Chapter 2
“We didn’t touch you.”
When Hannah remained silent, the man addressed as “Hyung-nim” spoke again.
“Really? I asked whether what those bastards said was true.”
“Who made me like this?” Hannah countered, her question hanging in the tense silence around them.
“I asked, who am I?”
“And if you knew? Would you stop whatever you were about to do and even take me home?”
Hannah chuckled softly. The bruises and scars on her body hadn’t appeared overnight. The surgical scars were just as permanent.
“So you don’t want to talk, huh?”
“I never said I didn’t want to.”
Hannah let out another small laugh. Suddenly, someone grasped her chin, lifting it gently.
“Judging by how cleverly you’ve been touched, I think I know who did this. It seems the perpetrator and the client are the same person who did this to you, Kang Hannah.”
He examined her face before letting go.
“How would Hyung-nim know that? But anyway, no need to leave traces here, right? Well… this should be enough. Hmm…”
The sound of a chair scraping back echoed, followed by a low voice.
“Where’s this woman’s car?”
“The youngest must’ve left it quietly in front of the house.”
“From now on, you all will buy her suitable clothes that fit her properly.”
“Excuse me?”
“Do as I say. What are you doing just standing there?”
“Y-Yes, Hyung-nim. Then…”
“I’ll take care of the rest, so just know that.”
Footsteps approached, and the sound of the iron gate opening and closing followed. Hannah swallowed hard. For the first time in a while, a faint, ridiculous hope flickered in her mind—that maybe they’d let her go.
“Kang Hannah.”
When Hannah didn’t respond, the man grasped her chin again.
“Answer me.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Not scared, huh?”
“What would change if I were scared?”
“Nothing would change, but I wouldn’t be able to leave it alone if you acted like that.”
A shiver ran through her. Cold spread across her body, making her skin crawl. Still, she deliberately tried to appear calm. For that, she even felt a strange sense of gratitude toward her husband today.
She heard breath near her earlobe, and her own breathing quickened.
“It’s best to forget everything that happened here. That’s what’s best for you, Kang Hannah. If you even mention a word, you could disappear without a trace. You understand what I mean?”
Her heart dropped with a thud.
“You’ll answer me, right?”
“Fine. Let’s make sure we never cross paths again.”
“Agreed. Shall we go now?”
Grasping her arm, he pulled her to her feet and led her outside. Walking blindly, Hannah nearly stumbled twice. Suddenly, she felt herself lifted off the ground.
Panicking, she flailed her limbs, but the man’s quiet voice warned her.
“If you don’t stay still, I might leave you here.”
The threat made her immediately comply. Soon, a door opened, and her body touched the floor again.
“The clothes?”
“There’s no store open at this hour… sorry.”
“I’ll have to cover you with this, then.”
Something warm touched her upper body. Instinctively, Hannah reached out to grasp it—but felt a sharp sting.
“After you sleep, forget everything that happened today, Kang Hannah.”
“What….”
Her words faltered as consciousness slipped away.
“Madam? Little Madam? Are you awake?”
Hannah gradually regained awareness as noise came from outside the door. At first, she didn’t even realize where she was.
“Little Madam, are you still asleep?”
“I… I’m awake.”
Her voice cracked as she replied.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry, just go about your work.”
After the footsteps receded, Hannah finally propped herself up.
“What a strange dream…”
Her mind still foggy, she shook her head several times, but the lingering daze made it feel as though she were still trapped in a dream.
Exhaling sharply, she swung her legs off the bed—and immediately sensed something odd about her feet.
They looked normal, yet unfamiliar. Tilting her head, she lifted her right foot onto her left thigh for a closer look—and froze.
Her soles were filthy. As if she’d walked somewhere dirty.
“What the hell… this wasn’t a dream?”
Memories of yesterday flooded back. Fear surged as she bolted for the bathroom. Opening the door, she realized this was reality.
The bathroom bore no trace of her having washed yesterday. Facing the mirror, she saw her face in disarray.
Makeup smeared, skin rough and dry, her shirt torn, all still on her upper body.
“Oh my god.”
She recoiled at the horrifying sight: her battered body, torn clothes, and the fact that she had apparently fallen asleep like this. She couldn’t even remember how she ended up back in her room.
At least her other clothes were unchanged from yesterday. Hannah recalled the last thing she remembered: the man’s words as she entered the car.
Could it be that she had been returned home while asleep? Goosebumps covered her. How had he gotten inside with the security guard stationed in the house?
Her house consisted of three separate structures: the main building with a large front garden, the rear building where she and her husband lived, and an annex for staff and security.
The helpers in the rear building all commuted daily, so she shouldn’t have crossed paths with anyone yesterday. Yet the question of how someone entered kept gnawing at her.
She remembered the bag she had before being taken near the car. Hurriedly, she searched for it.
Fortunately, it was by the bedside. She emptied it entirely onto the floor.
Everything spilled out, but she quickly verified her phone, wallet, and USB stick—all present.
After checking her room keys, she meticulously ensured nothing else was missing. Everything was accounted for.
‘Good. Everything’s here. But… what if my husband had been home yesterday?’
She shuddered at the thought of Park Sung-tae. If he had been there, he might have thrown her to the floor instead of laying her on the bed—or worse, woken her up for a scene. The thought made her skin crawl.
Hearing slippers outside, she hastily shoved the scattered items back into her bag and fled to the bathroom.
She stripped, removed her makeup, and turned on the shower. Hot water washed over her tense body, easing some of the stiffness.
Before putting on her bathrobe, she examined her battered body. Memories of the men’s reactions yesterday caused a bitter smile to form. The bruises were still vivid.
Her body bore purple bruises, impact marks, and the surgical scars from fractures.
Slipping on her robe, she picked up the torn top—deciding to dispose of it elsewhere. As she shoved it roughly into her bag, she noticed an unfamiliar piece of clothing in the corner of the room.
‘What’s this? Could Park Sung-tae have come into my room?’
Startled, she grabbed the garment. Something was off. It was far too large to be her husband’s—a dark navy suit jacket, very different from his usual style.
The neatly tailored two-button jacket had broad shoulders, not for just anyone. Flipping it over, she realized it was designer.
‘Not even a brand he normally wears…’
At that moment, a memory flashed: after tearing her top yesterday, someone had tossed something to her instead of leaving her bare.
