on.
> “Hope we don’t get delayed. I’ve got meetings lined up.”
She pretended not to hear and picked up a new magazine. The man sighed.
> “So noisy. Honestly, I don’t get why people in economy talk so much. It’s like a damn anthill.”
Even though the insult wasn’t aimed at us, it stung.
> “Planes are noisy even when empty. And at least those in the ‘anthill’ aren’t stuck here trying to act superior for a wider seat they overpaid for.”
Maybe we were in an unusually good mood today. She found herself saying things uncharacteristic of her usual self.
> ‘Why did I say that?’
> “You know, guys don’t like women who talk too sharply. But a guy like me? I could let it slide.”
> “Hah…”
> “So, what do you think of me?”
It was all too familiar. She knew she was attractive—but these kinds of crude advances never felt any less disgusting.
We didn’t answer.
But he wouldn’t stop.
> “Hey, can you hear me? Hello?!”
His persistence was dizzying. If this continued, she’d be harassed the entire flight. We decided to handle him in our usual confident, slightly arrogant way.
> “Why would you ask—”
But then, she caught sight of the ring lying on the side tray. That’s it.
She slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand.
> ‘Huh.’
It fit perfectly. Strangely so. It had slipped off so easily before… Maybe it was never meant for Ae-jung in the first place.
She clicked her tongue, ran her fingers through her hair—making sure the ring was visible—and smiled.
> “I’m married.”
> “…….”
> “I’d like to rest now, if you don’t mind.”
The man fell silent. Peace, at last.
Exhaustion weighed heavy, and we closed our eyes. We didn’t even care about the meal—just wanted to wake up in Hawaii.
We heard him mutter something under his breath, but ignored it.
Sleep came creeping in.
> “Ma’am, we’ll be taking off soon. Please fasten your seatbelt.”
> “…….”
> “Ma’am? Why are you standing? Ma’am!”
A commotion began just as she was drifting off into sleep.
> “Gah!”
A hand—rough and brutal—wrapped around our throat.
Air vanished. Her mouth gaped, but no sound came.
> “Ugh… Hkk—!”
Through blurred vision, she saw the man from before—his face twisted into something monstrous.
> “You arrogant b*tch! Think you can toy with me?!”
> “A-Argh!”
> “S-Somebody help! Kyaa!”
A flight attendant screamed and was flung aside.
The man tightened his grip.
> “Die. DIE!”
> ‘Wait… this can’t be real. I’m dying? After everything I went through?’
> ‘No. I don’t want to die.’
> ‘I want to live!’
—
* * *
The wedding ended in chaos when the bride collapsed—but most guests understood.
It was that shocking.
Go Woo-ri’s death.
Everyone knew that she had once been engaged to Ha Yoon-jae.
The eldest daughter of Ha Sung Apparel, Go Woo-ri. The heir of the Yeongdo Group, Ha Yoon-jae. Outwardly, they had been a perfect match.
> [“They said she was stabbed to death.”]
[“No, it was an allergic reaction from the in-flight meal.”]
[“I heard she drank alcohol with it.”]
[“Some say she took her own life after the breakup…”]
[“The news said there was a suspect. Some businessman, right?”]
The unexplained death of a chaebol heiress shocked the entire nation. The unclear cause only fueled the frenzy.
And so, Ju Ae-jung—accused of stealing the fiancé and replacing the dead bride—locked herself away.
Depressed and grieving, she couldn’t do anything.
> “I’m… dead?”
The woman—we—curled up on the bed, clutching the pillow behind our head, muttering like someone possessed.
> “That lunatic really killed me? This isn’t real… Is this possession? Am I a ghost? But why am I in her body? Did I envy her or something?”
We stayed up all night, searching for answers. But nothing made sense.
Even for someone without faith, this situation was unbelievable.
> ‘Is this punishment?’
But punished for what?
She was the one who had lost her fiancé. Why suffer more?
No matter how much we denied it—this wasn’t a dream.
We took a deep breath.
Sleep-deprived and drained, she—we—finally began thinking clearly about what had happened and what came next.
It was terrifying, but we were beginning to accept it.
> “Ju Ae-jung.”
She slowly looked down at her—Ju Ae-jung’s—wrist.
> “What did you do to me?”
Multiple scars ran across it. Faint, but unmistakable.
Thud.
She threw her glasses across the room.
> “What the hell is this… Am I supposed to just accept—Ah!”
Another cry, this time strangled. A sudden, gut-wrenching pain bent her in half.
> “Ah, ugh…”
The sharp pain eclipsed all thought. As she clutched the blanket, something dawned on her.
> ‘Wait.’
The hand covering her belly—Ju Ae-jung’s hand—froze.
Then, the damp sensation from her lower back confirmed it.
> “…….”
She pulled back the covers slowly.
Blood. A vivid red stain.
—
> “S-Sir!”
The housekeeper, Mrs. Kim, ran into the study, face pale.
Ha Yoon-jae, who had been at home dealing with the aftermath of Ju Ae-jung and Go Woo-ri’s disaster, stood up at once.
> “What is it?”
> “The madam—well, not officially yet—but she… she’s bleeding!”
She was stammering so badly that he instantly grasped the situation.
> ‘Again? What a hassle…’
He recalled something Ae-jung had done long ago and headed straight for her room.
She was frail and severely depressed—nothing she did would surprise him.
Bang.
He flung open the door.
Ae-jung sat on the bed. The oversized clothes hung off her emaciated frame.
> “Ju Ae-jung.”
He approached cautiously, not wanting to trigger her.
> “Calm down. Whatever you’re thinking—”
> “I…”
She mumbled something. Her voice was so faint, he couldn’t hear.
> “What?”
He stepped closer.
Her head slowly lifted.
Her hair was a mess, her face haggard from lack of sleep.
She looked at him and spoke with eerie calm:
> “I think I just had a miscarriage.”
The voice, the gaze—they were too calm, too composed.
And something about her gaze… it felt entirely different.
Ha Yoon-jae narrowed his eyes and asked—
> “Are you… intersex?”
