TCE 07

Chapter 7

[Isn’t this a really ugly situation?]

That was Go Woori’s first comment after quietly listening to Yoonjae longer than expected.

Her reaction wasn’t part of any of the scenarios he’d anticipated, and his eyebrow twitched slightly. Woori just raised her hand and gave a light wave.

[Ah, habit. But I can’t just openly curse at you, Ha Yoonjae.]

She crossed her legs with practiced ease despite wearing a short skirt, her mood light and cheerful for reasons he couldn’t fathom. Then, with quick, matter-of-fact movements, she picked up her teacup and asked Yoonjae again.

[Actually… is it normal to hurl curses at your cheating fiancé?]

That was the last conversation he had with Go Woori.

But now—

“This situation is too ugly.”

The words made him remember that day he had nearly forgotten.

He reached out his hand. Her thin wrist fell into his grasp, and like a kite caught in the wind, she was pulled into his arms in an instant. The fragility of her arm startled him for a moment—it felt like it could snap with the wrong pressure—but he didn’t loosen his hold.

“What are you?”

Instead, he fixed her with a sharper glare.

It wasn’t just the word ugly that triggered this reaction. The face was different, the circumstances entirely unlike before, but her gaze and expression—so alike they could have been twins—made his hand move before he realized it.

Call it instinct.

Those eyes.

Especially those unnaturally clear eyes—they had something in them that scraped at his nerves.

Gulp.

When emotion returned to what had been Ha Yoonjae’s dead, murky eyes, Woori swallowed again.

She had always been sensitive to beauty since she was young.

It wasn’t just about pursuing good-looking things—she had her own aesthetic sensibility. Maybe that’s why, with just one shift in his gaze, she forgot to think and found herself staring.

Wha—why is he so handso…

No, no, stop right there, Go Woori.

Forcing herself to clamp down on the unformed words rolling around in her mouth, she bit her dry lips lightly and let go.

Focus. This isn’t the time.

This was no moment to be entranced by beauty.

“Whew.”

Finally calming her racing heart, she deliberately loosened her body and answered,

“I’m Go Woori, the one who died on the plane yesterday.”

It was 100% the truth.

Yoonjae’s face twisted in disbelief.

“Well… I guess I can’t be totally sure I actually died. The news always exaggerates things.”

“Joo Aejeong.”

“Anyway, I was strangled to death by some crazy guy on the plane, and when I opened my eyes, I was in this body. Can something like this even happen? You don’t believe me, do you? I don’t believe it myself—who would?”

Only she herself knew there was no lie in the words spilling out like a person possessed.

Yoonjae slowly let go of her, saying nothing, just staring at her with a serious face for a moment.

Huh? Could he actually believe me?

For a second, she dared to hope her outrageous story had reached him.

But then he pulled out his phone and made a call.

“Chief Hong, schedule an appointment with Dr. Jang. Make it for tomorrow.”

A sidelong glance.

“It’s serious.”

Yeah… maybe not.

Realizing she was being treated like a lunatic, she shut her eyes tightly, then opened them again and began to lie.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? I mean, something like that happened to her on our wedding day—how could I not care? Anyone would.”

“…”

“Wouldn’t you, Ha Yoonjae?”

Her more “reasonable” lie made him pull the phone slightly from his ear. The call must have ended, because he put it away entirely and looked at her in silence.

A sharp wind blew.

As she tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, he spoke.

“Why should I?”

His words were colder than the breeze that brushed past.

Somehow, they sent a chill crawling down her back—a perfect way to drive her mood into the dirt, even though she hadn’t been expecting anything.

Pfft.

She let out a flat laugh.

“You’re right. There’s no reason you have to. But I care. Which means I’m going to see that person… that…”

Her tongue stumbled, but she managed to say it properly.

“…Go Woori.”

It left her feeling filthy inside.

