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judge from hell 𑣲 y. jeonghan

SUMMARY: They said money is the solution, while you naively believed it wasn’t the answer to everything. Yet you found yourself in despair as your father’s fate fell in the hands of the town’s so-called “impartial” judge. You begged him to see reason, swearing your father was innocent. But there was another deception lurking beneath the surface.

PAIRING: judge!jeonghan x baker!f.reader

GENRE: drama, thriller, mild horror, probably 1920 au settings, smut, oneshot

WARNINGS: mature themes content (strictly MDNI), strong language, power imbalance, bribery, abuse of authority, manipulation, gaslighting, system corruption, implied stockholm syndrome, unprotected sex, fingering, impregnation kink, biting, skin sucking, dubcon ig?, abuse mention (not reader or jeonghan, just for the case), psychological disturbance, rough sex, heated kiss, pregnancy (mentioned), violence & death (major character death).

WC: 22k

add tags❦: bakery owner! reader, jeonghan is a little evil here, detective! seungcheol, seokmin as childhood friends, lawyer! joshua, possibly another love interest(?), widower jeonghan, implied docile reader, beauty n beast reference if you squint slightly, grief, ambiguous ending(?), morally grey characters, inaccurate legal system, wouldn't call this dark romance cuz this is so fucked up lmao

A/N: wow, the number of people who liked the preview was amazing. yall nasty fr, anyway happy reading (or not). disclaimer: fictionalized and inaccurate legal procedures for narrative purposes.

The smell of freshly baked goods filled the bakery. The lingering scent tingled your nose, though you were already used to it.

It had been almost four years since you began managing the bakery on your own. After your grandmother passed away, you reopened it yourself. You hadn’t planned to continue your higher education at the time, especially when your father had fallen ill, only recently recovering.

You greeted your regular customers as usual, the place busy from morning until noon. You were grateful that the bakery’s success repaid every sacrifice you had left behind. Even though becoming a lawyer had once been your greatest dream. Helping people, fighting for justice, but seeing customers happily buying your goods and complimenting them each day made you feel like the happiest person alive.

Still, deep inside, you were just a girl who once dreamed of becoming a good lawyer—someone who could help others obtain the justice they deserved.

So focused on your work, you didn’t notice Seokmin tailing you like an excited puppy until he startled you from behind.

“Goodness, Min,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as you stepped back into the pantry to refill the bread display. “Don’t scare me like that. What brings you here?” you asked without looking up at him.

Seokmin hummed, crossing his arms. “Can’t I stop by to see the lovely Miss Baker?” he chuckled, still following you as you busied yourself. “Say… are you perhaps available this weekend? I mean— I’d love to take you out for a nice dinner.”

When you didn’t respond immediately, too focused on arranging the croissants, he sighed dramatically.

“Okay… I’m sorry, just this once,” he continued, stepping in front of you so you had no choice but to look at him properly. “I know the last time you said you couldn’t, but please give me a chance.”

You softly sighed, patting your hands against your apron as you shook your head. “I’m sorry, Min. I just… I can’t, okay?” you said, moving to the cashier counter to busy yourself with nothing in particular. “I’m already occupied. I don’t know if I can make time for…”

You hesitated to mention the word love or relationship.

Seokmin had been your friend since childhood. Though he was two years younger, you always treated him as an equal. At first, you saw him as a younger brother, maybe you still did, even after he grew into a fine young man. Still, you couldn’t allow yourself to enter a relationship, let alone think of marriage. You had always been content with what you had… especially when you weren’t ready to leave your father’s side.

You had lost count of how many times Seokmin had tried to ask you out. His attraction toward you wasn’t subtle, he had always pined like a lovesick puppy. You, on the other hand, never took his feelings lightly. Even after rejecting him when you were younger, he remained persistent. You appreciated him deeply, as a friend, perhaps even as family, but your bond with him had always remained platonic.

Before you could even answer his many questions, your attention was already stolen by the customer standing in front of you.

Mr. Yoon.

He was one of your regulars. You stated the total, and he handed you the money, which you politely accepted. You weren’t sure when it began, but there had always been something melancholic about him. He usually bought the same thing, the castella cake, or simply a plain pound cake. On rare occasions, when he seemed to be in a particular mood, he would choose the lemon-flavored one. You never questioned it. In fact, you had memorised his preference so well that you made sure it was always restocked, just in case.

You thanked him, offering your usual polite smile as you watched him walk toward the door. You didn’t even realize you had been staring at his figure as it slowly disappeared outside until Seokmin called your name, snapping you out of your thoughts. Blinking, you looked at him. “If you keep startling me like that, you might as well help around here,” you huffed, pretending to count the notes in your hand.

Seokmin smiled sheepishly. “Alright, alright. I’ll help.”

It wasn’t that you were understaffed. But the bakery had been packed all day, with massive pre-orders and constant restocking. You felt a little guilty watching Seungkwan and Chan shuffle back and forth without proper breaks.

You had always greeted your customers cheerfully, even asking about their day with genuine warmth.

The only exception was that man.

Mr. Yoon, the judge of the courthouse in town. Known as one of the most respectable individuals in the district. You first met him years ago when you were still a student. He had been invited to your university for a legal workshop. You remembered admiring him back then. He was articulate, confident, someone who spoke about justice as if it were sacred.

After you dropped out, he became nothing more than a distant memory. Seeing him again years later felt… different.

It wasn’t as though you had any lingering attachment. Still, the unfortunate incident involving his late wife, the arson case the newspapers wrote about had changed him. At least, that was what people said. Perhaps that was why he carried that quiet heaviness around him now.

But it was none of your business.

“Seeing Judge Yoon this close was kind of scary, if I’m honest,” Seokmin said while helping pack the goods. “It feels like a shiver runs down my spine whenever I’m around him.”

You stilled, eyes still fixed on your list, not responding immediately. “Come on, you’re exaggerating. If anything, everyone probably feels that way because of his position.”

Seokmin only grinned, nudging you gently, and you returned a faint smile. “If I were serious like him, would you have accepted me?” he leaned closer, voice playful. “You know… my sex appeal would be more attractive if I used it properly.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile lingered as you moved away so he wouldn’t get distracted. “Less talk, more work. I like a hardworking man, Min.”

Chapter 1: The Corrupt Judge and His Sullied Court

People’s gossip was never something that interested you. Sometimes you overheard things here and there, but you rarely paid attention.

Although, you couldn’t deny it unsettled you whenever the subject revolved around Judge Yoon.

It wasn’t surprising for people to talk about scandalous marriages or secret affairs. But this time, the conversation was about something more serious.

“I heard about the recent case, Mrs. Kwon being accused of murdering her own husband?” one of the middle-aged women said suddenly, making you subconsciously listen as you stood with your back facing them. “They said in court she claimed it was self-defense. Apparently, she revealed that her late husband had been abusing her.”

“Oh dear, that’s horrible,” the other woman gasped. “I hope everything goes well… I wonder how she’s feeling now. It would be unfortunate if she fails to prove her innocence. All that fortune from her husband would eventually go back to his family.”

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, yet there you were, listening to every word as you gathered the ingredients you had just bought. The conversation eventually died down, and you hurried along, mentally cursing yourself for rejecting Seokmin’s offer to help.

It wasn’t that you thought their discussion was unnecessary.

If anything, it made you uneasy.

When you first heard that Mr. Kwon had died from murder, it genuinely shocked you. He had been one of your regular customers and, if you remembered correctly, an acquaintance of Seokmin’s. You could still vividly recall the bright smile he wore whenever he stood at your counter, proudly bragging about how smoothly his business was running.

Though he was one of the wealthiest men in town, he carried himself with humility, at least, that was how he appeared to you. He had a way of making you feel like you were no less important than he was. So hearing that he had allegedly abused his wife felt almost unbelievable.

You had met Mrs. Kwon a few times at the clothing boutique. She often spent lavishly on glamorous pieces. You were never one to judge someone’s lifestyle, but the news still came as a shock.

Almost too suspicious. Or perhaps you simply shouldn’t have judged a book by its cover.

When you returned to the bakery, it didn’t go unnoticed that your staff were slacking off in the back. You shook your head as you approached them, both far too invested in the newspaper spread across the table.

“Would you like your pay to be cut short?”

Your voice nearly made Seungkwan and Chan jump out of their skin as they scrambled back into position. Seungkwan was the first to break the tension, attempting to smooth things over with a dramatic whistle. “Oh dear, I think I might’ve forgotten how to make pain au chocolat—do you know where the recipe is, Chan?”

“I seriously don’t know, man,” Chan agreed smoothly, wiping an already spotless surface with his rag.

You sighed, shaking your head before picking up the newspaper they had been so absorbed in. Your eyes skimmed over the article.

Ah.

Of course.

A small column near the top mentioned the recent court case. You were certain details like this weren’t meant to be public, yet here it was in ink.

Mrs. Kwon’s case.

According to the article, she had been sentenced only to probation. Which meant the court had acknowledged her claim of self-defense. Meaning… the allegations about her husband’s abuse were true after all. You weren’t sure how to process it. It felt unreal. Yet, in the end, it didn’t matter anymore, Mr. Kwon was already dead.

Still, something inside you twisted uneasily.

Just a week ago, he had been standing at your counter, smiling brightly. You had always assumed he was a kind man. Seeing this revelation in print felt almost impossible to reconcile. Your eyes drifted toward the familiar surname printed beneath the article. The reporter had made it clear that the case was handled under Judge Yoon.

That name always lingered somewhere in your mind, though you could never quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it was simply because you saw him at the bakery so often. Standing near someone of his caliber had always felt surreal. Even meeting prosecutors or judges once in your life carried a certain weight.

The desire to become one of them had already died long ago.

You folded the newspaper and set it aside, returning to your stock work while your staff resumed whispering about the news.

“Man, I can’t believe Mr. Kwon was that kind of person,” Chan murmured as he arranged the trays.

“I know, right?” Seungkwan replied, hands busy shaping pastries. “I never imagined someone we knew could turn out like that. What’s crazier is that I saw his wife shopping at the jewelry boutique the other day like she didn’t have a care in the world. Then boom— murder.”

That was enough.

You cleared your throat deliberately, and their chatter died instantly. There was no use crying over spilled milk now.

──

Your life had always been simple, you preferred it that way.

Though that never stopped people from running their mouths, especially in a neighborhood like yours. They often commented that your life had been “robbed” by your sick father, as if you hadn’t chosen to drop out of your studies to care for him yourself. As if sacrifice had not been your own decision.

After all, he was your only family.

Sure, it had been years since then, yet some still criticized your choice to remain a bakery owner instead of pursuing a “more respectable” profession, especially as a woman in this era.

You had grown used to it.

But you would never allow them to speak badly about your papa. He was everything you had left after your grandmother passed away. That was why you chose to continue the business, pouring everything you had into rebuilding it. And now, seeing familiar faces return each day, watching customers smile at the taste of your pastries, it felt worth it.

The bakery was filled with warmth and sweetness.

At your age, it was only natural for people to question your marital status — a topic you always brushed off with a polite smile. It was rather nosy of them, prying into matters that did not concern them. So what if you chose not to settle down?

It hadn’t gone unnoticed that a few bachelors had shown interest in you, but you politely declined before anything could even begin. Most people found you odd, perhaps they always had. Even when you were younger, you had been too engrossed in books, too eager to learn and discover more.

The only man you allowed close was Seokmin. He was perhaps the only one who never attempted strange advances or crossed lines. Even after being rejected more times than you could count, he continued to respect your boundaries.

When he suddenly entered the bakery, his face looked unusually troubled. Before you could even greet him, he grasped your arms gently, as if steadying you or himself, while carefully choosing his words. He called your name softly.

“Listen to me… I need you to stay calm. Just listen to what I’m about to say.”

You stared at him, confused, searching his expression for any hint of what was coming. Your heart began pounding, a nervous rhythm echoing in your ears.

He wasn’t joking.

“Your father…”

The rest blurred. The moment he uttered the words of arrest, accusation, embezzlement, and everything else drowned in a loud buzzing inside your head. The details slipped past you, lost somewhere between disbelief and fear.

Your papa has been arrested for embezzlement. It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

You didn’t waste a second. There was nothing you wanted more than to see your father immediately.

At the detention centre, where your papa was now being held, the sight of him behind the metal barrier made your heart clench painfully. His face brightened the moment he saw you and Seokmin approaching.

“Papa!” You rushed forward, fingers curling around the bars as if you could reach him through sheer will. Your chest felt unbearably heavy at the sight of him confined like this.

“My dearest… thank God you’re safe,” your father sighed in relief.

Safe?

You were the one falling apart.

“____, you shouldn’t worry about me—”

“Please, Papa,” you interrupted quickly, shaking your head. “This is serious. Of course I need to be involved.” Your brows furrowed. “I’m not a child anymore. You should be worrying about yourself. How did this even happen?”

Your eyes scanned him anxiously. He looked physically fine, healthier than he had been two years ago, but that didn’t stop your mind from spiraling. Stress alone could undo his recovery.

Your father gently placed his palm over yours against the cold barrier, grounding you.

“My dear, take care of yourself,” he said softly. “You mustn’t fret over me. We can hire an attorney…”

His gaze shifted to Seokmin, giving him a meaningful nod just as the officer called for the end of visitation.

“Take care of her for me.” Before you could say another word, your papa was already being led away. The metal door shut with a sound that echoed too loudly in your chest.

