I pushed the door open with my shoulder, balancing two bags of groceries and the dull ache in my spine that never seemed to leave these days. The apartment was supposed to feel like safety. A small, quiet corner of the city where no one recognized my face anymore — or tried very hard not to.
But the moment I stepped inside, a chill pricked my skin.
Someone was here.
On the edge of my bed, legs crossed neatly, hands folded on her lap, was Seonghee.
Her posture was too straight. Her eyes were too still.
Like she had been waiting hours — perfectly motionless.
I didn't even flinch. I was too tired for that.
"Oh," I said, setting the bags down. "You're here."
Seonghee smiled slowly. Too slowly.
"I wanted to talk. We never really… finished things, did we?"
I knew exactly what she meant.
When I ruined her family.
When my ambition, my hunger, my manipulations had pulled the strings that snapped her entire life apart.
But I didn't apologize. Not because I didn't feel guilt — but because I learned long ago that apologies didn't fix anything. They only made people feel like they had permission to hurt you more.
So I simply nodded. "Sit. Stay. You're already here."
Her smile widened, and something sharp flashed in her eyes — gratitude? triumph? madness?
I couldn't tell.
Not the first day, not the second, not the fifth.
She drifted around my apartment like a ghost that refused exorcism.
Cleaning. Rearranging shelves. Cooking food I never asked for.
Laughing too loudly at small talk. Appearing behind me without a sound.
It was unnerving, yet… she wasn't violent.
Just wrong. Like a broken clock that still ticks.
Every morning she brewed tea and said,
"Unni, let me take care of you today. You must be exhausted."
Every night she whispered through the dark,
"If only they knew how much you suffered too…"
I didn't ask how she had the key. I didn't ask what she truly wanted.
Some part of me — the part that had lived too long in shadows — already knew:
Seonghee didn't come to be forgiven.
She came to watch me fall. Or to fall with me.
Either one was fine for her.
It started when I stepped out of my building and saw the first egg splatter on the sidewalk.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Kang Min-in and her rabid fan circle had found a new hobby:
Targeting me.
"Manipulator—!"
"Home-wrecker!"
"You ruined everyone you touched!"
The chants rose like acid smoke.
Someone hurled an egg. It cracked against my shoulder.
Another splattered on my cheek, the yolk dripping into my collar.
I froze. My breath stuck.
Not because of the hatred — I was used to hatred.
But because my daughter could have been watching if I had brought her along.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around my shoulders.
Seonghee.
"Move, unni."
Her voice was firm, lower than usual.
She shielded me with her own body, pushing through the mob.
"BACK OFF!" she screamed, her voice nearly breaking.
The crowd recoiled for a second — shocked at the sudden ferocity.
She didn't look back at me once as she grabbed my hand and dragged me through the chaos, through the alley, through the back exit path all the way home.
When we reached the apartment, she locked the door and pressed her forehead against it, breathing hard.
Then she turned to me, eyes wide, trembling with something between fear and obsession.
"Unni…"
Her smile stretched, unsteady.
"See? I'm the only one left who will protect you."
I stared at her.
And for the first time, I couldn't tell if she was my punishment…
or my only remaining ally.
Ajin's Perspective
Seonghee had been living in my shadow for so long that I should've expected she'd eventually try wearing my skin.
At first, it was… tolerable.
She sat on my couch with that falsely innocent smile, claiming she "just missed me."
I let her stay because guilt is a disease, and in some twisted way, I owed her—
or at least, that's what she wanted me to believe.
But day by day, she began to invade.
She walked out of my room wearing my dress, a designer piece worth more than her family earned in months.
She borrowed my heels.
Then my makeup.
Then my bags.
I caught her once—
standing in front of my mirror, hair pinned like mine, smiling with that eerie glaze in her eyes.
"Seonghee," I said softly, "why are you wearing that?"
She didn't even flinch.
"Because you don't need it anymore," she answered cheerfully.
"Ajin unnie, your popularity is gone. I'm just… helping you let go."
Helping.
That word made my stomach twist.
Her "help" escalated quickly.
She started selling my bags online, drained my closet of limited-edition dresses.
When the police came knocking, she looked at me with wide, pitiful eyes and cried until they believed she had my permission.
She got bail the same day.
And she came back.
As if nothing happened at all.
That night, I finally confronted her.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, exhausted.
She looked at me with a strange mix of gratitude and obsession.
"Because you lost everything," she whispered.
"But I can… hold it for you. Carry the weight. Take what you don't need now.
You don't have to be Ajin anymore. Let me be you until you're better."
The worst part?
She believed every word.
I felt my chest tighten.
