Chapter 01
Doctor Joo Iyeon
“Thank you for listening to my story until the end.”
Iyeon spoke, dressed in a faded brown prison uniform.
The female correctional officer silently handed her a basket.
Inside were a dead pager with no battery, a pair of black functional sandals, and a Sorum General Hospital ID badge.
A lonely smile spread across Iyeon’s lips as she looked down at the basket.
“I was arrested in the middle of seeing patients, so these are the only belongings I have. And it’s the middle of winter outside.”
At that, the guard pulled out a khaki-colored jumper from under the desk.
“A prisoner who was transferred to another facility left it behind. Take it if you need it.”
“Thank you.”
It was far too big for Iyeon’s gaunt body, and the zipper was broken, but she wasn’t in a position to be picky. As she slowly put it on, the guard spoke indifferently.
“Don’t think about revenge or anything like that.”
At those words, Iyeon slowly raised her head.
In an instant, something surged up to her throat.
“…I can’t do that.”
During her incarceration, Iyeon had confided everything that had happened to her to the guard. That she had merely signed a falsified death certificate and had been framed as a criminal. That once she was released, she would definitely take revenge.
Each time, the guard had listened in silence. This was the first time she offered advice.
“You’re a doctor, aren’t you? Your license wasn’t revoked, right? Can’t you just look for another hospital? Why would someone as young and promising as you talk about revenge?”
“Why do you think I was framed? Because I have no parents, no money, and no one to take my side. …That’s why at least I have to stand up for myself. I’ll make them pay for ruining my life.”
The guard looked as if she wanted to say more, then held back.
“Fill out this form.”
Iyeon took the paper and pen the guard handed her. It was a survey checking for inconveniences during detention. She found the questions absurd.
Her entire time in custody had been nothing but inconvenience. With no family or friends to support her, no deposit money either, she had endured a horrific time alone.
After silently filling in the blanks, Iyeon set down the pen.
“Can I leave now?”
Once again, the guard answered not with words but by striding ahead.
Following behind her, Iyeon’s heart pounded as if it would burst.
The closer she got to the iron door, the more her chest swelled at the thought of the freedom waiting beyond it.
Clang—
The door opened.
“Good luck.”
The guard murmured behind Iyeon, who had already stepped outside the detention center gates.
She felt strangely encouraged by the same person who had just warned her against revenge. Iyeon clenched her fist tightly.
But she decided not to say thank you.
She never wanted to look back.
Iyeon stepped out into the world, where icy winds lashed her face.
As the released inmates scattered toward the families who had come to greet them, a wave of sadness washed over her. There was not a single person who cried for her, who had been imprisoned unjustly despite being innocent.
Sentenced to probation, Iyeon was released after eight months. From now on, she would have to face the world completely alone.
Then something caught her eye.
A block of tofu someone had thrown away on the ground.
Carelessly wrapped in a plastic bag and tossed aside, it looked as though someone had taken a single bite before discarding it.
The eaten-and-abandoned tofu felt just like herself, and Iyeon found it hard to move her feet.
Moments later, a dark shadow fell over her as she stood staring blankly at it.
“You’re not actually thinking of picking that up and eating it, are you?”
An arrogant, cynical voice.
Iyeon looked up at the owner of the shadow, her face turning pale.
Kwon Woojin.
The eldest son of Kwonseong Group and the head of the Kwonseong Welfare Foundation—the man who had sponsored Iyeon when she was growing up in an orphanage.
His sharply sculpted jawline and tall, straight nose stood out. His neatly groomed black hair was immaculate, and a calm, indifferent composure rested on his firmly closed lips.
His cold, deep eyes, as if looking down on the world, stirred something inside her.
“There’s no reason I couldn’t.”
Deliberately, Iyeon grabbed the tofu from the ground.
Staring straight at Woojin’s cold face, she shoved the tofu into her mouth. Even as she chewed and forced down something she didn’t know who had eaten first, she never took her eyes off him.
There was clearly Kwonseong Group behind this incident.
The hospital she worked at was under Kwonseong Group, and there was definitely power there—power enough to easily manipulate a single death certificate.
Iyeon wanted to know the truth behind that power.
Who had done it, for what purpose, and why she had been chosen as the scapegoat.
And the man standing before her now—Kwon Woojin—was not someone she could take lightly.
He let out a soft scoff.
The man who had been staring at her so oppressively suddenly laughed as if he were amused.
Sparks flew in Iyeon’s eyes as she looked at him.
“Is it that funny?”
It probably did look ridiculous.
Picking up and eating someone else’s discarded tofu in front of a detention center.