“Hey—it’s alright,” Seokmin murmured, gently turning you to face him as you stood frozen. “I’ll help you, okay? I’ll hire an attorney for your father. We’re in this together.”

Your expression softened, though you slowly shook your head, much to his visible disappointment.

“No, Min… I can’t do that to you.” Your voice trembled slightly. “Your family already helped us when Papa was ill. And when I reopened the bakery…”

You couldn’t ask for more. Seokmin’s family had always been better off financially. They had never once made you feel small for it. His parents adored you, yet accepting more help felt dangerously close to indebting yourself.

And you hated feeling indebted.

Seokmin’s hands tightened gently around yours as he called your name. “Please let me help. I want to do this. I mean it.”

You hesitated. In a situation like this, you couldn’t afford an incompetent attorney.

After a long moment, you nodded.

“…Alright.”

──

In the Union States of Sebong, there was a man who directed the courthouse under government administration while quietly collecting profit for himself.

His name was Yoon Jeonghan. In posterity, he would be remembered as the Collector.

No one ever understood how he determined the outcomes of his cases, whether the accused were found guilty or not. It hardly concerned honor. If you had money, you were saved. But even that did not guarantee your life. That decision belonged to corruption itself.

No one dared to question him.

Yoon Jeonghan was regarded as the most respectable man in town. Therefore, once his verdict was spoken, it was final. In the courtroom, Jeonghan liked to believe that every sin committed passed through his hands alone. He decided who was guilty. He decided who was innocent. And if they paid enough to be acquitted, then their crimes would be permitted.

Only cash would do.

Well… at least in hell.

He did not consider himself greedy. After all, wasn’t he helping those in need? In the end, they should all understand that their lives depended on him.If they wanted salvation, they would pay the proper fee.

Jeonghan adjusted his judicial gown as he prepared to enter the courtroom for the next case. The doors opened at his silent command. The room stilled. Prosecutors, attorneys, defendants, and spectators rose to their feet in respect.

He took his seat, face stoic, voice low and neutral.

“Now,” he said calmly, “let the trial begin.”

You tensed in your seat, sitting rigidly on the wooden bench with your fingers clasped tightly in your lap as your father stood before the court. He looked smaller somehow. Not physically, but diminished under the weight of accusation.

What you hadn’t expected was that Judge Yoon would be assigned to your father’s case.

You had to remind yourself that he was not the quiet regular customer who bought castella cake from your counter. Not the man you occasionally admired from afar.

Down here, beneath the towering ceiling of the courtroom, he felt different.

Intimidating. Distant. Powerful.

And you felt very, very small. You had heard the whispers before, that defendants prayed never to fall under Judge Yoon’s trial. They called him ruthless, though the public preferred a more refined word.

Impartial.

He carried that reputation flawlessly.

And yet, despite everything you had heard, you silently prayed that this time. Just this once, the case would favor your father.

You needed his innocence to be proven, and him to come home.

As the trial progressed, your heart remained heavy with distress and unease. Sleep had abandoned you entirely these past few nights. For now, the bakery was left in the capable hands of Seungkwan and Chan while you dedicated yourself to gathering every possible record, financial statements, receipts, testimonies — anything that could support your father’s innocence.

You have done everything.

When the opposing counsel finally rose to speak, your stomach twisted.

You couldn’t help but frown at the confident cadence of his voice, at the certainty dripping from every word he uttered. His client sat beside him, posture relaxed, almost assured as if victory had already been promised.

That unsettled you.

You weren’t supposed to feel doubt.

Not when you knew your father was innocent.

“Your Honour,” the prosecutor began, voice clear and unwavering, “the evidence will show that this was neither a mistake nor a misunderstanding. This was a deliberate, long-term scheme of embezzlement.”

He paced slowly as he spoke. “We will present the paper trail—the bank transfers, the altered receipts, and the final destination of those funds: the defendant’s own pocket.”

A pause.

“At the conclusion of this trial, we will ask this court to hold him accountable for this grave breach of trust.”

The words echoed in the chamber, heavier than they had any right to be.

You felt your fingers tighten against each other in your lap.

Deliberate. Long-term scheme. Embezzlement.

It sounded so certain when spoken aloud.

The defense attorney rose slowly, adjusting his spectacles. “Your Honour,” he began, voice firm but measured, “the prosecution presents a compelling story. Thus, a story is not a conviction.”

A murmur rippled faintly through the gallery.

“The transfers cited required dual authorization. My client did not possess unilateral access to those accounts. Furthermore, the alleged altered receipts were processed through a third-party accountant, one who has yet to be summoned before this court.”

The prosecutor scoffed lightly. “Deflection.”

The defense ignored him.

“My client built that company from the ground up. Twenty-two years of work. If he wished to steal, he would not do so through traceable bank transfers under his own name.”

Your father finally stepped forward.

His voice trembled, not from guilt, but from exhaustion. “I would never steal from my own partners,” he said. “That business fed my family. It fed theirs too. I have nothing to gain from destroying it.”

Your throat tightened.

For the first time since the trial began, the room felt human.

All eyes slowly shifted toward the bench.

Judge Yoon had not moved once. His hands were folded neatly before him. His expression is unreadable.

He studied your father.

Then he spoke. “Mr. ____,” he said evenly, “you claim loyalty.”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

“You claim integrity.”

“Yes.”

“And yet,” Jeonghan continued softly, “the funds did arrive in an account bearing your name.”

Silence.

Your father swallowed. “They were transferred without my knowledge. I reported the discrepancy.”

“After how long?”

A pause. “…Three weeks.”

The courtroom shifted. Jeonghan leaned back slightly. “Three weeks,” he repeated.

The way he said it made it sound like a confession.

Your fingers dug into your palms.

The defense attorney quickly intervened. “Your Honour, my client needed time to verify the irregularities before escalating—”

Judge Yoon raised one hand. The entire courtroom went silent instantly. “I find,” he said calmly, “that the evidence presented thus far establishes sufficient ground to treat the defendant as a potential flight risk.”

The words didn’t register at first. Your head snapped up.

What?

The defense attorney stiffened. “Your Honour?”

“Pending further examination of financial records,” Jeonghan continued, voice cold as winter steel, “the defendant’s bail privileges are hereby revoked.”

The courtroom erupted.

Your heart stopped. “No—!” you nearly rose from your seat.

Your father turned toward you, shock written across his face as two officers approached him.

“Your Honour, this is highly irregular!” the defense protested. “My client has complied with every summons—”

Judge Yoon’s gaze sharpened. “Compliance,” he said quietly, “does not erase capability.”

The room fell into stunned silence again. That was it. That was the ruthlessness people whispered about.

He simply decided. The reality bent.

Jeonghan adjusted his sleeve. “This court will recess for thirty minutes,” he declared. “Proceedings will resume thereafter.”

His gavel struck once. Final and absolute.

As people began to move in frantic confusion, he stood from his seat. For the briefest second, you swore that his eyes met yours, you find his eyes were not apologetic or cruel. Just… assessing. As if he was calculating something. Then he turned and disappeared through the chamber doors, leaving you frozen on the bench.

──

The trial continued, though the entire session blurred together in your mind.

Arguments were dismissed one after another. Evidence you were certain was clear enough seemed to crumble under the opposing attorney’s effortless rebuttals. Every time hope rose in your chest, it was quietly struck down.

You kept telling yourself this wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be.

Yet when you finally heard Judge Yoon deliver the verdict, your head snapped up.

“This court has reviewed the exhaustive ledger entries, the third-party forensic audits, and the defense’s claims of ‘procedural irregularities.’ However, the law does not operate on intentions that remain silent for three weeks. It operates on facts.”

Your throat went dry. Your gaze flickered anxiously between your father and Seokmin.

“The facts show a systematic diversion of five hundred and eighty thousand dollars. It shows a breach of fiduciary duty that crippled a twenty-two-year-old institution.”

The judge paused.

The silence in the courtroom felt suffocating.

“Therefore, on the count of Grand Larceny and Embezzlement in the First Degree, this court finds the defendant—”

Your heart pounded violently.

“—GUILTY.”

The word struck the room like a physical weight.

You watched as your father’s expression did not change, but his head lowered slightly. That small movement shattered something inside you. Across the courtroom, the opposing party erupted in quiet satisfaction, their lawyer already gathering his papers with a victorious air. Meanwhile, you sat frozen in your seat, the world around you collapsing into noise and silence all at once.

Judge Yoon had already risen from his chair. The gavel had fallen. The case was closed.

Just like that.

──

Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you ran toward the estate gates. Your dress and cardigan clung to your skin, drenched from the rain as you rushed toward Mr. Yoon’s residence begging for the fifth time to plead your papa’s innocence. You had called out to him when he declared your father guilty of embezzling a large sum of money, a crime you were certain he had been framed for. Your papa would never do such a thing. He was the gentlest and the sweetest man you had ever known.

It couldn’t be happening.

Even when you tried to approach the judge as he exited the courtroom, an unease settled deep in your stomach. The case had been decided in a single day. It was unfair. No one listened to you. Evidence was dismissed as if it meant nothing, when it was obvious some high-ranking bastard had set your father up.

It was heartbreaking.

Your papa was the only family you had aside from your bakery. When he fell ill during your studies, you dropped out to care for him. He was your world. And so you continued your grandmother’s bakery, running it just as she once had. Your knees ached from kneeling too long. Your fists rested against them as you bowed your head before the estate gates. The rain poured relentlessly, yet you remained there for nearly two hours, desperate to speak with Mr. Yoon. What had your papa done to deserve this? Was it about money? Of course you didn’t have enough to bribe him.

But why your papa?

The men who framed him were celebrating their victory while your father bore the blame.

You needed answers. You would do anything to prove them wrong.

Your father had only just recovered from his illness. You never wanted him to work again, but he insisted. Maybe you should have tried harder, then none of this would have happened.

The estate doors opened. A housekeeper approached, likely to dismiss you as usual but instead, a pair of polished leather shoes stopped in front of you.

You didn’t dare look up.

Your soaked fists trembled against your knees. You weren’t sure if you had any tears left, or if they had simply blended into the rain.

Then something shielded you from the downpour.

An umbrella.

Mr. Yoon stood above you, one hand holding it over your head, the other tucked neatly inside his robe. He did not look surprised. “Get up,” his familiar voice said calmly.

You slowly lifted your head.

“We’ll discuss this inside.”

You felt awkward changing into the nightgown one of his female employees had handed you. A shawl was draped over your shoulders, a gesture of courtesy from him. Now warmer, you sat quietly with a cup of tea cradled between your palms, staring into the amber liquid absentmindedly.

It was late.

Even if you returned home now, no one would be waiting. Ever since your papa was imprisoned, the house had felt unbearably hollow. The cell must be colder than the rain you endured outside his estate. The food, if they even fed him properly, would be nothing like the warm bread you baked every morning.

God… you just wanted him to be alright.

Your thoughts spiraled into darker possibilities. Prison was never kind. Guilty or not, men often met terrible ends there. So lost in your mind, you didn’t hear Mr. Yoon calls your name more than once. You blinked, startled, quickly mumbling an apology. When you tried to speak, your words got tangled. “Why… the evidence was there. You didn’t even… hear us out. Why?”

Silence settled between you.

He did not look offended nor surprised. “Why?” he repeated smoothly, placing his cup down. “The case was decided. The defendant’s side presented their argument well. Their attorney was… quite persuasive.”

You frowned in disbelief.

Of course. That would be his answer.

“But Mr. Yoon, it was obvious my father had nothing to do with it,” your voice trembled, almost pleading. “He was framed. Used by those—”

He lifted a hand, silencing you effortlessly. “The case is closed. I have no intention of reopening it.”

Before he could rise again, you spoke. “…You took a bribe from them, didn’t you?”

Your eyes didn’t waver.

Something in your gaze despite your soaked, pitiful state caught his attention.

He thought that it’s either you were bold or simply foolish. Either way, he decided to entertain you. “What makes you think that?” His expression remained unreadable.

You swallowed, intimidated by his composure but pressed on. “I heard rumors. I didn’t want to believe them. But I looked into your past cases.” Your voice steadied slightly. “There’s a pattern.”

For a moment, he studied you. Then a slow, faint smile appeared on his face, “So you finally completed your assignment. Impressive. As expected from a law student.”

There’s a pause in between. “Though you are a dropout now.”

Your breath hitched at the sudden revelation. You wanted nothing more than to understand how he had unearthed pieces of your past you thought were long buried.

He began listing your full name. Your birthplace, your former university, your academic standing and last but not least, your withdrawal records. Basically your entire history.

Cold crept up your spine.

You wanted to ask how he knew, but no words came.

“I have my ways,” he said lightly. “This isn’t the first time someone has accused me. And you’ll notice…” He took another sip of tea, responding to your accusations, “I never directly deny it.”

Your stomach twisted at that. So he wasn’t even ashamed.

“Go on,” he gestured lazily. “Threaten me, expose me, harm me. Others have tried but I’m not sure about you.”

But you did none of that. Instead, you only lowered your head. “…Please release my papa. He was wronged.”

He watched you carefully. Most people would’ve shouted at him. Threatened him with a murderer or arson, maybe threw chairs too.

But you only knelt before him at the gate, in front of his estate, looking docile and desperate. Like a little kitten seeking shelter after getting caught in the rain.

