Hell's Love Quadrangle: Activated
Lee Jin-ah staggered out of the alley. The throbbing pain in her abdomen was nothing compared to the boiling rage churning inside her.
That slut.
She had to kill her. Or rip that lump out of her belly. Anything. She couldn't stand to see a bitch like that sitting next to Senior—no matter what.
And—
From the mouth of the alley on the opposite side, Yeom Hana stopped in her tracks as well. She rubbed her still-aching jaw and pulled her phone from her pocket. The screen lit up with three letters: Ajusshi.
Her thumb hovered over the call button. She wanted to dial right then and there, whine about how that crazy old hag had shown up, spewed all sorts of vicious crap at her, even hit her. She yearned to hear Ajusshi's voice asking if she was okay, if she was hurt anywhere, promising to give that wicked woman a piece of his mind.
But.
[She's just some cheap slut who spreads her legs for free, so I took what was on offer.]
Lee Jin-ah's venomous parting shot had lodged in Yeom Hana's chest like a thorn, refusing to budge. Her finger froze on the screen, refusing to move.
No. Ajusshi isn't like that.
Ajusshi was kind. He'd bought her pork soup rice, listened to her stories, laughed along with her jokes.
But.
...What if it's true?
Anxiety wormed its way into the cracks of her heart without mercy. Maybe that crazy hag was right. Maybe Yeom Hana was the only one getting all excited about their flirtation or whatever, and to Ajusshi, it was just a one-night stand for fun.
Yeom Hana had nothing going for her—no money, no class. As she'd often say in her favorite gallery chats, she was just an amateur dirt-poor thug. Meanwhile, Ajusshi was probably a civil servant or a public company employee—middle-aged but handsome. You could tell from the way a classy woman like that called him "Senior."
It made her want to die from frustration, but still.
Such an Ajusshi—
Would he seriously date someone like me?
He wouldn't. Probably.
Glancing at those three letters on the screen again, a wave of resentment crashed over her. She wanted to call right now. Hear him say she wasn't some cheap slut, that he'd slept with her because he liked her.
But once more, her thumb wouldn't budge. What if he found her annoying? What if he picked up and reacted just like that woman said—[What's with the sudden clinginess? You're being too much. We're not that close.]?
"Fuck."
Yeom Hana bit her lip hard. In the end, she couldn't even tap the screen. The phone went dark from inactivity, reflecting her distorted face in the black mirror.
……………
I opened my eyes. An unfamiliar ceiling. Actually, not unfamiliar. It was the ceiling of my one-room.
It just felt that way—like something conjured by my desperate wish that last night's events had been a dream, a denial of reality.
Warmth radiated from beside me. A woman using my arm as a pillow, sleeping soundly, oblivious to the world.
Han Sol. Stark naked, without a stitch on. Her exposed shoulder and back gleamed blindingly white.
"...Haa."
I covered my face with both hands.
How the hell did this happen?
No sense of reality at all. But what could I do? This was reality.
Let's think rationally, at least. Factually speaking, I hadn't really crossed any taboo lines. Biologically speaking, that is.
Han Sol and I didn't share a drop of blood. She'd been born from my ex-wife's affair, so genetically, Han Kang and Han Sol were complete strangers. Just a fortysomething guy and a twentysomething girl sharing a bed by mutual consent. Strictly biologically speaking.
Hell, as long as there was no marriage registration, it was fine legally too.
So... no genetic issues, no legal problems?
Yeah. No problems. None at all.
But no matter how much I tried to convince myself it was fine, the memories I'd inherited from Han Kang included Han Sol from her baby days. Sucking on a bottle as she slept, taking her first wobbly steps, clutching my hand tight at her kindergarten entrance ceremony.
With those memories in my head, the fact that I'd held this squirming girl in my arms as a woman—that wouldn't change. Ever.
This disconnect. My male instincts clashing with a father's memories, like my brain was being crushed between them. Nausea rising, or maybe a shiver of taboo thrill.
"Hoo...."
A sigh escaped me. What now? How was I supposed to look at this girl from here on out?
Then—as if my sigh were a signal—Han Sol's eyelashes fluttered. Her eyelids slowly lifted.
"...".
Our eyes met. And I—flinched at the strangeness.
The girl who'd been waving a knife yesterday, ranting about life and death, now wore the face of the world's sweetest, most innocent daughter.
The sticky shadow of venom and anxiety that had bound even me had vanished like a lie.
Han Sol nuzzled her face into the pillow and smiled sleepily.
"Good morning, Dad?"
As she spoke, she burrowed naked into the covers, pressing into my arms. Soft skin met bare flesh; our body heat mingled.
"...Yeah. Slept well. You?"
"Me too."
Han Sol wrapped her arms around my waist, burrowing deeper. Her soft breasts pressed flush, molding to my shape in the most blatant way.
She looked happy. More peaceful than I'd seen in over a decade—utterly serene.
