Episode 1
Fate—there’s nothing more stubborn.
No matter how hard you try to sever it, the years lived together cling to you like sinew fused into the flesh.
Yeong-in looked down at her thin palm. A scar cut across the lines of her hand. The deep groove had long since knit itself tight with the skin, hiding the tender flesh beneath.
The blood on her hand now belonged to someone else.
A broad palm closed over hers.
Another hand gripped her chin, forcing her to lift her head.
Pitch-black eyes bored into her. The first thing she saw was the blade-sharp edge of his gaze, honed like steel.
His features were so sharply drawn, as if inked with the darkest ink, that they etched themselves into memory at once. You could admire him and yet instinctively recoil—like gripping a blade without a handle. Her skin prickled, as if she were facing something not quite human.
The nightmare-beautiful man smiled at her.
“Well, you’ve run far, Baek Yeong-in.”
A chill welled from the marrow of her bones. Trembling, Yeong-in looked up at Choi Hyeon-ha.
“Why… why did you come here?”
She tugged her torn neckline together as she spoke. The short dress she wore could hardly be called clothing anymore.
“Who’s to say that matters?”
His gaze dropped, openly raking over her chest, and his lips twisted in a faint smirk. Long fingers toyed with the front of her dress, tugging at it as if in play. She snatched at the fabric in haste to cover herself.
“Remember? You once saved me.”
His tone was amused. Yeong-in glared at him.
Of course she remembered. She remembered everything that had happened between them.
Even the memories she’d wanted to let fade would come after her in dreams.
“This time, I’ve come to save you.”
A small folding knife appeared in his hand. Click. The blade snapped open with a metallic note.
She flinched at the sight of the sharpened steel.
The point of the knife slid down, parting her dress. The cheap, already-tattered neckline ripped wide.
When the blade caught on her undergarment, Hyeon-ha didn’t hesitate—he lifted his wrist. When she tried to shield herself, he seized her arm and wrenched it down.
“Why hide? You wore this to show off, didn’t you?”
“And now you think you can run? Just do what I tell you—like you always have.”
A shiver of sensation crawled up her spine, twisting her body despite herself. The body he had broken in long ago still chased after pleasure even in a moment like this. Shame burned hot in her chest.
“No…”
Her voice, damp with tears, sounded pitiful even to her own ears. The jaw he gripped so cruelly ached.
“Even if you say no, you’ll do it.”
His gaze pinned her as if to pierce right through.
“You don’t have the right to choose anymore.”
That deep, rich voice crushed her as mercilessly as ever.
“A-ah…!”
Her overly sensitive response made him chuckle. Humiliation and heat flooded her face.
“If I tell you to stay by my side, you stay put.”
“Hhk, ahh—ah!”
“And stop thinking about running away.”
Again and again, he drove her to the edge, emptying her mind and choking off her breath.
Past that first teenage infatuation—when she’d become an adult—every day of ecstasy, pain, and madness had been given to her by Choi Hyeon-ha.
“It… it hurts—ah!”
Her mouth fell open. He pressed his lips to her tear-wet cheek and whispered in bliss,
“I told you you’d end up like this, Baek Yeong-in.”
Her mind seethed with the forced pleasure.
“You and I… from the start, it was already decided.”
What was destiny?
Perhaps it was that black beast that finds you no matter how you try to cut it away or turn from it—
The kind of animal that, if you kick it, only comes back faster and fiercer, its homing instinct and thirst for retribution absolute.
Yeong-in curled her fingers into her palm. Heat flared there as if a flame had touched her skin—like the sharp edge of a butcher’s knife slicing through flesh. The fate she thought had been severed by that blade had come back to stand before her again.
Tears blurred her vision. A rough hand brushed them from her eyes; she turned her head to avoid it. There was nowhere to go. Even struggling, the great solid chest around her held her fast.
Where had this stubborn bond begun?
Perhaps from the very first moment they met.
From the moment she’d seen those impossibly sharp eyes staring at her from behind iron bars.
In an instant, she was nineteen again.
That was when she met Hyeon-ha for the first time.
She should never have met him. Never have saved him. She should have left him to die in that cage.
Next is the performance of third-year high school student, Baek Yeong-in.
