Chapter 27 – Beneath the Smile
Min-Jun
It was 7:03 a.m. when Yeon-Hwa slipped into the dining room with her usual regal grace, dressed in pale blue silk that kissed the marble floor as she walked. She looked like the perfect wife—elegant, composed, dangerous.
Min-Jun was already seated at the end of the long table, sipping bitter black coffee he could barely taste. He didn't look up until she sat down across from him.
"Good morning, husband," she said, voice smooth as honey but edged with something that stung.
"Yeon-Hwa," he acknowledged, folding the newspaper in front of him.
Her smile widened. She was always smiling lately.
They played this game every morning. Formalities. Subtle challenges. And beneath it all, lies layered over secrets.
She cut into her croissant delicately. "I've arranged for us to attend the charity ball next week. The mayor's wife personally requested your presence."
He gave a nod. "Fine."
Her eyes flickered across the table. "You used to ask more questions."
"I used to have fewer answers to hide."
Silence stretched like a thin wire between them.
Yeon-Hwa leaned forward slightly, her voice dipping low. "I meant what I said, Min-Jun. I gave you the antidote, didn't I? She's alive because I allowed it."
His jaw clenched, but his face remained calm. "And in return, I married you. Let's not pretend this is love."
Her laugh was soft, hollow. "You really are colder than death."
Min-Jun stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "Then you should feel right at home."
He left her at the table, eyes trailing after him like a blade. He could feel her watching—measuring him.
---
Later that day, Min-Jun stood in the upper-floor office of Lee Financial, surrounded by glass, silence, and steel.
He wasn't there for work.
He was there for war.
Files lay scattered across the desk, each one tied to Yeon-Hwa's empire. He'd spent the last two weeks rebuilding connections from his old network—the ones who hadn't died or disappeared. The ones who still owed him blood.
Yeon-Hwa was clever. Ruthless. She didn't just inherit her father's underworld legacy—she expanded it. But everyone had a weakness. He just hadn't found hers yet.
Until now.
There was a name in one of the files. A brother. Hidden away. Institutionalized. Protected.
Jin-Woo.
Min-Jun's fingers tightened around the file.
This was it.
If he wanted leverage, he needed to get to Jin-Woo before Yeon-Hwa knew he was onto her.
But it wouldn't be easy.
She never let him out of her sight for long.
---
That evening, back at the estate, Yeon-Hwa surprised him again.
"I planned a weekend getaway," she said, running her hand down the length of his arm. "Just you and me. No business. No distractions."
He forced a smile. "How thoughtful."
But inside, alarms were screaming.
She knew.
Not everything. But enough to sense that he wasn't falling in line.
That meant time was running out.
---
Elsewhere
Seo-Ah sat on the windowsill of her apartment, phone in hand, unread messages glowing softly against the dark. Jae-Hyun had sent bouquet. Another message. Another reason to feel safe.
But she didn't feel safe.
She felt numb.
She should've been thankful. Grateful.
She wasn't.
Her heart still betrayed her in the quiet moments. It whispered a name she wasn't supposed to say anymore.
Min-Jun.
And every time she tried to breathe him out of her system, some new reminder clawed its way back in.
She turned her phone over, screen down.
There was no room for fantasy anymore.
Only scars.
__________
Seo-Ah kept her head low as she walked past the executive hallway, documents in hand, heels clicking softly against the polished marble.
The office air was cold, too crisp, the silence charged. It had been weeks since that night—weeks since her world tilted and never quite returned to balance.
Everyone at Lee Financial whispered behind closed doors. They had heard the headlines, seen the photographs. CEO Lee Min-Jun's sudden marriage to a woman no one knew.
And yet, here she was, still in the same building. Still pretending.
Pretending she hadn't once believed he could be hers.
Pretending she didn't feel his presence whenever he walked by.
She entered the conference room and found it empty, relief briefly washing over her. The meeting wasn't for another five minutes. She needed time to breathe. To center herself.
She hadn't seen him in person since the wedding. He made sure of it.
He didn't come down to her floor. He didn't speak to her. And yet… his name was still in every memo. Every schedule. Every strategy.
He haunted the very walls of her life.
---
Meanwhile, two floors above, Min-Jun stared at the security footage from the private monitor in his office.
Seo-Ah. Walking into the conference room, her eyes a little tired, her mouth pressed into a line of forced control.
He should stop watching.
He didn't.
Her being in his building was a knife against every decision he'd made. A constant reminder that he was playing house with a woman whose blood ran colder than her father's, while the woman he cared about tried to survive the fallout.
He hadn't spoken to her.
Not since that night.
Not since she almost died.
And now he couldn't afford to.
Yeon-Hwa's reach was everywhere.
One whisper of connection and Seo-Ah would be targeted again.
---
"Sir," Dong-Hwan's voice came through the comms. "The psychiatric facility housing Jin-Woo—Yeon-Hwa's brother—has double security. We'll need a cleaner route."
"Find it," Min-Jun replied coldly. "And fast. I want a full report on Jin-Woo's condition. If he's her only human tie, he's the thread I'll pull."
Dong-Hwan hesitated. "Sir… what if she finds out?"
"She will." Min-Jun turned from the screen. "That's the point."
---
The board meeting started just after noon.
Seo-Ah sat at the far end, barely visible among the senior executives, but her mind wasn't on the budget forecasts or the graphs projected across the screen.
It was on the man who entered through the double glass doors ten minutes in.
Min-Jun.
She didn't expect him.
No one did.
A hush fell. Even the board chairman paused mid-sentence.
Min-Jun didn't say anything. He simply took his seat at the head of the table, expression unreadable, his wedding band catching the light. Seo-Ah didn't look directly at him. But she didn't need to. Her pulse spiked the second he entered.
And then—accidentally, maybe fated—his gaze met hers across the room.
One second.
Two.
Three.
She blinked first.
---
After the meeting, she left quickly, but not quick enough.
The elevator door opened just as she pressed the call button—and there he was.
Min-Jun.
They both froze.
There were others behind her, but in that moment, they vanished into white noise.
She stepped aside, bowing slightly. "President Lee."
His voice was quiet. "Seo-Ah."
Her breath caught. He hadn't said her name in weeks.
He stepped in. The doors began to close.
Then stopped.
"Coming in?" he asked.
She stared at him for a heartbeat. Then stepped in, the silence unbearable.
Alone. Just them.
The doors slid shut.
The numbers blinked.
"Are you well?" he asked, tone soft but distant.
"Yes," she whispered. "Thank you for what you did."
His jaw flexed. "You don't owe me anything."
"That's not true," she said, turning to face him. "You risked everything."
"I made a choice," he replied. "And I live with it."
The elevator dinged. The doors opened.
He stepped out first. She stayed behind.
Because she wasn't ready to fall all over again.
Not when it still hurt this much to stand.