when the phone rings novel

"I... I wiped the blood off briefly..." the caregiver added apologetically.

As soon as Hee-joo had seen the familiar nursing home on the screen, she'd dashed out in a panic. Throughout the journey, her mind was a blur, and her throat burned from suppressing the urge to scream. Simultaneously, the nurse's frantic messages, like blaring disaster alerts, bombarded her.

An overwhelming sense of fear clouded her thoughts. Who...? In moments like this, who could she turn to for help? For a fleeting moment, she thought of her husband, but quickly dismissed the idea-he was clearly not the right person.

With trembling hands, Hee-joo carefully wiped her father's face.

"Are you the family member?" a police officer approached, holding a towel.

Hee-joo nodded silently. The officer hesitated before unfolding the towel.

"Uh...!" She felt bile rise to her throat.

"You'll need to come to the station to file a report," the officer said grimly.

Inside the towel lay four bloodied molars, uprooted entirely and scattered.

The source of her father's bleeding was now painfully clear.

Goosebumps rose across her entire body. Her father seemed to have struggled fiercely-his room was a chaotic mess. Blood wasn't just on the bed; it streaked the wallpaper, splattered across the floor, and even stained the glass windows.

"I stepped out for a moment, and when I returned, his face was already covered in blood..." the caregiver sobbed, her voice shaking.

Dad...

Hee-joo couldn't shake the shock that gripped her. There was no one else who could have committed such a violent and cruel act-no one except that hostage-taker.

All because of one phone call.

Because Baek Sa-oen hadn't answered the kidnapper's threats for a few days, the man resulted to ripping out someone's molars.

Hee-joo's eyes burned with fury.

"Ugh..."

Her father's swollen cheek twitched faintly.

He continued to stare weakly at some invisible point in the room. Then, suddenly, his parched lips moved.

Hee-joo bent down sharply, pressing her ear closer to him.

"Call... call..."

!"

"Sister... call..."

A single tear finally escaped from her father's rigid, swollen eyes.

In that moment, Hee-joo broke down completely.

Her pale cheeks rested limply against the backseat of the patrol car. Hee-joo's mind was a blank slate, caught somewhere between dazed and numb. It wasn't until the two officers climbed into the front seats that she remembered she had agreed to accompany them to the police station. Every action and response leading to this moment had been purely mechanical.

Her last clear memory was of her father, finally asleep after receiving a painkiller injection.

She stared out the car window, rubbing her fingers together as if trying to erase the sensation of blood still lingering on them. The metallic scent that only she seemed able to smell churned her stomach.

"...Huh? What's going on here?"

"What are you doing?"

"No, Officer Kim. It's nothing."

"Just focus on driving."

Hee-joo squeezed her eyes shut, but calm eluded her. Every time she tried to center herself, flashes of her father's extracted molars, the kidnapper's grinning face, and that unnaturally blue sky filled her mind. Sweat slickened her palms.

Then, the sudden crackle of static from the radio yanked her from the spiral of her thoughts.

At the same time, the officer in the driver's seat smacked the dashboard hard.

"This is so weird..."

"You idiot, are you always this annoying?"

"No, it's not that, it's just... this..."

And then—

—a high-pitched noise erupted from the radio, sharp enough to make all three of them wince.

"What the hell is that?" Officer Kim twisted the dial, trying to tune it out, but the sound only grew louder, an eerie, grating frequency that filled the car.

The driver slammed his palm against the radio again. "Is this thing busted? What's going on?"

Before anyone could respond, the noise abruptly cut out, replaced by an unmistakable voice:

"Hello, sister."

Hee-joo's entire body froze. Her blood ran cold as the voice reverberated through the car, clear and deliberate.

"Enjoying your ride to the station?"

Her head snapped toward the radio, her breathing shallow and frantic.

The officers exchanged confused glances. "Who the hell is this? Dispatch?"

But Hee-joo knew. She knew that voice, that playful, taunting tone.

"Don't get too comfortable, sister. We're not done yet."

The radio crackled once more, and the line went dead.

The car fell into stunned silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them.

Hee-joo's trembling hands gripped the seatbelt across her chest. Her mind screamed one question over and over: How does he always know where I am?

"——This is JBS Radio, 10:07 p.m. Someone is pouring gasoline and lighting a fire. Cause baby, you're a firework... The suspect harbored resentment..."

The radio scrambled, blending news reports with fragments of pop songs.

Hee-joo flinched violently at the unnervingly familiar sensation of déjà vu.

"What... what's going on?"

"I'll fix it," the officer stammered, slapping the dashboard again. It didn't help.