He sighed softly, tilting his head slightly. “You want me to help your father?” He leaned back, fingers interlocked over his knee. “Then pay the fee for your life, little bird. Salvation isn’t free, you should already know how it works.”

You stared at him, stunned by how openly he admitted it. He wasn’t even trying to deny it. Those bastards who framed your father must have paid thousands to secure their victory enough to bury your father behind the iron bars. So logically, you would need to offer double that amount.

Obviously, you didn’t have that kind of money.

The bakery barely covered expenses. The staff salaries and maintenance. The lawyer you already hired though you paid more than that. Your family had never been wealthy. Just ordinary people trying to live quietly in town.

Your silence answered him.

Jeonghan observed you for a moment and seemed to understand. He had only presented the option to demonstrate how the world functioned. He already knew you couldn’t afford it.

He rose from his seat, “I thought so.”

When you saw him move to the door, panic surged through you as he walked toward the door. His unreadable face made it clear, he would not consider it unless it benefited him.

“Judge Yoon, wait!”

If he walked out now, everything was over.

Something inside you just snapped. “Please—just this once—I—” Your voice faltered. Then the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I’ll do anything!”

His steps halted just before reaching the doorknob. Slowly, he turned. “Be careful with those words, birdie,” His voice lowered. “Those words shouldn’t be used so carelessly. They carry weight.”

You didn’t care and didn’t know what else to offer. Pride might as well had no place here. Without hesitation, you knelt again. Hands resting on your thighs, eyes lowered to the floor. At that moment, humiliation and dignity meant nothing.

Only your papa mattered.

“…I mean it, Mr. Yoon,” your voice cracked. “I’ll do anything to prove my papa’s innocence. Just this once. I won’t ask again.”

He stared down at you. Your trembling lips, your clasped hands and the way you refused to look up. Something twisted inside him. It had been a long time since he felt this… entertained. And he loved the sight before him.

Anything huh?

He stepped closer. Then slowly knelt in front of you. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear with deliberate gentleness. “Don’t cry, little bird,” he cooed softly, almost tenderly. “Tears don’t suit you.”

His gaze darkened, there’s a pause in between as he continues. “And kneeling…” His thumb lingered under your chin, tilting your face upward just enough. “Though I must admit, it is rather fitting.”

His lips curved faintly. “Still, I’d prefer you in other positions.”

It made you stiffen slightly, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. Yet you didn’t pull away. You weren’t even sure you were allowed to.

“Now,” he murmured, voice softer, “did you truly mean what you said just now?”

You could have sworn you saw the faintest grin tug at his lips.

You nodded slowly, and his smile widened. Not close to amusement nor pleasant. Something darker, like he had planned something evil behind those eyes. You felt a chill creep up your spine. In that moment, it truly felt as though you had struck a bargain with the devil himself. Maybe you should have thought about this. But what choice did you have when you were already standing at such a disadvantage?

His gaze lingered over you, studying every reaction. Your eyes. The slight tremble in your brows. The way your lips parted unconsciously. He exhaled quietly as his slender fingers traced from your cheek down to your bare neck. The nightgown clung softly against your skin, the very one he had provided after the rain.

You realized then that he had planned this comfort far too smoothly.

“I must say, birdie…” His voice lowered, almost silk-like. “You look rather exquisite in my late wife’s nightgown.”

Your breath faltered. Only then did the realization fully settle in. You were wearing his wife’s clothing. You hadn’t thought much of it earlier, too consumed with desperation to question the wardrobe he kept. But now, standing this close to him, the fact felt intimate in a way that made your stomach twist.

So this was why he owned a woman’s nightgown.

His fingers drifted to the shawl resting on your shoulders, the one he had draped there himself. Slowly, almost thoughtfully, he toyed with the fabric between his fingers.

The same shawl meant to keep you warm. You hadn’t even noticed how close he had moved. His face hovered inches from yours now, his presence overwhelming, his eyes never once breaking contact. You forgot how to breathe. You couldn’t remember the last time you had stood this close to a man, close enough to feel the warmth of him, close enough to sense the quiet control radiating from his stillness.

And he knew it.

“I’m not a good man, as you can see…” His voice lingered, gaze lowering in a way that made your skin prickle. “Perhaps you’ve already realized that, but I can be gentle… if I choose to.”

Your eyes met his grin. It was a smile, yes, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those held something unhinged. Something close to dark, that made your pulse thunder in your ears. You had never felt fear like this before. People always exaggerated when they spoke about walking into hell. But if anyone ever asked you what it felt like, you would describe this moment.

And this was only the beginning.

You hadn’t even touched the fire yet.

The tip of the iceberg.

Suddenly, he yanked the shawl from your shoulders. You let out a soft gasp, instinctively clutching the thin fabric of the nightgown as though you had been exposed.

“Say it again.” His tone shifted, no longer smooth, but commanding. It was controlled and final. “Did you truly mean what you said?”

His fingers tightened slightly around the discarded shawl. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t make me repeat myself. Just because I said I can be gentle… doesn’t mean I am patient.”

Your lips parted, breath trembling. “Y–yes,” you managed, voice barely steady. “I’ll do anything. Please… save my father.”

You didn’t even realize you had maintained eye contact the entire time.

It felt as though he was pulling the words out of you without touching your mouth at all. Like you were stepping forward willingly, even as every instinct told you to run.

And there he stood. The devil himself.

Your karma. Your judge. Your biggest nightmare.

Yoon Jeonghan was the very definition of a blessing in disguise.

He grinned, almost too satisfied with what you had told him. His fingers lifted your chin, prompting you to look up at him as though he were inspecting you. “Just to make sure… are you being courted, Miss ___?” he asked lightly. “I figured a woman of your age would be married by now. It’s a shame such a lovely lady like you hasn’t.”

Hesitating, you slowly shook your head. “...N-no… I wasn’t… and never…”

You swore you saw the glint in his eyes sharpen. Whatever idea had formed in his mind was not something you were thrilled about.

“Ah,” he hummed. “You’re one of a kind. I honestly thought someone had already taken you off the shelves.” Then he leaned closer, too close for your liking yet you stayed still, not daring to make the wrong move and risk upsetting the man before you. “I’ll need to make sure of something…” he murmured against your ear, the warmth of his breath making you shudder.

Suddenly he dipped his head, his face brushing near your jaw as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

A soft gasp slipped past your lips.

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his grip anything but gentle. At that moment, you almost forgot how to breathe as he inhaled your scent.

“M-Mr. Yoon?!” you whispered weakly.

He shushed you at once.

His hold tightened. Your breath hitched as he began trailing soft kisses along your neck. You hated how the closeness made something unfamiliar stir within you.

It started softly. But gradually it became greedy.

He pulled your body flush against his, arms wrapped firmly around your waist as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. A quiet moan escaped you before you could stop it. Your eyes widened. You had never expected a sound like that to come from yourself. Jeonghan chuckled lowly at your reaction, continuing to scatter hot kisses along your neck before moving down to your collarbone. His fingers tugged slightly at the shoulder of the nightgown, pulling the sleeve lower.

He grew rougher with each passing second, as if he wanted to devour you whole. You bit your lip, struggling to keep any more sounds from escaping. After a while, he finally pulled back, studying the marks he had left behind like an artist admiring his work.

You felt flushed—hot, exposed, and strangely dazed.

A sly smile curved on his lips as he leaned close again, your noses brushing. “If I had known you were like this,” he murmured softly, “I would have swept you away right there from the bakery.”

You blinked, sharply inhaling at his words.

Seeing this side of Yoon Jeonghan awakened a dangerous thought in the back of your mind. You had stepped into territory far more dangerous than you ever imagined.

Chapter 2: The Doting Father and His Daughter

That night, you ended up sleeping at Yoon’s estate with one eye open the entire time. When you finally returned to the bakery the next morning, you were greeted by a cluster of worried faces, including Seokmin’s. It seemed your sudden disappearance had sent everyone into a panic, searching for you like anxious hens.

You only brushed it off with a small smile. You could never tell them you had been at Yoon’s estate.

“Um, actually… there’s a gentleman looking for you,” Chan spoke up, causing you to frown in confusion.

Curious, you stepped out to meet him. A man stood there in a neatly pressed suit, offering you a gentle smile. He looked calm and warm—almost the complete opposite of Jeonghan.

“You must be Miss ___,” he said, extending a hand.

You hesitated for a moment before accepting it. Instead of a firm handshake, he simply held your knuckles lightly, far gentler than expected. “Yes… yes, that’s me,” you replied, returning a faint smile. “Is there a reason you’re looking for me?”

“Ah,” he said politely, “I suppose Judge Yoon has already informed you beforehand. Hasn’t he?”

Oh.

You remembered then.

Mr. Yoon had mentioned that a new attorney would be appointed for your father’s case.

You were surprised he had helped you this easily. Too easily. Something about it made your stomach twist. You knew better than to believe this was kindness.

Nothing from Yoon Jeonghan came without a price.

But he did it. He really did.

You just hated knowing the price you would eventually have to pay.

“With that,” the man continued gently, “my name is Joshua. I will be representing your father’s case from this point forward.”

And just like that, Joshua—now your father’s newly appointed attorney had entered your life.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Even though you were physically present, going through your usual routine, your mind drifted somewhere else entirely.

Too many possibilities. Too many outcomes.

You knew you had to see Mr. Yoon again tonight. Perhaps you could ask him more about everything. Somehow, it all felt unreal—too easy, too good to be true. Your heart refused to calm down. If anything, the unease only grew stronger. No one knew about this arrangement except the two of you. Yoon Jeonghan and you. That night, you really did meet him again, just as the two of you had agreed for further discussion, yet somehow, you had a bad feeling about this meeting.

Was this how Judge Yoon handled every arrangement tied to bribery?

But you weren’t like those people. You hadn’t bribed him.

Instead, you had offered yourself willingly to do anything. That was what you told him, yet even now, you weren’t sure what you were actually willing to give. The thought alone made your stomach twist in discomfort, especially when you knew you couldn’t possibly repay him with money. You glanced around his study as you waited for him, examining the room and its surroundings. That was what the maid had told you to do when you first arrived.

Obviously, he was a busy man.

You couldn’t expect someone like him to spare much attention for a matter like yours, someone who had come here desperately begging him to release a father accused of a crime he didn’t commit.

It was pathetic, really.

You refused to accept defeat even when it seemed painfully clear that the odds were against you. So why had Judge Yoon even bothered to pay attention to someone like you?

Your thoughts scattered the moment the door suddenly opened.

The devil himself had arrived.

Mr. Yoon stepped into the room, looking as though he had just finished dealing with something important. “I apologize for the delay, Miss ___,” he said casually, tossing his coat onto the chair behind his desk. Then his eyes landed on you. “Now,” he continued coolly, “spit it out. What can you offer me?”

Something about Mr. Yoon was unsettling. He could combine politeness and cruelty within the same sentence.

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his question. “Pardon?”

Mr. Yoon began unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up, exposing his forearms. “You heard me,” he said flatly. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

He stepped closer. Close enough that heat rushed to your face.

You didn’t know what to say.

Yes, you had agreed to this arrangement, but the thought of what it might truly mean suddenly made your resolve waver. A cold feet.

He could take your bakery. Your savings. Everything you owned.

But offering yourself—

That possibility had never crossed your mind when you first begged him. And now you are here. Standing in front of him, unsure of what you had truly agreed to.

“Or perhaps,” he murmured, his voice lowering, “you’re pretending you didn’t know what you signed up for… little bird.”

Suddenly, his hand gripped your waist. You gasped as he effortlessly lifted you onto the edge of his study desk. His arms caged you in on both sides, trapping you there as his gaze bore into yours—dark and unreadable. His hand moved to loosen his tie, the knot sliding down as he undid two buttons of his shirt.

The sound of his slow exhale made your body tense. It was obvious now that he was in a foul mood. And he had no patience left to entertain hesitation.

“I told you, I’m not a patient man…” he murmured lowly, leaning closer.

You felt his hands creep up along your thighs, the touch almost sensual, and instinctively you stopped him. His lips tugged into a smirk at your reaction.

“My, my, ___,” he drawled teasingly, “you’re making me look like a monster with that reaction.”

He chuckled softly as he withdrew his hands, resting them back on the desk on either side of you. His head tilted slightly as he studied your expression.

“You knew the price for this,” he continued. “If you can’t seem to pay the fee… you might as well pay with something else.”

His gaze lingered meaningfully as he leaned close to your ear. “…or rather,” he whispered, “someone else.”

With a casual flick, he popped open the button of your dress collar. The fabric loosened instantly beneath his fingers, and you gasped, hurriedly clutching it closed again. He chuckled under his breath, almost mockingly, as though amused by how flustered you were. “You act like a virgin.”

Then, unexpectedly, his expression shifted. “I have a daughter,” he said suddenly.

That made you pause.

“…She has always liked the castella cake I buy for her. Which is probably why you realized by now why I always purchase that specific one from your little bakery.”

You stayed quiet, unsure how to react. You knew he had been married once, but you had never heard that he had a daughter. The thought that someone like him was actually a father felt strangely unsettling.

“Her mother and I were arranged in a loveless marriage,” he continued casually. “I never felt any romantic attachment to her. But we had a child nonetheless.”

His fingers brushed along your cheek, and you shivered slightly at the unexpected gentleness of the touch. “But I do dote on my daughter,” he said, almost thoughtfully. “Quite a lot, actually. I cherish her.”

