Chapter 11: The Collar of Authority

[I just submitted the documents to the court and stepped out.] [Stop sending living expenses. I’m not a dead man anymore; surely I can fending for myself.] [Eat well while you work.] [I am always sorry.]

I stared at the screen flashing with consecutive messages. I didn’t know how to respond. Until now, my father had only made hushed calls from restricted numbers. The unfamiliar number and the unfamiliar content of the messages felt surreal. My father, who had become a living person overnight, felt like a stranger.

A power that could bring a dead man back to life in a single day. Or rather, a force that could make a perfectly healthy person choose death. I thought of Seo Jeonghyeok, the man who could wield such terrifying power at his whim without blinking an eye. He was sitting behind those firmly closed doors. A chill ran down my spine as I realized exactly how heavy the shackles he had fastened to my ankles truly were.

“He says you may enter,” the secretary said, putting down the receiver.

As I opened the door and stepped into the office, a silent gasp escaped me. Sitting across from Seo Jeonghyeok, staring intensely at me as I entered, was none other than Jo Inho.

Just this morning, the news of Jo Inho’s marriage had broken. Considering it had only been a few weeks since he broke off our engagement, it was clear that his announcement that day hadn’t been an impulsive decision. His partner was said to be the only daughter of a powerful opposition lawmaker. She was exactly the kind of person he needed to bolster his power.

“You asked for me,” I said, masking my expression and offering a slight bow.

It wasn’t because of Jo Inho, who let out a deep, annoyed sigh. It was because of Seo Jeonghyeok’s gaze, which was leisurely observing both of us. Whether intentional or not, he clearly intended to enjoy this situation.

Crazy bstrd. Sociopath. Pervert. Psycho.

I swallowed hard, repeating titles in my head that I could never say out loud.

“I called you here so you could greet each other. I know it’s uncomfortable for both parties, but you’ll be cooperating closely from now on. I’d like to ask you both to set aside your personal feelings for a moment,” Jeonghyeok said, crossing his legs and curling one corner of his mouth upward.

That smile sparked a flicker of defiance in me. At this point, I wondered who was really the one constantly dredging up the personal feelings I was trying so hard to erase. I bit my tongue, determined not to be drawn into his petty, obvious provocations.

“I look forward to working with you. I am Cha Hyeonseo, and I will be in charge of the Eunsung Pharmaceuticals case.”

“Sigh… Of all people.”

At my greeting, Jo Inho showed blatant displeasure. It was staggering. I wanted to snap at him not to flatter himself—I wasn’t acting composed for his sake.

“Of all people. There are plenty of talented lawyers in Korea, so I don’t know why you made this choice. You know, don’t you? I’m a man who put his life on the line trusting Goldstone—no, Director Seo’s name.”

It was an outright complaint. It seemed Jo Inho intended to show his discomfort as a form of threat—a hint that he could nullify the deal at any moment.

However, a faint sneer played on the lips of Seo Jeonghyeok, who was leaning his chin to the side and flicking his earlobe. His expression seemed to ask, ‘How dare someone like you whine in my presence?’

“I believe the money Goldstone has put into this matter isn’t worth any less than your life, Mr. Jo,” he drawled in a low, oppressive tone.

That single sentence made the hierarchy clear. No—the flow of air between them was enough. The ranking was absolute. Regardless of who actually held whose leash, Jo Inho was never a match for Seo Jeonghyeok.

Jo Inho needed to realize that his blunder was grabbing onto Seo Jeonghyeok as a lifeline in a moment of desperation. Though, he likely had no other choice.

Jo Inho’s long sigh broke the silence. He remained quiet for a moment as if lost for words, then nodded in resignation, as if he were grandly bestowing a favor by listening. He was a fool. I wondered if he even understood the weight of what he was doing.

I expertly hid my expression and spoke. “As you may already know, I will briefly outline the direction of the proceedings once more.”

I gave a brief briefing on the current situation and future plans: the plan to become the largest creditor by purchasing bonds that hit rock bottom after maturity, and the final step of appointing Jo Inho as the new CEO starting with the designation of a court receiver.

