Chapter 7
“Isn’t this… just a totally messed-up situation?”
That was Go Woo-ri’s first comment, surprisingly obedient up until now as she listened to Yoon-jae.
His brow twitched at her reaction, which didn’t fit into any of the expected responses he had anticipated. She raised one hand and gave a small wave.
“Ah, sorry. Habit. Not that I can just start cursing at you, Yoon-jae.”
There was something refreshingly light and amusing about her. Even while wearing a short skirt, she elegantly crossed her legs and raised a teacup with a quick and confident motion, then asked him:
“Or wait—should I be screaming profanities at my cheating fiancé? Would that be more appropriate?”
That was the last conversation they ever had.
Until now.
“This whole situation is just pathetic.”
Her words suddenly dragged him back to that forgotten memory. He reached out instinctively.
Her thin wrist slipped into his hand like a kite caught in the wind. So frail, it felt as though one wrong move might snap it. Still, Yoon-jae didn’t let go.
“Who the hell are you?”
His eyes burned into her, sharper than before.
This wasn’t just about her one careless remark. There was something else—a face, a presence, a look in her eyes that felt uncannily familiar. Not the same woman, not the same setting, yet…
It was instinct.
That gaze…
Her unusually clear eyes—it was that clarity that rubbed against something inside him.
A quiet gulp echoed.
For the first time in forever, Yoon-jae’s lifeless eyes reflected emotion. She swallowed again.
Woo-ri had always had a weakness for beautiful things. Not just conventionally pretty or handsome things, but that rare kind of aesthetic beauty that resonated deeply with her personal tastes. Maybe that’s why—even with just a subtle shift in his gaze—she found herself momentarily captivated.
What… why is he so… handsome…
Wait—no, no, stop it, Go Woo-ri!
She bit her dried lips and peeled them apart.
Focus. This is not the time to get dazzled by good looks.
She let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to relax.
“Go Woo-ri died yesterday on that flight.”
It was the absolute truth.
Yoon-jae’s face twisted into an expression of disbelief.
“Well, I mean… we’re not completely sure she’s dead. The news always exaggerates things, right?”
“Joo Ae-jung.”
“Whatever. Some lunatic strangled me on that plane, and when I woke up—I was in this body. Can you believe it? I don’t. So how could anyone else?”
Her words flowed like someone possessed—no hesitation, no filter. The only person who could tell they weren’t lies… was her.
Yoon-jae finally let go of her, saying nothing. He merely stared at her, serious and unreadable.
Wait… is he actually believing me?
A flicker of hope rose in her heart. But just as quickly, it was snuffed out.
Yoon-jae pulled out his phone and dialed.
“Manager Hong, set up an appointment with Dr. Jang. Earliest tomorrow.”
A glance her way.
“This is serious.”
So… not exactly the reaction she’d hoped for.
As he casually dismissed her sanity, she closed her eyes, then started her “lie.”
“I mean, of course I care. That woman died on our wedding day. How could I not be affected? Any decent person would be.”
“…”
“Wouldn’t you be, Yoon-jae?”
Her voice was softer now, more grounded in plausible reality. He lowered the phone, the call apparently ended, and studied her in silence.
A chilly wind blew through.
She reached up to tuck her windblown hair behind one ear. Then he spoke.
“Why should I?”
Colder than the wind.
It shouldn’t have hurt. She hadn’t expected sympathy. And yet, the answer felt like a stab to the gut.
She let out a hollow laugh.
“You’re right. You’re under no obligation. But I still care. That woman… that…”
Her tongue twisted briefly, but she managed to say it:
“Go Woo-ri.”
It was the most awful feeling.
The only thread she had to grasp in this bizarre situation was Go Woo-ri’s death.
The media had reduced it to sensational headlines, focusing on the killer rather than the victim. That’s why she needed to go to Hannam-dong. To her surprise, Yoon-jae said nothing more and let her in the car.
She was just beginning to feel a sliver of relief when she noticed the scenery growing unfamiliar.
“Wait—where are we going?”
It wasn’t Hannam-dong. They were heading toward the outskirts of Seoul.
When she asked in confusion, Yoon-jae answered flatly, eyes on the road.
“You said you wanted to see her.”
“…Yeah?”
“Then where else?”
A funeral home.
Harsh, but accurate.
Earlier, he’d made a call—probably to find out where the funeral was being held.
A… funeral?
The word hit like ice.
Her fingers and toes tingled with an eerie cold. Her lips dried out again as she turned her head to the window.
The darkened glass reflected her face like a mirror.
Joo Ae-jung.
Yes. She was still Joo Ae-jung. Pale, frail, utterly different from her real self.
She turned away from the reflection.
They arrived at a funeral home known for its tight security:
Seriously, what kind of name is that?
She could see the guards checking IDs at the front.
Only pre-approved mourners were allowed in. No other cars or people in sight. Yoon-jae parked the car some distance from the entrance.
“There’s no reason you can’t go in.”
“…”
“Your choice.”
It sounded like he was giving her a choice, but it didn’t feel warm or thoughtful. Probably because of his indifferent tone.
“No one will welcome you.”
Of course not.
To anyone close to Go Woo-ri, the two people in this car were nothing but villains. It didn’t matter who was in the driver’s seat now.
Her hands clenched on her knees.
It really was her funeral. Go Woo-ri’s funeral. Her funeral.
Her head felt light. Her vision blurred. Her stomach churned.
She was usually calm, but this—this was different.
Why?
Why had this happened?
“…Jung.”
Why had that man strangled her? Why had she woken up in someone else’s body?
She shouldn’t have boarded that flight. Shouldn’t have tried to leave Korea behind her father’s back.
Was it my fault?
Had being nice to a stranger doomed her?
“…Ae-jung.”
She didn’t know anymore. Was this even real? Maybe she was just in a coma, dreaming all of this.
Yeah. It had to be a dream. A nightmare.
Tap.
Her frantic thoughts stopped cold when a warm hand rested gently on her shoulder.
She hadn’t even noticed her breathing had become ragged. His touch brought her back.
She turned her head slowly. Yoon-jae looked at her and said:
“Pull yourself together.”
“…”
“It’s not your fault.”
As if he had read her mind.
“…Yeah.”
He was right.
It wasn’t her fault.
The fault lay with that lunatic’s unforgivable crime.
She looked directly at Yoon-jae for the first time, genuinely.
His features looked sharper, more divine under the moonlight—like they’d been sculpted by the gods themselves.
Thump.
…Huh?
A strange heartbeat startled her. She quickly turned away.
Goosebumps spread down her arms.
What the hell was that? That was gross. Utterly revolting.
She shuddered.
Just then—
“Oh?”
Someone came out of the guarded entrance.
A woman, average height with bobbed hair, rushed out covering her mouth. She stumbled down by the wall and began sobbing.
It was someone she knew.
Secretary Seo-hee.
The woman who was supposed to leave with her to New York. Her secretary.
Seeing a familiar face finally made the truth sink in.
“I really did die.”
She let out a broken laugh. Quiet at first, then louder.
“Wow… I actually died. No room for denial now, huh?”
She couldn’t stop laughing.
Yoon-jae, watching her carefully, began to seriously consider rescheduling that doctor’s appointment for tonight.
But then—
“Cover your ears.”
“What?”
Before he could finish asking, her voice erupted:
“You crazy, psycho bastard!”
Yoon-jae’s eyes widened in shock.
But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.
“You insane, rotten piece of—!”
Her rage exploded like a waterfall.
And so, in a storm of obscenities and grief, their loveless marriage began.