The only way to find a clue about the current situation—

The news treated her death as gossip and focused entirely on the perpetrator, offering little useful information. That’s why she planned to go to Hannam-dong. Luckily, Yoonjae didn’t argue and let her into the car.

But just as she was about to relax, the scenery outside turned unfamiliar.

“Huh? Where are we going?”

It wasn’t Hannam-dong, but the outskirts of Seoul.

Without even glancing at her, he said,

“You want to see that woman, right?”

“…Right?”

“Then where else?”

The funeral hall.

Cold words, but the correct deduction.

He must have found the location while on the phone before they got in the car.

…Funeral?

She had never imagined that word applying to herself, and something indescribable swirled in her chest.

It felt like insects were crawling under her skin, her fingers and toes turning cold. She bit her dry lips and turned toward the window.

“…”

The darkness outside reflected her face in the glass.

Joo Aejeong.

Yes, her face was still Joo Aejeong’s—pale, frail, and pathetically thin.

Unable to look any longer, she turned back toward the front.

They arrived at a funeral hall notorious for its tight security.

<The Dream Funeral Hall>

What kind of name is that… she thought, smirking as she noticed the guards checking IDs at the entrance. Only pre-registered guests could enter. No cars came or went; the guards just stood there.

Parking a little ways away, Yoonjae said,

“There’s no reason you can’t go in.”

“…”

“Your choice.”

He sounded almost considerate, but there was nothing warm about it—his detached gaze made sure of that.

“Just know no one will welcome you.”

Of course not.

To Go Woori’s circle, the two people sitting here were the last ones she would want to see—even if one of them was actually Go Woori.

Her hands clenched tightly on her knees.

It really was her—Go Woori’s—funeral. Her head felt blank, her vision blurred, and nausea rose in her throat.

She had never been easily shaken, but seeing her own funeral was in a league of its own.

Why?

Why had this happened?

“…Jeong.”

Why had that man strangled her? Why was she in this body now?

She shouldn’t have boarded that plane. She shouldn’t have tried to secretly flee Korea behind her father’s back.

Is it my fault?

Was it a mistake to be kind to that man and talk back to him?

“…Aejeong.”

Maybe this wasn’t real. Maybe she was in a coma, dreaming all of this.

Yes—this was just some terrible, vivid dream…

Tap.

Her frantic breathing stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

The warmth of his large palm brought her breath and sight back at once. Turning blankly toward him, she heard Yoonjae say,

“Get a hold of yourself.”

“…”

“It’s not your fault.”

Like someone who understood the self-loathing she was feeling right now.

“…Right.”

Yes. Being kind wasn’t a crime. This was entirely the fault of that lunatic and his terrible crime.

Finally breathing easier, she looked at Yoonjae directly for the first time.

In the darkness, his sharp features stood out even more clearly—so flawless it was as if they’d been sculpted by God.

Thump.

…Huh?

Startled by an unfamiliar flutter in her chest, she quickly looked away.

A disgusting, unwelcome sensation crawled over her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

Just then—

“Huh?”

Someone emerged from the guarded entrance.

It was a woman of average height with a short haircut, covering her mouth as she hurried outside. She wasn’t anyone remarkable to most—but to her, she was someone very important.

Seohee.

Her secretary—the one who was supposed to fly to New York with her.

Collapsing against the wall outside, the secretary trembled and sobbed.

Seeing a familiar face at last made it all sink in completely.

“I guess I really did die.”

With an unreadable expression, she let out a laugh. Pfft, heh, haha, huhuhu.

“Wow… I really died. No denying it now.”

As her laughter spilled out, Yoonjae briefly considered moving up the doctor’s appointment to tonight instead of tomorrow.

“Cover your ears.”

“What—”

Before he could finish, her voice rang out.

“You crazy, psychopathic bastard!”

His eyes widened, but she didn’t stop.

No—she couldn’t stop.

“## ### #### ## ###!”

And so, amid a flood of curses, their loveless marriage began.