He paused for a moment before continuing. “Her nanny has grown rather old over the years. I’ve been looking for a replacement.”

Your brows lifted slightly in surprise. You weren’t sure if he was implying what you thought he was. You didn’t even know how old his daughter was.

He noticed the faint relief crossing your face. Then his hand suddenly slid back over your dress. You yelped softly when his warm palms settled against your bare thighs.

“Oh, don’t look so relieved just yet,” he murmured with a low chuckle. “I still have my interests in you, little dove.” His voice rumbled with quiet amusement as his fingers traced lightly over your skin. “You belong to me now,” he continued, his gaze locking onto yours.

“For a lifetime.”

His hands slowly brushed along the inside of your thighs. He leaned closer until his lips were a hair’s breadth from yours. “I’m having a bad day dealing with some outdated fools,” he murmured. “The least you could do for me is be good.”

His nose brushed against your jaw as he inhaled deeply, as though savoring your scent. You instinctively held your breath. One of his hands pinned your wrist against the desk while the other settled at the back of your nape.

His lips curved into a wicked smirk, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “You like this, don’t you?”

His hands slid higher, fingers grazing the lacy edge of your panties. A soft gasp escaped you before you could stop it.

He hushed you immediately, his voice dropping into something almost coaxing. “You signed up for this, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I think it’s far too late to back out now. Think about your precious papa sitting in that cell.”

This bastard.

He had done that on purpose, just to remind you.

You frowned, and he seemed to enjoy that reaction far too much.

Leaning closer, he pressed soft kisses against the edge of your ear before trailing them slowly down your jaw. He wasn’t touching you intimately, not truly, but it felt like he was.

Every brush of his fingers, every whisper against your skin set your nerves on fire. He was stoking something inside you, a slow-burning heat you weren’t sure you wanted to extinguish.

You weren’t even sure you could.

“Come now, little dove,” he breathed, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Are you going to be good for me… or do I need to make you?” His teeth grazed your earlobe, and you yelped softly. A biting tease, a silent threat. He wanted to hear you say it. And if you didn’t, he looked entirely prepared to make you beg.

His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your panties, touching your bare skin for the first time. Your whimper fills the air, a sweet sound that makes his blood sing with hunger. He feels the heat of you, the slickness of your folds. “Dirty girl, already this wet while waiting for me?” he taunts you, the soft pad of his thumb pressed against your clit, the way your body yields to his touch. It’s intoxicating, addictive, and he knows he’s found something he wants to possess completely.

Your face grew warm at the realization, feeling embarrassment rush over your entire face that you were capable of such a thing. You were definitely ashamed of it.

His fingers stroke through your folds, teasing, exploring—learning what makes you gasp and what makes you moan. “You’re so soft, so responsive. I can feel you throbbing for my touch already.” He continued to circle your clit with the pad of his finger, applying the barest pressure just enough to make you ache for more. His other hand slides up your side, cupping the soft swell of your breast, thumb pressing over the peak of your nipple through the fabric of your dress. He can feel it stiffen under his touch.

Part of it was that you hated how your body responded to him in every way possible. You couldn’t help but shudder at every touch he gave, your voice betraying you with involuntary sighs and soft whimpers.

“Look at you,” he whispers, voice rough with desire. “Coming undone with the simplest touch. I’ve barely started, and you’re already panting for me.” His fingers dip lower, slipping between your folds, feeling your slick heat coat his skin. “I wonder how long it will take before you’re begging me for more?” He curls his fingers inside you, stroking your inner walls, feeling them clench around him. His palm grinds against your clit, the pressure delicious and maddening all at once. From the looks of it, he’s not going to let up, not until he’s had his fill.

And judging by the way your body responds, you might just let him have it. “Keep your eyes on me while I fuck my fingers into you, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice almost commanding. His dark eyes stayed fixed on you. Your mouth fell open as you struggled to maintain eye contact while he worked you through it.

His fingers thrust deeper—harder, the obscene sound of your wetness filling the room. “Can feel you getting closer, your cunt tightening around me. You want to come, don’t you?” He taunts you as he leans in, brushing your ear, breath mingling with yours. “Come for me then, sweetheart.” With that, his fingers pump harder, faster—driving into you with a newfound urgency. He can feel you tensing, your walls fluttering around his invading digits, and he knows you’re close.

You gripped his shoulders, tightening around him as you finally got your release, coming undone hard enough that you moaned out his name.

“That’s it,” he praises, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. He swallows your cries, drinking in the sweet sounds of your ecstasy. His tongue delves deep, tangling with yours as he claims you thoroughly. The kiss feels like more than simple desire. It’s as if he wants to devour you entirely, like he wants to crawl beneath your skin and stay there, chasing the heat and hunger only you seem able to give him.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you’re both left panting.

His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with desire, a wicked glint flickering in their depths. He’s not done with you yet. Not by a long shot. “Fuck… that was intense.”

He slips his fingers from you, bringing them to his lips. You watch, dazed and pleasure-drunk, as he slowly licks your essence from his skin. The way his eyes never leave yours only makes the sight more embarrassing, more intimate than it should be. “Tastes better than that sweet cake itself,” he confesses, a filthy smirk tugging at his lips.

“For someone so defiant like a kitty, you sure listen to me obediently.” He laughs softly, the sound edged with mockery.

His hands grasp your knees before he sharply spreads your legs wider, making you gasp. His gaze never leaves you, firm and unwavering. “From now on,” he says calmly, “you’ll cater to my daughter’s needs… and meet me like this every evening at six.”

With that, he captures your lips in another heated kiss. Your protest is muffled as he maneuvers you roughly against the desk.

The rest is history.

…

You had never had a child of your own, nor had you ever imagined caring for one. However, that didn’t mean you were bad with children.

So when you met the current nanny, a woman probably in her sixties, you couldn’t help but feel slightly surprised. She didn’t look nearly as fragile as Jeonghan had exaggerated. If anything, she seemed rather firm, strict even like someone who had managed the Yoon estate for many years.

It was clear she had experience.

You had no doubts about her abilities. If anything, your doubts lay with Jeonghan himself.

Whatever reason he had for suddenly assigning you the role of caring for his daughter felt unusual. Why would he entrust you with something so personal? Of all people, he should know better than to let a stranger become this close to his family.

The thought lingered quietly in your mind.

Once, when you had tried to pursue your original profession, you had worried it might someday put your family at risk. Perhaps that was why things had never worked out the way you had hoped.

Perhaps there had been a reason you never managed to follow that path.

As you listened to the rules she explained, you soon realized she wasn’t merely the young lady’s caretaker. She had been managing the Yoon estate for many years. You didn’t ask for further details, but it was clear she must know Jeonghan far better than most.

When she opened the door that presumably led to his daughter’s room, she began, “You will only need to prepare teatime for Miss Yoon. You don’t need to concern yourself with the rest of the household.”

You blinked as you glanced through the small opening of the door. From where you stood, you couldn’t see the girl clearly. She appeared to be sitting by the window, her figure faintly reflected in the glass, but the details of her face were indistinct.

“Then… may I ask?” you said cautiously. “How old is the young lady?”

Your question made the old woman hesitate.

It was subtle, but you noticed the way her shoulders stiffened as she tried to remain composed. “…She’s ten.”

That was all she said.

Something about the way she answered made suspicion stir within you. She had been sharp and confident before, yet now there was uncertainty in her voice, her eyes avoiding yours.

As if she were lying.

You brushed the thought aside, not wanting to make it a bigger issue than it was.

Everything should be manageable. You could balance your time between the bakery and this new responsibility. After all, Jeonghan wasn’t that cruel.

For now.

Soon, you would have to attend your father’s trial.

And then what?

Even if Jeonghan truly guaranteed your father’s innocence, you knew things could never return to the way they once were. You had already paid the price. There was no backing out now. You had chosen this yourself, after all. And yet… a quiet unease lingered in your chest, as though you had stepped onto a path that would never let you walk away.

Joshua handled the proceedings with remarkable efficiency.

The case was brought before a different judge that morning, an older man with silver hair and a stern expression who barely spared a glance at the spectators filling the small courtroom.

Documents were presented. Testimonies reviewed.

Joshua spoke calmly but firmly, pointing out the inconsistencies in the accusation that had placed your father behind bars in the first place. What had once looked like an open-and-shut case slowly unraveled before the court’s eyes.

By the end of the hearing, the truth was painfully obvious. Your father had been wrongfully accused.

The judge adjusted his spectacles before delivering the final verdict. “Given the evidence presented,” he said gravely, “the court finds no grounds to continue this prosecution.”

Your hands tightened around the wooden bench.

“The defendant is hereby cleared of all charges and released effective immediately.”

The gavel struck.

And just like that, your father was free.

Your heart suddenly felt lighter. The heavy weight that had been pressing against your chest for so long finally began to lift. Though you knew there were still many things waiting to unravel in the future, you couldn’t guarantee that life would ever return to normal after this.

All you could do was pray that the world would be kinder to you from now on. Although… that felt like too much to ask after bargaining with the devil.

Your father would be released properly soon enough. For now, you and Joshua stepped outside the courtroom together.

It wouldn’t be a lie to say that you were curious about how Jeonghan had managed to secure someone like Joshua as an attorney so quickly. Then again, a man like him probably had connections everywhere.

You wondered if Joshua knew what lurked behind Jeonghan’s deception.

“Thank you for everything, Attorney Hong,” you said, offering him a small smile. “You helped us a great deal.”

In return, he gave you his usual gentle smile.

“I already told you to just call me Joshua,” he said lightly. “But yes, it is my job.”

You couldn’t help but wonder more about him, whether he knew anything about the truth behind all of this. You searched his expression carefully for any hint of the kind of manipulation Jeonghan carried so effortlessly.

But there was none.

“I know this may not be my place to ask,” you began slowly, “but… do you and Judge Yoon know each other?”

Joshua chuckled softly as he adjusted his tie. “Ah, there’s no need to worry about that. We’ve known each other since we were students,” he replied. “So when he suddenly asked me for a favour… I’ll admit it was rather unusual coming from him.”

“Oh,” you murmured. “A favour, you mean?”

Joshua hummed thoughtfully. “He didn’t specify much. Only that there was a complicated case he thought would suit me.”

So that meant he was unaware of your situation… and of your arrangement with Jeonghan. Still, the thought of anyone else learning about it made unease stir within you.

“Miss ___?” Joshua’s gentle voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yes?”

“This may sound a little forward,” he said carefully, “but… is there someone waiting for you?”

You blinked, trying to process his question.

Seeing your confusion, he laughed softly, his expression charming and warm. “My apologies,” he clarified. “What I meant to ask is… are you currently seeing anyone?”

It took you a moment to respond before you shook your head with a faint smile. “No… there isn’t anyone like that waiting for me.”

Joshua smiled, almost with relief. “Then… would you mind if I sought to court you someday?”

That truly caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected such a question. It wasn’t the first time someone had expressed interest in you. There had been others before, even Seokmin once.

But that felt like a lifetime ago.

You hesitated before answering. “…I’m sorry, Joshua,” you said gently. “I don’t think I’m in the right place to pursue love or marriage right now.” You offered him an apologetic smile.

If you were being honest, you had considered such dreams once. But those hopes had faded long ago, first because of your father’s illness, and now because of your situation with Jeonghan.

Perhaps a life of your own family simply wasn’t meant for you.

Joshua accepted your rejection with remarkable grace. “I understand,” he said calmly. “Then I can only hope that if fate allows us to meet again… you might consider me with an open heart.”

You smiled in return, grateful for his kindness.

He reached for your hand and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. “Do write to me if you ever need my help.”

With that, he finally took his leave.

For some reason, you found yourself wishing him happiness. And deep inside, a small part of you hoped that perhaps, in another life or under different circumstances, you might meet him again properly.

As you watched Joshua disappear down the courthouse steps, a black carriage stood quietly across the street.

Inside it, a familiar pair of eyes observed everything.

...

Six o’clock was nearing.

You informed Chan to handle the closing at the bakery. After all, you trusted your staff completely, they had been working with you for years.

You also told your papa not to wait for you tonight. You claimed you had matters to attend to outside, much to his disappointment that you couldn’t spend the evening with him. It hurt more than you expected to lie to him like that.

You had told him you were fortunate enough to meet a capable attorney, that his case had been reopened through a petition. The lie tasted bitter in your mouth, but it was easier than explaining the truth. It pained you to lie to Seokmin as well. Though you had been careful and secretive about it, you could only hope he hadn’t noticed anything strange.

Something about the Yoon estate always made you uneasy.

There were maids and servants around, yet you could hardly feel their presence. They rarely spoke, barely interacted with anyone. Sometimes you wondered what the point of hiring them was if they behaved like shadows.

The only person who ever spoke to you normally was the nanny. She had been in the estate the longest.

It wasn’t the quiet that bothered you, it was the air itself. Something about it felt… unsettling. Perhaps it was just your imagination. Still, for such a large estate, the silence felt unnatural.

By now you should have heard a child running down the hallways, laughter echoing through the rooms.

But Miss Yoon wasn’t quite the child you had imagined.

It was strange, yet you never questioned it.

You replaced the tea and placed a fresh slice of cake on the table, just as the nanny had instructed. You didn’t look directly at the young lady, nor did you attempt to speak to her.