Of course, it wouldn't.

Only Hee-joo, who had lived through this twisted game before, knew what it meant. Her skin turned clammy as cold sweat dripped down her back. She clutched the seatbelt tightly, her breaths growing shallower with every passing second.

"Ugh, I have no idea what's happening," one officer muttered.

"Let me try," said another, reaching for the controls.

As the officers fumbled, their radio equipment began emitting piercing static. The old handheld police transceiver crackled to life with an eerie resonance.

From the crackling void came an unmistakable melody, warped and distorted:

"You can ring my be-e-ell... Ring my bell. You can ring my be-e-ell... Ring my bell..."

"What the hell is this?" Officer Kim exclaimed, gripping the transceiver.

The haunting tune continued, unfazed by the officer's frantic attempts to stop it.

It was futile, of course.

Because this wasn't a malfunction.

It was an unshakable message—one directed solely at Hee-joo.

Her trembling hands clenched into fists, her entire body frozen in place.

She knew what came next.

"You can ring my be-e-ell... Ring my bell..."

"This lunatic..." Hee-joo muttered, her nails digging into the skin of her neck.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave: even the police car was under his control.

As the thought took hold, the vehicle seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with its confined spaces. The trunk, the seats, the floor beneath her—they all felt like traps, throbbing with hidden danger.

Her pulse pounded erratically. She couldn't sit still. Every fiber of her being screamed to get out.

She couldn't take it anymore. The nausea swelled, and she began banging on the window.

Through the rearview mirror, her panicked eyes met the officers' puzzled stares.

"Let me out," she said hoarsely.

"What?"

"Stop the car. Let me out here," she insisted, her voice trembling.

"You think this is a taxi?" one officer snapped.

"Please, let me out," Hee-joo repeated, her words urgent.

"No. This is the middle of the road. We can't—"

"Just let me out, and everything will be fine! I promise—please, just let me out!"

Her desperation reached a breaking point.

"Hey! Calm down! What are you—"

Before they could finish, Hee-joo yanked at the door handle, clawing and pounding with renewed frenzy.

"Let me out! Let me out!" she screamed, her voice raw.

"Hey, stop that! Stop!" the officers shouted, fumbling to regain control of the escalating chaos inside the car.

The radio continued its relentless loop of "Ring my bell, ring my bell..." The repetition pounded in Hee-joo's ears, making her head feel as though it would explode.

"Calm down! You need to calm down!" one officer shouted from the front seat.

"Please, I'm begging you..." Hee-joo barely managed to speak before her stomach heaved. "Ugh—"

"Officer Kim, the family member doesn't look well. Ma'am, are you feeling unwell? Should we take you to the ER?"

"Just let me out. Please, I'm fine—just let me out, thank you," she said, her voice thin and strained.

Her sweat-soaked bangs clung to her forehead as she gripped the seat for support. Seeing her pale, trembling form, the officer slammed on the brakes.

The car jerked to a stop, and Hee-joo immediately unlocked the door and stumbled out, doubling over by the roadside.

"Ugh...ugh...!" she retched violently, her stomach producing nothing but bitter acid.

What voice could replace mine? What messages could replace me?

What does he want me to relay? What does he need to hear from Baek Sa-oen?

The thought of the kidnapper—someone who could hack into a police car and take over its communication systems—made Hee-joo feel as though a boulder was crushing her chest. Her judgment, already frayed, began to dissolve completely under the weight of it all.

She thought she had survived so much, endured countless trials, but it had been so long since she'd felt this powerless, this directionless. The emotions were overwhelming, clawing at her insides.

Fighting back tears, she dropped to her knees, her hands digging into the dirt as she struggled to hold herself together.

That call... I can just redial it...! she told herself, her determination clawing its way back through the chaos.

To protect her father and finally break free from the political marriage she had vowed to end, Hee-joo steeled herself. "I've already decided to see this through to the end!" If she didn't make this call, everything could spiral out of control.

The kidnapper, though absurd at times, was highly unstable. No one could predict when he might completely snap.

"...Huh?"

One of the police officers, who had followed Hee-joo out of the car, suddenly let out a startled noise. He removed his glasses and put them back on, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.

His gaze was so intense it seemed his eyeballs might pop out.

Parked beside the roadside was an enormous black vehicle that stood out like a sore thumb. The suspicious vehicle had stopped right alongside their police car, and even more intriguingly, a man stepped out of the back seat.

He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit: polished black leather shoes, perfectly creased trousers, a form-fitting vest, and a broad-shouldered blazer that completed the look.

