The Kidnapping of Han Seoyeon
"...Where am I supposed to go?"
The moment the call ended, Han Seoyeon flung her latest-model smartphone onto the bed. It was a far cry from her usual graceful bearing — a sharp, irritable flick of the wrist. The phone bounced twice on the mattress and went still.
She rose and strode toward the full-length mirror that covered an entire wall of the room. The sleek line of her legs, visible through the silk nightgown, was drawn taut with tension. The face in the glass was twisted with rage — a beautifully maintained face, yes, but irritation and anxiety were written all over it.
"Fuck... Yoo Jimin, you piece of garbage..."
The curse slipped out under her breath. How dare she threaten me? What the hell is she counting on?
She glared at her own reflection, turning it over in her mind. What's gotten into her? Her streams seem to be doing fine — did she run out of money? Or did she get into some kind of trouble? Thoughts of every kind tore through her head. But no clear answer presented itself. Yoo Jimin had always been a dog who sat quietly in the palm of her hand.
"Hah..."
She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. She would have to meet her. She needed to see what cards Jimin was holding before she could make her next move.
Han Seoyeon didn't delay. She stepped into her dressing room and changed quickly into going-out clothes — a simple black dress, the designer logo unmistakably visible. She put on the barest minimum of makeup to force some life back into her bloodless face, then hid her complicated gaze behind a pair of sunglasses.
As she headed for the front door, the housekeeper coming out of the kitchen looked at her in surprise.
"Miss, where are you going so early in the morning?"
"I have something to take care of."
Han Seoyeon answered curtly as she slipped on her heels.
"I might not be back tonight, so tell Dad I'm staying over at a friend's."
As if to allow no further questions, she opened the front door and stepped outside. The cold air of early morning brushed her cheeks. But her mind was occupied solely with the bait that piece of trash Yoo Jimin had thrown her.
The familiar morning scenery along the riverside expressway registered as nothing at all. Her white Porsche Panamera glided smoothly over the road, but the hands gripping the Nappa-leather wheel had gone white-knuckled with fury.
She had a rough idea of the neighborhood Yoo Jimin lived in. A decent enough, ordinary apartment complex. As she drove, she kept turning the reasons over and over. What the hell is it. What could she possibly have that would make her dare threaten me? Money? A man? Or something from the past I buried? There were plenty of possibilities, but none of them, she thought, carried enough weight for a girl like Yoo Jimin to use against her.
The reason she wants me to come to her place is obvious.
Han Seoyeon allowed herself a cynical smile. She'd have a recorder set up inside, ready to capture her voice and use it somehow. Too obvious a trick.
When she was almost at the apartment complex entrance, she pulled over onto the shoulder and sent Yoo Jimin a short text.
It was an order. A declaration that she would not be going upstairs. A statement that she would be the one choosing the location.
But the reply that came back a moment later defied her expectations.
The moment she saw that short message, Han Seoyeon's eyes narrowed. Come up. This was neither a request nor a suggestion. It was a blatant command.
She couldn't contain the rage boiling up inside her. She slammed her fist down on the steering wheel.
"You fucking bitch, who the hell do you think you're giving orders to?!"
Her sharp fury exploded inside the luxury sedan. There was no trace left of her usual elegant, refined demeanor. But even as she raged, she felt it in her gut. This wasn't empty bluster. Yoo Jimin genuinely had something she couldn't refuse.
In the end, she started the car again. The downward slope into the underground parking garage felt like being sucked into a dark abyss. Han Seoyeon parked in the designated visitor spot, killed the engine, and took a moment to collect herself. She pulled a small recorder from her bag and slipped it into her jacket's inner pocket.
Whatever cards she's holding, I'm going to win. She got out of the car and pressed the elevator button of the unfamiliar apartment building. With a ding, the doors opened.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang through the hallway of the old apartment. Han Seoyeon stood with her arms crossed, glaring irritably at the firmly shut front door. What kind of scheme is she cooking up in there. She reminded herself of the recorder in her inner pocket, ready to counter whatever was said.
A moment later, with a click, the lock disengaged. The door slowly swung inward. Han Seoyeon opened her mouth, ready to spit out a venomous remark — and in that instant, she lost her words.
The person standing in the doorway was not the Yoo Jimin she remembered. Instead, filling the entire doorframe was some hulking man. A giant who looked a full head taller than the average adult male. Muscles strained as if about to burst beneath a worn gray T-shirt. A face without expression. Empty eyes that held no emotion at all.