Still, you couldn’t help noticing that the table sat just beside the chair.

From behind, you could see the young girl sitting there, facing the window.

Unmoving.

At first, you hadn’t paid much attention to the details. But over time, you began to notice something odd.

The same warm tea would grow cold. The same slice of cake would remain untouched.

Morning. Afternoon. Evening. Night.

Every time you replaced them, they remained exactly the same. It felt wasteful, yet the nanny had insisted you change everything at every teatime.

A faint sense of dread began to creep into your thoughts.

While waiting for Jeonghan’s arrival, you took a quiet stroll through the estate. Your eyes wandered toward the library, a room that had quickly become your refuge. The shelves were filled with books of every kind, and whenever you had spare time, you found yourself drawn there.

Strangely enough, Jeonghan never seemed to mind. That alone unsettled you.

Your steps eventually slowed near a familiar door. His daughter’s room.

The door was slightly open.

You stepped closer, peering inside. The same chair faced the window, its back turned toward you. Once again, you could only see the girl’s silhouette.

You leaned slightly to catch her reflection in the glass.

Just before you could make it out—

“Miss ___.”

You startled at the voice. Mrs. Thompson stood behind you, her expression stern. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said firmly. “Lord Yoon will be arriving shortly.”

You blinked slowly, adjusting the silk robe around your shoulders. “…Right. I’m sorry. I was just returning from the library.”

Mrs. Thompson studied you for a moment before stepping forward and gently closing the door. Her movements seemed almost… protective or perhaps cautious.

Your attention then shifted to the suitcase she was holding. “Were you about to leave?” you asked, brows lifting in surprise.

The thought of her leaving so soon unsettled you more than you expected. If anything, you preferred having her around. It had only been a week since this strange routine began, and the estate already felt eerie enough.

She nodded. “I received a letter earlier today. One of my relatives has passed away,” she explained calmly. “I informed Lord Yoon beforehand. I trust you will be able to manage in my absence.”

“Ah… I see,” you murmured quietly. You tried not to show your disappointment. “My condolences.”

You were never the type to pry into other people’s affairs. Still, it was difficult to ignore when there were so many things left unexplained, so many mysteries surrounding this house. Everything in this estate… everything involving Yoon Jeonghan himself… felt unsettling.

Disturbing, even.

Ironically, when you first met him, you had assumed he was simply a lonely, sorrowful man. Now it felt like something far deeper than that. Whatever lay behind his actions, you knew better than to dig into it. Some things were better left unknown. Ignorance was bliss, as they say.

Your fingers drifted over the frame of a photograph resting on his mahogany desk, the very same desk where he had taken you before. The memory alone warmed your cheeks, and you quickly pushed the thought away.

The photograph showed a young girl. Her smile was angelic. You assumed it must be his daughter. At last, you were seeing her face clearly. It was almost amusing how much she resembled her father.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.

Jeonghan had arrived.

You quickly set the photograph back down before turning toward him.

His eyes flicked briefly to the frame you had just replaced, then returned to you. “I assume Mrs. Thompson has already informed you about her leave?” he said casually.

He approached slowly, hands tucked inside the robe draped over his nightwear.

“She did,” you replied, straightening slightly. “Though I’m not sure when she’ll return.”

Jeonghan smirked. The expression alone sent a chill down your spine as he stepped closer, trapping you between him and the desk.

Your back pressed lightly against the wood.

“Why the worried face?” he murmured. “Afraid you’ll be spending more time here than you expected?”

You stiffened as he leaned down, his breath brushing beneath your jaw as he inhaled your scent. To him, the faint sweetness of flour and sugar lingering from the bakery, mixed with your soft perfume, was intoxicating.

“I wasn’t,” you replied.

But your voice came out softer than intended. Barely audible. Not when his face was already buried against your neck, his lips brushing down toward your collarbone while you instinctively steadied yourself with your hands against his chest.

He pulled back suddenly. His face hovered inches from yours. “Next time,” he said calmly, his dark eyes piercing into you, “try saying it properly. Like you’re standing in a courtroom… not whimpering beneath me.”

Heat rushed to the back of your neck.

The audacity of this man, placing the courtroom and your humiliation in the same sentence.

He chuckled. His hands slipped easily around your waist, pulling you closer as he hummed softly, clearly pleased by the sight of you in silk nightwear. “Don’t start acting shy now,” he teased. “Not when you were moaning my name beneath me just yesterday.”

You inhaled sharply, staring at him in disbelief. “Could you not say that?”

“Oh, of course I can,” he replied lightly. “You’re mine, after all.”

He tilted your head gently before pressing his lips to yours. This kiss was different. It was slow and sensual. Nothing like the rough intensity he usually showed. And you hated the way you found yourself melting into it.

You had never imagined something as simple as a kiss could feel so intoxicating—not when he deepened it, his tongue brushing against yours as though claiming you completely.

For a moment, you forgot why you were even here.

Eventually, you both pulled away, breathless. “You enjoy this more than you realize, little bird,” he murmured with a grin.

“Ugh.” You tried to turn away, but he caught your hips easily, holding you in place.

His chin rested against your shoulder as he whispered softly beside your ear. “Ah, ah. And where do you think you’re going?”

You exhaled slowly, your breathing shallow as your back rested against him, his arms loosely wrapped around you.

“Though I would prefer you to be more obedient,” he continued thoughtfully, “I must admit this defiant side of you is far more entertaining.”

His lips brushed gently against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

He was infuriating. A cruel bastard.

Those were the words you wanted to say. In spite of that, you had made an agreement with him. Even so, the strange atmosphere of this house continued to nag at the back of your mind. Yet you dared not ask directly.

Instead, you tried something safer.

You asked about his daughter. “I haven’t heard her name yet,” you said carefully. “May I ask, if you don’t mind?”

For a brief moment, silence filled the room. You didn’t dare turn around to see his expression. You couldn’t tell if he was upset or something else entirely. But eventually, he answered. “Jiae,” he said simply. “…It means wisdom and intelligence, combined with love.” His voice softened slightly. “Isn’t that beautiful?” His fingers tightened slightly around your waist when he said her name.

You could feel his warm breath against your skin. For a moment, the way he held you felt almost like that of lovers.

Except that the two of you were nothing close to that.

You hadn’t expected him to answer so calmly. If anything, you had expected him to snap at you.

“It is…” you replied quietly.

The thought lingered in your mind. This man was a father, and yet he lived a life surrounded by corruption. You couldn’t tell whether it was driven by pleasure, greed, or hatred. Perhaps it was all of them.

Either way, you decided you would rather not know.

Come to think of it, you wondered if he had any other family aside from just him and his ‘daughter’. It wasn’t your place to ask anyway. You had your assumptions here and there, but you preferred to remain unbothered by them. Feeling a bit braver, you spoke up.

“...Are there any family members aside from just your daughter and you?” you asked softly, your head not daring to turn toward him as if he might bite the moment you did.

He only let out a faint chuckle, the kind that made every part of your skin crawl in the most eerie way. “Interested in my lineage, huh?” His grip tightened, squeezing your hips and forcing you to shift.

“To answer that…” he whispered against your ear in a way that felt almost intimate, both electrifying and unsettling. “…I’m quite distant from my parents. Ever since my late wife passed away, I’ve been distant from my in-laws as well.”

What does he mean by that?

Your lingering thoughts were abruptly cut off when he suddenly pushed you against his desk. Your palms instinctively caught yourself on the surface as you felt your body bend forward. You blinked in surprise, feeling him hover over your back. Your hips pressed against him, making you stiffen as a sharp inhale escaped your lips.

“Why? Interested in continuing my bloodline?” he whispered, his hot breath making you feel flushed at how close he was. His hands rested over yours, pinning them there.

His chuckle this time was crueler, as if he were mocking you or simply enjoying the way you reacted.

When you tried to protest and spin around, he held you firmly in place, making you gasp. The position was compromising, normally you would have tried to shove him away, but you couldn’t afford to provoke his temper. For someone with such a sharp tongue, he also had a dangerously quiet patience.

“Stay where you are, sweetheart,” he murmured lowly, his voice turning rough. “If you’re interested in being part of my family, the option is always open.”

A small, helpless whine escaped your lips when you felt him grind sharply against you. Your breath caught in your throat at his words. The implication alone was enough to make heat rush up your neck, your fingers tightening against the polished wood beneath your palms.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, though the protest lacked its usual sharpness.

Another low chuckle escaped him. “Am I?” he murmured, voice brushing against your ear as his chest pressed closer to your back. “You’re the one asking about my family.”

You swallowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

His fingers slowly slid over yours where they rested on the desk, deliberately intertwining them as if he were claiming the space between them. “But you’re curious,” he continued softly. “And curiosity always leads somewhere interesting.”

You tried to twist around to face him again, but his hand settled firmly against your waist, keeping you exactly where you were.

“Did I say you could move?” he asked, the amusement in his tone unmistakable.

A frustrated breath left you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning closer so his lips nearly brushed the shell of your ear, “you keep coming back to me.”

The warmth of him behind you was impossible to ignore now. Every slight movement only made you more aware of how close he was, how easily he could keep you pinned there.

Your heart pounded louder than you liked. “You’re impossible,” you whispered.

“Perhaps.” His grip tightened slightly on your waist, not painful, just enough to remind you of the position you were in. “But you didn’t answer me,” he added quietly. “About joining my family.”

You scoffed under your breath, trying to regain some composure. “You’re the one who dragged me into this mess in the first place.”

“Dragged you?” he hummed. “That’s an interesting way to describe it.”

Before you could reply, he pressed himself against your back, one hand sliding around to your stomach while the other gripped your hip possessively. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck as he spoke with a needy rumble. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re not married.”

Your breath hitched, your mouth falling slightly open when you felt his other hand slide lower, cupping your inner thigh beneath the silk fabric, just close enough to touch you intimately. His other hand slid up from your hip, fingers tracing the underside of your breast through the thin fabric of your nightwear. Your heart racing beneath his palm, matching the frantic pounding of his own.

He nipped at your earlobe before trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. Cupping your breasts fully, his thumb brushing against the peak of your nipple through the fabric. Letting out an audible sigh, your silk robe slipped slightly off your shoulder, the thin strap of your nightwear sliding easily down your smooth skin.

Jeonghan’s hand slid up, yanking the silk robe the rest of the way off. He pushed the outer layer aside as it pooled on the floor, exposing your skin to the cool air, and to his heated gaze. Now his hand cupped the soft swell of your breast, thumb brushing against the curve as he leaned in to whisper hotly against your ear, “You like this, don’t you?” He made a sharp thrust against your ass, yelping at the roughness. “Keep whimpering like that, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck you so hard until all you know is the feeling of me inside, around you, consuming you completely.”

His words send shivers down to your spine. He let out a low, feral growl as he pulled your nightwear up, the silky fabric, and ripped your panties aside, baring your most intimate area to his gaze. You could feel the heat of your core, the slick arousal that coated your folds and the cold air made you whimper. He wasted no time as his fingers slid through your slickness, teasing your entrance before pushing inside, filling you in one swift, hard thrust.

"Always so ready for me, little bird,” he groaned, “Can feel how much you want this, how much you need me inside you.” He pumped his fingers in and out of you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nubs. His other hand slid up to kneading the soft flesh roughly as he pinched and rolled your nipple between his fingers. Before you could even process the pleasure of having him finally touch you, he took it away from you.

You could only whine helplessly, feeling the surge of overwhelmedness, he was grinning and you tried to plead him wanting for more. At this point, you can’t help but to surrender to your desire for your desperate release.

Jeonghan didn’t waste no time in fulfilling your desperate plea, with a guttural groan, he hilted himself inside you with one powerful thrust, your body yielding to his as he stretched and filled you completely. A moan escaped from your lips, your walls clenching down around his hard length.

He set a hard, fast pace, pounding into you with a fervor you’d never experienced before. Each thrust pushed you forward, the desk creaking beneath you with the force of his lovemaking. One hand gripped your hip, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he held you in place. The other slid up to your throat, tilting your head back to expose the column of your neck to his hungry mouth. Licking and sucking at the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing your pulse point before he bit down, marking you as his. All the while, he never ceased his relentless thrusts, his cock driving into you deep and hard. Hitting that secret spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

He punctuated his filthy words with a sharp thrust, grinding his pelvis against your ass as he filled you completely, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your fluttering walls. You were blabbering nonsense as he fucked you, unable to keep your mind straight.

Jeonghan groaned deeply as he felt your walls fluttering and clenching around his throbbing cock, your body tensing as your climax approached. He redoubled his efforts, fucking you with wild abandon as he chased your pleasure, determined to make you come undone. “That’s it, darling,” he growled against your nape. "Come for me, I’ll pump your womb full with my seed and put a baby in you.” He could feel his own release building, his balls tightening as your velvet walls squeezed him like a vice. He gritted his teeth, fighting back his own climax, wanting to hold off until he could make you come first.

The thought of yourself pregnant with his child is almost frantic, yet your pussy clenched hard around his shaft, like you’re about to snap him in half. He chuckled darkly when he felt it, “You want that, sweetheart? I’ll make you a mother then, so that you could only depend on me.”

Suddenly, he felt your body stiffen and then convulse beneath him, your back arching as you cried out his name. Your walls flutter as your orgasm crashes over you. He mumbled out a cuss, his voice echoing off the bedroom walls. Jeonghan slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside your spasming cunt. He let out a guttural groan, finding his own release as he filled you with his hot seed.

