IYRT 02

Episode 02

I-do’s steps halted briefly at the front entrance.

Blood trickled down his forehead, dripping onto the expensive marble floor. When he wiped at it roughly with his hand, the sterile gauze was gone—only the sharp sting of the wound remained.

It must have flown off when he removed his helmet.

“Hey. You’re not seriously planning to ride your bike back too, right?
Take a taxi, damn it.”

Only then did he recall Yoon-jae’s repeated warnings, delivered with narrowed eyes.

But there was no reason to go back and reapply the gauze.
Sure, the servants wouldn’t appreciate the marble being stained—but there was no one in this house who cared about his injuries anyway.

Past the marble foyer lay the living room, its ceiling open all the way to the second floor. Imported chandeliers scattered cold light overhead. Italian leather sofas sat pristine, like museum exhibits. Round moon jars chosen to suit the chairman’s tastes were displayed throughout.

This place—

was the prison I-do had lived in for nineteen years.

“I hear you ruined another match.”

Yeo-jin sat in a white lounge chair at the center of the room. A wineglass rested in her hand, her eyes fixed on a tablet. She looked cold and elegant, like a marble statue.

When I-do didn’t respond, she raised her head. A faint crease formed on her forehead—irritation at the audacity of a worm daring to ignore her.

“Answer me.”

“Why ask when you already know?” he replied lazily.

A servant emerged from the kitchen and froze upon seeing the blood splattered everywhere.

The bleeding man and the woman watching him—neither showed the slightest reaction.

The servant hurried over and offered a gauze handkerchief, gesturing frantically for treatment.

All the servants in this house were mute.

Whether they had been born that way—or whether the Kwon family, who solved everything with money, had demanded their tongues as payment—no one knew.

It was a place devoid of humanity.

Noticing Yeo-jin’s rising agitation, the servant bowed deeply and vanished soundlessly.

“The chairman’s daughter.
The law firm’s daughter.
Assemblyman Seo’s daughter.
You rejected them all for absurd reasons.”

Thud.

Yeo-jin tossed the tablet onto the sofa. On the screen were profiles of new blind-date candidates.

“Choose.”

“It’ll end the same way. You know that.”

“Know your place while I’m still giving you chances.
If they learned who you really are, do you think they’d even meet your eyes?”

“Hah.”

I-do let out a hollow laugh.

“‘Who I really am’? You’d think I was an alien.
An illegitimate child isn’t exactly rare in this world.”

When he removed the gauze, far more blood soaked through than expected.

Damn. This’ll scar.

As if this kind of power struggle was nothing new, he added calmly,

“Everyone’s got mistresses’ kids tucked away somewhere.
They just pretend not to know.
Are you still that upset Father sowed his seeds outside?”

The words had barely left his mouth when something sharp grazed his cheek.

A brass candlestick—thrown from Yeo-jin’s side.

Her breathing grew ragged with fury.

I-do whistled lightly.

“You worthless little insect…”

She muttered it under her breath, eyes blazing with rage.

I-do met her gaze evenly.

You’ve always looked at me like that.
As if you want to stab me a thousand times.
As if you wish I’d drown in the Han River and vanish without a body.

There was a time when he craved her affection.

When he was ten—when he first entered this house, when he learned he would be registered under Yeo-jin’s family registry as her “son”—

Before he realized that to her, Kwon I-do was nothing but something repulsive.

Back then, he followed her everywhere.
Did anything to stay within her line of sight.
Did whatever his older brother, Kwon I-je, told him to do—just to be his real brother.

It took being kidnapped in I-je’s place, rolling across cold concrete, to finally understand.

The kidnappers had demanded ransom for her son.

Yeo-jin’s voice, light and unconcerned, telling them to do whatever they wanted.

Escaping that hellish container box, I-do swore he would never live the same way again.

That was when he went astray.

Thanks to Chairman Kwon—who valued corporate image above all—he was never cast out, no matter how much trouble he caused.

Though unlike I-je, who moved out and gained independence, I-do lost the freedom to leave altogether.

Perhaps that was why—

the girl he’d seen earlier came to mind.

A body so drained she was little more than bones.
A small voice with no strength left in it.

She offered everything to save her sick brother—yet her gaze never left her mother.

Eyes that begged for affection like a dog.

Too familiar.

I-do felt sick.

“Sell your body. Sell your soul.
Do something to earn your keep.
That’s the only way you can repay me for turning a blind eye all these years.”

That’s why I don’t want to obey you anymore, Mother.

Thinking that, I-do stepped closer to Yeo-jin.
Perhaps from the blood loss, dizziness washed over him.

He was tired.

Perching on the sofa, he flipped through the tablet halfheartedly. Smiling faces flashed past in quick succession.

Then his finger stopped.

Jin Hu-yeon, 29.
Eldest daughter of cosmetic brand Hugh.
MBA graduate from the U.S., preparing to take over management.

Indeed—far above his station, just as Yeo-jin had said.

He liked her confident smile.
She looked like the type who’d bristle and storm out if he acted like a thug.

Five minutes? Ten?

Estimating how long it would take Huyeon to call the date off, I-do nodded.

“I’ll take this one.”

For a fleeting moment, her face felt oddly familiar—

but the thought passed just as quickly.

✦✦✦

“She’s doing what?”

Hu-yeon’s face hardened. The phone trembled slightly in her hand.

—They’re saying she’ll donate her kidney to Hyuseok.
Yeah, sure, you can live with one kidney—but Seo-eun can’t.
She’s practically a walking corpse already. Chronic anemia, wrecked immune system.
How long has it even been since her last marrow transplant?! A kidney transplant now?!

Hu-yeon grabbed a taxi the moment the call ended.

For a long time, she had pretended not to see Seo-eun’s sacrifices for Hyuseok.

When she overheard hospital staff whispering “savior sibling” twenty years ago.
When she saw dozens of needle marks on her five-year-old sister’s thin arms.
When she saw Seo-eun crying silently after surgery—again and again.

Hu-yeon ran away.

She chose to be a bystander.
She wanted at least one person in that family to live a normal life.

Boarding school.
Dormitory life.
Studying abroad.

Even after returning to Korea six months ago with her MBA, she’d avoided home—using work as an excuse.

But with what little conscience she had left, she’d asked a friend interning at Korea University Hospital to keep an eye on Seo-eun.

If she ever gets into real danger—tell me.

The friend had agreed reluctantly.

Now, she was desperate.

I can’t watch this anymore. Do something. Please. She could really die.

Die.

The word struck like lightning.

Hu-yeon arrived at the Seongbuk-dong mansion, breathing hard.