The police officers were the first to react, their astonishment practically spilling over.

"Wow...! Isn't that the Blue House spokesperson? I've seen you on TV so many times!"

"This is unbelievable! Hello, sir!"

"Ah, hello," the man greeted, his deep, composed voice flowing effortlessly.

"Wow, this feels like a dream..."

"He's so handsome..."

"Thank you for your hard work," the man replied smoothly, his demeanor as polished as his appearance.

Baek Sa-oen handled the situation effortlessly, his eyes glancing briefly in Hee-joo's direction. Her disheveled state met his cold gaze, and for a fleeting moment, an unidentifiable emotion flickered across his otherwise impassive face.

The man spoke directly to Hee-joo, her reddened eyes reflecting her turmoil. "You can leave now," he said calmly to the officers.

"What?"

"She's my family," he added.

"...!"

Surprisingly, Hee-joo was the one most taken aback. That one sentence, delivered in a detached tone, lacked any context and completely disregarded her presence. She understood clearly—he had intentionally left out any explanations. To him, they weren't worth even superficial formalities.

"Thank you for your efforts up to this point," he added politely, though his tone unmistakably carried the weight of dismissal.

The patrol officer cast a suspicious glance at the two of them.

Baek Sa-oen blocked the officer's view, firmly gripping his shoulder with calculated pressure. "I will personally handle this case," he said with authority.

"What exactly is the relationship between you two...?" the officer asked cautiously, stealing a glance at Hee-joo. "She seems to be in poor condition. She really should go to a hospital..."

"You're quite concerned," Baek Sa-oen remarked, his voice low and measured.

"Uh... excuse me?"

"Is this how you conduct official duties?" Baek Sa-oen's brow furrowed slightly, his tone edged with disapproval.

"Is... is it?" The patrol officer tilted his head in confusion but answered earnestly, "She seemed quite distressed in the car as well."

"She's my responsibility," Baek Sa-oen stated firmly.

"What?"

"She's my wife."

"Ah...!" The officer's face immediately registered shock, and his gaze shifted toward Hee-joo, now filled with obvious cur

iosity.

As if drawn by the intrigue, the officer leaned slightly forward to get a better look at her, but Baek Sa-oen shifted his stance. His deliberate movement placed his broad shoulder squarely in the officer's line of sight, effectively blocking any further scrutiny.

"I... I wiped the blood off briefly..." the caregiver added apologetically.

As soon as Hee-joo had seen the familiar nursing home on the screen, she'd dashed out in a panic. Throughout the journey, her mind was a blur, and her throat burned from suppressing the urge to scream. Simultaneously, the nurse's frantic messages, like blaring disaster alerts, bombarded her.

An overwhelming sense of fear clouded her thoughts. Who...? In moments like this, who could she turn to for help? For a fleeting moment, she thought of her husband, but quickly dismissed the idea-he was clearly not the right person.

With trembling hands, Hee-joo carefully wiped her father's face.

"Are you the family member?" a police officer approached, holding a towel.

Hee-joo nodded silently. The officer hesitated before unfolding the towel.

"Uh...!" She felt bile rise to her throat.

"You'll need to come to the station to file a report," the officer said grimly.

Inside the towel lay four bloodied molars, uprooted entirely and scattered.

The source of her father's bleeding was now painfully clear.

Goosebumps rose across her entire body. Her father seemed to have struggled fiercely-his room was a chaotic mess. Blood wasn't just on the bed; it streaked the wallpaper, splattered across the floor, and even stained the glass windows.

"I stepped out for a moment, and when I returned, his face was already covered in blood..." the caregiver sobbed, her voice shaking.

Dad...

Hee-joo couldn't shake the shock that gripped her. There was no one else who could have committed such a violent and cruel act-no one except that hostage-taker.

All because of one phone call.

Because Baek Sa-oen hadn't answered the kidnapper's threats for a few days, the man resulted to ripping out someone's molars.

Hee-joo's eyes burned with fury.

"Ugh..."

Her father's swollen cheek twitched faintly.

He continued to stare weakly at some invisible point in the room. Then, suddenly, his parched lips moved.

Hee-joo bent down sharply, pressing her ear closer to him.

"Call... call..."

!"

"Sister... call..."

A single tear finally escaped from her father's rigid, swollen eyes.

In that moment, Hee-joo broke down completely.

Her pale cheeks rested limply against the backseat of the patrol car. Hee-joo's mind was a blank slate, caught somewhere between dazed and numb. It wasn't until the two officers climbed into the front seats that she remembered she had agreed to accompany them to the police station. Every action and response leading to this moment had been purely mechanical.

