Chapter 4
She had apparently suffered from irregular menstruation for quite a long time, which was probably why she hadn’t noticed it right away.
The doctor, adjusting glasses as thick as affection-tinted lenses, continued speaking calmly.
“Fortunately, there’s nothing serious at the moment. We’ll need a thorough examination to be sure, but for now, there’s no cause for alarm.”
With a kind smile and a brief nod, the doctor exited the room, leaving behind a heavy silence.
It was we—no, Aejeong—who broke that silence.
“Excuse me.”
The casual address, as if calling out to a passerby, made Yunjae’s eyes narrow slightly.
She had called him by many names before, but never “excuse me.”
And then—
“There’s no baby in here, right?”
She spoke while placing a hand over her belly—something far more shocking than the casual tone.
Yunjae cocked his hip and replied with a tilted smirk.
“Did you have a boyfriend I didn’t know about?”
“How would I know? But you said there was a baby.”
Still mumbling incomprehensibly, she ran her hand over her flat stomach.
She remembered clearly how the real Joo Aejeong had done this very thing—stroking her stomach and claiming there was a child.
But if even we couldn’t fully believe it at the time, how could Yunjae possibly understand?
“Did you hit your head when you collapsed?”
He looked ready to check her into a psychiatric ward if she said one more absurd thing.
Still, the panic had lessened somewhat. At least the bleeding wasn’t due to a miscarriage.
‘Whatever this is, it’s not a dream.’
Nothing confirmed reality more than the heavy, uncomfortable pain in her body.
Her body had changed.
‘No… I’ve inhabited this body.’
Whatever the explanation, it wasn’t normal.
She looked up at Yunjae, who stood there coldly inspecting her from head to toe.
This was the same man who hadn’t shown a flicker of concern—even when she had been bleeding and clutching her abdomen.
The doubt in her heart solidified into certainty.
“You don’t love Joo Aejeong, do you?”
A tiny crack appeared in Yunjae’s otherwise unreadable expression.
“…What did you say?”
His face twisted just slightly, making us puzzled this time.
“Love,” she repeated.
“Why would I do that?”
“No, I mean—don’t you love Joo Aejeong?”
The more she spoke, the deeper into quicksand she sank. With a sharp sigh, she ran a hand through her hair.
“I must be going crazy. Yeah… I’m losing it.”
What was clear—both she and Ha Yunjae had used “Joo Aejeong” as a pawn to cancel their engagement.
And cold-blooded Ha Yunjae, without a flicker of remorse, put his suit jacket back on and said:
“Crazy or not, the contract’s going forward. And the wedding? That’s still happening. You’d better be prepared.”
She rubbed her face with both hands.
“…So everything was a lie.”
When she opened her eyes again, they sparkled with a fierce, clear blue light.
“A plan to deceive Go Woori.”
The absurdity of this mutual deception made her scoff.
“Did you really want to avoid marrying me—I mean, Go Woori—that badly? Badly enough to pull something this insane?”
“Why are you asking that?”
“Because I’m curious. Just answer me.”
Yunjae tilted his head, puzzled by this unfamiliar version of Joo Aejeong.
Still convinced she wasn’t in her right mind, he replied with surprising sincerity.
“It’s not about wanting or not wanting to.”
“Then what is it?”
“I didn’t need Go Woori.”
Sting.
To hear it so bluntly was more painful than expected. She clenched the bedsheet and narrowed her eyes.
“She’s the daughter of Haseong Apparel. Rich, beautiful, great body, kind personality, even has a good job…”
“Don’t bring up the dead. And spare me the pathetic self-deprecation.”
If words could kill, his would be lethal.
This short exchange revealed everything about his relationship with Joo Aejeong.
And revealed something else, too.
‘The dead…’
The thing she had fainted just to avoid acknowledging.
As if trying to confirm it again, she looked down at her pale palm and slowly clenched it.
Yunjae, perhaps mistaking her silence as acceptance, spoke again.
“If you’re done asking questions, get dressed. We have somewhere to be.”
“Where?”
After buttoning up the last of his shirt, he answered casually:
“Pyeongchang-dong. Your in-laws’ house.”
“Isn’t it strange to call them in-laws when the wedding hasn’t even happened yet?”
“We filed the marriage registration. It’s not wrong.”
“…What?”
