Chapter : 2
“The consultation fee is 100,000 won for thirty minutes.”
The atmosphere inside the law office in Seocho-dong was as cold as a sterile room.
I opened my crumpled consultation notes again.
This was already the third rejection today.
The lawyer skimmed through the documents before pushing his glasses up with a dry expression.
“Ms. Lee, I’ll be honest with you. A civil lawsuit? We can get you a judgment in your favor. But are you really going to spend legal fees just to get a worthless piece of paper?”
“What? If I win, why can’t I get my money back?”
The lawyer clicked his tongue as if I were hopelessly naive.
“The landlord is a front man. He’s probably a homeless person who lent out his name or someone with terrible credit. You said he’s unreachable now, right? Nine times out of ten, he’s either in prison or already fled overseas.”
“Then….”
“What’s the point of suing someone who has nothing? There isn’t a single penny’s worth of property to seize. You’ll just be throwing away 5.5 million won in attorney’s fees. Give up. That’s how you save money.”
5.5 million won.
Eleven times the 500,000 won left in my bank account.
If I wanted to recover my 300 million won jeonse deposit, I had to catch the ghost known as the front man—and even that was impossible because I didn’t have enough money for a lawsuit.
I was completely trapped.
By the time I made it through the day in a daze, it was already 11 p.m.
The office was silent after everyone had gone home. Tap, tap. The sound of fingers striking the keyboard was the only sign that anyone was still alive.
I had finished my work long ago.
And yet I remained seated, my butt firmly planted in the chair.
The reason was simple.
First, I had to scrape together every last bit of overtime meal and transportation allowance I could get, so that someday I might at least be able to afford the deposit for a tiny rented room.
Second, I hated the thought of going home more than I hated anything else.
I kept imagining the front door covered with red seizure notices. Every night, I felt as though someone might come pounding on my door at any moment.
The jeonse apartment that had once been my sanctuary had already become a prison strangling me.
A bleak office where the security guard made his rounds felt safer.
I’m hungry….
I had skipped dinner, and my stomach was screaming in protest.
I staggered to my feet and headed toward the break room. A gleaming Italian espresso machine caught my eye, but I turned away.
What I needed right now wasn’t the elegant aroma of freshly ground coffee.
I needed sugar water strong enough to make my head spin.
My hand trembled slightly as I tore open a packet of instant coffee mix.
If I didn’t want to end up on the streets immediately, I had to find some cheap gosiwon, but I had no money.
In the end, that meant I would have to resort to a short-term loan.
But I had already maxed out my limit with my jeonse loan. If I took out another loan on top of that… could I really afford it?
No.
It was impossible.
I could already see the future clearly: drowning under interest that would grow like a snowball, unable to keep up with the payments.
And then, I might actually have my credit cards suspended.
The thought of standing helplessly at the subway gate on my way to work, hearing that ominous beep as the gate refused to open, sent a chill down my spine.
“Assistant Manager Lee, your card got suspended?”
I could almost hear Team Leader Park’s mocking voice.
There was little chance that debt collectors would actually call my office, but no employee could survive at a company while carrying the label of a delinquent debtor.
It was practically a social death sentence.
My head was buzzing.
The shameless voice of the landlord’s representative from my phone call earlier kept echoing in my ears like a hallucination.
“Go ahead and do it legally. Do it by the law!”
The law?
For someone without money, the law was far away, while debt was painfully close.
“Ugh….”
I was pouring hot water into the cup when I finally broke down crying.
It was unfair.
I had done nothing wrong except live honestly.
I had done nothing except struggle to save every penny while eating convenience-store kimbap when everyone else was shouting about YOLO.
So why was the world being so cruel to me?
“What am I supposed to do…? What am I supposed to do now…?”
That was when it happened.
Screeech—.
The break room door opened.
I didn’t want anyone to see my tear-streaked face, so I hurriedly covered my mouth and turned away.
Please let it be the security guard.
Or just… please let whoever it was leave again.
But the footsteps didn’t stop.
They approached me.
Steady, heavy dress shoes.
A faint scent of sandalwood drifted through the air.
The musk brushing against the tip of my nose made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end instinctively.
This scent….
“Assistant Manager Lee.”
A low, deep voice pierced my eardrums.
Slowly, very slowly, I turned my head.
“…Executive Director?”
강서준 상무.
The heir to this company, and the man rumored to be ruthlessly cold, was standing in front of me.
Not a single strand of his pomaded hair was out of place.
