CHAPTER 45………………………….
Why did victory feel unpleasant? The question rose sharply, and at that moment, Young-in burrowed into Hyun-ha’s arms. It was almost an act of submission. Hyun-ha hesitated.
“You’re not going to protest about wanting to leave anymore?”
“No matter what I say, you won’t let me out of here, will you?”
Of course not. Even if she were to stay home, Hyun-ha had no intention of letting Young-in step outside the mansion. Taking her into the city was even less of an option.
How could he possibly let Baek Young-in out among so many people? If she played in a crowded building, others beyond the walls would hear her. And once they heard, they would never stay still.
Young-in had become too sharp, like a needle’s point. Wherever she went, she would stand out. So the only thing to do was to keep her hidden in his grasp.
“You said you’d let me go to college, so I’ll do what you say.”
Declaring that she would stop resisting and surrender completely into his arms, Baek Young-in looked so small, as if she would break if held too tightly.
If this were the original Choi Hyun-ha, he would have analyzed this discomfort—this sense of wrongness—until he knew exactly what it was.
He never moved to the next step without thoroughly examining things. That’s the kind of person he was—made that way. Like a machine that detects flaws, he rarely made mistakes.
“But promise me—if there’s any news about my father, you’ll tell me first.”
“I already said I would.”
Yet this time, Hyun-ha simply accepted her declaration of defeat.
“Promise again. Properly.”
Young-in held out her pinky finger. Hyun-ha straightened the twist in his lips. It was a childish gesture—something only kids would do.
Whenever he looked at this girl, something deep inside—beneath his skin and skull—throbbed. A part of his brain, born scorched with soot.
A place broken from birth.
A body on fire keeps moving forward. The smell of burning flesh fills the air, smoke clouds the room—and someone stands there, watching it all.
Hyun-ha pressed his fingers to his temple. Monster.
The same blood flowed between them. They shared similar flesh and skin. When he thought about that, he could understand why he had been shaped this way. He didn’t question his own nature.
Young-in clutched his sleeve desperately, her large eyes glistening as she looked up at him.
What on earth was Baek Young-in misunderstanding?
“Promise.”
Hyun-ha hooked his pinky around hers. The two linked fingers held tightly together.
Weightless words scattered from his lips—words with no power at all.
“As a promise gift… will you play for me now?”
The moment the words left his mouth, Hyun-ha’s brows furrowed slightly—then relaxed.
He had asked first. He hadn’t planned to. If he had waited, Young-in might have offered to play on her own.
This almost never happened, but when it came to Young-in’s performances, his actions often slipped beyond calculation.
“I might not play well right now.”
Hearing her murmur, Hyun-ha smirked faintly. Even at this moment, she cared about the perfection of her performance. It wasn’t modesty or an empty excuse.
Baek Young-in was focusing entirely on the piano—on whether she could play well or not.
As she fumbled for something to cover herself, Hyun-ha snatched the bedsheet from her. Young-in looked at him reproachfully, but only for a moment. She had already learned that pleading or resisting wouldn’t change his mind. With a resigned motion, she got up from the bed.
It probably had to do with how she was raised—an easily abandoning mother, and a father who admired her talent enough to squeeze every drop of it. But her father knew nothing about classical music. He didn’t know what competitions to enter or which teachers to approach.
The fact that Young-in had achieved only this level of fame was largely his fault. Art was a world built on lineage.
If she had been born into a family more intimate with art—if she had simply continued her career without ever meeting Choi Hyun-ha—her childhood hardships would have become a triumphal backstory. The making of a prodigy pianist.
Young-in sat before the piano. Since it stood far from the bed, Hyun-ha watched her every step as she walked.
Even though she had grown thinner, her body remained pale and well-proportioned. That too must have been part of her natural talent. Baek Young-in was beautiful.
Dvořák’s music filled the air. The sheet music on the stand fluttered lightly. Hyun-ha’s head moved slowly to the rhythm.
Maybe it was because he hadn’t heard her play for days—but the sound seeped into him more ecstatically than ever.
It was like a wanderer in the desert wetting his throat with a sip of water. His thirst was quenched.
