The Divorce Setup
It was time to get serious about divorce and start putting things in order. But no matter how much he thought about it, to accomplish anything decent on the outside, he needed to straighten out his internal affairs first.
"Young master, we've arrived at the destination."
"Yeah."
While idly scrolling on his phone, the driver of the luxury sedan announced their arrival. The smooth stop was so seamless he barely felt the car halting—that had to be one of the real perks of riding in an expensive ride. For the record, the driver was a woman. It was a rare case to hire a young woman as a chauffeur, but this trashy playboy must have had a condition where he couldn't survive even an hour without women around. The house cleaner? Woman. The secretary he occasionally saw? Woman. Even the driver in front of him now? Woman. From the moment of possession, he'd been surrounded exclusively by women, as if this guy had gone all out to undermine women's rights.
Well... he does have good taste.
Every single one of them was stunning enough to make sense of it. Actually, less the faces and more their huge asses that stood out.
"No attendant secretary today—shall I get the door for you?"
The driver turned from the front seat and asked politely. She was officially on Hwaryeong Group's payroll, her name tag reading 'U Mi-ae.' A pretty face doing chauffeur duty, but digging into her background revealed she was elite stock. Top-tier education, family from the upper crust. Yet here she was, playing chauffeur to a playboy. U Mi-ae was like a puzzle with mismatched parts.
That's why I still don't know if he just hired her or actually fucked her...
"?"
So he wasn't sure if this playboy just hired women or had seen all there was to see after hiring them. U Mi-ae had been so perfectly attuned to his whims, and with two months of only showing her business face, it was hard to tell.
Sigh... anyway, now's not the time for this crap.
"Nah. I might be late coming back, so head out first. Go home early today."
"No, I'll wait."
"I said I don't need it. This is serious stuff—the talk might drag on."
"Then waiting until you need me is my duty as your servant."
Hah... I'm so moved I'm gonna cry.
Even her everyday speech was slick with flattery. A sharp talent wasting her life babysitting a playboy—what a mystery.
"Fine, do what you want! I'm heading in."
"Yes, I wish you success."
Anyway, he opened the door and stepped out. Straightening his pants over his bulging crotch and adjusting his collar, he stood before the appointed restaurant. It was the day to hash things out with the wife on the verge of divorcing him.
He was five minutes early, but she was already seated as if it were expected. Approaching from afar, he spotted her neat long hair through the high-end screen partitioning the booth. The air in that reserved seat felt so heavy it could choke you.
"You're late."
She flinched! As he drew near, she must have timed his footsteps— the moment he rounded the screen, she spoke first.
He paused, then mumbled awkwardly.
"Still not technically late, though..."
"Making someone wait because you showed up late is tardiness enough."
Her nitpicky tone didn't yield an inch. He sighed inwardly and sat before the elegant woman sipping her coffee.
Living in Cha Do-yeon's possessed body, one thing he deeply empathized with: facing his wife was the most agonizing moment of his life. She was the type to despise anything less than perfect, so just seeing her face squeezed his guts.
In the cutthroat rankings of chaebols, her group was on a winning streak: Geumgang International's only daughter, An Ha-yul. By market cap, they ranked in Korea's top 9. Ninth might sound middling, but hauling up from 17th was a massive feat—and as the sole heir, she was born mega-rich.
Their marriage? A strategic alliance. He was 23, she 25; they'd wed right after he hit adulthood, like lightning striking dry beans. Common story. Their fathers were tight, shoving them together regardless of feelings. From the start, it was about money and connections, not love. Not that this playboy knew love anyway.
"Straight to the point—this first."
Gulp...!
He was the group-ruining trash, she the flawless all-rounder. Cliché label, but nothing else fit. An Ha-yul—'Ha-yul' as a somewhat wifely nickname— pinched her brow like it pained her.
"Why'd you call my mom here?"
Right. It wasn't just the two of them. His mother-in-law had arrived with her and was seated. His idea, laced with impure motives.
"Long time no see... Cha groom."
Even the mother-in-law, dragged here suddenly, smiled vacantly like it was absurd. He bowed to the woman who'd made time for him, then eked out the words like a sinner.
"Because... it might be the last time, so I needed a witness or mediator."
"Mediator? It's a done deal already. Stop running and just stamp it—easy as that."
"But we've been married three years. Jumping emotionally like this feels too hasty—"
Bam!
The table with simple breads and coffee shook like an earthquake. Even in this VIP private room with partitions, the servers jumped at the tough chaebol heiress slamming the table.
Still, Ha-yul gripped the tablecloth, venting her pent-up rage.
"The hasty judgment was our marriage...!"
