when the phone rings novel

The first time I met Baek Sa-oen was when I had just moved into Chairman Hong's house.

"The daughter brought in by the lounge singer wife."

Whispers like that reached my ears from the very first day.

My mother, who would only throw cheap makeup in front of my father, would run barefoot with a smiling face to greet Chairman Hong. My beautiful, aloof stepsister would simply ignore me as she walked past. My mother cared more about tending to Chairman Hong's ashtray than ensuring I had a proper meal.

As a child, missing my father, I would wander aimlessly around the area.

"It's so big..."

The walls in this wealthy neighborhood were all so high, towering over me. They surrounded massive houses, isolating them like fortresses. Wandering through the narrow alleys between those walls felt like being trapped in a maze.

As a child, yearning for my father, I would often instinctively crawl into dark, cramped spaces. That day was no different from any other.

"...!"

However, I wasn't alone. Someone was already there, standing blankly.

A tall figure, neither a child of nine like me nor fully an adult, somewhere in between.

An older boy in a school uniform, his face pale as a ghost.

His shoulders were unnaturally hunched, his frame so thin that there wasn't an ounce of flesh to fill it out. The white short-sleeved shirt billowed in the wind, exposing his gaunt upper body. His pale skin hinted at malnutrition, but what stood out most was his sharp, prominent nose.

His eyes, neurotic and piercing, looked as though they had been carved by a scalpel—razor-sharp and filled with an air of extreme sensitivity and criticism.

I watched this boy up close, finding him utterly fascinating, unable to look away. The club I came from was filled only with old men. Though his face was still youthful, its pale, flawless complexion was strikingly unusual.

"Wow..."

I tilted my head back, craning my neck so far it felt like it might snap, staring up at him.

In that moment, our gazes met.

"...!"

The icy, emotionless boy suddenly started to cry.

For an instant, time stretched unnaturally, as if I were back in school, waiting for the bell to ring.

The moment he realized I was just a child, he lowered his head, steadying himself against the wall.

A strange sense of comfort escaped from him in the form of a quiet sigh.

"Uh... Are you feeling unwell?"

"..."

The boy suddenly fixed his bloodshot eyes on me, his intense gaze making my heart skip a beat. Those red, tear-filled eyes were terrifying, yet I couldn't look away.

Oh my god...

Just as Hee-joo was about to step back, a hand suddenly reached out toward her.

"...!"

That large hand pressed firmly against her forehead as if it were about to grab her head entirely. The long, slender fingers pressed against her temples, and the palm completely blocked her vision.

Hee-joo nearly screamed, but the boy's muffled sobs reached her ears first.

"Huh... huh..."

"..."

"Shibal... huh..."

She could have broken free, could have shouted loudly for help. Yet, the sound of his suppressed crying froze her body in place. For some reason, she couldn't move.

I can't see anything...

Her obstructed vision rendered her unable to see the boy's face at all.

I want to see his face so badly...

In the extreme tension of the moment, only her sense of hearing became unnaturally sharp. Every nerve felt like it was devouring the intensity of the situation, hammering against her entire body.

"If you're Kim Yeon-hee's daughter, you must be good at singing, right?"

For some reason, this line came to mind. Guests would always say that to Hee-joo while chewing on toothpicks whenever they saw her.

Even when they jokingly asked her to sing, she would always stubbornly keep her mouth shut...

"Little squirrel can't poop—"

"..."

"Doesn't like acorns, likes grapes—"

"..."

"Grapes, oh grapes, green grapes—!"

The boy's sobbing suddenly stopped.

"Stomach growling, grumble grumble—"

"..."

"Rolling around—poof poof—"

"How old are you?"

The rough, hoarse voice of a boy in the middle of puberty abruptly cut off her singing.

"Uh... nine."

The boy was silent for a moment. Finally, the palm pressing against her temples moved away, and her vision was restored.

She looked up into a face that was cold and expressionless.

"Don't sing again."

Riiing riiing riiing—!

The deafening sound of an alarm clock shattered the moment.

"Ah...!"

Hee-joo jolted awake, startled out of her dream, instinctively rubbing her ears as if the memory still lingered.

The memory of her first meeting with Baek Sa-oen was far more unforgettable than she had anticipated. It had been twenty years ago, yet instead of fading, the details grew sharper with time.

"God, just when I think I've almost forgotten..."

The voice she was forced to hear, the way her vision was obstructed—was it because the sound was too overwhelming? Or because the abrupt rudeness had scared her? Hee-joo had felt like a ghost had possessed her, unable to do anything but watch him walk farther and farther away.

Later, at a garden party, she encountered the boy again.

"She said she'd marry me when I grew up," her sister had whispered softly. What kind of expression had she worn when she said that?

At that moment, Hee-joo wasn't seeing the boy who had once sobbed in the shadows of an alley. Instead, she saw the grandson of the Prime Minister, the one who drew everyone's attention effortlessly.