His forehead was so pale it seemed almost cold, and his nose was sculpted as though it had been carved with a knife.
Even the knot of his tie was perfect, as though measured with a ruler.
I could hardly breathe.
Unlike me, worn down by overtime, he looked like someone from an entirely different world from head to toe.
His gaze landed on my face and paused for a moment.
…Was it just my imagination?
As though nothing had happened, he withdrew his gaze and walked toward the coffee machine.
“Not going home?”
“Ah, yes. I still have some work to take care of. What about you, Executive Director….”
“Caffeine deficiency.”
He answered briefly and pressed the espresso button.
Bzzzz—.
The sound of the machine filled the silence.
I discreetly wiped the corners of my eyes.
But there was no way I could hide my swollen eyes.
His gaze, which had been fixed on the coffee being brewed, shifted toward my hands—and then toward the crumpled piece of paper beneath them.
[XX Law Firm: No practical benefit to winning / Landlord’s identity unclear]
I realized my mistake and hurriedly hid the note behind my back, but it was already too late.
His eyes narrowed.
“Legal consultation?”
“…It’s a personal matter.”
The sound signaling that the coffee was finished echoed through the small break room, and once again, a heavy silence descended.
He picked up the freshly brewed espresso and slowly brought it toward his nose, as though checking its aroma.
“So the landlord’s identity is unclear.”
He took a sip of coffee with an elegant movement, then let out a cynical laugh.
“You’re not getting your money back.”
He had hit the exact sore spot.
How could he talk about someone else’s misfortune so casually, as though it had nothing to do with him?
Shame and anger surged inside me.
“What do you know, Executive Director? How much I’ve—!”
“I know. I know how that world works.”
Holding his coffee cup, he turned his body toward me.
The coffee in his cup, topped with rich golden crema, and the cheap paper cup of instant mix coffee in my hand.
That trivial difference seemed to expose our circumstances more brutally than anything else, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
“You won’t catch them.”
He tossed the words out casually.
“They’ve probably already laundered the money and fled overseas. A lawsuit? You’ll just be lining the lawyer’s pockets.”
“……!”
It was a barrage of facts so painfully accurate that it was even more cruel.
I couldn’t argue.
Because that was exactly the hopeless future I had spent the entire day confirming.
The strength drained from my legs.
I grabbed the edge of the table and barely managed to stay standing.
“Then… what am I supposed to do?”
My pride and dignity had both collapsed completely.
“They say the law can’t even help me. Everyone tells me to give up. My entire fortune is tied up in this, but I can’t exactly die….”
His eyes, utterly devoid of sympathy or pity, looked down at me.
He slowly scanned me from head to toe, as though determining whether I was a product worth something.
Then he opened his mouth.
“Do you know what’s faster than the law?”
“…What?”
“Money. And power.”
The air inside the break room seemed to become thin in an instant.
I tried to step backward, but my hips hit the tabletop.
There was nowhere else to retreat.
“300 million.”
The number that came out of his mouth made my breath catch.
At the same time, a chilling suspicion flashed through my mind.
How does he know?
I had never told anyone at the company the exact amount of my loss.
So how did he know that my entire fortune was 300 million won…?
As though he could see straight through my confusion, he calmly drove the final nail in.
“That money Assistant Manager Lee lost—I’ll make it available to you.”
Crinkle.
The paper cup screamed under the pressure of my clenched hand.
Coffee spilled all at once, soaking my fingers, but I couldn’t even feel the heat.
The cold radiating from the man standing before me seemed capable of swallowing even that warmth.
“Why…? Why would you do that for me?”
His gaze slowly lowered.
His eyes traced my trembling fingertips, wet with coffee, before gradually rising and locking onto mine.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not trying to run a charity.”
He drew the line coldly.
“I need something too. Something money can’t buy, with some very particular conditions attached.”
“What… is that?”
At my tiny, mosquito-like voice, 강서준 상무 leaned down until our eyes were level.
His calm scent swept over me, sinking deep into my lungs.
His voice sounded distant, yet he was far too close.
I could even see the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath his tie every time he breathed.
“And someone who’s so desperate for money that….”
His gaze slowly, deliberately traveled over my trembling pupils, my quivering lips, and the hand clutching the crumpled paper cup.
But as though to make it clear that I was imagining things, the corner of his lips soon twisted into a cynical smile.
“A woman prepared to mortgage even her soul.”
His voice struck my ears like a nail.
“Someone just like you.”