The hunger he had suppressed blazed up. Gulping down the music greedily, Hyun-ha tilted his head back.
The world’s saturation rose; colors grew more vivid. Everything looked different. The notes were so rich they felt alive—he could almost taste them in the air.
Once you’ve known this, there’s no going back.
Baek Young-in might think he only needed her music to fall asleep—but she was wrong. This was far more important than sleep.
You can’t help but be at a disadvantage, he thought. Because that’s the only thing you have.
He’d said it himself, but in truth, he didn’t believe it. “Only that” was not the right phrase.
Everything Choi Hyun-ha could feel now was tied to that girl’s fingers. Watching her slender back move with the intensity of her performance, he narrowed his eyes.
Satisfaction and thirst coexisted.
What kind of symptom was this? It felt like a worsening disease. As with any addiction, the more he indulged, the greater his need became. His dependency deepened.
The time he had spent lately wasn’t just about tormenting her. He simply couldn’t restrain himself. The moments when he wasn’t touching Baek Young-in left him starving.
He had never experienced such an overwhelming craving before.
To be possessed by another person—it was a harmful change, at least by instinct’s measure. The moments he found himself fixated on Young-in disgusted him. He knew he had once been perfect. The first crack had appeared back in that filthy dog farm.
As he studied her flawless, beautiful back, Hyun-ha felt curiosity stir.
What else would Choi Hyun-ha come to feel because of this girl?
How far would he go?
Music that had never existed before was being written on the staff.
***
It was night. The moon, veiled by clouds, spilled faint silver light.
An owl hooted in the garden, as if it had lost its way.
In the darkness, a pale figure moved like a ghost. Young-in was leaning over Hyun-ha’s bed.
Choi Hyun-ha lay there neatly. She remembered the last time she’d seen him asleep—not truly asleep, but collapsed from fever.
Even then, she had thought he looked angelic in sleep. Her impression hadn’t changed much now.
Listening to his even breathing for a long time, Young-in studied his closed eyelids again. As she expected—
He was asleep.
“Choi Hyun-ha.”
She whispered, desperately fighting her trembling. He didn’t stir.
She placed her hand on his neck. A steady pulse beat beneath her fingers. Her heart felt like it might burst.
Any second now, he could wake up, grab her wrist, bind her hands, blindfold her—and lock her away forever.
His eyelids would lift, those dark eyes would fix on her, cornering her, trapping her for eternity.
Outside, the owl hooted again.
Lost in the dark illusion, Young-in gasped and came to her senses.
Hyun-ha was still asleep—deeply, as if he’d taken a sedative.
Afraid her rough breathing would wake him, she held it back. Without taking her eyes off him, she stepped backward carefully. Even as she closed the door behind her, she moved with the utmost caution.
Outside his room, her heart was still pounding madly. As she went down the stairs, she kept imagining slipping, tumbling down—hearing the noise, Hyun-ha waking and finding her there.
Forcing her frozen legs to move, she told herself: It’s now or never. If she missed this moment, there wouldn’t be another. Gripping the railing, Young-in descended the stairs—one step, then another.
An employee holding car keys waited at the mansion’s front door. The anxiety on her face seemed to ask whether Hyun-ha was deeply asleep. Young-in nodded. The employee’s complexion was just as pale as hers.
If they were caught, it wouldn’t end as a trivial mishap. They both must have felt the same peril.
Together, they left the mansion. Even as they moved through the dark garden, choosing only the least visible paths, their steps remained cautious.
Few people stayed in the mansion at night—it was the easiest time to move. The two women relied on the faint light from a phone as they went, slowly. The garden, which had once seemed spacious, now felt like an obstacle.
“Here.”
At last, the path ended. By the way to the servants’ quarters stood a small wooden door. The employee unlocked the digital lock. Beep, beep, beep—and the door opened.
It opened. Young-in looked at it in wonder. That a way outside could open so easily—it felt unreal.
When explaining the escape route earlier, the employee had called it a “mouse hole” used only by the staff. The car was parked around the corner, out of sight from the mansion.