Seeing her like that, a bizarre sense of relief bloomed amid the tangled guilt. This girl was alive. She hadn't harmed herself.
If I'd pushed her away yesterday, her cold corpse might be lying beside me now instead of her warm body. I might be sobbing over my daughter hanging from a noose.
Compared to that nightmare, a naked daughter snuggling up was... much better.
Yeah. No legal or genetic issues. I already hooked up with Yeom Hana, who's even younger than Sol—what's the difference?
If anyone heard that self-justification, I'd be branded human trash on the spot, beaten and chased from society.
But right now, it felt awfully convincing. A disgusting excuse, but I had to cling to it.
I slid my hand along her smooth back. She flinched at my touch, then melted into me like a contented cat.
Taboo thrill surged. Relief too.
Can I undo this?
Once you cross a line, the second time is easier, and by the third, the line means nothing.
Han Sol would see this as normal now. Father and lover. She'd demand both roles from me.
But what if I didn't cross it again? If I chalked this up to a one-night mistake and never let it happen again...
...Not sure if that's possible. But yesterday, I had no choice. Ironically, rolling in bed with Han Sol was the best thing for her.
Yeah. Spilled water can't be poured back.
If I couldn't undo it, I'd accept reality and move forward. Even if it meant facing the world's finger-pointing.
Protecting this girl breathing in my arms. And making damn sure I didn't cross that line again.
That was the path I'd chosen.
……………
Had the commute air ever felt this light? Normally, I'd drag my feet to the office like a cow to the slaughterhouse.
Five-day workweeks were humanity's inevitable curse from progress; Monday mornings, the curse's peak.
But today, the Special Security Management Bureau Seoul Branch felt like a sanctuary.
The weekend had been a disaster. Stopping Han Sol's self-harm meltdown, calming her with sex. Then Sunday evening, sweet-talking and coaxing the clingy girl who demanded to move in together until I finally sent her home.
Through it all, I'd burned through emotions nonstop. Han Sol, terrified her anxiety would flare up again, clung to me endlessly; by the end, I was wilted like a dying plant.
"...She really drains the life outta me."
My body was in the office chair, but my mind still floated over that weekend bed.
At least mornings were always slow here. Handle a few papers, then slack off like a salary Lupin and patch up my mental health.
I was staring blankly at my monitor, cooling my brain, when—
"Senior."
A familiar voice. Lee Jin-ah.
Before I could turn, a paper cup thunked onto my desk. The usual steaming instant coffee.
"Oh, hey."
"You look beat. Rough weekend?"
She perched lightly on the corner of my desk.
"Senior, got a sec to talk?"
"Talk?"
"Yeah. Won't take long."
Crisp office attire, sleek stockings, beaming smile. Same as always.
Yet... a chill prickled my skin. The coffee in my hand felt ice-cold.
A gut instinct I couldn't pinpoint screamed danger. This wouldn't be good.
"You got time, right?"
"...Yeah, sure."
No real excuse to refuse. I swallowed the unease and stood.
……………
The rooftop. Wind was cold, but Lee Jin-ah's coffee was still hot. I leaned on the railing and took a sip.
"...Mm."
Sweet. Way sweeter than usual. Tongue-numbingly so—like she'd dumped half a sugar bag in.
As I frowned, Lee Jin-ah spoke.
"Friday night was great, huh?"
"Ah, yeah. It was."
I nodded awkwardly. Friday hadn't been ordinary either. Gym with her, dinner, drinks at a cozy bar, late-night movie, then her place. It had flowed naturally, like climbing stairs without a hitch—we'd ended up in bed.
But compared to Saturday and Sunday, even that memory had faded. Regardless of good or bad, Han Sol had drained my sanity too much. I hadn't thought of Lee Jin-ah once all weekend.
Guess it's just chit-chat.
Tension eased a bit. I'd thought dragging me to the roof meant something serious.
But my relief didn't last.
"But Senior."
Lee Jin-ah leaned on the railing too.
"Anything happen last week?"
A strange smile. But familiar. Not from this world—from previous ones. Choi Seori, Kim Bom, Catalina, Kang Haneul and Baek Sehee. The smile they'd worn when grilling me.
...What the hell.
Tension spiked again. Last week. That meant Han Sol. Had she found out about the weekend?
No way. Impossible unless she bugged my place.
But I felt guilty. Forcing a relaxed face, I replied.
"Haha, what do you mean? Nothing happened."
"Hmm...."
Lee Jin-ah sipped her coffee. Then dropped another name out of nowhere.
"Senior, do you know someone named Yeom Hana?"
"Uh, what?"
"Yeom. Ha. Na. Yeom Hana."
Unexpected. I couldn't hide my flinch.
Lee Jin-ah caught it. Her smile deepened, but her eyes turned icy.
She leaned in close, lips brushing my ear.
"They say you knocked her up, Senior."