Her delusion was growing, and mine was barely holding itself together.
Meanwhile – Seo Meri
My phone buzzed with her name: Seo Meri, the infamous queen of Longstar Entertainment.
A woman with a smile sharp enough to slice a throat.
She didn't even say hello.
"So this is how you repay me?" she hissed the moment I picked up.
"I lift you from a nobody in a high school uniform and make you into a star—
and you throw it all into the gutter?"
I let her rant. I'd listened to worse.
"You disappoint me, Ajin," she continued.
"You're ruining contracts, ignoring roles, causing scandals.
I should've left you rotting where you came from."
Something snapped inside me.
"Meri," I said calmly, "don't forget who begged me to join Longstar."
Silence.
"You were the one who made a mistake," I continued.
"You thought I'd be easy to control.
You wanted a pretty puppet who smiled on cue.
But you were wrong."
Her breathing sharpened.
"Ajin," she warned, "I made you. I can destroy you."
I smiled bitterly at my reflection.
"You already tried," I whispered.
"And I'm still standing."
It wasn't a threat.
It was a reminder.
Of everything I had survived… and everything she no longer could take from me.
Ajin pov
The sun streamed through the vast windows of the Italian villa, casting golden light across the marble floors. Ajin walked slowly down the grand hallway, her heels clicking against the stone, her hand brushing against the intricate carvings along the walls. Everything here—the opulence, the grandeur, the sheer weight of wealth—felt like a crown she had claimed for herself.
Myun Hyuk stood by the terrace, sunlight glinting off the gold accents of his tailored suit. When he saw her, his face lit with that warm, admiring smile that had first captivated her.
"Ajin," he said, stepping closer. "You look… breathtaking."
She smiled, letting the words wash over her. Not a hint of guilt, not a trace of the secret she carried. To him, she was perfect, untouchable, untarnished. And she intended to keep it that way.
He took her hand gently, sliding a ring onto her finger. The diamond sparkled like a promise of eternity.
"I want to spend my life with you," he whispered.
Ajin tilted her head, letting him think he was winning, letting him believe in the purity of their bond. "I… I want the same," she murmured, the lie curling softly from her lips.
Inside, she was already counting the ways she could bend the world around her to her favor. Myun Hyuk's wealth, his influence, his devotion—they were tools. And with him, she had a throne, a kingdom, and no one to challenge her… except shadows of a past she kept locked away.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Seo Meri was watching through her network, her jaw tight with fury. Ajin's audacity burned her like fire. The girl who had once been pawns to her schemes had slipped through her fingers, climbed to heights Meri thought impossible.
"Let her enjoy it," Seo Meri spat into the phone. "She'll fall. Everyone falls. And when she does… I'll be there to remind her where she belongs."
Ajin, of course, remained blissfully unaware of the storm building behind the gilded walls of Myun Hyuk's empire. She reveled in the silk dresses, the sparkling jewels, the lavish galas where she walked as the center of attention. She entertained the idea of being a devoted wife, if only to further her plan, to keep everyone distracted from the truth.
The secret she carried—her daughter, Jun-seo, the years of manipulation—remained tightly sealed in the deepest chambers of her heart. No one could touch that. Not yet.
She smiled as she raised her glass of champagne, letting the effervescence tickle her tongue. The villa echoed with music and laughter, all of it orchestrated, all of it bending to her will. For now, she was untouchable. For now, the world was hers.
But in the shadows, Seo Meri's fury simmered, and somewhere in the distance, Jun-seo's name still lingered—a tether to the past she had buried under layers of ambition, wealth, and carefully crafted charm.
And Ajin, crowned in her new life, felt a thrill that was almost dangerous.
Because she knew, as she traced her fingers along the diamond, as she slipped past the guards and staff who adored her, that she could manipulate kingdoms—but she could not yet manipulate her own heart.
And hearts… hearts were the most dangerous game of all.
The villa's gates opened to reveal a sprawling mansion that seemed to touch the clouds. Ajin's heels clicked softly against the polished marble as she followed Myun Hyuk through corridors lined with priceless paintings and gilded mirrors. The scent of fresh roses and baked bread filled the air, a comforting luxury that whispered of wealth and indulgence.
"This is home now," Myun Hyuk said with a satisfied smile, opening the double doors to a dining hall bathed in golden light.
Tables groaned under the weight of delicacies from around the world: roasted meats, crystal bowls of fruit, delicate pastries dusted with sugar, and bottles of wine older than some nations. He gestured for her to sit, his eyes lingering appreciatively on her as she lowered herself into the high-backed chair.
