#20 Former Singer, Current Pregnant Woman 1
1. As always, Yujin skipped her essay cram school right after dinner, claiming she had to go. She texted inviting Seohyun to eat together. Seohyun, wanting a change of pace—and with her shoot conveniently ending near Yujin's place—gladly accepted. They met at the commercial complex below Yujin's apartment building, a spot famous for its kıymalı pide: flat fermented dough topped with ground beef, peppers, and veggies, baked in a stone oven. Having been there before, Seohyun ordered the couple's set without hesitation. No sooner had they done so than Yujin launched into a rambling update on her life.
Humans adapt to hardship more easily than you'd think. Surprisingly, daily life went on without a hitch. Or maybe the events at his house felt so unreal that, just two days later, she still hadn't fully processed them as reality.
Meeting Yujin like this, Seohyun realized she couldn't focus on the conversation at all.
"You listening to me?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry."
"You gotta listen properly when your friend's talking!"
"Guess I'm a bit tired. What'd you say?"
"Teacher showed up today in this black semi-formal suit. Wow, how can someone look that hot?"
"..."
Maybe it was because Yujin had jumped straight to talking about Yuchan. Yujin's crush, the counselor. Just two days ago, Seohyun had been raped by him. And that was just the start—she'd been injected deep into her womb with his semen, blackmailed into utter submission as his sex slave.
"Silent treatment again. Something happen today?"
Sensing something off, Yujin tilted her head. Seohyun usually gave lively reactions despite her cool demeanor, but today she looked like death warmed over.
"Nah, so you liked it?"
"You're acting weird... That Bang Director asshole giving you shit again? Just sue the bastard."
Yujin eyed her suspiciously. After fifteen years of friendship, Yujin suddenly seemed a little unfamiliar. Was it because she'd given up her long crush to chase Nayae? Or because she'd secretly tangled with Yujin's crush in some way? Either way, a vague sense of betraying Yujin crept in.
What if she told Yujin the truth—that the teacher was blackmailing her, that he'd raped her? They'd never broached anything so shocking in all their years together, so she couldn't predict the reaction. If Yuchan was targeting Yujin, she had to warn her now. If she stayed silent and Yujin fell into his clutches, it'd be her fault. She had to expose the ugly truth behind that handsome mask.
As Seohyun's lips parted, her phone buzzed with a KakaoTalk notification. She flinched.
Dizziness hit. The ambient noise swelled, churning her gut. The shop was warm from the heater, but her hands and feet went ice-cold, like frostbite.
"Who's that?"
"Just... a coworker."
Yuchan had released Seohyun far sooner than expected—no full lockdown. But he'd imposed two measures. First, a tiny recorder the size of lip balm, synced to an app that streamed audio live to his phone. In exchange for her freedom, she had to carry it everywhere—at work, sleeping, even showering—to keep her in check. He wouldn't monitor 24/7 with his own job, but she could never know. Uncertainty was as good as constant surveillance.
Second, a couples' monitoring app, linked between their phones. Seohyun had looked it up in horror—why was this classified as a "couples" app with heart icons? It tracked calls, messages, location, battery, screen status, silent mode—everything. In a smartphone-dependent world, it exposed nearly all her movements. No other rules or commands: just don't piss him off.
It felt like Bentham's Panopticon. She knew she was under watch, but not when or how.
His messages were slyly insidious. A blatant threat like "You know what happens if you spill our secret?" could've been shown to others for help. Instead, they were coded for her alone—innocent to outsiders.
Yujin grabbed Seohyun's hand. Was her forced nonchalance that obvious?
"Jeez, your hand's freezing. Like an ice cube."
"..."
That warmth nearly brought tears. She wanted to spill everything: Your crush isn't human—he's a demon. Stay away. Scream it like a madwoman, expose it all.
There were ways to signal Yujin secretly—the recorder only sent audio. Scribble on a napkin with eyeliner... But Yuchan would know instantly. Two days of surveillance taught her: he wasn't just meticulous and intelligent; his instincts were chillingly sharp. Yujin couldn't outfox him. Seohyun would pay the price.
Trapped in a giant bottle.
"Something bad happened, huh? Too hard to talk about now?"
Yujin fiddled with her fingers comfortingly. Seohyun had tried to bear it alone, but now she'd worried Yujin too.
"You don't have to say now—just whenever you're ready. We're not friends for just a day or two!"
Seohyun swallowed her tears. Without the food arriving, she might've clung to Yujin and sobbed. Quietly, she picked up her fork and knife.
2. Work done, Yuchan drove. From Ilsan via the Second Ring Expressway, Songdo International City was about an hour and a half. The management firm for a five-story mall there had gone bust; he had to handle the renewal in person.
Bluetooth speakers blared clinking dishes and Seohyun's chat with Yujin. With her weaknesses gripped tight, betrayal was unlikely—this was just light entertainment. Hearing Seohyun desperately play cheerful to keep Yujin safe was delightful.
He tapped the holder-mounted phone. Contacts: Harin. Calling.
[Yes, have you arrived?]
"No, I'll be there soon. Wait for me."
"How've you been?"
[We'll talk in person. Hanging up.]
Brusque. As her brief road manager post-army dropout and college quit, he'd trailed her. Knowing she lived in Songdo, he'd texted ahead for an overnight stay. Voice on call made her tense.
Car filled again with Seohyun and Yujin's talk show. Cool as ice. Harin was from a trendy survival audition idol group—contract ended, disbanded. She went solo on her powerful dance and vocals. That's when Yuchan joined as manager. Not quite top-star, but debut buzz led to solid albums every six months for three years, awards, growing fans.
Then, at twenty-four, sudden retirement for marriage. Gossip swirled on the rising star's "speeding," but two years on, it faded.
That was the public story. Yuchan savored her hidden side. He'd driven her to quit. Nostalgic for their heated past, he gazed at glittering night lights.
3. Contracts wrapped, Yuchan headed to Harin's. Past eleven. Songdo, built on reclaimed sea, whipped with cold wind.
Her husband: IT venture CEO, 5 billion won annual sales. Prime apartment. Yuchan parked, rode the elevator, rang.
Click. Door opened sans reply. Harin in purple fleece dress, wrinkled hem bulging over her belly. Near term—better skip rough play, he thought, slipping off shoes.
"Been well?"
"Yes. Almost a year since last summer."
Full-term pregnant, yet no fatigue in her face. At twenty-six, daily luxury aesthetics kept her glowing. Chic lob haircut below the neck. Porcelain skin, calm eyes. Peak-stage beauty lingered. The fresh girl's sweat-drenched, cheering face—molded by his filthy hands—had bloomed into raw female allure. Decadent fragility between glamour and purity. But her bright face was rigidly expressionless. Understandable.
Harin had fully surrendered to his fear. Like an elephant chained young, grown yet docile. Ideal slave, conditioned to helplessness by his bindings. Inviting her old sexual exploiter home while hubby was away? He visited when free, ravaging her ripened body. Resistance? Not an option.
"Belly swelled this much already? Name picked?"
"..."
Harin averted eyes, stroking her lower belly habitually. Biting lip whitened bloodless. Helplessness clawed her throat anew.
"Paternity test done? Whose is it?"
Yuchan draped her shoulder naturally, striding confidently into her marital home.