when the phone rings novel
'He's not a blackmailer, so why would he say something like that to me?'
Her face revealed unmistakable surprise.
"Divorce is not an option for me," he said, his voice cold as ice.
His brows furrowed, as if even the thought of it irritated him.
"Scandals or rumors—I cannot tolerate failure. I was born unable to endure my name being tarnished."
The venom in his gaze carried a sense of compulsion.
How could someone... live a lifetime with someone they don't love? Her mind conjured the image of her father, now little more than an empty shell.
I can't do it.
Under the table, her hands clenched into fists.
"So you'd better prepare yourself."
"What...?"
"Be ready to hold on to your job."
"..."
"And don't spit it out—swallow it properly."
He pushed the plate toward her, signaling her to eat quickly.
"Starting today, you'll sleep in my room."
"..."
For a moment, she felt suffocated.
"If we keep living like this, we'll only turn into mutually at-fault spouses. The louder it gets outside, the more internal fractures are overlooked. Hong Hee-joo, you must have learned this when you were still carrying your schoolbag."
There was a peculiar look in his eyes as he stared at her.
Suddenly, he dragged his chair back and stood, circling the table to approach her.
"I happened to see something on your phone—"
"..."
"You saved my number in quite an amusing way."
That's when Hee-joo realized, 'Oh no!'
"'Business Husband.'"
He slowly repeated the words, chewing on them deliberately.
She had saved it that way as a sarcastic reminder of her situation—to keep herself from having expectations or facing disappointment. But hearing him say it aloud made her cheeks burn.
"Well then, since it's business, let's cooperate properly."
"...!"
"You'll attend the Mountain View Daily 70th Anniversary event with me. I want to stage a perfect show-window marriage with Hong Hee-joo."
At that moment, he suddenly leaned in and lifted his shirt, exposing his well-defined abs.
Hee-joo froze, her eyes widening in shock at the sight. She quickly tried to look away, but he grabbed the back of her head, holding her still.
The strong scent of him—an intoxicating mix of his cologne and natural fragrance—wafted over her as the rough edge of his T-shirt grazed her lips.
"You've still got milk on your mouth, like a child," Baek Sa-eon remarked coldly.
He roughly wiped away the white stain from the area above her upper lip. Despite the irritation in his gaze, his actions were oddly meticulous.
Hee-joo stared blankly at his muscular abs and the sharp curve of his hip bones, her eyes refusing to blink. Strangely, her throat involuntarily moved as she swallowed.
Baek Sa-eon glanced at the clock on the wall and clicked his tongue, lowering his arm. Without sparing her another glance, he turned and strode toward the bedroom, gripping the dirty shirt tightly in his hand.
"..."
Left alone, Hee-joo touched her tingling lips. He'd wiped so harshly that the skin around her mouth was reddened.
As soon as he left, the tension drained from her body, leaving her feeling weak. She collapsed onto the sofa, her lips still faintly stinging, before suddenly springing to her feet.
"I should just wash the dishes..."
Trying to compose herself, she opened the dishwasher.
Beep, beep, beep.
Her phone began to ring at that moment. It was her custom ringtone, yet it somehow felt unfamiliar. Since she had publicly claimed to suffer from mutism, very few people ever called her directly.
"...It must be Mom."
Her face, which had just started to regain some color, immediately stiffened. Calls from her mother rarely required a response; they were usually one-sided monologues that ended abruptly.
However, this time, the call was marked as "No Caller ID."
"What's going on?"
Hee-joo stared at the screen, but before she could decide, the call ended. The phone began ringing again almost immediately—still marked as "No Caller ID."
The same person was calling again.
A sense of unease crept up her spine.
Despite the faint trembling in her fingers, Hee-joo answered without hesitation.
"Sis, pick up the phone quickly, or I'm going to lose my temper."
"...!"
"You know I don't have much patience, don't you?"
It was the kidnapper, as expected.
An icy chill ran through her, leaving her feeling as though she'd been plunged into freezing water.
"The two billion won Baek Sa-eon said he'd give you—do you want it or not?"
The blunt question left her momentarily speechless.
This confirmed he was tapping the phone—after all, it was his device.
"I can set up an untraceable offshore account for you. But before that..."
The kidnapper chuckled softly, and Hee-joo unconsciously touched her ear, which prickled with goosebumps.
"I'll share some good news with you: Baek Sa-eon's real occupation."
"...!"
She froze, her head snapping up.
What was Baek Sa-eon's true job?
"What... what does that mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Not the glamorous Cheongwadae spokesperson you see on the surface, but Baek Sa-eon's real work. Something much darker. If you use this to threaten him, you could genuinely ruin him."