His complexion was a stark contrast to when she'd seen him in the alley. Though his figure was not yet fully mature, he wore adult clothing that fit him perfectly, standing naturally in the center of the garden instead of hiding in the dark.

Hee-joo had wanted to find the brother from that day, but before she could, he had already approached her. With a perfectly composed expression, he extended his hand.

"Ten? Eleven?"

It was strange. He didn't seem stupid at all. His polite gesture carried an elusive curiosity, leaving her unsure how to respond.

When I hurriedly shook his hand, he gripped it firmly for a moment. Hee-joo instantly understood—it was a silent warning. What she had seen that day in the alley had become the boy's weakness.

"What could possibly be a weakness for someone like him?"

"The audacity to threaten him—it's absurd!"

Even as his assistant grumbled, Baek Sa-oen continued striding briskly through the corridors of the Blue House. He had just wrapped up an impromptu Q&A session with reporters during his morning commute.

In addition to addressing the recent spike in dating violence and kidnapping cases, he had briefly conveyed the President's stance on the matter before heading straight into a meeting with the Chief Public Relations Office.

As he walked, Baek Sa-oen exchanged cold, fleeting glances with colleagues who greeted him, his eyes seemingly asking, "Have the location traces been identified yet?"

"Um, sir..."

"What about the surveillance footage from the roads?"

"We checked all of it, but there's still no..."

He frowned. "That's enough. I've heard enough."

The assistant, visibly anxious, couldn't help but offer a weak defense.

"Well, the analysts are saying this threat seems... calculated? Like we're being toyed with."

"..."

"Within ten minutes, the IP address kept changing frequently. It doesn't seem like the work of an individual—it's organized. And all the surveillance footage from that time frame has been erased. It's a real headache."

"Organized..."

"Sir, what exactly does this person want?"

"Two hundred million."

"What?!"

The assistant's jaw dropped.

"In exchange for what?"

"They're threatening to expose my private life."

"What?!"

This time, the assistant's eyes widened so much they seemed about to split.

"Your private life? Sir, you don't mean..."

Although it seemed impossible, the assistant still cast a doubtful look at his superior.

Private life? Baek Sa-oen was a man whose schedule was planned down to the minute. Could there really be gossip about him worth two hundred million?

The assistant was utterly baffled. If it weren't about his private life, but rather something related to his work, that might make more sense.

"We'll discuss this later."

Baek Sa-oen pushed open the door to the conference room, leaving behind a reminder.

"What an unpredictable person..." the assistant murmured, shaking his head.

The first time I met Baek Sa-oen was when I had just moved into Chairman Hong's house.

"The daughter brought in by the lounge singer wife."

Whispers like that reached my ears from the very first day.

My mother, who would only throw cheap makeup in front of my father, would run barefoot with a smiling face to greet Chairman Hong. My beautiful, aloof stepsister would simply ignore me as she walked past. My mother cared more about tending to Chairman Hong's ashtray than ensuring I had a proper meal.

As a child, missing my father, I would wander aimlessly around the area.

"It's so big..."

The walls in this wealthy neighborhood were all so high, towering over me. They surrounded massive houses, isolating them like fortresses. Wandering through the narrow alleys between those walls felt like being trapped in a maze.

As a child, yearning for my father, I would often instinctively crawl into dark, cramped spaces. That day was no different from any other.

"...!"

However, I wasn't alone. Someone was already there, standing blankly.

A tall figure, neither a child of nine like me nor fully an adult, somewhere in between.

An older boy in a school uniform, his face pale as a ghost.

His shoulders were unnaturally hunched, his frame so thin that there wasn't an ounce of flesh to fill it out. The white short-sleeved shirt billowed in the wind, exposing his gaunt upper body. His pale skin hinted at malnutrition, but what stood out most was his sharp, prominent nose.

His eyes, neurotic and piercing, looked as though they had been carved by a scalpel—razor-sharp and filled with an air of extreme sensitivity and criticism.

I watched this boy up close, finding him utterly fascinating, unable to look away. The club I came from was filled only with old men. Though his face was still youthful, its pale, flawless complexion was strikingly unusual.

"Wow..."

I tilted my head back, craning my neck so far it felt like it might snap, staring up at him.

In that moment, our gazes met.

"...!"

The icy, emotionless boy suddenly started to cry.

For an instant, time stretched unnaturally, as if I were back in school, waiting for the bell to ring.

The moment he realized I was just a child, he lowered his head, steadying himself against the wall.

A strange sense of comfort escaped from him in the form of a quiet sigh.

"Uh... Are you feeling unwell?"

"..."

The boy suddenly fixed his bloodshot eyes on me, his intense gaze making my heart skip a beat. Those red, tear-filled eyes were terrifying, yet I couldn't look away.

Oh my god...

Just as Hee-joo was about to step back, a hand suddenly reached out toward her.

"...!"

That large hand pressed firmly against her forehead as if it were about to grab her head entirely. The long, slender fingers pressed against her temples, and the palm completely blocked her vision.

