ALDA 02

Chapter – 02

A Love Doomed to Die

“No.”

“Are you going to keep doing this with me?”

His indifferent eyes seemed to speak those words.

Eun-hee knew full well that the gaze falling upon her carried a command — arrogant and absolute.

There was only one way to escape this uncomfortable situation.

To take his hand naturally, as though it were nothing. Any show of hesitation or refusal would only invite misunderstanding.

Slowly, Eun-hee let her fingertips graze the man’s palm. When he gripped her hand firmly, her body was pulled lightly upward.

At the same time, Cha Young-hoon’s solid arm slipped around her waist.

“Ah—” Eun-hee gasped, startled. The faint scent of tobacco rose from him with her breath.

Her heart dropped.

“…No.”

As though she’d touched something filthy, she pushed him away in alarm. Only after stepping back did she dare to meet his eyes again.

Her gaze, now laced with resistance, collided with his.

“……”

Eun-hee looked up at him, fear and suspicion clouding her eyes.

Somewhere in this place were the director and her daughter, Park Mi-jung.

Mi-jung’s fiancé, instead of staying by her side, had pulled her mother’s secretary into his arms — and not innocently, either.

Perhaps that scandalous “sleepover” offer from Mi-jung had come from this very man.

Yet all that greeted Eun-hee now was an infuriatingly calm expression.

You’re really going to misunderstand this much?

His arrogant stare seemed to say it outright.

The air between them grew tight, squeezed by invisible tension. The tighter it became, the more the curious, watchful eyes around them clung in shadowed clusters.

Under that crushing pressure, Eun-hee’s breath began to splinter into pieces.

“Oh my, Prosecutor Cha.”

The unwelcome voice sliced through the air between them. It was Director Song Young-sook.

“Our dear Prosecutor Cha—busy as always, yet you still graced this humble place with your presence. I’m beyond honored. Have you met our Mi-jung yet?”

Young-sook spoke with honeyed sweetness, her posture subservient to the point of humiliation. Her plump cheeks, astonishingly firm for a woman nearing sixty, lifted high with her smile.

But Young-hoon’s gaze remained fixed on Eun-hee.

Eun-hee bowed her head, as if guilty of some crime before the director.

The defiant light that had once shone in her clear eyes faded away at once.

Her soft black hair brushed her small ears and flowed over her pale cheeks. She tucked it slowly behind one ear.

Young-hoon’s eyes lingered on her white face.

As the seconds stretched, one of his brows rose slightly, and his brow furrowed faintly.

Only then did Young-sook sense the strange current between them. Her head tilted subtly, calculating.

Her sharp eyes darted from the man to the woman, then back again, probing.

Two seconds. Three. Silence hung in the air.

The prosecutor’s dark, steady gaze was clearly fixed on the secretary’s flushed, swollen cheek.

What is this? Young-sook clenched her fists tightly.

“Not yet,” Young-hoon finally replied, turning toward her.

His face was expressionless, polite even — but the muscles at his sharp jawline twitched. Just as Young-sook suspected, he was angry.

“Oh, I thought so. You’ve only just arrived.”

For all her exaggerated politeness, Young-sook’s response dripped with insincerity. Still, she kept her tone warm, as if she’d noticed nothing amiss.

With a smile curling at her lips, she added,

“I suppose it’s a kind of occupational hazard, isn’t it? Our righteous Prosecutor Cha can’t help but reach out when he sees someone in need.”

How perfectly that title fit him — Prosecutor. Her flattery continued.

But it wasn’t mere praise.

Young-sook was taking a jab at Eun-hee, branding her a pitiful charity case with elegant cruelty, while reminding Young-hoon of reality — that the woman he’d just helped, however pretty, was far beneath him.

And that this gathering was not the place for such impropriety.

Yet the atmosphere around them only grew more charged. Her casual mention of the word prosecutor had set off a ripple.

“Oh my, so the rumored son-in-law has arrived — a prosecutor, no less?”

“Isn’t he the grandson of Chairman Cha Man-dae of Seogyeong Group?”

Someone quick-witted had recognized the name.

Young-sook lifted her chin proudly and nodded. The murmurs swelled.

A prosecutor and a chaebol heir.

Because of his unique position, Cha Young-hoon’s face had never been shown publicly.

Speculation had always run wild: perhaps he was disfigured, socially inept, or a reclusive eccentric buried in paperwork. Some even called him a womanizer, a drunk, a disgrace.

Even within Seogyeong itself, no one had confirmed the truth. The less people knew, the wilder the rumors became.

At one point, stories flipped entirely — that the beloved grandson of Chairman Cha had become his most despised burden.

Those foolish rumors would die tonight. The reverent stares now fixed upon Young-hoon made that clear.

For Young-sook, this was the moment she gained a priceless new badge of honor: Cha Young-hoon.

Her construction company was doing fine, but it couldn’t compare to an energy conglomerate like Seogyeong.

Wealth, prestige, power — all could be hers if she brought him into the family.

With her confidence swelling, Young-sook lifted her chin and announced in a refined voice,

“Everyone, please allow me to introduce our future son-in-law, Prosecutor Cha Young-hoon.”

Immediately, someone chimed in, eager to flatter.

“Oh! The very same grandson the chairman treasures so much he never lets him out of his sight?”

Soft laughter spread. The air was filled with admiration.

“They say the chairman still can’t persuade him to join management. Seems the rumors of his stubbornness were true.”

Ah — murmurs of awe followed.

It was a clever boast.

Her words painted her son-in-law not as obstinate, but as noble — uninterested in greed or power, content with his hard-won achievements.

And with that single remark, she’d clarified what had been a mystery in business circles: the future of Seogyeong Group’s succession.

“Once he marries, I’m sure his focus will shift toward the family business. The chairman has vowed to bring him in then, but who knows? Our Prosecutor Cha is just too devoted to justice.”

At that moment, Eun-hee saw it — the way Cha Young-hoon’s eyes went cold.

Having endured his sardonic smiles many times before, she knew this look well.

He was smiling now.

Pisik. That dry, desert-like laugh seemed to echo in her ears.

Young-sook continued introducing him to everyone, and greetings poured toward him. He handled them all with practiced grace, like a seasoned table tennis player volleying each one back.

Then, as though just remembering, Young-sook turned to Eun-hee. Hiding her chill behind a look of gentle concern, she said,

“Ah, Secretary Sa, why don’t you go take a break?”

Once again, all eyes turned toward Eun-hee.

But she could feel only one gaze — burning and unyielding.

His pitch-black eyes pierced into hers like blades.

Crack. The pain in her head flared. Eun-hee pressed a hand to her temple.

Something was wrong.

Had the spark from his eyes set fire inside her skull?

The man before her — the tables, the warm lights —

…that man—

Everything was tilting sideways.

The man’s icy face wavered, twisted by some strange tension. His eyes — sharp with confusion and anger — still locked onto her.

Thud. Her body made a sound like thunder hitting the floor.

People screamed. Someone shouted her name.

Yet through it all, only his face spun in her fading vision.

She was sinking — deeper, deeper — into those abyssal eyes.

Then, darkness.