At the announcement, Yeong-in cast a nervous glance toward the audience—then resignation settled over her features.
The vivid openness of her face smoothed into a mask of perfect composure. She walked to the center of the stage.
There was only her and the piano.
The black grand loomed like a living beast, crouched and waiting. She sat before it and placed her hands in its open maw.
The white keys—like teeth, like bone—welcomed her. Light poured down.
She stroked the keys. Not so much pressing them as caressing, not striking but letting her fingers fall.
The music began.
Notes stacked upon one another. The invisible, untouchable sound seemed to take on form, wrapping around her, filling the stage, spilling into the audience.
The tone, at first transparent, swelled into a tempest. No one could fathom how such explosive force could come from her slight frame—not even Yeong-in herself.
Some must fight until their hands bleed to tame such a magnificent beast; others are chosen by it from the very first meeting. While some chase after each note, there are those who, astride its black back, can disappear into the distance.
Baek Yeong-in was a chosen pianist. Anyone could tell after a single piece.
The piano wanted her—loved her violently. There were moments she felt the keys bite her fingers and refuse to let go. She raced across them, breathless.
In the audience, a spectator covered their mouth, choking back a sob. Sniffling spread through the hall. From the judges’ table came a low moan. The music devoured every sound.
The melody surged.
A tidal wave of sound reached its peak—then silence. Deathly stillness claimed the stage.
The piece ended. Perfect quiet followed. No one made a sound.
Scrape. The sound of her chair sliding back tore through the hush.
Yeong-in stood and bowed. A murmur rippled through the audience—her beauty was almost as striking as her playing.
Her face was so dazzling it was impossible to ignore, her features painting a perfect picture even beneath the harsh light.
Yet her gaze was restless, scanning the seats as if searching for someone. Her eyes were dewy, on the verge of tears, and in that instant, every person in the audience felt she had looked at them.
With that sorrowful gaze, she finished her bow—a flawless final note.
As she turned away, the applause thundered.
Backstage was noisy. Among the students waiting with their parents for the results, Yeong-in sat alone.
“This is so annoying. So annoying, so annoying.”
A girl with curled hair pinned up stamped her feet in irritation—Jin Hwa-yoon, a fellow student from her school. She had gone onstage right after Yeong-in.
“It’s all ruined because of Baek Yeong-in…”
Yeong-in heard the blame. Some kids who knew her glanced over, but she didn’t care.
Hwa-yoon could complain all she wanted; Yeong-in’s mind was elsewhere.
She wasn’t thinking about her performance or winning. She bit at the skin beside her thumbnail until it bled.
She shouldn’t have come here today.
No matter what her father said, she shouldn’t have entered this competition.
The more she thought of him that morning, the worse her mood became. He had been acting strange for a long time—but today… today had been worse.
And it was all because of her.
She pulled out her phone. Still no message.
Where are you?
There was no reply to the text she’d sent. She bit her lip and called him.
“Dad.”
The line that had been repeating the automated message finally connected. She shot to her feet.
“You promised you’d come today. I’ve been waiting all this time.”
Her throat was raw from speaking too fast. That morning, her father had gripped her hand and sobbed. He’d looked less like a living man than a shadow ready to disappear.
She had begged him to come watch her perform, wringing a promise out of him. He had agreed.
— …
Only ragged breathing came through the receiver. Something about it was wrong. She gripped the phone tighter.
“Dad? Are you listening?”
— Yeong-in… I made a mistake. A big one. But somehow… I’ll…
His voice broke apart under static. The noise drowned his words.
“What are you talking about?”
— I love you. I love you so much, my daughter.
Those were the only words she could make out.
“Dad! What does that mean? Dad!”
Her voice rose in panic. In the dressing room, heads turned toward her.
Noise continued to hiss in her ear. Somewhere far away, a dog barked. Metal clanged, like a gate rattling.
“Where are you? Are you at the farm?”
She asked instinctively—but the call had already ended. Her heart belatedly slammed in her chest. She redialed.
Only the ring tone answered. He didn’t pick up. Her fingers were white-knuckled around the phone, cold sweat beading in her palm.
“Yeong-in.”
A hand gripped her shoulder. She started violently and spun around.