Hee-joo nearly screamed, but the boy's muffled sobs reached her ears first.

"Huh... huh..."

"..."

"Shibal... huh..."

She could have broken free, could have shouted loudly for help. Yet, the sound of his suppressed crying froze her body in place. For some reason, she couldn't move.

I can't see anything...

Her obstructed vision rendered her unable to see the boy's face at all.

I want to see his face so badly...

In the extreme tension of the moment, only her sense of hearing became unnaturally sharp. Every nerve felt like it was devouring the intensity of the situation, hammering against her entire body.

"If you're Kim Yeon-hee's daughter, you must be good at singing, right?"

For some reason, this line came to mind. Guests would always say that to Hee-joo while chewing on toothpicks whenever they saw her.

Even when they jokingly asked her to sing, she would always stubbornly keep her mouth shut...

"Little squirrel can't poop—"

"..."

"Doesn't like acorns, likes grapes—"

"..."

"Grapes, oh grapes, green grapes—!"

The boy's sobbing suddenly stopped.

"Stomach growling, grumble grumble—"

"..."

"Rolling around—poof poof—"

"How old are you?"

The rough, hoarse voice of a boy in the middle of puberty abruptly cut off her singing.

"Uh... nine."

The boy was silent for a moment. Finally, the palm pressing against her temples moved away, and her vision was restored.

She looked up into a face that was cold and expressionless.

"Don't sing again."

Riiing riiing riiing—!

The deafening sound of an alarm clock shattered the moment.

"Ah...!"

Hee-joo jolted awake, startled out of her dream, instinctively rubbing her ears as if the memory still lingered.

The memory of her first meeting with Baek Sa-oen was far more unforgettable than she had anticipated. It had been twenty years ago, yet instead of fading, the details grew sharper with time.

"God, just when I think I've almost forgotten..."

The voice she was forced to hear, the way her vision was obstructed—was it because the sound was too overwhelming? Or because the abrupt rudeness had scared her? Hee-joo had felt like a ghost had possessed her, unable to do anything but watch him walk farther and farther away.

Later, at a garden party, she encountered the boy again.

"She said she'd marry me when I grew up," her sister had whispered softly. What kind of expression had she worn when she said that?

At that moment, Hee-joo wasn't seeing the boy who had once sobbed in the shadows of an alley. Instead, she saw the grandson of the Prime Minister, the one who drew everyone's attention effortlessly.

His complexion was a stark contrast to when she'd seen him in the alley. Though his figure was not yet fully mature, he wore adult clothing that fit him perfectly, standing naturally in the center of the garden instead of hiding in the dark.

Hee-joo had wanted to find the brother from that day, but before she could, he had already approached her. With a perfectly composed expression, he extended his hand.

"Ten? Eleven?"

It was strange. He didn't seem stupid at all. His polite gesture carried an elusive curiosity, leaving her unsure how to respond.

When I hurriedly shook his hand, he gripped it firmly for a moment. Hee-joo instantly understood—it was a silent warning. What she had seen that day in the alley had become the boy's weakness.

"What could possibly be a weakness for someone like him?"

"The audacity to threaten him—it's absurd!"

Even as his assistant grumbled, Baek Sa-oen continued striding briskly through the corridors of the Blue House. He had just wrapped up an impromptu Q&A session with reporters during his morning commute.

In addition to addressing the recent spike in dating violence and kidnapping cases, he had briefly conveyed the President's stance on the matter before heading straight into a meeting with the Chief Public Relations Office.

As he walked, Baek Sa-oen exchanged cold, fleeting glances with colleagues who greeted him, his eyes seemingly asking, "Have the location traces been identified yet?"

"Um, sir..."

"What about the surveillance footage from the roads?"

"We checked all of it, but there's still no..."

He frowned. "That's enough. I've heard enough."

The assistant, visibly anxious, couldn't help but offer a weak defense.

"Well, the analysts are saying this threat seems... calculated? Like we're being toyed with."

"..."

"Within ten minutes, the IP address kept changing frequently. It doesn't seem like the work of an individual—it's organized. And all the surveillance footage from that time frame has been erased. It's a real headache."

"Organized..."

"Sir, what exactly does this person want?"

"Two hundred million."

"What?!"

The assistant's jaw dropped.

"In exchange for what?"

"They're threatening to expose my private life."

"What?!"

This time, the assistant's eyes widened so much they seemed about to split.

"Your private life? Sir, you don't mean..."

Although it seemed impossible, the assistant still cast a doubtful look at his superior.

Private life? Baek Sa-oen was a man whose schedule was planned down to the minute. Could there really be gossip about him worth two hundred million?

The assistant was utterly baffled. If it weren't about his private life, but rather something related to his work, that might make more sense.

"We'll discuss this later."

Baek Sa-oen pushed open the door to the conference room, leaving behind a reminder.

"What an unpredictable person..." the assistant murmured, shaking his head.