In the car, as the GPS led them into an unfamiliar neighborhood, she felt like she had been sucker-punched again.
‘It wasn’t enough to switch bodies? I died, too? And now I’m married on top of all that? What kind of rigged, cursed deal is this?’
She had plenty to protest—but for now, she chose to go along with reality.
“What on earth did this woman believe in, that she registered the marriage first…?”
The last part—with that guy—was left unspoken. But Yunjae was focused on something else.
“You’ve been referring to yourself in the third person.”
Oops.
“Are you trying to be cute or something?”
It was obvious mockery, but her pride wouldn’t let her back down.
“Did it sound cute to you? Do you think I’m that cute?”
Yunjae’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Not a typical Joo Aejeong response at all.
Looking at her sitting with legs crossed and arms folded, he muttered to himself.
“Definitely hit her head.”
The tone was grim enough to bite, but she only gritted her teeth and swallowed her frustration.
Still reeling from the chaos, they finally arrived.
Once they got out of the car and passed through the garage, a hidden view emerged behind tall walls:
A sleek, three-story modern home with a well-maintained garden.
Startled by the unfamiliar sight, “Aejeong” was still staring when Yunjae commented:
“No need to play nice. Just stand by my side when we go in…”
“Who designed this place? Must’ve been obsessed with symmetry.”
Cutting him off with an unexpected critique, she marched confidently toward the front door.
“Even the house looks boring.”
Her distaste was clear—she preferred natural elegance over something so obviously artificial.
Yunjae’s silence said enough, but she didn’t care. Just before entering, she turned back.
“Where’s the bathroom? It’s kind of urgent.”
“Inside.”
“How can I ask for the bathroom the moment I enter my in-laws’ home? Isn’t there one outside?”
It was an oddly considerate remark given the context, but Yunjae pointed toward a detached building beside the main house.
“Go ahead. I’ll go in first.”
Flashing a cheerful smile, she quickly headed toward the annex.
Click.
Thud.
As soon as the sound of the main door closing rang out, she scanned the garden.
‘Contract? In-laws? I don’t care about any of that.’
She wasn’t ready to accept her death.
The news kept talking about Go Woori’s tragic end and the criminal responsible, but that was all media talk. Who believed that?
“Maybe she’s still alive. At home. Safe.”
That was a problem in itself—but she wasn’t thinking rationally right now.
She moved quickly across the garden toward a spot she’d already picked out.
A section of the outer wall that seemed just a bit lower.
Still over two meters, but climbable.
“I did three years of climbing.”
She didn’t know how long this soft, weak body would last, but she had made up her mind.
Tap.
Her fingers searched the wall, looking for any grip.
‘There.’
Fortunately, there was just enough room for her fingers and toes.
She rubbed her hands in the dirt to get rid of sweat and began climbing.
“Ugh…”
She had no idea how she was even breathing—this fragile body felt too weak to hold itself up.
Still, she gritted her teeth and kept going. This wasn’t a cliff. It was a wall. She could do this with enough willpower.
“…Just a little more…”
If it were her real body, she’d be over the wall by now.
Her skin scraped against the rough surface, but she didn’t stop.
Now—just a bit more.
If she stretched her hand, she could reach the top.
That pale hand, whiter than moonlight, reached upward—grasping for freedom.
Tick.
A strange sound came from below.
She froze.
Then came a puff of smoke from the side.
White smoke, curling upward.
‘No way. No. Please… No—don’t tell me…’
As she tried to deny the reality once again, a familiar voice shattered the illusion.
“This house sits on a hill. The outer wall is over three meters high.”
The voice was calm—too calm—and sounded far too close.
Swallowing hard, she turned her head.
There he was—leaning against the wall with a cigarette in hand.
His face unreadable, bathed in moonlight, he continued:
“Good luck with that.”
He didn’t seem at all interested in stopping her.
His usual arrogance and blank stare made her flinch for a moment.
‘His eyes…’
How could someone’s eyes be so black and void of feeling?
Looking at them made her chest tighten inexplicably.
That flicker of hesitation was all it took.
Her fingers slipped.
“Ah—!”
Her strength gave out. Her body plummeted.
And just before the pain hit—
His eyes, usually so indifferent, widened in surprise.
Or perhaps… he moved closer.
Smack.
Then came the sharp taste of iron.
Blood.
