when the phone rings novel
Do you smoke?
"...What?"
I'm asking if you smoke.
"Ah, no, I don't."
How about drinking?
"Um, I don't really..."
Hee-joo reflexively answered the series of questions. They had nothing to do with the blackmail, which made her lower her guard.
Are you married?
"Married, no, I'm not—wait, that's not..."
When was your first time?
"...What?"
His voice was cold and steady, like a host presenting a news program. That made his words stand out even more.
Hee-joo thought she hadn't understood because of some technical jargon.
"First time...?"
When was your first time using your lower half?
"...!"
How could this be? The Blue House spokesman, so utterly disgraceful... Hee-joo opened her mouth like a fish gasping for air but couldn't make a sound.
From what she remembered, Baek Sa-oen had always been an upright, model student council president. Every year, despite changing grades and schools, he held some leadership position, never absent. His only deviation was in his early twenties when he traveled through conflict zones like Tikrit, Fallujah, and Erbil, suddenly becoming a war correspondent.
Because he was a man admired by everyone, such indecent questions felt utterly wrong.
Perverted bastard, I'm talking to you.
"What? Who's calling who a pervert now?"
Using cheap trash photos to fantasize, sexually harassing me, and defaming my wife—you realize this constitutes a crime of sexual misconduct using communication tools, right?
"What trash photos!"
Hee-joo bristled, thinking of the effort she'd put into getting that photo.
Even threats should have some level of quality.
His previously monotonous voice suddenly turned mocking.
So stop pestering me. It looks pathetic.
Just then, the timer beeped. She should hang up. She should...
Don't waste time with things that will be exposed immediately. If you want to threaten me, at least do proper research on my background. I know exactly how upright that woman is—don't drag her into this carelessly.
At that moment, a switch was flipped.
You, her so-called husband—what do you even know...?!
"Then prove it. Let's see if that thigh isn't from some trash photo!"
Yelling this felt like having cold water dumped over her head. She sobered instantly.
Wait, no. This isn't right...! Something is really wrong here...!
Her stiff fingers hurriedly pressed the end-call button.
It's over. Completely over...!
Second_Call.mp3.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
---
"Sir, we've got a signal!"
Assistant Park burst through the door, his head poking in excitedly.
The desk lamp illuminated the room, revealing a cold and urban second office that perfectly matched Baek Sa-oen's style.
"Although it's just an approximate range, we've narrowed it down to Yeongdeungpo, Seocho, Gangnam, and Songpa Districts. Delaying for a few seconds was worth it, sir!"
"Good."
But Baek Sa-oen simply stared at the suddenly disconnected phone. Even with a slight furrow in his brow, his expression remained as hard as plaster.
"Sir?"
"The more I talk to that person, the more frustrated I get."
"What? Me?!"
Park, preemptively caught in the crossfire, immediately stood upright.
"How dare they bring up Hee-joo using such photos? It's absurd."
The expressionless man tapped his phone with his palm.
The previously solid and quiet territory seemed to be shifting, a subtle yet unsettling disturbance. For someone like Baek Sa-oen, who tightly controlled and guided every aspect of his life, this kind of disruption was nothing short of irritation.
"When I asked if they were married, they hesitated before correcting themselves."
"What?"
"People's first words in a crisis reveal their true feelings."
Baek Sa-oen stroked his increasingly rough chin.
"They're likely married, but dissatisfied with their marriage and recently divorced or considering it. Start investigating from that angle."
"Understood."
"Also, look into men who recently bought or repaired cars."
Park nodded as if inputting data into his mental database.
"When asked about sexual matters, they became visibly flustered. They might have a certain complex. Check for any sexual offense records or activity on the dark web."
"Got it."
Park quickly realized that his superior was in an exceptionally foul mood. The angrier Baek Sa-oen got, the calmer he seemed.
Park's eyes fell on the pen that had been crushed under invisible pressure but pretended not to notice, lowering his head instead.
He spotted an old photo frame entirely out of place in the sleek, metallic environment.
A sunset photo. Even at a glance, the image quality was terrible.
Park tilted his head, wondering about such odd taste.
"And about that photo's origin..."
Baek Sa-oen was examining the exposed photo when he suddenly paused.
"Don't you know Hong Hee-joo's thigh has a distinctive mark?"
"Is it that you don't care, or have you never looked properly?"
The altered voice from earlier echoed in his mind, stirring an unfamiliar impulse within him. He bit his inner lip, suppressing the absurd emotion.
"...Sir?"
"Ignore it."
Baek Sa-oen closed his eyes and withdrew his outstretched hand.
