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Episode 16 (English Translation)
“Mom, you’re still awake?”
Hee-jae forced herself to sound cheerful as she asked after her mother.
[Yes, I was waiting for your call.]
Her mother, Kyung-in, answered in a drowsy voice, as though she really had been staying up just for her daughter.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy since I moved firms. There’s been so much to do I lost track of time.”
[That’s fine. When have you not been busy?]
Her mother laughed warmly. The thought that she had left her waiting endlessly like this made Hee-jae’s chest tighten painfully.
“I’ll come by this weekend. I have something to give you.”
The vitamins in her hand felt like a weight—something she desperately wanted to return to Gyo-bin. But her mother needed them, and that mattered more. She would repay him later in cash.
[You don’t need to bring anything. I’m just happy to see your face.]
Her mother’s gentle words softened her heart.
“Did you do anything fun today? I hope you had a good birthday.”
[I did. Actually, Gyo-bin came by for dinner.]
The name crashed into the conversation like an uninvited guest, and the smile drained instantly from Hee-jae’s lips.
“…What? Shin Gyo-bin?”
[Yes. He said he wanted to cook for my birthday. He even made seaweed soup.]
Hee-jae’s eyes darted to her front door, which had just clicked shut moments earlier. Her thoughts spun chaotically.
[He said since he grew up with only scolding from his stepmother, he wanted to think of me as his real mom. Told me not to feel burdened.]
Hee-jae froze. She knew about Gyo-bin’s abusive childhood under his stepmother, Sun-hye. Her own mother, a housekeeper at the time, had secretly looked after him, treating him like her own son. That he remembered… wasn’t surprising.
But that he had kept up this bond all these years without her knowing—it unsettled her to the core.
[That little boy… when did he grow up to be so dependable?]
“…Mom.”
[Yes?]
Her voice trembled as she asked, “Have you been meeting Gyo-bin every year… for your birthday?”
The thought made her stomach twist. Even while she and Gyo-bin had been locked in a reckless, physical relationship, he had been visiting her mother like a dutiful son?
Why her mother? Why her?
A chill crept up the back of her neck.
[Of course. Every year since I left that house, he’s remembered. Isn’t he thoughtful?]
Her worst fears never missed the mark.
Her knees buckled. She collapsed right there in her entryway, unable to take off her shoes.
“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”
Her mother faltered, guilty.
[He asked me not to. Said you’d feel burdened if you knew.]
The phone slipped from Hee-jae’s hand, clattering to the floor.
[Hee-jae?]
She barely managed to bring it back to her lips.
“It’s nothing. It’s late, you should rest.”
Ending the call quickly, she set her phone aside and curled up on the floor of her entryway.
Everywhere she turned, every moment, Gyo-bin was there. Even in the tiniest corners of her life, he had already invaded.
“Don’t live tied down to just one person. I felt so sorry for you then—how you only ever kept Gyo-bin by your side.”
Eun-gang’s warning echoed in her head.
Yes, she knew it. Rationally, she knew better than anyone that she had to cut ties with Gyo-bin. But her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe, let alone stand.
She hated herself—for not being able to let him go. For still being caught in his gravity.
Days later.
Dressed for work, Hee-jae straightened her suit in front of the mirror, then glanced at her desk calendar.
Today was her first client meeting since joining Shinil Group as in-house counsel.
Shin Se-heon.
The very meeting Gyo-bin had warned her about.
After loading her car with files, she drove not to the office but to Chairman Shin’s mansion. Just days ago, she had dined there with the Chairman; now, she was back again.
“It’s nice—we’ll be seeing more of you now,”
Han, the house steward, greeted her warmly and led her inside.
In the drawing room, coffee steamed alongside neatly arranged sweets. She sat down, waiting. Soon, her client descended.
“Good to see you again, Vice Chairman.”
She rose and smiled politely.
“You managed to secure non-custodial investigation. Impressive.”
Shin Se-heon—the man facing a laundry list of charges, any one of which should have landed him behind bars. Yet here he was, still ensconced comfortably at home.
“Thanks to some strings being pulled,”
he sneered, lounging arrogantly as he stared her down.
“‘The defendant established an overseas investment firm suspected of being a shell company. With repeated unexplained overseas trips, the risk of flight is high, and we request detention pending trial.’
…Wasn’t that how you wrote it when you were a prosecutor?”
Hee-jae flinched. Yes, she had. Every time Se-heon’s scandals surfaced, Shinil Group leaned hard on the prosecution. And Chairman Shin had deliberately arranged for her to be the lead prosecutor, expecting her to side with them.
But she had never wavered. If anything, she’d been harsher in her indictments.
Still, despite her efforts, the case had ended with his release under non-custodial indictment.
“That’s what got you fired, isn’t it?”
“That wasn’t the only reason.”
Se-heon leaned forward, voice dripping contempt.
“You pathetic bitch. I can’t stand you. If it weren’t for my father, I wouldn’t even be tolerating you here.”
Cruel fate. She had once become a prosecutor to exact justice—but had been stripped of that power, reduced now to defending the very people she despised.
“I never liked you. Street trash like you—what’s there to admire? I’ll never understand why Father fussed over you so much.”
His words cut like blades.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not here because you’re competent. You’re just a pretty face. My father’s always preferred women to men—you know that, right?”
Humiliation burned in her chest, but she steadied herself. Fingers tightening on the files in her lap, she kept her voice level.
“We have a lot of cases to work through. If you can’t trust your counsel, what do you plan to do?”
It took everything in her to keep her composure. The meeting had barely begun, and already her client was testing her resolve.