Han Seoyeon's brain rapidly analyzed the situation. What the hell is this mountain of a guy? Did Yoo Jimin actually hire someone? A snort of laughter burst out of her. Give me a break. Typical of her level. She bought some thug to try and scare me?
She let out a hollow laugh of disbelief and opened her mouth.
"Hey, where's Yoo Jimi—"
She never finished the sentence.
WHAM!
The giant's palm came flying like an enormous flyswatter and smashed across her cheek. A shock that snapped her mind wide open. Her head whipped to the side, her vision spinning. Her queenly pride, her confidence that she could handle any situation — none of it meant a thing in the face of that crude, overwhelming violence.
Ah...
That was her last thought. Han Seoyeon's body crumpled to the floor like a paper doll. Her designer bag slipped from her hand, its contents spilling across the entryway floor.
Lee Dongwoo looked down at her fallen form with indifference, then dragged her inside.
A heavy click. The front door shut, sealing them off completely from the outside world. Lee Dongwoo locked the last door connecting them to the outside. On the floor, Han Seoyeon — adorned in luxury brands — lay collapsed like a dust-covered doll.
He let out a deep breath. The expensive perfume clinging to her, mixed with the aftertaste of the violence he'd just inflicted, stirred a peculiar excitement.
"You fucking bitch. Finally here."
A dark smile spread across his lips. The truth was, Han Seoyeon had been the most troublesome prey of all. The daughter of a sitting Member of Parliament. If he mishandled this, the entire police force would be mobilized. He was confident he could handle it perfectly in a place with no cameras, but it would have been a hassle. And yet she'd walked right into the trap of her own accord, this easily.
"That bitch Yoo Jimin. She's actually useful."
Everything had gone according to plan. No — even more perfectly than planned. He didn't delay any further. He roughly seized a fistful of the unconscious Han Seoyeon's thick hair.
"Alright then. Let's go inside."
He began dragging her into the hidden chamber, her body scraping along the floor. Her white dress dragged across the cold cement and grew filthy, but he paid it no mind at all. The heels of her luxury shoes struck the floor, producing an ominous sound.
Inside the room, Yoo Jimin — her body now free — was huddled in the corner, watching the scene. In her eyes, fear shone alongside a vicious, intoxicating thrill.
Lee Dongwoo dumped the Han Seoyeon he'd dragged in unceremoniously in the center of the room. Then, looking satisfied, he glanced back and forth between the two women sprawled on the floor.
Now it was time to begin the real education.
Han Seoyeon, thrown onto the floor. Until just a few days ago, she had been someone utterly beyond reach — a creature of the highest social stratum. And now she was lying there, unconscious and pathetic, on a dust-covered floor.
Seeing that sight, Yoo Jimin's heart began to pound with an uneasy rhythm once more. This was clearly the picture she had wanted. But facing her friend's wretched state in reality stirred a faint terror alongside the thrill. The daughter of a Member of Parliament. If something went wrong...
She fidgeted, then cautiously asked the man who had become her new master.
"M-Master... I called her like you said, but... will it be okay?"
Lee Dongwoo looked at the red handprint left on the fallen Han Seoyeon's cheek and grinned with satisfaction. He didn't even glance at Yoo Jimin, waving a hand as if the question were a bother.
"I'll handle that."
His voice was thick with the arrogance of a man who could solve anything. He pointed his chin at Yoo Jimin, who was still sitting on the floor, and issued a cold command.
"First, tie that bitch up in the room."
At those words, Yoo Jimin's body went rigid. Me? With my own hands? She hesitated for a moment. But that hesitation was very brief. No — even better. That I, of all people, get to bind that arrogant, loathsome bitch with my own hands. What sweeter revenge could there be?
She forced her pain-creaking body to its feet and picked up the thick coil of rope Lee Dongwoo had set out. The rough texture pressed vividly into her palm. She approached the unconscious Han Seoyeon. Up close, the small blemishes hidden beneath the lavish makeup came into view — the pitiful bare face of the queen who had always seemed perfect.
Yoo Jimin unhesitatingly bent Han Seoyeon's arms behind her back and began tying them with the rope.
Her hands were clumsy, but they were filled with an uncontainable rage and hatred. Tighter. Harder. Until the rope bit into the white flesh of her wrists.
Feeling Han Seoyeon become completely helpless in her grasp, Yoo Jimin trembled with a dark, twisted ecstasy. This was only the beginning.