Chapter 54
Chapter 54
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 54
Chapter Title: Scars That Teach
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Smack—
A narrow passage barely qualifying as a hallway, partitioned off from the workspace. A woman in high-end office attire staggered and collapsed with a sharp slap that echoed crisply.
Female employees passing by along the wall, and male staff peeking over from beyond the partitions, all widened their eyes and stared at the man who had just struck the woman.
The woman, slumped on the floor, looked up at the man in his sharp gray suit with bloodshot eyes, as if she couldn't believe she'd actually been slapped.
The man gazed down at her with an expressionless face.
"Did he just... hit a woman?"
"He looks fine enough, but is that guy insane?"
"Who is he?"
"I think he's Hwan-in from HR Team 1..."
"What's going on?"
In this era rife with accusations of "visual assault" or "sexual harassment" just for glancing at a woman, murmurs spread among the male employees beyond the partitions: a man hitting a woman—what was he thinking?
The women, on the other hand, watched with eager anticipation, wondering how this situation had arisen and what kind of chaos would unfold next.
"......"
But the pandemonium the women hoped for never materialized.
The man stared indifferently at the woman on the floor for a moment before turning and walking away. The woman, who had been sitting there dazed, clutching her slapped cheek, finally stood up, her face flushed beet red.
"What are you all staring at?! Look away right now!"
She screamed fiercely at those around her, her eyes glinting with malice.
It was the kind of brazen behavior no one without powerful backing could pull off. The quick-witted scurried away, while the oblivious had their heads shoved down under their partitions by colleagues.
Once the area quieted, the woman—whose pretty face belied her snarling—ground her teeth and stormed off. Her ferocious aura was so intimidating that the male employees hiding under their partitions swallowed hard.
Only after confirming she was gone did the staff beyond the partitions whisper among themselves.
"That woman who got slapped—she's VP Kang's daughter, right? From the Planning Department..."
"Yeah. They say she's great at her job but has a killer personality. Guess it's true."
"How'd she end up getting slapped by a guy?"
"More importantly, who is that guy? Anyone know?"
"I do. Hwan-in, assistant manager in HR Team 1."
"Oh, that... guy you can't quite figure out?"
"I heard he's super stoic."
"He's just expressionless and quiet, but his personality's fine."
"Yeah, I remember now. He doesn't cause trouble for anyone, nails his work sharp and clean, but he doesn't mingle well. I heard the managers talking about it."
"So why'd a guy like that slap VP Kang's daughter?"
"Beats me."
"Wonder why."
"Ahem!"
The section chief cleared his throat loudly, glaring at them with displeased eyes. The employees, necks craning like giraffes under his gaze, scattered hurriedly. The minor commotion at 2 p.m. seemed to fizzle out.
"Hoo..."
"......"
"Hey, In-ah."
"Yes."
"What the hell were you thinking? Of all people, VP Kang's daughter..."
"......"
On the rooftop, the senior leaned against the railing with a sigh and asked Hwan-in, who stood silently like a totem pole, once more.
"Say something, will you? Tell me the reason so I can figure out how to cover for you. You can't just clam up like an oyster. Come on?"
"......"
"Jeez..."
Frustrated, the senior pulled the last cigarette from his crumpled pack, lit it, and took a drag. It burned down quickly, mirroring his anxiety.
After smoking in silence and stubbing out the filter in his portable ashtray, he spoke.
"I know you're not the type to throw the first punch. Probably that woman pulled some shady stunt on you or tried to."
"......"
"That crazy bi—ahem. With her personality, she won't let it slide. VP Kang might get involved. If their side moves, even our Executive Director Choi might have to step in. Even if we're on his line..."
He trailed off, but the gist was: I can't protect you.
Hwan-in's eyes narrowed at the implication: kneel and apologize before becoming a sacrificial pawn in the company's power games.
From the senior's reaction, he realized the balding section chief—the one ultimately responsible—had no intention of stepping up.
Hwan-in let the senior's nonsense flow in one ear and out the other as he began devising ways to protect himself.
The culprit behind this mess was Kang Ha-yeon, daughter of the vice president at Sam-an Trading—ranked 149th in the industry, a name nearly four in ten people would recognize. She had parachuted into the Planning Department under her father's halo.
One word summed up Kang Ha-yeon: scum.
Human trash, raised without want in the upper crust—if not the elite—with every desire fulfilled and every whim indulged, utterly arrogant.
If she wanted something, she'd stop at nothing to claim it. If she heard something she disliked, she'd slap the offender to vent her rage.
With striking looks admired by both men and women, sharp wits that veered from cunning to malicious, she dodged the law and occasionally dipped into crime.
After joining, she leveraged her innate talent and connections to seize control of the Planning Department in record time, becoming its power player. Satisfied with his daughter's prowess, VP Kang gave her one directive.
"Lately, Manager Park's been making suspicious moves. I'm tied up watching him, so you keep an eye on Executive Director Choi's neutral faction."
"I pick the methods?"
"I trust you'll handle it well, but don't make a huge mess. Even if Choi sides with Park, it's not a major threat, but..."
"It'd be a huge pain, right?"
"Exactly."
The moment she received her father's orders, Ha-yeon's cunning mind spun up a scenario. First, she thought of Hwan-in, the HR Team 1 puppet dubbed "wooden doll."
It made perfect sense.
Her type: taciturn handsome men. She'd spotted Hwan-in a few times around the office post-hiring, and he hit the mark perfectly.
