"Hyerin," I said, my voice smooth, deliberate. "If you're looking for revenge, you can forget about it right now."
She blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
I sighed, crossing my arms as I leaned against my desk. "You know my father. He's not just a lawyer—he's listed as one of the best in the world." My gaze met hers, unwavering. "You think we, two high school students, can just say something and suddenly he'll be arrested? That's not how it works."
Her jaw tightened slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
"It'll take time," I continued. "A long time. Years, maybe. And even then, it won't be easy. My father doesn't make mistakes—not ones that can be used against him. Everything he does, everything he touches, is carefully calculated. He doesn't move unless he knows he'll win."
Hyerin exhaled through her nose, her fists curling at her sides. She already knew this.
"But," I added, tilting my head slightly, "if you're patient—if you're willing to plan, to play the long game…" I let the words hang in the air between us, letting her fill in the rest herself.
Her fingers twitched, her expression flickering just slightly.
She was thinking about it.
I smiled. "So tell me, Hyerin—are you just here to be angry?" My voice lowered, smooth as silk. "Or are you actually here to win?"
Hyerin didn't answer immediately.
She stood there, her posture rigid, shoulders tense, but her mind—I could see it working. Calculating. Turning over every word I'd just said, every possibility that came with it.
She wasn't naïve. She knew I was right.
Revenge wasn't something you could take in a single night. It wasn't as simple as exposing the truth and expecting justice to follow.
It would take patience. Years of patience.
And I was willing to bet she had it.
Finally, she exhaled, her fists loosening at her sides. "If I say I want to win," she murmured, her voice quieter now, "does that mean I have to work with you?"
I smirked. "It's the smartest choice, don't you think?"
Her eyes flickered toward me, hesitant but sharp.
"Why?" she asked, and I knew what she meant.
Why would I help her? Why would I go against my own father?
I let out a soft chuckle, pushing off the desk. Slowly, I stepped closer, until I was standing just in front of her, close enough to see the uncertainty in her eyes, the faint tension in her breath.
"My father and I," I murmured, "aren't the same."
A beat of silence passed between us, heavy with something neither of us acknowledged.
Then, I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough for only her to hear.
"But more than that, Hyerin…" My lips curled into a slow, amused smile. "You interest me."
Her breath caught, but she didn't move away.
"Stick around," I said smoothly. "And I'll show you just how deep the game really goes."
Hyerin swallowed, her gaze searching mine—still wary, still guarded, but not rejecting me.
A quiet breath passed between us before she spoke.
"How can I trust you?" Her voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—doubt, suspicion, something raw. "You're his daughter."
I tilted my head slightly, amused by the weight of those words.
"I guess you can't," I said simply.
Her brows furrowed. "What?"
I chuckled, stepping back, slipping my hands into my pockets. "Trust isn't something you're given, Hyerin. It's something you test. So go ahead—watch me, doubt me, figure out for yourself whether I'm worth trusting or not."
She was silent for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to read something in me that I wasn't showing.
Smart.
She would have to be if she wanted to survive this.
I reached for my phone, checking the time. It was getting late.
"Keep the clothes," I said casually, nodding toward the hoodie and sweatpants she was still wearing. "Keep your hood up. Don't let my father see your face."
She hesitated. "You think he'll recognize me?"
I smiled, slow and knowing. "I think it's better not to take that chance."
For the first time that night, Hyerin didn't argue.
I gestured toward the door. "Come on, I'll take you home."
She exhaled, adjusting the hood over her head before stepping forward.
We moved quietly through the halls, the dim glow of overhead lights casting long shadows against the pristine marble floor.
Hyerin followed without hesitation, her hood pulled low, obscuring most of her face. She understood the weight of what I had said. She wasn't reckless—she knew that walking past Yoon Hajoon unnoticed was the best option.
I led her down a different path than before, bypassing the main staircase. Instead, we slipped through a less-traveled corridor that led to the side entrance. It wasn't meant for guests—it was a discreet exit, one that only a select few even knew about.
She didn't ask how I knew the way.
Smart.
I pulled the door open, the cold night air rushing in as we stepped outside. The lights from the estate barely reached this part of the property, leaving the area cloaked in darkness.
Hyerin stopped just outside the threshold, her hands slipping into the pockets of my hoodie. "You really don't want him to see me."
I let out a quiet chuckle. "I have a feeling our meeting earlier was enough."
She studied me, her expression unreadable beneath the hood.
"Are you going to tell him?" she asked.