Ajin smiled, letting herself enjoy it. She leaned back, letting the luxury wrap around her like a soft cloak. For the first time in years, she could breathe without the sting of fear or obligation. The servants bowed quietly, attending to their tasks, and everything—the wealth, the attention, the power—felt hers to command.
But as the day passed, Myun Hyuk began to share details of his past.
"You should know," he said gently over dessert, "I wasn't always… safe. My first marriage… it ended badly."
Ajin's eyes narrowed slightly, though she kept her expression neutral.
"My ex-wife tried to kill me," he continued, voice calm but laced with shadows. "I divorced her. But there are… scars. You must understand that."
A flicker of fear rose in Ajin's chest. The thought of a woman so dangerous, a life threatened in ways she could imagine all too well, set her nerves on edge. Yet she didn't show it. She smiled delicately, brushing the fear aside, letting her charm take over.
"I see," she said softly, leaning back, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Danger… can be exhilarating, in the right way."
But that night, alone in the master bedroom that felt more like a palace than a home, unease crept over her.
The servants' steps sounded different—too quiet, too measured. Their smiles, perfect in the daylight, carried an undertone she couldn't place. And Myun Hyuk, whose devotion was intoxicating, seemed at times… too watchful, too deliberate in his gestures.
She tried to push the thoughts away, telling herself it was the adjustment, the new life, the luxury that made her hyper-aware.
And yet, when she finally drifted into sleep, the mansion's clock struck midnight, echoing through the vast halls like a hollow warning.
She dreamt.
The grand chandelier flickered as though a storm passed through the room. Shadows twisted and lengthened. The clock chimed, and she saw a figure—tall, imposing, shrouded in grief and anger.
Her father.
The father who had died because of her choices, because of her manipulation, because of the life she had clawed her way into.
His eyes burned into hers, accusing and unforgiving. And in the dream, the clock struck the exact time of his death—the moment she had lost everything, the moment she had begun hiding from the world.
She woke with a gasp, heart hammering, sweat slick on her skin. The room was silent, but the unease remained. She had tried to bury the past, but now the shadows of her sins seemed to follow her even here, in a palace built on power and illusion.
And deep in the back of her mind, a chilling thought whispered:
No matter how far I run, the past always finds me.
The mansion felt larger than ever that morning. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, bouncing off marble and gilded furniture, yet the brilliance couldn't dispel the curiosity gnawing at Ajin. As she wandered through the quiet halls, her eyes caught a door she had never noticed before—ornate, black wood carved with unfamiliar symbols.
Something about it called to her. A whisper in the air, a pulse of intrigue she couldn't resist. She stepped closer, tracing the intricate carvings with her fingers.
A soft voice startled her.
"Miss Ajin…"
She turned to see one of the older servant ladies standing at the hallway's edge, her eyes cautious.
"That floor… that floor is forbidden," the woman said quietly, shaking her head. "No one has ever gone there. Not the guests, not even the staff. Myun Hyuk forbids it."
Ajin arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
"Forbidden?" she repeated. "Why? Even his ex-wife never went up there?"
"Yes… she never dared," the servant whispered, glancing nervously toward the door. "Even she knew it was off-limits. I… I don't know why, but he never allows anyone."
Ajin's lips curved in a confident, sly smile.
"I am not her," she said softly, almost to herself. Then she turned to the servant. "And I am the owner of this villa too. Myun Hyuk's ex-wife is nothing to me. I will decide what is allowed and what isn't. Show me the way."
The servant hesitated, glancing around as if afraid the walls themselves might listen. "I… I cannot, Miss Ajin. Myun Hyuk… he would be furious. He—"
"I said I'm the owner," Ajin interrupted firmly, her tone icy, leaving no room for argument. "He cannot forbid me from exploring my own home."
The servant bowed her head reluctantly. "As you wish, Miss Ajin… but please be careful. That floor… it is unlike anything else in this villa. Even the shadows seem… different there."
Ajin's curiosity ignited. Shadows, secrets, a forbidden place—her pulse quickened. She didn't just want to explore it; she needed to. She had spent years manipulating, controlling, and climbing in a world of rules and hidden dangers. This floor promised both intrigue and power, a challenge she couldn't resist.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy door. The hinges groaned, a sound that echoed down the long, dark staircase leading upward. The air that poured out was cooler, heavier, tinged with something she couldn't identify—old wood, faint perfume, and something… alive.
As she stepped inside, the door closed behind her with a soft click that seemed final. She was alone. Or so she thought.
The hidden floor stretched out before her, a labyrinth of corridors and rooms she had never dreamed existed. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, chandeliers flickered with dim light, and paintings of unknown faces seemed to watch her every step.
