Time of Dogs and Wolves
The next morning, Cheolsu wakes with a hangover, clutching his head. "Honey... how did I get home last night? Did Director Park leave okay?"
"Yeah. I called the deputy manager to take him home."
Seoyeon hands him a cup of long-cold coffee, acting as if nothing happened. Cheolsu seems to remember nothing from the night before. His innocence somehow irritates her, but she says nothing. She doesn't want to dredge up yesterday's unpleasant feelings and ruin this morning.
And so Monday begins. Cheolsu, elevated as the hero of the project's success, heads to work with excited steps from the morning. After he leaves, Seoyeon tidies the empty house. She puts the glasses stained with last night's traces into the sink and turns on the hot water. Watching the clang as the glass clears, she hopes the unpleasant memories of that night wash away with it.
On Tuesday, Seoyeon goes to Pilates for the first time in a while—a workout she's kept up since her idol days. Gazing at her perfect curves reflected in the mirror, she regains a moment of peace. That evening, she makes kimchi jjigae, Cheolsu's favorite. When he returns from work, he wolfs down two bowls, saying, "Your stew is the best, as always." He chatters excitedly about the praise he got at the company and his hopes for the next project. Seoyeon nods quietly, playing the role of the ordinary wife.
Wednesday and Thursday pass the same way. Like the calm before the storm, their daily life feels too quiet, too serene. There's no word from Director Park, and the events of that day fade like one of countless fleeting nightmares.
Seoyeon convinces herself it's truly over—just part of the tiring social obligations a wife with a busy husband sometimes endures. She tries hard to forget it completely.
And then comes Friday night, which should have been ordinary. Cheolsu returns much later than usual, almost at dawn, punching in the door code. Seoyeon wakes on the sofa. His face is paper-white, his suit rumpled. Even the company laptop bag he always carries is missing.
"H-honey, you still up? Sorry, work ran late."
He's a mess, but he forces an awkward smile, pretending it's nothing. Seoyeon scans him up and down and tsks her tongue.
"Honey, why so late? You look half-dead. Did Director Park chew you out today?"
Her voice carries more familiar pity—like oh, that poor guy—than worry.
Cheolsu flinches at "Director Park" but shakes his head. "No... just tired. Something urgent came up at the end."
"Tsk tsk, one successful project and they roll you right into another. Poor husband of mine. Go wash up quick. I'll fix you something. Did you eat?"
Nothing in Seoyeon's mind hints at the horrific mistake her husband made. It's just the familiar sight of a man worn down by overtime, bossing around, and grueling company life.
"Nah, I'm good. Stomach's off... gonna crash first."
Cheolsu avoids her gaze and heads straight to the bedroom. Seoyeon sighs softly at his retreating back.
"Sigh, better make him some honey water tomorrow morning."
She mutters casually, hanging his rumpled suit on a hanger and straightening the living room.
The next morning, Seoyeon wakes earlier than usual. Cheolsu, beside her, tossed and groaned all night. It's Saturday, but he rises even earlier than weekdays to prepare for work. Last night's anxiety lingers on his face.
"Honey, weekend and you're going in? Take a break."
"Yeah... something urgent to check at the office. Be back soon."
He avoids her eyes in answering and hurries out the door. It slams with an unusually loud bang.
Seoyeon feels more pity than unease—working even weekends, poor thing. She cleans the messy living room and loads the laundry into the washer. As she finishes and sits on the sofa to catch her breath, her phone on the living room table vibrates quietly. A text message. From an unsaved, unfamiliar number.
Seoyeon assumes it's spam and opens it carelessly. The moment she reads the short message, her heart plummets.
The message is polite, but its content chills her to the bone. Seoyeon holds her breath. How does he have my number? Serious trouble for Cheolsu? Her husband's ashen face from last night flashes before her eyes.
Before she can think of a reply, the screen lights up again—the same unknown number. A call. She swallows dryly, hesitates, then quietly presses accept.
"Hello?"
"It's Director Park, ma'am. Sorry to call on a weekend morning."
His voice from the phone comes heavy, laced with a deep sigh.
"What's going on?"
"Sigh... Ma'am, I'm truly sorry to say this... but no choice. Cheolsu caused a massive incident at the company last night. He uploaded tens of thousands of unencrypted customer records to a personal cloud, and it got hacked."
Seoyeon can't speak. It's like a thin membrane covers her ears; all sounds turn to muffled noise.
"...What? The cloud... hacked? What do you mean...?"
She barely manages a trembling question, her voice laced with fear.
"It's true. Worse, the hackers realized it's no ordinary data. They just contacted us, sending a sample of the VIP customer list as proof. Now they're blackmailing the company with it."
Seoyeon's mind goes blank. The situation is unimaginably dire.
"What do they want?"
"Money. A huge sum in cash by tonight, or they'll dump it all on the dark web. If this leaks, the company folds, and Cheolsu... he'll take the full blame and go to prison. This isn't empty threats— the sample might already be circulating."
Only now does an edge creep into Seoyeon's voice—not anger at Park, but the last gasp of reason against despair.
"But... Director, this is a company matter. Why would Cheolsu go to prison? Isn't the ultimate responsibility the company's?"
"I agree completely. The company should handle it. That's what I reported. But... his mistake is too blatant, clear regulation violation. The company's leaning toward pinning it all on him personally. I tried to stop it, but the higher-ups are adamant... I feel terrible."
His voice drips with the helplessness and regret of a powerless superior.
"Once prosecutors investigate, the company will submit all the security pledges he signed, claiming 'We did our part; this was the employee's solo act.' The court will lighten the company's load by dumping it on Cheolsu, the direct cause."
He emphasizes responsibility.
"Ma'am, I'm pushing the chairman and execs hard. Cheolsu didn't mean it, and he just made a big contribution, so mercy... But they're so stubborn; I can't sway them alone."
He pauses.
"That said... ma'am, just in case... Our execs include quite a few who were fans of you back in your Ciel days. They still ask Cheolsu about you sometimes, say they'd love to see you."
Seoyeon grasps his intent; her blood runs cold.
"So... how about I arrange an informal meeting? You meet them personally, explain Cheolsu's situation, beg for leniency? Might work better than me yapping a hundred times. Fans' hearts, and men are weak to beauty..."
"Me?"
"You speaking directly could hit different—fan feelings, that weakness to a beauty... Let me know if you decide. Busy with this mess, so I'll hang up."
The call ends. Seoyeon's hand goes limp; the phone slips. Park has slyly passed the ball to her. He's just the enabler opening the door; choice and blame are hers.
She stares blankly at the phone on the floor. The situation is the worst. But she can't collapse here. Hiring a lawyer to fight the company? Cheolsu's mistake is too obvious. Drag it out, and everything ends when it blows up.
Only one path remains. She slowly bends to pick up the phone. After a moment's hesitation, she texts Park back.