I glanced at her, tilting my head slightly. "Tell him what?"
"That I'm Yeon Minsu's daughter."
The words hung between us for a moment, heavy and deliberate.
I let the silence stretch before answering, my voice smooth. "Why would I do that?"
Hyerin didn't react, but I saw the way her fingers flexed slightly inside the pockets of the hoodie.
She was thinking.
Deciding.
I unlocked my motorcycle, tossing her the extra helmet. "Get on."
She caught it easily, her grip firm.
Without another word, she slid onto the seat behind me, securing the helmet into place. No hesitation this time.
I smirked, revving the engine before taking off, the tires rolling smoothly against the pavement as we pulled away from the Yoon estate.
The night stretched ahead of us, the wind sharp and cold, the city lights flickering in the distance.
And beneath the rush of the engine, beneath the hum of passing streets, I could feel it—the moment Hyerin's fingers curled around the fabric of my hoodie, her hold firm, steady.
We arrived at her home, a modest, unassuming building nestled between others just like it. Not grand, not extravagant—just a place that existed quietly, without demanding attention.
It wasn't like the Yoon estate, where wealth was built into every inch of its architecture.
I parked the motorcycle and let my gaze drift over the exterior, taking in the small details—the slightly worn steps, the faint glow of warm light seeping through the curtains.
It wasn't big.
It wasn't small.
It was just average.
"Stop staring at it like that," Hyerin muttered, stepping off the bike. "I'm not from a wealthy family like you."
I chuckled, resting my hands casually on the handles. "Did I say anything?"
"You didn't have to."
She unfastened her helmet, slipping it off with ease. The wind had tousled her hair slightly, strands falling out of the tied-up style from earlier. She pushed them back with one hand, adjusting her hood back over her head.
I watched her for a moment before leaning forward slightly, my tone lighter. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."
She nodded, but before she could say anything, I added, "Keep the clothes."
Her brows furrowed. "What? But they're expensive, no?"
I smirked, tilting my head. "Does price matter when it comes to you?"
For the first time, she froze.
It was subtle—a flicker of hesitation, a brief pause in her movements, but I noticed.
She recovered quickly, turning away before I could get a better read on her expression.
"Bye," she muttered, voice a little too brisk, before speed-walking toward her home.
I didn't stop her.
Didn't call her back.
I simply sat there, watching as she disappeared behind the door, as if she were running from something.
Then, a quiet chuckle escaped me.
Hyerin, what exactly is it that you're so afraid of?
I pulled my helmet back on, revving the engine.
And with that, I rode off into the night, leaving behind the small house that was so different from mine.
So different, yet somehow, for the first time in a long time—I found myself lingering just a little longer than necessary.
I pushed the thought away, accelerating down the empty streets, the hum of my motorcycle filling the quiet night. The Yoon estate loomed in the distance, cold and detached, standing as it always had—unwavering, unchanging.
I pulled up to the entrance, parking smoothly before stepping inside.
The house was silent, as expected. Most of the staff had already retired for the night, the grand halls dimly lit by the soft glow of chandeliers. But the moment I walked into the kitchen, I realized I wasn't alone.
Yoon Hajoon was there, standing by the counter, casually mixing a smoothie, as if he hadn't just been waiting for me.
I didn't break my stride, stepping past him toward the fridge, pretending not to acknowledge his presence. But, of course, he spoke first.
"Made a new friend?"
His tone was smooth, unbothered, but I knew better.
I grabbed a water bottle, twisting the cap slowly before meeting his gaze. "Does it matter who I'm friends with?"
My father took a sip of his drink, watching me with a calculated stare. "Of course, it does."
Of course.
"Make sure no one hinders your academics," he continued, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "I don't want you wasting time with people who…" He trailed off, his gaze sharpening just slightly as he studied me. "Aren't worthy of excellence."
I took a slow sip of my water, maintaining an air of indifference.
"And who, exactly," I asked smoothly, "gets to decide who's worthy?"
His lips curled into something that might have been a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That should be obvious, Saehwa."
A quiet pause.
Then, as if he had already dismissed the conversation, he picked up his smoothie again, sipping it leisurely.
I held his gaze for a second longer before pushing off the counter, making my way toward the stairs.
I didn't need to say anything else.
I had already decided.
He didn't need to know about Hyerin. Not yet.
As I climbed the steps, the air in the house felt heavier than usual.
Not suffocating. Not unbearable.
But it was a reminder.
This is the world I was raised in.
And Hyerin?
She had just stepped into it.