Moreover, in just a few months, he'd outpaced peers to assistant manager with solid skills, and his "wooden doll" nickname fit his quiet nature. A honey trap would turn him into her perfect spy.
Using him would yield results even Dad would approve of.
She'd been playing nice for his sake but had vowed to claim him someday. Now, opportunity knocked.
Ha-yeon smirked wickedly, thrilled.
Honey traps were her specialty.
Society favored women heavily these days.
Born victims of patriarchy.
Sacrifices to male dominance.
With "gender sensitivity" as the magic buzzword, women were entitled to preferential treatment as the "vulnerable party." A consistent story alone could paint the innocent as perpetrator—woman's power, especially in sexual matters.
She'd ruined a few lives this way, from college through her career.
Men are simple. Alternate threats and bribes, dangle the carrot—they all fall.
Ha-yeon admired her toned body in the full-length mirror post-shower.
Breasts too full for two hands. Waist slim enough for a man's arm. Hips curving like sculpture from waist down.
Inheriting her top-model mother's Western build, honed by yoga and Pilates, plus status and beauty—honey trap success rate: over 200%.
Countless men toyed with from middle school through college.
Recalling undergrad days enslaving the student council president and department head, heat stirred in her lower belly.
She brushed her groomed pubic hair, shivered with a ragged breath, and pressed her clit firmly.
A jolt shot through her core, heart racing, nipples hardening—light arousal building.
Then she grimaced.
Despite her confidence from experience, things hadn't gone as planned.
Post-orders, she started with "accidental" approaches in blind spots, escalating to blatant seduction—but Hwan-in was immune.
Men melted at her feigned touches; he brushed her shoulder off like dead wood.
Even body language screaming interest and drinks with lipstick marks? He flicked them away like stray leaves.
Her pride stung.
How dare he reject me? Who does he think he is?!
She'd investigated him thoroughly.
Parents dead in a car crash. No siblings, estranged relatives.
No girlfriend, few friends, minimal socializing.
Visited his usual bar 1-2 times weekly post-work. Monthly bushcraft hikes. Dull as dirt.
No family, no girl—she figured skirts would snag him in days. Two weeks in, no progress. Impatience and bruised ego brewed.
Hwan-in wasn't her only target. Second and third options existed, but she couldn't stomach his resistance.
If carrot fails, time for the whip.
Irritated and furious at his rejection, Ha-yeon revealed her venomous true self.
The next day.
She summoned him to a deserted conference room at the hall's end, demanding obedience—threatening career-ending rumors if he refused.
"See this? If it leaks, you're done in society. You know how forgiving it is to women these days."
"......"
The photos in her hand clearly showed Hwan-in groping her—or so it appeared.
Reality reversed: insurance shots from her "accidental" touches, manipulated but convincingly real. Expert angles made her the victim.
Staring silently at the photos, Hwan-in stirred a piercing thrill in her womb.
Euphoria from absolute dominance: one gesture to socially execute him, gripping his leash as he couldn't even struggle.
He could yell or strike—fine by her. Precautions ensured her safety; his violence would tighten the noose.
Submission worked too. Breaking a stiff man to crawl? Her kink.
She predicted his moves, calculated gains for herself and Dad, smirking triumphantly.
But Hwan-in defied her script.
"Wh-where are you going?!"
He ignored her and left the room.
Deeming it flight, she chased and grabbed his shoulder.
Exposed to eyes? Trivial.
Then, feeling his firm muscle—Oh, so solid? Well-toned...—
Smack—
Sparks flew before her eyes, mind blanking. Coming to, she sat slumped, staring up at his impassive gaze.
"......You could get sued, fired at worst, blacklisted from the industry. VP Kang has that pull. Hey, you listening?"
Hwan-in ignored the senior's pointless nagging—more threat to grovel than concern—and walked away.
He organized intel on Ha-yeon and VP Kang, prioritizing next steps.
Strike first before she did.
"Damn, is he nuts? I'm talking to him... Hey, where you going!? Get back here!"
The senior, only skilled at fawning over the balding chief.
Hwan-in never expected protection from that self-serving bat, flapping between factions.
His innately flawed parents had strived to socialize him, per their dying wish.
He'd acted "normal" at work to honor it—but no more. Ignoring the senior's curses, he left the company.
Quitting time had passed anyway.
"......"
Exiting the gate, he gazed at the darkening building, lost in thought.
His late parents, killed in a crash, had logically drilled into young Hwan-in why he mustn't harm others—eye-level lessons.
He hadn't grasped it then but accepted their wisdom. He mimicked others not to avoid hurting them, but self-preservation.
Sharp and observant, aping peers was easy. Parental aid kept him seen as "quirky," not unstable.
His mindset bloomed wider in middle school, stumbling on "psychopath" via Wikipedia.
Next day, library binge on related books led to a diagnosis site.
Over 100 items meticulously filled: high psychopath score. Parents were amazing, he rationally concluded.
They'd nurtured their abnormal son into a passable normal with devotion.
"......"
Thus, unless threats exceeded thresholds, Hwan-in observed.
Cross it? No mercy.
He gathered dirt on connected folks via networks, sharpening social blades preemptively—striking without hesitation or trace.
His responses stayed defensive by nature.
"......"
He'd swung blades before—no qualms. But now... a twinge of regret.
Why not proactively eliminate threats?
What answer would living Dad give this doubt?
What words from ever-warm Mom?
Missing his parents keenly today, Hwan-in rose and headed home.