As always, failure was something he could not tolerate.
Baek Sa-oen's ambition was for the pinnacle of power, the sole force that drove this cold and unyielding man.
Power is a force that requires no obedience to orders, a position that shamelessly allows one to seize what belongs to others.
This sly and seductive force had been Baek Sa-oen's lifelong obsession and desire.
Yet now, a pest had crawled into his domain—an unidentified blackmailer threatening his position and attempting to cover up a scandal.
"You abandoned your former fiancée and married her younger sister."
"I'm going to expose it."
"Divorce Hong Hee-joo and bring back your original fiancée."
"Restore things to the way they were."
Pretending to agree to demands was the first step in negotiation.
Baek Sa-oen never intended to let anyone tarnish his life.
Guilt was a concept that had rarely crossed his mind.
His plan was clear: placate the blackmailer, build a relationship of trust, and then utterly destroy them.
"Why is it always the quiet ones who get targeted?"
The blackmailer's repeated attempts were clearly aimed at Hong Hee-joo, placing him in a predicament he couldn't easily explain.
Even the act of pretending to agree made him feel nauseated.
This morning, he had planned to address the president's stance on the increasingly severe issue of dating violence, delivering a statement of "regret."
And then came the demand for 200 million won.
The precise sum of the breach of contract penalty—was it really just a coincidence?
If it wasn't someone close to them, there's no way they would know the inside details of this political marriage.
The blackmailer spoke as if they knew Hee-joo intimately, deliberately provoking Baek Sa-oen.
And then there was that photo.
...Yes, that damned photo.
If it were fake, it would be easy to disprove. But the shape of the knee, the scars, even the edge of the foot and toes in the picture—all unmistakably belonged to Hee-joo.
On the surface, it seemed like an attempt to extort money, but in reality—
Baek Sa-oen's expression turned icy cold.
The threats, the demands, and the blackmailer's motives...
"Let's observe a little longer."
He unfastened his cufflinks, rolled up his sleeves, and exposed his forearms.
---
Hee-joo clutched her head and eventually drifted into a restless sleep.
Perhaps it was the tension keeping her body tightly curled up.
At some point, she felt something strange and opened her eyes.
The room was dimly lit without a nightlight.
In her blurry vision, she saw a massive shadow.
"...!"
The figure in the darkness began moving closer.
The long shadow reached the side of her bed and slowly bent down.
What's happening?
Her mind felt sluggish.
The man pressed his palm and knee into the mattress, his eyes locking onto hers. His sharp features were strikingly vivid in the shadows.
Terrified, Hee-joo instinctively tried to sit up, but he was faster.
"You've been very quiet," Baek Sa-oen said softly, his hand gently holding her shoulder down.
"I thought you were staying obediently within my control."
"..."
"Was I mistaken?"
His face was devoid of any emotion, making his pale complexion all the more frightening.
"Lately, there have been so many incomprehensible things."
His cold pupils glimmered faintly in the darkness.
His gaze on his wife was as if he were looking at an inanimate object, a look Hee-joo had grown used to.
But for the first time, she sensed something different—a strange heat in his expression.
No, it wasn't just heat; it was more like... obsession and arrogance.
"Hong Hee-joo."
When his deep voice called her name, Hee-joo didn't dare blink.
His eyes were fixed on her face, then drifted downward, lingering on her lips, her collarbone, and the loose neckline of her shirt.
His icy gaze slithered like a serpent over the outline of her legs beneath the thin blanket.
"If you knew what I wanted to confirm, you'd be terrified."
"...!"
He wore a mocking smile as one hand grabbed the blanket. The problem was, he grabbed Hee-joo's leg along with it.
Her feeble resistance only made the blanket rustle powerlessly.
"There's nothing about Hong Hee-joo that I don't know."
His face was so cold and indifferent that it was unbearable to look at directly.
His fingers tapped lightly on the blanket, as if deliberating his next move.
When his grip tightened, a sharp numbness shot through her thigh.
"Lately, your name has been exceptionally annoying to me."
"..."
"You're too loud."
What did he mean by that?
Hee-joo froze in place, unable to comprehend.
The man finally stood up after a long pause.
"Soon, the Blue House will release a job posting for a sign language interpreter."
Hee-joo blinked in confusion.
"It's safer there than at home, and easier to monitor."
...What did he just say?
"If you don't want to be dragged into your father's campaign, you'll take the position at my side, no matter what."
He delivered the non-negotiable order and left the room without a second glance.
Hee-joo remained frozen for a long time.
In the end, she stayed awake all night.