“You are so good to me, sweetheart.” he gasped out, brushing his lips against your nape, hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself inside you. “...so fucking good. You’re mine…all mine, remember that.” he whispered, placing a feverish kiss on your bare shoulder.

Chapter 3: A Confession To Be Told

You have been spacing out a lot lately. Sometimes you would be sleeping soundly beside Jeonghan, and then there would be moments when you felt strangely restless.

Both mentally and physically, you felt disturbed. You weren’t sure if you had lost track of your cycle, and your appetite had become so sensitive that you could barely eat properly. You figured it was simply the result of stress, managing the bakery along with everything else weighing on your mind.

Your thoughts were suddenly snapped away when Seungkwan called your name repeatedly as you stood at the cashier. “Are you alright?” he asked, examining you from head to toe as if trying to make sure.“You’ve been distant a lot lately. I hope you’re not seriously sick.”

You gave him a faint smile and shook your head. “I’m alright… just a little restless, perhaps.”

He didn’t seem convinced. His eyes lingered on the silver diamond necklace around your neck. “That’s beautiful,” he said. “When did you buy it?”

You didn’t answer right away. Absentmindedly, you reached up and gently held the necklace. Your mind drifted as you remembered it was given by Jeonghan. Though to you, it felt less like a gift and more like a collar, something meant to remind you that you belonged to him.

Instead, you gave Seungkwan a small smile. “It’s from a friend…” you said.

Seungkwan hummed thoughtfully as he continued packaging the goods. “Right. This friend of yours definitely knows how to choose the perfect gift for a lady.”

You didn’t reply. It almost sounded as if he was implying you were seeing someone, though the situation was far more complicated than he imagined.

Setting that thought aside, you greeted another customer approaching as usual, offering the warm smile you always wore. A man stood tall before you, his broad shoulders immediately catching your attention. He looked a little intimidating at first. You didn’t think you had ever seen him around before, probably a new face.

After he made his purchase, he gave you a small nod, and you returned it with a polite smile. It was unusual; you found yourself watching his figure until he disappeared from sight.

“Boo, do you know that man just now? I don’t think I’ve ever seen his face here…” you asked.

Seungkwan lifted his head from his work and thought for a moment. “Oh, yeah. He just recently started coming by. I think his name was Seungcheol?” he said. Then he added, “He usually comes around this hour when you’re not here.”

You turned to look at him. “Recently?” you questioned.

Seungkwan hummed in response. “Yeah, he said he’s kind of new here. Got dispatched here because of work reasons,” he shrugged casually.

You didn’t answer immediately. “…Oh. May I ask what his occupation is?”

“I think he mentioned something about investigation-related work,” Seungkwan said with another shrug. “I don’t know much though. Maybe he’s a police officer or something.”

Unexpectedly, Seokmin came in, his usual bright smile directed at you. It made your heart feel lighter for a moment, only a little. Sometimes you had forgotten that you’d been spending less time with him. You had even forgotten that you’d promised him a day out, something he had been looking forward to for a while.

So you went anyway, wanting to get some fresh air from everything. Just to breathe, even for a moment. You hoped he didn’t notice the weariness on your face that you sometimes tried to hide. The thought of him questioning you about it made you feel even more drained. You simply didn’t want to explain anything.

As the two of you strolled past the shops, you suddenly noticed a familiar figure across a boutique.

It was Mrs. Kwon.

Since when had her probation ended? You assumed you simply hadn’t been keeping track, but seeing her spending lavishly again, just like before. It reminded you that she had won favor in her previous case regarding her late husband. Ironically, she didn’t look sorrowful at all. In fact, it was the complete opposite. She looked exactly the same as she did before the case, as if nothing had ever happened.

Your suspicion stirred.

Then you remembered that Judge Yoon had been the one assigned to her case.

Did she bribe him too?

So occupied with your thoughts, you didn’t even hear Seokmin calling your name several times. You blinked and turned to him.

“Yes?”

He studied your face. “You’ve been so distracted lately. Your staff even told me you’ve been acting unusual,” he said with a sigh. “You know, if you’re feeling unwell, you can tell me anything.”

You smiled at him, a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, though you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“I’m alright. Just a little restless, I guess.”

Seokmin smiled back, believing you. He continued browsing the jewelry displayed in the shop window.

“I was thinking of getting you something nice,” he said, “but when I saw that necklace you’re wearing, I decided to choose something else.”

Blinking, you glanced down at the necklace Jeonghan had given you.

“T-this?”

He hummed as he examined the different pieces of jewelry. “It got me thinking. The one you’re wearing is actually part of a matching set with a ring. It’s almost like a wedding gift.”

His eyes turned toward you.

Your throat suddenly felt dry. You didn’t know what to say. Did Jeonghan give it to you on purpose? Instead of feeling flattered, you only felt as if you were being trapped in something you had never agreed to.

Seokmin seemed not to notice your pale expression.

“It’s a shame,” he continued softly. “I was planning to choose that for you. I know you told me before that you don’t want to settle down yet, but I just wanted to make a promise with you.”

You felt a little lightheaded. Seokmin’s words never truly reached you. Your mind was flooded with too many things, and love simply had no space left within it.

“Are you alright, ____?” Seokmin gently held your hand, his voice soft with concern.

You steadied your breathing and nodded.

He could tell you were overwhelmed. Your lack of response made him flustered. “I’m sorry if I’m being too forward,” he said quickly. “I told you I would respect your decision—your space.” He inhaled slowly before continuing. “The truth is, I really want to be with you, ____. Lately, my family’s business has been facing a lot of problems. We’re dealing with some charges for reasons I don’t even fully understand yet.”

He hesitated before adding quietly, “I even got your father’s blessing for us.”

Your heart clenched.

“I just… I want to promise you the life I hope to build with you,” he said earnestly. “Maybe someday, when you’re ready, when you finally decide to find happiness with me.” You heard him clearly, his devotion, his sincerity. But you couldn’t accept it. Not when you were trapped in the circumstances you had created. Your life was no longer normal.

Sensing your silence, Seokmin rested his hand gently over yours and gave you a small smile. “Think about it, okay?” he said softly. “You know I’ve always loved you.” And yet the weight of the necklace around your throat felt heavier than ever. Even at this moment, when he wasn’t physically present, it felt as if Jeonghan was still there.

Then your eyes drifted past the glass of the shop window, and you saw the last person you expected to meet right now.

Jeonghan.

He was staring straight into your soul. Sitting inside the café across the street with one leg crossed over the other, he calmly sipped his drink. Had he been watching you the entire time while you were with Seokmin? The implication alone made your breath hitch.

Slowly, you withdrew your hand from Seokmin’s. Your pale expression was impossible to hide now. “I think… I need to go somewhere else first, Min,” you said suddenly. “We can… talk about this another time. After everything settles down, alright?”

You looked at him hopefully, wishing he would let it go. To your relief, he did, though you could see a hint of disappointment in his eyes when you indirectly avoided the conversation from earlier.

“Alright,” he said with a gentle smile. “Take care. I’ll be here whenever you need me.”

You nodded, offering him an apologetic smile before leaving the shop quickly. For some reason, your feet carried you straight into the café where Jeonghan was sitting.

He didn’t look surprised by your presence at all. Instead, he casually gestured toward the empty chair across from him. “Surprised, are we?” he said calmly. “Come. Won’t you accompany me on this lovely evening?”

You didn’t respond. You simply sat down across from him.

Whatever he was planning behind that calm expression, you refused to lower your guard. He had clearly seen you with Seokmin, yet it was impossible to tell what exactly was going through his mind.

He looked up at you now, his gaze steady and unreadable. He seemed… pleasant. That somehow made you even more uncomfortable.

“Is there any reason why you’re here?” you asked immediately, perhaps a little too sharply, as if you were trying to stop him from speaking first.

Jeonghan only grinned and placed his cup down with a soft clink. “Why? I’m simply enjoying my evening. I do have a life outside the courtroom, you know.” He hummed in amusement as he glanced out the window, toward the very place where you had been standing with Seokmin earlier. “I must say… that ‘friend’ of yours was rather touchy for someone getting close to a woman who doesn’t belong to him.”

The way he emphasized those words made you frown.

“He’s not just a friend,” you replied defensively. “He’s family. Perhaps even closer than that.”

Jeonghan hummed again, his eyes returning to yours.

“Is that so?” he said slowly. “Do family members usually propose to you and take you out to buy rings?”

You didn’t answer. Your palms tightened against the fabric of your coat.

He smirked at your silence. “And let’s be clear here,” he continued smoothly. “Does he even know you’re with me?”

You were about to reply, but he cut you off immediately.

“Don’t compare this to some cheap affair,” he said coldly. “Does it look like I treat you as a mere kept woman?” Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest with quiet arrogance. “The moment you made an agreement with me was the moment your life began to belong to me. Remember that.”

You stared at him in disbelief, momentarily at a loss for words.

“It’s unfortunate,” he continued casually, “that your friend happens to be the sole heir of his family business.”

Your ears sharpened immediately.

“I heard they’re currently facing charges involving money laundering. The opposing side has even approached me, asking if I would be willing to… assist them.”

Your brows furrowed. The implication became painfully clear in your mind. “Are you going to accept it?” you asked sharply. “Are you threatening me by putting my friend’s life at risk?”

Jeonghan chuckled softly. “Come now, little bird. You know it’s not my style to choose sides so easily. If something is too risky, why would I involve myself?”

He spoke casually, almost lazily. “Of course… it always depends on the case I’m handling.” He tilted his head slightly. “Though it’s usually quite obvious which side ends up being favored.”

Your heart began pounding violently. If the Lee family lost the case, they could go bankrupt–even if they were innocent. And judging from the way Jeonghan spoke so lightly about bribery and influence, it was clear he was playing with you.

Forcing you to choose. Just so he could remind you how much control he truly had.

“So?” he said with a soft tut. “The choice is yours, sweetheart. Say the word, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

You could hear the amusement in his voice, see the faint smile tugging at his lips.

The Lee family has helped you and your father many times. Of course you felt indebted to them. The thought of them suffering while you knew the truth… you weren’t sure you could live with that guilt.

You had already given yourself to Jeonghan. What more could he possibly want?

Exhaling slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. “What exactly do you gain from all of this?”

For a brief moment, he said nothing. He simply stared at you.

“You,” he answered at last.

You didn’t believe him. “Stop messing around,” you said, though your throat had gone dry.

Especially when the look in his eyes suggested something far more possessive. “Does it look like I am?” he asked quietly. He stood up and walked over to you, his steps slow and deliberate until he loomed beside your chair. “In return…” he murmured, leaning slightly closer. “You give yourself to me completely.”

Somehow, the necklace around your throat suddenly felt impossibly tight. Almost suffocating you, so that you can't even breathe.

…

You were never particularly religious, but sometimes you would stop by the church to offer your baked goods whenever they held Sunday prayers.

There were also days when you generously donated food to the orphanage, the lovely children who always welcomed you with bright smiles.

Lately, however, you had no reason to visit anymore.

And yet here you were now, early in the morning, sitting quietly in the church. You were the only one there as you clasped your hands together, your head bowed in prayer.

Everything had become so heavy. So difficult. With everything happening around you, you found yourself here, seeking solace and guidance, anything that might ease the turmoil in your heart. It felt as though you were walking straight toward the pit of hell, step by step, and there was no turning back.

You had never felt this lost before. Everything had become so complicated. When you finally finished your prayer, you let out a slow breath. Somehow, it made you feel a little lighter. Just a little.

The air inside the church felt cool and quiet. You should have been alone. Yet you could feel someone’s presence behind you. You didn’t turn around. “Speak,” you said calmly. “I know you’re there.”

A brief silence followed.

Then a voice spoke. “I apologize for disturbing you, madam,” the deep voice said. “My name is Choi Seungcheol. “Do you know a man named Yoon Jeonghan?”

You froze. Slowly, you turned to face the man. You tried not to show your surprise, but the mere mention of that name betrayed you.

“…No,” you said slowly. “…not personally. Why?”

The man named Seungcheol sighed as he stood up from the pew and approached you. You frowned immediately, your body going slightly rigid with caution.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t lie to me,” he said calmly. “I saw you with him yesterday. At the cafe.”

You let out a defeated sigh and stood up. “In that case, I have nothing to say about this.”

You began to walk past him, intending to leave, when suddenly he grabbed your wrist. Your brows furrowed as you immediately yanked your hand away. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t pull people around like that,” you said sharply, glaring at him. “Do you always grab someone’s hand whenever you feel like it?”

You hadn’t meant for your words to come out so harshly, but lately you had been far more sensitive than usual. At this point, you couldn’t even bother trying to be polite anymore.

Why did a man always have to bother you every time?

Seungcheol studied you for a moment, unfazed by your sharp tone. “There have been reports of judges accepting favors, altering verdicts,” he said. He paused slightly before adding, “His name tends to appear around those rumors.”

Something about his words made your heart pound violently, so hard that you couldn’t answer him right away. You didn’t know whether you were walking on thin ice, or if your prayers had been answered a little too quickly.

Thanks to Jeonghan, your paranoia has probably worsened.

Seungkwan did mention what kind of person Seungcheol was, and you figured this must be what he meant.