Ajin paused at a mirror, her reflection staring back—regal, composed, confident—but the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes betrayed her curiosity.
What was Myun Hyuk hiding here? she wondered.
Why was even his ex-wife afraid to set foot in this place?
And as she walked deeper into the hidden mansion floor, a faint whisper seemed to brush against her ear:
"Some doors, Ajin… should never be opened."
Her pulse quickened, and a thrill ran through her veins.
But I am Ajin, she thought, a dark smile forming. And no one, not even Myun Hyuk, can tell me what I can or cannot do.
The shadows of the floor seemed to shift, as if aware of her presence, alive with secrets she was determined to uncover.
Next day
The servants walks in as she look at every wall of the villa being royal and luxurious.
The seonghee beams at the royallty .
" No way that bitch got here" seonghee utterd in her breathe as she fumes in anger. That she could feel jealous of ajin.
" See how well I will rui. You " she smirks .
Later
The summer sun beat down on the Italian villa, warming the marble terrace and glinting off the sparkling water of the infinity pool. Ajin reclined on a chaise longue, sunglasses perched delicately on her nose, a cold glass of champagne resting on the table beside her. The day was perfect—or at least, that's how it appeared.
She let herself exhale, savoring the rare sense of calm. For once, the world didn't seem to demand manipulation, schemes, or survival. Here, she was royalty. Here, everything she had worked for—every piece of wealth, beauty, and power—was hers to enjoy.
The soft rustle of fabric across the terrace caught her attention. At first, she thought it was a servant attending to the flowers or the poolside furniture. But something felt… wrong.
Slow, deliberate. Calculated.
Her heart skipped a beat.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure moving silently across the sunlit tiles. The familiar gait, the way she carried herself—it was impossible to mistake.
Seonghee.
Her chest tightened.
Seonghee had somehow infiltrated the villa, disguised as a servant. Her presence was subtle, like a shadow sliding across the edge of perception, but Ajin's instincts screamed danger.
Seonghee's eyes locked onto hers as she crawled forward, a knife glinting faintly in her hand. Her lips twisted into a cruel sneer, her voice low and venomous:
"How could you live like this?" Seonghee hissed. "Royalty, happiness… beauty… while I—everything I had—was ruined by you?"
Ajin's grip tightened on the glass. Her mind raced, but her body remained calm, poised, elegant. The years of manipulation, the years of survival, had honed her reflexes to perfection.
As Seonghee lunged, knife raised to strike, Ajin's hand moved faster than thought. She leaned back instinctively, avoiding the first strike.
"Seonghee…" Ajin murmured, voice smooth as silk. "You really don't learn, do you?"
The struggle intensified. Seonghee swung again, aiming for Ajin's face, for her beauty, for the symbol of the life she could never have. The knife flashed dangerously close.
But Ajin's hands were steady, her body fluid and controlled. With a swift movement, she grabbed Seonghee's wrist, twisting the knife away. Before Seonghee could react, Ajin used the momentum to turn the attack back on her.
The knife slid sharply across Seonghee's face, cutting a line from the middle of her nose down to her cheek. Blood spattered, the metallic scent heavy in the summer air. Seonghee screamed, stumbling back, clutching her face, her rage mingling with pain.
The sound of commotion drew Myun Hyuk from the main hall. He stepped onto the terrace just in time to see the aftermath—Seonghee bleeding, sprawled on the marble, and Ajin poised above her, a dark, victorious smile on her lips.
Seonghee's screams grew louder, her hands scrabbling at Ajin's body in a last desperate attempt to strike.
Ajin's laughter cut through the air, chilling and triumphant.
"You really thought you could ruin this for me?" she said, voice like tempered steel. "That you could take what is mine?"
Myun Hyuk's eyes widened in shock, a mixture of horror and awe. He had never seen this side of Ajin—calm, ruthless, untouchable.
Seonghee's attacks slowed, weakened by the pain and blood loss, and Ajin stepped back, elegant as ever, letting the fallen woman writhe beneath her gaze.
"Remember this, Seonghee," Ajin said softly, almost mockingly. "This is the price of trying to touch my life. You destroyed what you could, but you… you can't touch me."
The summer air shimmered over the pool, over the marble, over the villa. The battle was over. Seonghee was defeated, humiliated, and exposed. Ajin straightened her posture, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, still smiling, still untouchable.
And somewhere deep in her chest, a darker thrill surged.
Because in this world of power, beauty, and manipulation, Ajin had just reminded everyone—including herself—that she was always, inevitably, one step ahead.
---