"...!"
Her heartbeat quickened, her mouth going dry. Yet, she remained cautious about the alluring bait being dangled before her.
"...Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you helping me to this extent?"
"Because I want everything to go back to how it was."
"..."
"I want the same outcome as you do."
He spoke with unsettling simplicity, his words carrying an emptiness that felt hollow. But he offered no further explanation, leaving a palpable, invisible boundary in the air.
"So, I want you to make your threats more effective. A 2 billion won deal is a terrible negotiation. Do you think taking that money will get you divorced?"
"..."
"Of course not. You're no match for that cunning fox. Right now, he's already got you wrapped around his finger."
Hee-joo shuddered involuntarily.
"Baek Sa-eon's strategy is 'information distortion.' He's making you chase something insignificant—not divorce, but disappearing after taking the 2 billion won."
Even so, Baek Sa-eon seemed to have already sniffed out the situation and had taken sly countermeasures. It was a strategy to absolve himself of the responsibility of being a faulted spouse.
Her arrogant husband had no doubt she would obediently fall in line.
Her mouth opened involuntarily.
"But this won't come for free."
"...!"
Her lips, which had parted moments before, stiffened.
"We agreed last time. You'll bring me the information I want, and I'll help you. But can it happen in one attempt?"
"...!"
"Before we move forward with the real operation, I need to train you."
Her heart pounded violently.
"I'll tell you Baek Sa-eon's new weakness. In exchange, you..."
Hee-joo tightly closed her eyes in disappointment, feeling as though she was trapped in yet another inescapable sinkhole. But she didn't want to give up here. She refused to remain someone her husband could easily manipulate—she wanted to be the one using him instead.
When she opened her eyes again, they gleamed with resolve and cunning.
"A slip of the tongue from the Cheongwadae spokesperson would be perfect. Something like... profanity."
"...!"
"Even better if it's an unforgivable verbal outburst."
The kidnapper laughed as if he were casually asking her to fetch some salt, cheerfully encouraging her. This was her first directive.
"Record his profanity, and then we'll trade."
"How vulgar, utterly vulgar!"
As Hee-joo pushed open the door, Han Jun, her supervisor, was groaning dramatically. She knocked lightly to get his attention.
'Why did you call me?' she asked in sign language.
Han Jun immediately stood from his seat.
"Where were you yesterday? You seemed to be in such a rush."
"..."
"Did something happen?"
'Nothing,' Hee-joo replied with a faint smile to conceal the unspeakable events of the previous day.
Her supervisor cast her a skeptical glance and handed her a folder.
'What's this?'
"Thought you might be bored, so I found some work for you."
"..."
"This is the lyrics to a popular song. Take a look."
Though confused, Hee-joo accepted the folder and began flipping through it quietly.
The moment she read the first line—no, just the first word—her face turned bright red. Her jaw dropped.
Han Jun sighed.
"It's that... the concert I mentioned earlier, remember? Korean singer."
WXXXXX in this house
Wet AXX PXXXXX...
The lyrics were impossible for her to even think about voicing aloud.
"Can you do it?"
'Absolutely not!'
Her face pale, she waved her hands frantically.
'I've never seen content like this before, let alone translated it into sign language!'
"That's why I've been learning these terms in the association."
FuXXXXX with XXX XXXX...
'Ah...!'
Hee-joo quickly crumpled the paper into a ball and shoved it into her bag. Every word, every line, was full of innuendo and creativity—each lyric as provocative as the last. The thought of translating these near-explicit lyrics onstage, using her entire body to convey their meaning, made her dizzy.
She turned on her heel, ready to flee.
"Wait, wait!" Han Jun blocked her path.
"Since you're already here, take a look at this."
The center director handed her a tablet, and the screen displayed the iconic blue emblem of Cheongwadae.
Hee-joo, who had been ready to complain, clamped her mouth shut.
It was an official announcement from Cheongwadae sent to Seoul's various sign language interpretation centers. When her eyes landed on the title, written in bold letters, "Cheongwadae Sign Language Interpreter," an unfamiliar rush of heat coursed through her chest.
Han Jun glanced at her expression and smirked.
"I knew you'd like it."
'I don't like it!' Hee-joo hastily signed, but all she got in return was his knowing laugh.
"Ever since Baek Sa-eon started hosting news and debate programs, you've been practicing sign language using current event videos. Don't think I haven't noticed."
"...!"
"Do you realize how rare an opportunity this is?"
'But...'
But I'm threatening that very Cheongwadae spokesperson...
The irony hit her like a brick, leaving her unsure whether to laugh or cry.