“Rumors,” you echoed, looking away as if clinging to a false sense of hope. But what was the point? You had long since let that kind of hope fade. “A judge receiving personal profits is something anyone would say after losing a case,” you continued. “If it’s only a rumor and not an actual allegation, then I can’t answer that, sir.”

With that, you turned and began walking out of the church.

Seungcheol hurried after you until you stopped and turned around again. You were already exhausted from everything surrounding this situation—until he suddenly held out an envelope.

“Hear me out,” he said, slightly out of breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve been investigating this man. Four years now.” His expression hardened. “He’s not the kind of man you think he is.”

You stared at him, then at the envelope in his hand. Deep down, you already knew that. But whatever truth lurked inside that envelope… you weren’t sure if you could handle it.

Still, you took it.

Later, the two of you sat together, discussing everything in private.

A cup of warm tea sat between you on the table, untouched. You hadn’t even noticed it growing cold as you listened to Seungcheol recount everything he had discovered during his investigation. Case after case. Rumors of corruption. Suspicious verdicts. Influence that reached far beyond the courtroom. All you could do was sit there, almost hollow, as if your soul had already drifted somewhere far away. None of this truly surprised you.

Somehow, though, you still felt… lost.

Then Seungcheol mentioned something about Jeonghan’s past. Something that made you falter.

“What?”

Seungcheol spoke carefully. “I need your help,” he said. “If you can bring me anything from his mansion—documents, records, anything that could serve as evidence.”

“I can’t do that,” you replied immediately. “What if I find nothing?”

“You have to try,” he insisted. “It’s the only way we can prove it in court.”

You looked down again at the newspaper article inside the envelope. An old tragedy. An arson incident involving the Yoon residence. It reported the devastating loss of Jeonghan’s family.

Then something caught your attention.

His daughter.

Your heart began pounding again, this time in a far more unsettling way.

The article stated that both his wife and daughter had died in the fire. Their injuries had been too severe for them to survive.

“Seungcheol…” you said quietly. “Tell me more about this case.”

He leaned back in his chair, recalling what he remembered.

“It happened about eight years ago, if I’m not mistaken. From what I gathered, it was likely retaliation from people who were dissatisfied with the outcome of a trial.”

He continued, “Judge Yoon was assigned to the case. I’m not sure exactly how things escalated, but the losing side apparently didn’t take the result well. They wanted revenge.”

Your throat went dry.

“So they targeted his family.” He sighed. “It was tragic, really. I never thought people could go that far just because they doubted someone’s work.” He paused before adding, “Maybe that incident changed him. But whatever the reason, it still doesn’t justify what he’s doing now.”

His tone hardened. “He’s practically letting criminals walk free.”

You were already aware of that. But your thoughts drifted to something else.

To a specific memory. To the girl inside that mansion.

The one living there with you and Jeonghan.

“D-does that mean… he’s the only survivor?” you asked hesitantly.

Seungcheol shook his head. “He wasn’t even home at the time,” he replied. “He returned from work just as the mansion was already burning.”

Your stomach twisted.

“They said he was screaming when he saw the fire.”

God.

You suddenly felt like you were going to throw up. Then who was that girl in the house? The one you had been serving. The one you brought tea to every day. The one who never touched the cake you carefully prepared. You pressed a hand to your forehead as dizziness washed over you. Lately, you have been feeling like this more and more often.

Maybe even longer than you realized.

“Are you alright, ____?” Seungcheol asked.

You nodded weakly. “I’m fine,” you said, attempting to reassure him. But the effort barely held.

Chapter 4: The Beginning and The End

He was known as a ruthless and impartial judge, a figure many defendants hoped to avoid once they learned he would be presiding over their case.

Everything in Jeonghan’s life had always been dull and gray.

The reason he pursued his profession was simple: he was following in his grandfather’s footsteps, the former director of the courthouse of the Union State of Sebong. For generations, the same career had passed down within his family.

From his university days to where he stood now, he had done nothing but live under those expectations. Even his marriage had been arranged by his mother. He paid little attention to it at the time; it was obvious they expected him to marry someone of equal status–the daughter of the chief judge.

Although their marriage was strained, they eventually had a child.

It was a girl. Her name was Jiae.

For the first time in his life, Jeonghan experienced something close to genuine joy when he first held that small bundle of life in his arms. He adored his daughter dearly, doting on her every chance he could. She grew up to be a kind and intelligent child. But that joy lasted only a few short years.

One evening, while he was on his way back home, he saw something that made his entire world collapse. His mansion was burning. Flames raged violently through the building, lighting up the night sky. His expression faltered as he rushed forward, attempting to run inside, but someone stopped him before he could reach the entrance. People were already trying to contain the fire, shouting over one another as the flames consumed everything.

Everything happened all at once. The suffocating heat. The deafening chaos. Jeonghan screamed until his throat burned raw, calling his daughter’s name as if she could somehow hear him through the inferno.

As if calling for her would bring her back.

Eventually he collapsed onto his knees, watching helplessly as the fire devoured the building.

A week later, during the funeral, he could only stare blankly at the gravestone of his daughter. His wife’s grave stood beside it. All he could think about was how painful it must have been for her inside that fire. How scared she must have been. The thought alone felt like knives tearing through his chest.

Time passed, but his grief never faded.

Then one day, he discovered something that changed everything. Behind the arson attack was the truth about his father-in-law. The man had been arrested for accepting personal profits for years. One of the cases he had presided over involved war crimes. He had deliberately allowed the perpetrators to walk free.

The verdict enraged the victims, causing the entire village to rise in anger. That anger eventually turned into violence. The violence that reached Jeonghan’s home.

His daughter. His family.

Jeonghan gripped the newspaper tightly in his hands as the truth finally connected in his mind. Everything made sense now, but one question remained. Why did he and his daughter—have to suffer the consequences of someone else’s sins?

Strangely, he found that he felt little grief for his late wife. Their marriage had always been nothing more than a loveless arrangement. They argued constantly. The only thing that had ever kept him together… was Jiae. She was the only good thing this world had given him, and the world had taken her away. Years passed, yet he still couldn’t move on. He lived trapped in the bitterness of the past, isolating himself from everything around him. Work became the only thing that occupied his mind.

Until one day, something strange happened. He passed by a small shop.

Something about it seemed to call to him. Inside, the store was filled with dolls, rows and rows of them, staring silently from shelves and glass cases. It was one of the most eccentric places he had ever seen.

Custom-made dolls, he assumed. He wandered through the shop slowly, examining them one by one.

Then a man suddenly appeared beside him. He wore an apron and carried a wide, almost mischievous smile. A Cheshire grin. The man introduced himself as Jun, the owner of the shop. Jeonghan hadn’t even realized how their conversation had begun. But when Jun suddenly spoke about believing in magic, Jeonghan nearly scoffed. Jun claimed he could make anything come true. Naturally, Jeonghan found the idea ridiculous and was about to leave.

Until he saw it.

A doll.

No… not just a doll.

It looked almost exactly like his daughter.

Jeonghan immediately asked if it was for sale.

Jun refused.

“No matter the price?” Jeonghan asked. Jun shook his head. “It’s not for sale.”

Jeonghan attempted to negotiate anyway, offering more money than most people could imagine.

But Jun remained firm. Instead, he offered something else.

A deal.

Jun explained that if Jeonghan truly wanted the doll, he would have to pay with something far more valuable.

Jeonghan frowned at that. If the man wanted money, he would simply say so. In spite of that, Jun kept insisting that what he wanted was something only humans could offer. Something more valuable than gold. When Jun mentioned something close to a soul, Jeonghan furrowed his brow.

And yet… he still accepted. So he made a deal with the devil.

From that day forward, Jeonghan began collecting greedy humans. Those who came to him with bribes, believed money could buy justice. He was selective with his clients. Even if they escaped punishment in court, their freedom never lasted long.

Soon after, they would disappear. Gone without a trace. Jeonghan never believed in witchcraft or supernatural nonsense, but watching them celebrate their purchased victories with dirty money only convinced him of one thing.

Hell was the only place waiting for them.

No one had the right to judge his sins except himself. He would never allow people like them to escape with the fortunes they used to corrupt the world.

And every soul he collected brought him one step closer.

Back in his mansion, the doll stood silently in its place. It looked almost alive. Life-sized, the same height as his daughter had once been. Its porcelain skin glowed softly beneath the light, dressed in a beautiful gown. Jeonghan treated it as if it were alive. He always returned home quickly, afraid she might feel lonely during his absence.

Sometimes he even spoke to her, as if she could hear him. He had convinced himself of one thing. If he collected enough greedy souls…

He might be able to bring her back to life.

…

The mansion felt unusually quiet.

It had always been quiet, but something about the air now felt even more eerie than before. After discovering everything from Seungcheol—who claimed to be part of the officers, you couldn’t see this place the same way anymore.

You knew Jeonghan had never been a good man. Whatever the reason behind it, you somehow found yourself capable of feeling a little sympathy for the tragedy that had happened to him. Still, none of his actions could ever be justified. It simply didn’t make sense.

Losing a child was something no parent could easily overcome. You could empathize with him for what he had been through, but grief was something a person had to face on their own. Yet the conflicting emotions only made your head ache the more you thought about it.

You have been emotionally sensitive lately, restless and easily overwhelmed. You really needed to take better care of yourself, especially when you were walking a line as fragile as a tightrope.

Before coming here, you made sure to tell Seungkwan and Chan to take care of the bakery in case there were days you wouldn’t return. They had looked confused, but you brushed it off. You even wrote a letter to Joshua. You couldn’t help it. In a situation like this, where you couldn’t tell anyone, not even your father, he was the only person you could trust. Perhaps it was because he was an attorney, someone you might eventually need to rely on.

It felt almost like you were foreshadowing something terrible the moment you stepped into Yoon’s mansion.

What if he suddenly decided never to let you leave? You needed to stop thinking like that.

Your hands trembled as you tried to steady the tray, the slice of cake and the teacup rattling slightly against the porcelain. Eventually, you gave up and placed it back down.

“You seem rather unwell these days,” Jeonghan’s voice came from behind you. He pushed himself away from the doorframe and slowly approached. “Exhausted, perhaps?”

You sighed softly, remaining where you stood, your arms folded loosely around your silk robe. “Maybe.”

He hummed quietly, studying the way you absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll take care of it,” he said calmly. “Go and rest.”

Yet somehow you still found yourself following him as he carried the tray toward his daughter’s room.

You stopped at the doorway. You didn’t dare step inside. From where you stood, you watched him carefully place the plate and teacup on the small table beside the chair facing the window. The figure sitting there had its back turned, only visible from your angle.

The soft melody of a music box filled the room as he opened it.

Jeonghan began speaking to her. His voice was quiet, almost gentle.

You couldn’t bear to listen. Letting out a slow breath, you stepped back and leaned against the wall outside the room.

The lullaby from the music box should have sounded comforting. Instead, it made your skin crawl. Something about it was too eerie, too wrong. You felt frozen in place, as if your body didn’t know whether to run or stay. There was no way he could be keeping a living corpse in there. If that were true, you would have noticed something before—the smell, the decay, the unmistakable signs of death.

But the last time you stepped inside the room, it smelled faintly of flowers.

And the glimpse you caught… the smooth skin, almost porcelain-like. Far too perfect to belong to anything human.

In the end, you quickly returned to the bedroom—his room, or rather, the one you both shared now. You wouldn’t even be surprised anymore if he suddenly showed up one day with a ring, just to seal the deal.

After a while, you saw him enter the room carrying another tray with two teacups. “Drink up,” he said simply. You sat up from the bed and took the cup, glancing down at the liquid before looking back at him.

He chuckled lightly, taking the cup from your hand and sipping from it before returning it to you. “What?” he teased. “Do you think so little of me that I’d poison you?” You didn’t protest, sipping from the same spot his lips had touched. An indirect kiss. The aroma of the tea filled your senses—ginger and peppermint, you thought. It soothed the nausea that had been bothering you lately.

The gesture itself was strangely sweet, and yet you still found yourself drawn back to him. It wasn’t like he had ever been violent with you. He had never once raised a hand to harm you.

Only rough in bed.

Ironically.

You placed the cup aside. He was sitting at the edge of the bed beside you. The moment felt almost too calm. For someone like him, he was the perfect image of an angel in disguise, acting like a gentleman even though you knew deep down he was crueler than the criminals he judged. You wondered what he had been like with his late wife. He had mentioned it was a loveless marriage. Still, imagining him with a lover was the last thing you would have expected.

Then again… he was a father. Humans were complicated like that. Even they could never fully understand their own hearts.

“You’re acting strange today,” you said, glancing toward him.

He only grinned and leaned closer across the bed. You had already grown used to the closeness. “Am I?” he murmured with a soft chuckle, his nose nearly touching yours. “It’s a little sad that you didn’t come in earlier. My daughter has grown rather fond of your presence.”

You froze for a moment, your eyes searching his.

Still, you forced yourself to remain calm. “…Is that so?” you replied slowly. “I didn’t realize my presence mattered that much.” He hummed, his hand gently cradling your face before leaning in to kiss you.

You kissed him back.

“It does,” he whispered softly. “And what if I told you she wants you here forever?”

You pulled back slightly, studying his face. “Don’t joke about something like that.”

“I wasn’t joking.” His eyes remained fixed on yours, completely serious.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The distance between you was barely a breath. You sighed quietly and pulled him back into another kiss. He groaned softly against your mouth. “You’re rather needy today, little bird.”

