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Episode 02.
She was so speechless that only a hollow laugh escaped her lips.
She had just lost the job she fought for like a dog—
and yet, he dared to say “Welcome.”
“How long has it been? Do you know how much I missed you?”
Rising from his seat, Gyo-bin walked toward her with a bright, clear smile.
But when he saw Hee-jae’s stiff expression, he stopped mid-step.
“Why that face? Aren’t you happy to see me?”
He tilted his head playfully, his gentle eyes curving like crescent moons, his lips forming a soft line.
Shin Gyo-bin was in an excellent mood.
And there was only one reason he ever felt this happy—
Because Choi Hee-jae was suffering.
That was what he enjoyed the most.
“Did you get too attached to your colleagues? Feeling sad to leave? See, if you had just worked with me from the start, you wouldn’t have wasted your precious feelings there.”
He clicked his tongue, feigning regret over her choice.
It was so absurd, she didn’t even want to respond.
“Why so upset, my Hee-jae? Hm?”
Despite already being close enough, he took a few more steps forward, closing the gap.
His hand reached toward her hair—
But with a sharp ‘slap!’, she struck it away.
“Don’t touch me.”
For the first time, she reacted.
Then she stepped back, widening the space between them.
“And don’t come any closer than necessary.”
Her eyes glimmered with a storm of emotions—
resentment for the misery he caused,
weariness from his constant shadow,
fear of how long this twisted relationship would last,
and anger at his cruel methods.
“Still as prickly as ever. I guess that’s why I liked you in the first place.”
But Gyo-bin never backed down at emotional pleas.
For over twenty years, Hee-jae had tried countless ways to make him lose interest—
none had worked.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
Her eyes reddened as anger and despair welled up.
“You fabricated that case—pressured me—dragged even the chief prosecutor into it, didn’t you?”
Gyo-bin didn’t bother denying it.
“Of course. You didn’t know what lengths I’d go to just to bring you back?”
His shameless tone stung.
She knew he had always been like this—relentless, manipulative, obsessive.
“This was where you were meant to be from the start.”
He pointed to the very spot where they stood.
Her lashes trembled before her gaze dropped to the floor.
“For over ten years, we sponsored you. Yet you broke the promise and ran away.”
His words were infuriating—because they were true.
Her past replayed in her mind.
The sponsorship from Shinil Group.
The education she received, the prestigious schools, the study abroad.
All under the expectation that she would one day serve the company as their lawyer.
But she had betrayed that expectation to become a prosecutor.
A betrayal she could never take back.
“You went rogue, and my father was furious. I had to calm him down, saying maybe you just needed some time to wander after working so hard.”
Ironically, it was thanks to Gyo-bin that she had been able to serve as a prosecutor at all—
only to be dragged back down by him in the end.
“I told him not to worry. That soon enough, I’d bring you back.”
He had never rushed.
Always calm. Always composed.
Because he believed she would inevitably kneel before him again.
“Anyway, welcome back to where you truly belong.”
He opened his arms wide in mock warmth.
That soft, almost saintly face…
She had been deceived by it for years—never seeing the devil lurking behind it.
“From now on, you’ll be my representative—and the company’s. Whatever I do, you’ll justify it, defend it, and find a way out for me. That’s your duty.”
The reminder was deliberate—meant to provoke her.
“And…”
Before she could react, he moved closer.
Too close.
“W-What are you doing?”
He caught her waist, preventing her from stepping back.
Lowered his head, lips grazing her ear.
“Don’t tell me not to come closer. Don’t tell me not to touch you.”
His fingers tucked her hair behind her ear, brushing against her sensitized skin.
Her entire body froze.
Then, in a low, commanding voice—devoid of playfulness—he murmured:
“Don’t give me orders, Hee-jae. Since when were we the kind to keep distance?”
His hand trailed down, circling her neck.
Under his fingers, her pulse throbbed violently.
Forehead to forehead, he whispered:
“Don’t forget—it’s me holding your lifeline.”
Pulling back just enough to study her face, he smirked faintly.
“Don’t look so resentful. You were always good at this.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, but memories of their twisted past played like a cruel film.
“I make a mess. You clean it up. That’s how it’s always been.”