Her last clear memory was of her father, finally asleep after receiving a painkiller injection.

She stared out the car window, rubbing her fingers together as if trying to erase the sensation of blood still lingering on them. The metallic scent that only she seemed able to smell churned her stomach.

"...Huh? What's going on here?"

"What are you doing?"

"No, Officer Kim. It's nothing."

"Just focus on driving."

Hee-joo squeezed her eyes shut, but calm eluded her. Every time she tried to center herself, flashes of her father's extracted molars, the kidnapper's grinning face, and that unnaturally blue sky filled her mind. Sweat slickened her palms.

Then, the sudden crackle of static from the radio yanked her from the spiral of her thoughts.

At the same time, the officer in the driver's seat smacked the dashboard hard.

"This is so weird..."

"You idiot, are you always this annoying?"

"No, it's not that, it's just... this..."

And then—

—a high-pitched noise erupted from the radio, sharp enough to make all three of them wince.

"What the hell is that?" Officer Kim twisted the dial, trying to tune it out, but the sound only grew louder, an eerie, grating frequency that filled the car.

The driver slammed his palm against the radio again. "Is this thing busted? What's going on?"

Before anyone could respond, the noise abruptly cut out, replaced by an unmistakable voice:

"Hello, sister."

Hee-joo's entire body froze. Her blood ran cold as the voice reverberated through the car, clear and deliberate.

"Enjoying your ride to the station?"

Her head snapped toward the radio, her breathing shallow and frantic.

The officers exchanged confused glances. "Who the hell is this? Dispatch?"

But Hee-joo knew. She knew that voice, that playful, taunting tone.

"Don't get too comfortable, sister. We're not done yet."

The radio crackled once more, and the line went dead.

The car fell into stunned silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them.

Hee-joo's trembling hands gripped the seatbelt across her chest. Her mind screamed one question over and over: How does he always know where I am?

"——This is JBS Radio, 10:07 p.m. Someone is pouring gasoline and lighting a fire. Cause baby, you're a firework... The suspect harbored resentment..."

The radio scrambled, blending news reports with fragments of pop songs.

Hee-joo flinched violently at the unnervingly familiar sensation of déjà vu.

"What... what's going on?"

"I'll fix it," the officer stammered, slapping the dashboard again. It didn't help.

Of course, it wouldn't.

Only Hee-joo, who had lived through this twisted game before, knew what it meant. Her skin turned clammy as cold sweat dripped down her back. She clutched the seatbelt tightly, her breaths growing shallower with every passing second.

"Ugh, I have no idea what's happening," one officer muttered.

"Let me try," said another, reaching for the controls.

As the officers fumbled, their radio equipment began emitting piercing static. The old handheld police transceiver crackled to life with an eerie resonance.

From the crackling void came an unmistakable melody, warped and distorted:

"You can ring my be-e-ell... Ring my bell. You can ring my be-e-ell... Ring my bell..."

"What the hell is this?" Officer Kim exclaimed, gripping the transceiver.

The haunting tune continued, unfazed by the officer's frantic attempts to stop it.

It was futile, of course.

Because this wasn't a malfunction.

It was an unshakable message—one directed solely at Hee-joo.

Her trembling hands clenched into fists, her entire body frozen in place.

She knew what came next.

"You can ring my be-e-ell... Ring my bell..."

"This lunatic..." Hee-joo muttered, her nails digging into the skin of her neck.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave: even the police car was under his control.

As the thought took hold, the vehicle seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with its confined spaces. The trunk, the seats, the floor beneath her—they all felt like traps, throbbing with hidden danger.

Her pulse pounded erratically. She couldn't sit still. Every fiber of her being screamed to get out.

She couldn't take it anymore. The nausea swelled, and she began banging on the window.

Through the rearview mirror, her panicked eyes met the officers' puzzled stares.

"Let me out," she said hoarsely.

"What?"

"Stop the car. Let me out here," she insisted, her voice trembling.

"You think this is a taxi?" one officer snapped.

"Please, let me out," Hee-joo repeated, her words urgent.

"No. This is the middle of the road. We can't—"

"Just let me out, and everything will be fine! I promise—please, just let me out!"

Her desperation reached a breaking point.

"Hey! Calm down! What are you—"

Before they could finish, Hee-joo yanked at the door handle, clawing and pounding with renewed frenzy.

"Let me out! Let me out!" she screamed, her voice raw.

"Hey, stop that! Stop!" the officers shouted, fumbling to regain control of the escalating chaos inside the car.