You exhaled softly against his lips. “I’m emotionally sensitive these days,” you murmured before pressing your lips to his again. You needed warmth, something comforting. And the only person you had was him. Jeonghan didn’t deny you. He gave you exactly what you wanted as your kiss deepened. For a moment, you tried to forget the uneasiness creeping through your mind, the fear that lingered in the corners of this house.

And the only place you could hide from it…

Was in him.

…

You had never felt so anxious, so mentally exhausted and drained. Now, standing in front of his daughter’s room felt deeply ominous.

Slowly, you pushed the door open.

Your trembling hands steadied the tray as you placed it carefully on the table, trying your best not to look at the figure sitting beside it. As much as you wanted to know, you had never felt this afraid before. Not wanting to know the truth felt safer. Because sometimes the nightmares were already bad enough when you woke up beside Jeonghan. Your thoughts drifted back to Seungcheol’s words. So far, you haven't found anything. You had searched his study room before, hoping to find documents or evidence that could help, but there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

And you had never dared to check inside this room. Until now. Because you had simply been too scared.

Slowly, you forced yourself to look.

Your eyes moved toward the so-called person sitting by the window. You froze. Your feet carried you forward without thinking, moving slowly to the side so you could finally see it clearly.

Its eyes were closed. The lashes looked almost real. Everything about it seemed delicate… beautiful even.

And yet, it wasn’t alive.

You stepped back abruptly, your heart racing at the realization. When you looked closer, there was no doubt.

It was a doll. A life-sized one, crafted with terrifying precision.

For a moment, you couldn’t even tell if it had once been a real body that had been turned into this thing. The thought alone made your stomach twist violently.

You nearly collapsed right there.

Then suddenly—

A soft lullaby began to play. You jolted in shock, turning around quickly.

The music box.

You must have brushed against it accidentally. The tiny ballerina inside spun slowly as the melody filled the room. The atmosphere instantly became unbearable.

Too quiet. Too eerie. Too wrong.

You needed to get out.

Now.

But before you could turn away, Jeonghan was already standing in the doorway.

You flinched.

“I thought the nanny told you before,” his voice said calmly. He didn’t sound angry. But the look in his eyes told you everything. You had discovered something you were never meant to see. Your words stumbled over themselves as you slowly stepped backward, your heart pounding violently. He wasn’t supposed to be home yet.

Why was he here?

“I—I was…” Your voice faltered as you tripped slightly against the bed when he continued walking toward you. “…I thought you would be home late.”

“I was,” he replied calmly. Now he stood over you, trapping you against the bed, his hands resting on either side. “…but I figured if I came home early,” he continued softly, “I could see my girls sooner.” His gaze slowly dropped to your stomach. “…and my little one.”

Your breath caught sharply.

The implication hit you instantly. You had already suspected it, the nausea, the dizziness, the strange exhaustion. You never imagined that he would notice, or that he would accept it so easily.

Then suddenly, both of you turned your heads when you heard a loud commotion outside.

Jeonghan moved quickly to the window. From above, angry voices echoed through the night. People were shouting—furious, chaotic.

He muttered a curse under his breath.

You watched him in confusion as he began pacing across the room. Then you saw him pull something out from the drawer.

A revolver.

Your eyes widened in alarm. “What does this mean?” you demanded, almost frantic. “Tell me right now, Jeonghan.”

You needed answers.

And whatever was happening outside didn’t look good at all. He didn’t answer, instead, he grabbed your hand firmly. “Be quiet,” he said sharply. “Just follow me if you want to stay alive.”

He began pulling you toward the doorway—

But suddenly someone barged into the room.

Both of you stopped abruptly.

Jeonghan immediately stepped in front of you, shielding you behind him. Your heart pounded violently as you tried to understand what was happening.

The man standing before you was someone you recognized all too well.

The same bastard who had framed your father.

And judging by the fury in his eyes, he had come here with only one purpose.

“I told you, Judge Yoon,” the man sneered. “I thought we had an arrangement. Yet you decided to betray it so easily when I needed your help.”

His gaze shifted toward you. “So this is what it’s about?” he scoffed. “You chose that wench instead? When I offered you a fortune in gold to help me?”

Jeonghan let out a cold, mocking laugh. “It aches my heart a little,” he said dryly, “but I let my gavel fall cleanly—for money.”

The man’s expression hardened instantly. He raised his gun, pointing it directly at both of you. Your breath hitched as fear surged through your body. Your grip tightened around Jeonghan’s hand.

“Say that again,” the man hissed, “and I’ll make sure you finally get what you deserve.”

Jeonghan remained completely unfazed. “I would never hand over my fortune to the likes of you,” he replied calmly. “Especially not someone who pretends to be a kind businessman in public while secretly stealing from orphanages.”

The gunshot rang out suddenly.

You flinched, but the bullet didn’t hit either of you. Your trembling hands clutched Jeonghan tighter as you looked up at him.

That was when you noticed—

He had already raised his revolver. Pointed straight at the man. A broken sound escaped your throat as panic flooded your chest. Then you smelled something.

Smoke.

Your head snapped upward to see the ceiling above was beginning to burn. Flames crept along the corner near the window. Your entire body froze in terror.

“Déjà vu, isn’t it?” the man chuckled bitterly. “I thought you should be reminded why all this is happening. By now you should know that dreaming of something mo—”

A gunshot cut him off.

Jeonghan fired first. The bullet tore through the man’s arm, forcing a painful grunt from him.

But the man fired back immediately.

The second shot struck Jeonghan in the side. He grunted in pain.

Before the man could react again, Jeonghan fired the final shot. The bullet pierced straight through the man’s head.

He collapsed instantly. Dead.

You screamed. Horrified, you rushed forward just as Jeonghan’s body began to give out. He collapsed into your arms as you fell to your knees with him, carefully lowering his back against you as blood began pooling from the wound at his side.

A broken breath escaped your lips as your hands pressed desperately against the injury. “No—no, no… why did you do that?” you cried, panic overwhelming you as his eyes half-closed in pain.

“Fuck…” he hissed weakly. His gaze lifted toward your face. For a moment, something strange flickered across his expression. A moment of realisation hits him, he hated seeing that look on your face. That terrified, devastated expression.

Perhaps this would be the first time… and the last.

It was a shame that this face of yours might be the final thing he would remember. Then again… there would be no afterlife waiting for him.

Only hell.

The smoke thickened around the room, the flames slowly climbing across the walls. You struggled to keep Jeonghan upright, your hands trembling as you pressed against the wound on his side.

“Get up,” you pleaded desperately. “We have to go, the house is burning!”

He barely moved. His breathing was uneven, but his eyes were strangely calm.

Then, a sudden voice barged in, calling your name. A voice shouted through the smoke.

You turned your head sharply to see Seungcheol burst through the doorway, coughing as he stepped inside. His eyes immediately scanned the scene, the dead man on the floor, the flames spreading along the ceiling, and you kneeling beside Jeonghan.

“Are you insane?” he barked. “The whole place is about to collapse!”

He rushed toward you and grabbed your arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“No!” you cried, pulling away. “He’s hurt—he can’t walk!”

Seungcheol glanced down at Jeonghan briefly. Their eyes met for a moment. Something silent passed between them. “He made his choice,” Seungcheol said firmly.

“I didn’t!” you snapped back. “I’m not leaving him here!” You tried to pull Jeonghan up again, but he stopped you. His hand gently caught your wrist.

“…Little bird.” His voice was softer than you had ever heard it before.

You froze. The fire crackled loudly around you.

“You should go.”

Your head shook immediately. “No.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re bleeding!” your voice broke. “You can still make it, we just have to—”

His gaze shifted past you. Toward the room, the room where his daughter sat waiting. “…She’s still there,” he murmured quietly.

Your breath caught. “Jeonghan…” you whispered, horrified.

“You should leave before the roof collapses,” he continued calmly. “You shouldn’t stay in a place like this.”

You grabbed his shirt desperately. “I’m not leaving you!”

For the first time, something in his expression softened. His hand slowly moved to your stomach. “…Take care of them.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious.” His thumb brushed lightly against the fabric. “…You’ll be a good mother.”

The words made your vision blur with tears. Seungcheol stepped forward again, grabbing your shoulders.

“We don’t have time for this!” he snapped. “The fire is spreading!”

You struggled against him. “No! Let go!”

Jeonghan watched silently. Then he spoke again.

“Take her outside.”

Your eyes widened. “You don’t get to decide that!” you cried. But Seungcheol had already pulled you away. Your nails dug into the floor as you tried to hold on.

“Jeonghan!”

For a moment, he simply watched you. The flames reflected faintly in his eyes. “…It was nice,” he said quietly.

You stopped struggling. “What?”

“For a while.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

Then he turned his gaze away. Toward the hallway, to the room where the doll waited.

“Go.”

Seungcheol didn’t hesitate this time. He dragged you toward the exit as the fire roared louder behind you. “Jeonghan!” you screamed, your voice breaking as the smoke swallowed the room except that he never turned back.

Everything blurred together. Seungcheol had finally dragged you out of the mansion, and now all you could do was watch as the fire swallowed it whole. Flames roared violently, devouring the entire building while people around you shouted, rushing back and forth trying to control the chaos. It was too much. Your shaking gaze drifted upward toward the floor where he had been. From outside, you could only see the fire consuming everything. A broken, devastated wail escaped your lips. You tried to rush forward again, desperate to go back inside, but Seungcheol was faster, grabbing you before you could do something reckless.

“No—!” you cried, struggling against him. But his grip tightened as he pulled you back.

All you could do was cry as he held you in place.

Your body slowly grew weak, your knees finally giving out beneath you. Seungcheol followed you down as you collapsed, kneeling beside you while trying to steady your trembling shoulders.

“It’s over,” he murmured firmly, though his voice softened slightly. “You can’t go back in there.”

It felt strange that you were capable of feeling something like this for Jeonghan. The man who had brought so much misery into your life.

And yet…

You had never truly known what lay behind the mask he wore. You knew it wasn’t love, not even close. Somehow, the warmth you had felt from him, however small, had not been completely fake. Maybe some small part of it had been real. And somehow… that realization hurt. Or maybe it was just the hormones.

Everything around you slowly became distant. The noise, the fire, the shouting. Your vision dimmed as exhaustion and shock finally overtook you. And before you realized it, everything went black.

In the burnt remains of the mansion, they would later find what looked like the charred bodies of a parent and a child.

At least, that was how Jeonghan might have seen it. In truth, all they found was the body of a solitary man… and a scorched porcelain doll.

Eight years had passed.

You placed the flowers gently on the gravestone. The name Yoon Jeonghan was engraved across the stone.

It had been a long time since your last visit. Your eyes lingered on the name for a moment, something distant stirring in the back of your mind.

“Mama, who is this?” Your daughter looked up at you with curious eyes, her small hand swinging as she held yours.

You smiled softly and patted her head. “Someone I knew in the past…” You turned when someone called your name. Your husband stood a short distance away, waiting patiently.

Joshua.

“Why don’t you go to Papa first, sweetie?” you said gently. You knelt down to her level, and she nodded before running toward her father. Joshua laughed softly as he easily lifted her into his arms. You slowly stood up again, giving the gravestone one last glance before finally turning away.

After a while, you returned home. Not long after entering, you noticed a package waiting at the door. It was a medium-sized box, carefully wrapped with a ribbon. You frowned slightly as you picked it up.

Your daughter bounced excitedly beside you. “Jiae, don’t jump around,” you scolded lightly. “You’ll hurt yourself.” She pouted but watched eagerly as you untied the ribbon and opened the box.

Inside was a porcelain doll. Beautiful and delicate.

You said nothing at first, a strange sense of déjà vu crawling over your skin. Jiae giggled happily and immediately picked up the doll, holding it carefully in her arms. You noticed a small card attached to it. It must have been from the sender. You frowned. You couldn’t remember Joshua mentioning anything about a gift. And you hadn’t kept in contact with many people since your marriage, aside from your father.

You turned the card over and read it.

He told me to give this to you. His final wish. — Jun W.

Your brows furrowed. You assumed it was a shop owner. A workshop, maybe. But that only raised another question. Who would send this to your address? You were certain you had never given it to anyone… except your father. Another card rested inside the box. Your hand hesitated before picking it up.

Slowly, you read the message.

I hope you love this gift. I made sure she resembles our little one. — Y. J.

You froze. Your gaze slowly lifted toward your daughter, who was already playing happily with the doll across the room. Your steps felt heavy as you walked toward her. When you looked closer at the doll in her arms, your breath faltered slightly.

It looked… strangely familiar, not exactly the same, but close enough. Uncomfortably close.

Jiae looked up at you with a bright smile. “Look, Mama! She’s pretty!” You forced a small smile in return. Jiae hugged the doll tightly, “Mama, can I keep her?” You watched the porcelain face for a long moment.

Somehow… it felt like the past had found its way back to you. Even after all these years, some things never truly disappeared. And perhaps, some legacies refused to be buried.

FIN(?)

a/n: ah, we've come to the end! dang, that was tragic but pls don't romanticize these lol. i honestly sleep with an eye open after re-reading back to this story cuz idk how i came up with that plot tbh (i had a vocaloid phase, so ig i would say it was based from that lore series lol). reblogs n comments are appreciated. thanks again, dear apples!

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