"......"
"Falling for our fathers' prodding, wasting years on this empty union... My life's biggest stain is not wailing louder the day before that slaughterhouse wedding, you trash bastard...!"
And yet...
He didn't know. Only two months into possession, the full backstory was murky. But given the playboy's antics, it was obvious. Polar opposites, they'd trashed the honeymoon home from day one and lived like strangers for three years. Some huge incident he couldn't recall must've mixed in too, judging by 'trash' slipping from the refined elite's lips. Nothing but misery for Ha-yul.
Well... I played around with women too, so no room to talk?
He'd deliberately ignored her, but nothing direct—no guilt. His take on Ha-yul so far: vague dread of facing her. Hostile from the start, no cracks in her perfection. Not his type, looks aside.
"Now, now... calm down, both of you."
As the table turned hostile, the mother-in-law stepped in maturely. She mediated lightly but couldn't push hard—crab favors crab. She didn't side strongly against the playboy who'd tormented her daughter.
Anyway, An Ha-yul was just that kind of woman. Strong-willed, always chasing perfection. Yet Cha Do-yeon hesitated on divorce. Obvious reason.
"Stamp it already."
"Is there really no other way?"
"No. Thanks to your father's demands, we kept assets separate in the prenup—just split and done."
She pulled out the divorce agreement, flapping the paper.
"My last request to trash like you: stamp here quietly and go our ways."
"......"
Nothing to say. Not his sin, but he bowed like a criminal. After a beat of feigned remorse, he pulled the stamp from his suit's inner pocket.
Thud!
He stamped the extended divorce papers calmly, ending the bad blood between these chaebol houses.
"There."
"......"
"Just file it officially and we're done."
Ha-yul blinked in confusion at his compliance. The divorce she'd craved, yet this trash complying meekly? Like she'd seen a ghost. Brief brain freeze, then she moved on.
"...Fine, no need to see you ever again."
"Probably."
"Phew... feels like a weight's lifted. Off we go. Thanks for your time."
"Hey!"
Ha-yul grabbed her outer coat and shot up. Food piling on the table, but she wouldn't spare even a last meal—strode off briskly.
"Sigh... sorry, Cha groom. I came, but no help."
"......"
"Can't be helped. Some fates just don't match."
The mother-in-law consoled him. As she reached for her handbag, sensing the seat's awkwardness with him...
"Mother-in-law!"
"Wha—yes!?"
Now was the moment. His real stage began here. The groundwork was all for this act. He'd wanted utter discard, and it played out perfectly.
"Ch-Cha groom!?"
"Sorry... just hold me a bit...!"
"Why—why this suddenly?"
To milk maximum sympathy, he exuded gloom. Clung to the mother-in-law like a lost squirrel begging a hug.
"Because... even family turned away."
"...!"
He spilled a raw backstory. Woke up from booze and women, facing reality—cliché tale poured out in her warm embrace like confession. Regret for his playboy life laced every word.
"I get it, Cha groom. Your tough spot."
"Really?"
"But telling me—what do you expect...?"
Hm... fair point.
From her view, obvious response. No ties beyond the wedding for the pair.
Still, he clutched her soft dress hem desperately.
"I just need someone. Kind people like you, Mother-in-law."
"Even so, we're not in-laws anymore..."
"Then... from today, can't you see me not as son-in-law, but as human Cha Do-yeon?"
"Human Cha Do-yeon...?"
Sniffling, he pressed on.
"I just want normal chats with family-like folks. Meet occasionally, grab meals! Just... miss human warmth. Ruined by booze and women, you're all I've got left—warm souls like you!"
"Cha groom..."
He kept spilling: couldn't blame wife for hating him, he'd die alone otherwise—wallowing pathetically on the floor.
"Phew... there, there."
"Mother-in-law!"
Pity rose in her soft heart; she accepted him. Maternal hug embraced him like a son. Tears of 'gratitude' flowed. Clung like a child, unwilling to let go.
Fuck, these tits are insane...!
Problem was, he might cum in his pants. Truth: mother-in-law was a beauty. Youth-reversing MILF after mom, stealing glances instantly. Tits second only to mom's among his women, confident curves hugged in curve-hugging dresses every encounter.
Thus, she was prime target. He'd bided for a shot, endured Ha-yul's divorce push for this knockout.
Yes. Goal: mother-in-law. Divorce mere pretext. Today's aim: bond with her.
"Yeah, cry it out."
"Sniff... Mother-in-law!"
Face grimacing, inwardly grinning widest. Proud of his committed act, savoring the violent tit pressure.
Divorce? Gladly. But mother-in-law? Too horny to let go.