But Iyeon didn’t care if she was mocked.
One day, those arrogant eyes would tremble in despair.
Even as he met her furious gaze, Woojin spoke calmly.
“Aren’t you curious why I came here?”
“Because the guilty conscience got to you. You’re afraid I might do something.”
His lips curled upward again.
“Joo Iyeon, you’re overly self-conscious. You really think I’d be afraid of you?”
Frowning, Woojin held out an envelope.
“What is this?”
“Settlement support money. A benefit provided to former inmates who came from our foundation.”
“Get lost!”
Iyeon roughly knocked the envelope away. Woojin chuckled.
“It’s not like this is the first time you’ve taken Kwonseong Group’s money.”
His sharp words dragged up memories she had buried long ago.
She first met him when children from wealthy families came to her orphanage under the guise of volunteer work. Back then, the hand-me-down jacket she wore was so loose that her small body looked even more frail and pitiful.
While the other children were focused on the gifts and food they brought, Iyeon couldn’t take her eyes off the reference books Woojin had brought.
“Are you good at studying?”
At his question, she nodded.
“Then you should go to medical school.”
Iyeon froze.
She had always been top of her class, but she had never once imagined going to college—let alone medical school.
Seeing her speechless, Woojin added that Kwonseong Group sponsored medical school scholarships.
In the end, it was thanks to Kwonseong Group’s support that Iyeon reached the seemingly impossible dream of becoming a doctor.
The orphanage director had told her countless times when she came of age and left the orphanage—
Never forget this kindness.
Thinking of those words now, a hollow laugh escaped her lips.
“In the end, Kwonseong Group just made a cheap investment in a disposable pawn they could use for their crimes.”
For the first time, Woojin’s expression lost its smile.
Iyeon was certain of it.
He knew something about the incident.
Ahead of her residency, Iyeon had been working part-time at Sorum General Hospital. Even on the day she was arrested, she had been treating patients in the emergency room when the police suddenly burst in and slapped handcuffs on her wrists.
Still dazed, she listened to her Miranda rights—and her eyes widened at the charge that followed.
Falsification of a death certificate.
She had been dragged into something enormous.
“The hospital director called and said the patient he was in charge of died from complications, so I just needed to sign. But when the police investigation started, he changed his story and said he’d never said that.”
As Iyeon vented her fury, Woojin replied coldly.
“You should’ve been more careful when signing an official document.”
“How could a part-time general physician defy the hospital director? Director Jung is a Kwonseong Group man! I was just sacrificed for something you people orchestrated.”
“Do you have proof?”
At his words, Iyeon fell silent.
The truth she had testified to countless times—only to be dismissed.
The call records with the hospital director had vanished without a trace, and the body had been cremated quickly.
Iyeon had been trapped.
Normally, cremation takes place 48 hours after a doctor confirms death. But someone had wanted the body handled quickly—and used Iyeon to falsify the documents.
Whatever they were trying to cover up, she had to find out.
Woojin spoke in a placating tone.
“It was only eight months. All you lost was time.”
“I became a criminal.”
Her eyes reddened as she said it.
Woojin held out the envelope again.
“Are you really going to refuse this? It’s enough to make those eight months seem insignificant.”
Not wanting to cry in front of him, Iyeon glared stubbornly, forcing herself to endure.
Clicking his tongue, Woojin slipped the envelope back.
“Joo Iyeon. Do you really think I came all this way just to hand you an envelope? I could’ve had my secretary do that.”
“So you have other business?”
“Have you forgotten the slogan of the Kwonseong Welfare Foundation?”
A single touch, a lifetime of companionship.
On the day she first received the foundation’s support, someone had tightly held her hand and said that Kwonseong Group would take responsibility until the end.
Now, it felt like a promise to keep her forever within Kwonseong’s grasp.
Woojin’s next words drove the nail in.
“We’re looking for a resident physician for the main house.”
“A resident physician? Don’t tell me you expect me to do that.”
“By your own words, you’re a criminal. Even with a medical license, do you think any decent place would take you?”
“What kind of scheme is this now?”
Woojin shrugged.
He didn’t answer, but it was obvious.
They still had use for a doctor with a criminal record.
“So this is why you filled an ignorant child’s head with dreams of becoming a doctor. What a long-term plan.”
Woojin studied her briefly, then let the corners of his lips relax.
“Joo Iyeon. What’s with those clothes?”
He adjusted the oversized jumper with the broken zipper she was wearing.
“It’s cold. Let’s go somewhere warm.”
Those were the coldest words Iyeon had ever heard from Kwon Woojin—enough to send a chill straight down her spine.