At the mention of this ruthless and meticulous plan, Jo Inho looked quite satisfied. He immediately flipped his attitude, acting excited. It was as if he had already forgotten that the person he’d be working with was the woman he had discarded just a short while ago.

As he stood to leave, he even held out an invitation to Eunsung Pharmaceuticals’ charity event, adding that it would likely double as his engagement party. I let out a sharp, incredulous breath.

I wondered what I had been thinking, trying to marry a man like this. Now that I was looking at him from a distance, it was clear he was nothing more than a greedy, dull, and foolish man. The emotions I had once poured into him felt hollow. Even those, in retrospect, were meaningless.

Once Jo Inho left, only the two of us remained in the room. My eyes drifted toward him reflexively.

“It seems your relationship was ‘cooler’ than I thought. I was a bit worried inwardly, but the atmosphere isn’t bad.”

The man’s expression as he leisurely rubbed his eyebrow was quite satisfied.

“There’s no reason for it to be bad. It’s already over. I also know that Jo Inho is necessary for this matter.”

“Then you must also know that many creditors who haven’t yet decided will attend the charity event. Will you be alright? It won’t be easy attending the engagement party of the man who broke off your engagement.”

“You don’t need to worry. My personal feelings for Jo Inho ended a long time ago.”

“That’s a relief to hear.”

The sneer on his lips was exceptionally irritating.

He stood up abruptly and walked over to the minibar in the corner of the office. His movements were practiced as he took a whiskey bottle from the monochrome shelf and poured it into a glass.

“Want a drink? It helps you focus when you’re working late.”

“No, thank you.”

At my flat refusal, he nodded with a smile, as if he had expected it. Holding the whiskey, he slowly turned toward me. As he leaned against the edge of the desk, the massive office desk looked almost small—a strange optical illusion. He was a strange man.

“You worked hard yesterday. I thought you might just dump me in front of the restaurant, but you went to the trouble of personally delivering me to my front door.”

Should I apologize for failing to meet his low expectations? My mouth felt dry under his inexplicable, persistent gaze.

“I’m not bold enough to dump my superior just anywhere.”

“And ‘inside the car’ definitely doesn’t fall into the category of ‘anywhere’.”

His tone was ambiguous—I couldn’t tell if he was thanking me or reprimanding me. It might even have been a provocation, given the way those irritating lips were curved.

Because of that, I found myself blurted out an excuse. My resolution not to get drawn in today was still in effect.

“I didn’t have your secretary’s contact information, so I couldn’t reach him. And you didn’t wake up no matter how many times I tried. If I could have carried you on my back, I would have, but since I couldn’t, I had no choice…”

“Ah. Is that why you were staring so intently at my face?”

My eyes suddenly met his, cutting off my words. In an instant, my weak resolution shattered into pieces.

He wasn’t asleep.

I felt a jolt of alarm. I hadn’t thought he was the type to pass out after just three bottles of soju, yet I had let my guard down.

“You were staring so hard I thought something might happen that would make it difficult to separate the ‘public’ and ‘private’.”

At his oily comment, I could only bite my lip. I couldn’t tell him I was staring because I was admiring his polished face—or rather, because I was swallowing the curses that rose up because he was so unpleasant.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

In the end, that was all I could say. I regretted it the moment it left my mouth.

“It seems you actually considered being sorry.”

His eyes, which had already read my mind, murmured lowly.

Beneath his palm, the glass swirled, and the sharp scent of alcohol filled the air. My cheeks felt hot. Somehow, it felt like I was getting drunk. I had to look away first, fearing I’d be drawn in if I kept facing him.

“If you have nothing more to say, I’ll be leaving.”

He didn’t offer a greeting or a response; he simply watched me with a relaxed gaze, like a man observing a flustered child who didn’t know what to do. The inherent asymmetry of information didn’t help.

That made it all the more embarrassing and unpleasant. That look that said he knew everything. That arrogance, acting as if he already held me in the palm of his hand.

Whenever I stood before this man, I habitually became flustered—something I never usually did—and ended up showing a disorganized side of myself. Every time, I felt like a fool who had been read through.

“Well then.”

I hurried out of that suffocating space.

I began to feel that facing this man was becoming increasingly burdensome. My steps quickened, driven by a rising sense of dread.