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Chapter 9
“I have about a hundred thousand dollars.”
“……”
“If I save carefully… maybe two hundred thousand.”
“Three hundred million won?”
“Elon is a complete scam. If you think about the profit you can make when the short selling succeeds, it’s not such a small amount.”
The day when Kang Jong-woo—Daniel Miller—would short-sell Elon and make a fortune was still years away.
It was his plan, but Kang Da-som told him in advance, drawing his attention.
Without this, she would never have crossed paths with him.
Jong-woo didn’t answer. Leaning back in his chair, he fiddled with his phone. The sunset disappeared, and the night sky spread across the giant glass wall, Seoul glittering below.
“Let’s eat first. This place is good.”
He gestured toward the door. His secretary summoned the staff, and soon appetizers and dishes were served.
They ate in silence, the earlier talk about Elon and investments hanging like a lie in the air.
“Not going to answer?”
Jong-woo’s eyes flicked toward the phone on her table. It was face down, but the glow of repeated calls leaked out.
Da-som picked it up briefly, glanced at the screen, and chuckled before putting it back down.
“Nothing important.”
“Whoever it is seems to think it’s important. Who is it?”
“Yoon Sung-hoon.”
“Hm.”
At that name, Jong-woo’s expression shifted strangely. The conversation died, and they quietly finished their meal, moving on to dessert.
“In America, there’s an investment frenzy for Elon right now.”
“You think it’s fake?”
“No.”
He smirked.
He was the kind of man whose heart raced for money and big goals—steel-hearted when facing risk.
Pulling out a card from his pocket, he slid it toward her, then rested his hand on it.
“Tell me what you’re really thinking.”
“For me, there was only ballet. They stole my soul from me. So I plan to take theirs in return. An eye for an eye.”
“Charmant Ballet.”
The legendary French company with 400 years of history. If she had joined, she would’ve been the first Asian—first Korean.
He had seen her dance once, years ago. Half curiosity, half coincidence—but unforgettable. Even among countless dancers, she had stood out.
“Must’ve been hard… for you to say something like that.”
“I was planning to go to France. Or anywhere abroad, just to live quietly. I’m sick of Korea—chaebols playing kings among themselves. Who do they think they are?”
After graduation, she’d received offers from world-class ballet companies. They even promised to take care of her living arrangements.
But when they told her to marry Yoon Sung-hoon, she had cried, begged desperately.
Just let me dance. I’ll live quietly, I won’t ever come back to Korea. Please, just let me go.
She would’ve lived like a ghost, unnoticed, if only they had allowed it.
The memory struck her chest with a painful ache.
“I can tame Yoon Sung-hoon. I know what you’re worried about.”
“What’s that?”
“Cheonmyeong. It’s a burden, isn’t it?”
Even for Jong-woo, taking on Korea’s number one conglomerate was daunting.
What neither of them knew—her marriage to Sung-hoon had delayed his revenge for over a decade.
This time, their goals aligned. Why fight separately?
He studied her silently. Thanks to Baek Sung-tae’s reports, he already had an idea of what she wanted.
“Ah… poor Sung-tae. He needs to learn how to judge people better.”
This half-sister of his was no ordinary woman. Her eyes blazed with venom.
Fragile? Helpless? Just a girl who knew only ballet? No.
She was like him.
Someone who would take what she wanted, even if it meant deceiving everyone—including herself.
Even her spree of luxury shopping at the department store must’ve been calculated.
He nodded toward her phone.
“Answer it.”
Finally, Da-som picked it up.
— “Ha, Dasom, why aren’t you answering? The party’s started. I swear, I won’t see Director Min again. Okay? Where are you? I’ll send someone to pick you up right away. Just come for a bit, let them see your face.”
“It’s not about Director Min this time.”
— “Then what is it?”
“You should’ve at least kept your little games with the department store girls discreet. The whole country doesn’t need to hear about it.”
— “Those damn women…! I’m sorry.”
“You said you’d make me happy. Was that just talk? As the future daughter-in-law of the Cheonmyeong family, every time I go shopping, people whisper that my husband is out playing around. Do I have to hear that? Even when you call while I’m with him? Do you really not see how pathetic that is? Forget it. Think about it, and call me later.”
She hung up.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Slow applause filled the room. Jong-woo lowered his hands and grinned.
“Well, well… that monkey didn’t even twitch.”
“Monkey?”
“All the women who’ve slept with him say the same. Premature. Isn’t it true?”
“If only that were the problem.”
She laughed coldly, sipping her coffee. She had once thought all men were like that.
“You slept with him then.”
The muttered words made her frown. Just remembering those nights twisted her stomach.
She steadied her breath, hand pressed against her chest.
“Two hundred plus eight hundred makes a million, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll invest a million in your name. Use it for whatever you want later.”
He tapped his phone. A suited man entered, handed her a white envelope.
Inside were ten bills—each worth a hundred million won.
“This is pocket money—from a brother who wasn’t around.”
“You’re rich.”
“Maybe. Do you think our dear Chairman Kang ever imagined the child he threw away would end up like this?”
She tucked the card into her bag. He leaned on his arm, watching her closely.
“I’ll give you my personal number. Call me if you have trouble.”
“You?”
“Too much?”
“No… I just didn’t expect you to treat me this way.”
“And how did you think I’d treat you?”
“Like someone useful, nothing more.”
Half true. The first time she had seen him was at her wedding with Sung-hoon. After that, only fleeting glimpses.
‘You… what fault could you possibly have?’
She remembered hearing him mutter that once, long ago—though back then she hadn’t known who he was.
She never imagined another illegitimate child, not until UL Wire was nearly sold to Night Investment.
Now, she understood the look in his eyes that day. A mix of hatred and regret.
Was it the same now? She couldn’t be sure.
“You’re my sister. We share the same bastard father.”
“…Thank you. Truly.”
“Don’t thank me. If you weren’t useful, I wouldn’t bother. So when you take from me, make sure you pay it back two, three times over.”
“I will.”
“Eat something. You look like a stick.”
She laughed softly. The tension eased.
“I’ll step out for a call. Order more dessert.”
He left. Da-som exhaled, checking her phone.
Countless missed calls. Then another ring.
She thought it was Sung-hoon again. After all, she had been to the Chairman’s birthday parties dozens of times as his wife.
But no—it was an unfamiliar number.
And yet, somehow, she already knew who it was.
“Hello?”
— “Why didn’t you come?”