The radio continued its relentless loop of "Ring my bell, ring my bell..." The repetition pounded in Hee-joo's ears, making her head feel as though it would explode.

"Calm down! You need to calm down!" one officer shouted from the front seat.

"Please, I'm begging you..." Hee-joo barely managed to speak before her stomach heaved. "Ugh—"

"Officer Kim, the family member doesn't look well. Ma'am, are you feeling unwell? Should we take you to the ER?"

"Just let me out. Please, I'm fine—just let me out, thank you," she said, her voice thin and strained.

Her sweat-soaked bangs clung to her forehead as she gripped the seat for support. Seeing her pale, trembling form, the officer slammed on the brakes.

The car jerked to a stop, and Hee-joo immediately unlocked the door and stumbled out, doubling over by the roadside.

"Ugh...ugh...!" she retched violently, her stomach producing nothing but bitter acid.

What voice could replace mine? What messages could replace me?

What does he want me to relay? What does he need to hear from Baek Sa-oen?

The thought of the kidnapper—someone who could hack into a police car and take over its communication systems—made Hee-joo feel as though a boulder was crushing her chest. Her judgment, already frayed, began to dissolve completely under the weight of it all.

She thought she had survived so much, endured countless trials, but it had been so long since she'd felt this powerless, this directionless. The emotions were overwhelming, clawing at her insides.

Fighting back tears, she dropped to her knees, her hands digging into the dirt as she struggled to hold herself together.

That call... I can just redial it...! she told herself, her determination clawing its way back through the chaos.

To protect her father and finally break free from the political marriage she had vowed to end, Hee-joo steeled herself. "I've already decided to see this through to the end!" If she didn't make this call, everything could spiral out of control.

The kidnapper, though absurd at times, was highly unstable. No one could predict when he might completely snap.

"...Huh?"

One of the police officers, who had followed Hee-joo out of the car, suddenly let out a startled noise. He removed his glasses and put them back on, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.

His gaze was so intense it seemed his eyeballs might pop out.

Parked beside the roadside was an enormous black vehicle that stood out like a sore thumb. The suspicious vehicle had stopped right alongside their police car, and even more intriguingly, a man stepped out of the back seat.

He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit: polished black leather shoes, perfectly creased trousers, a form-fitting vest, and a broad-shouldered blazer that completed the look.

The police officers were the first to react, their astonishment practically spilling over.

"Wow...! Isn't that the Blue House spokesperson? I've seen you on TV so many times!"

"This is unbelievable! Hello, sir!"

"Ah, hello," the man greeted, his deep, composed voice flowing effortlessly.

"Wow, this feels like a dream..."

"He's so handsome..."

"Thank you for your hard work," the man replied smoothly, his demeanor as polished as his appearance.

Baek Sa-oen handled the situation effortlessly, his eyes glancing briefly in Hee-joo's direction. Her disheveled state met his cold gaze, and for a fleeting moment, an unidentifiable emotion flickered across his otherwise impassive face.

The man spoke directly to Hee-joo, her reddened eyes reflecting her turmoil. "You can leave now," he said calmly to the officers.

"What?"

"She's my family," he added.

"...!"

Surprisingly, Hee-joo was the one most taken aback. That one sentence, delivered in a detached tone, lacked any context and completely disregarded her presence. She understood clearly—he had intentionally left out any explanations. To him, they weren't worth even superficial formalities.

"Thank you for your efforts up to this point," he added politely, though his tone unmistakably carried the weight of dismissal.

The patrol officer cast a suspicious glance at the two of them.

Baek Sa-oen blocked the officer's view, firmly gripping his shoulder with calculated pressure. "I will personally handle this case," he said with authority.

"What exactly is the relationship between you two...?" the officer asked cautiously, stealing a glance at Hee-joo. "She seems to be in poor condition. She really should go to a hospital..."

"You're quite concerned," Baek Sa-oen remarked, his voice low and measured.

"Uh... excuse me?"

"Is this how you conduct official duties?" Baek Sa-oen's brow furrowed slightly, his tone edged with disapproval.

"Is... is it?" The patrol officer tilted his head in confusion but answered earnestly, "She seemed quite distressed in the car as well."

"She's my responsibility," Baek Sa-oen stated firmly.

"What?"

"She's my wife."

"Ah...!" The officer's face immediately registered shock, and his gaze shifted toward Hee-joo, now filled with obvious cur

iosity.

As if drawn by the intrigue, the officer leaned slightly forward to get a better look at her, but Baek Sa-oen shifted his stance. His deliberate movement placed his broad shoulder squarely in the officer's line of sight, effectively blocking any further scrutiny.