Constrained to Start (8 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 16
Prosecutor Kang Ji Ho was always dressed in a suit.
Tall enough that one had to crane their neck to look up at him, the man wore his impeccably pressed suit like armor. Though they’d only met a few times, Ra Jin remembered him as a man of flawless neatness.
Yet today, he seemed slightly different.
Not only was he without a tie, but he’d even undone two buttons on his shirt. It felt strangely unfamiliar—as if he’d changed his hairstyle after a long while—yet her eyes kept drifting toward him.
And then there was the citrus scent.
At the familiar fragrance, Ra Jin’s rigid shoulders slowly relaxed. Without even realizing it, the tension eased from her face, and the corners of her lips lifted faintly.
“You’ve arrived.”
“Hello.”
Ji Ho’s gaze, having met Ra Jin’s eyes, shifted toward Ha Eun.
“Oh! She’s practically my younger sister. She’s also my stylist.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Hello.”
“Please come inside.”
As his broad frame stepped aside, Ra Jin quickly moved forward, taking Ha Eun’s hand.
The moment the door clicked shut, the lighting illuminating the marble floor brightened noticeably. Even from the entrance, the space—Mother’s studio—exuded an extraordinary aura.
“Wait! Me—”
Before even taking off her shoes, Ha Eun shot her hand up.
“I should get going now.”
“At least have some tea before you leave.”
The man, whom Ra Jin had assumed would be stiff, spoke warmly.
“I just heard something important—no point sticking around. It’ll only give me a headache.”
He stared intently at Ha Eun’s face as she gently shook her head. Then, slowly, the corners of his eyes crinkled into a soft smile. It was full of unexpected surprises.
“Would it be alright if I drove Park Ra Jin home?”
“I was just about to ask you! How did you know?”
Ha Eun giggled, then winked playfully at Ra Jin.
“I’ll leave her in your care for a safe ride home.”
“Of course.”
“By the way, my name is Jung Ha Eun.”
“Got it. Please take care on your way, Ha Eun.”
Was he always like this?
Rather than showing any wariness toward Ha Eun, he carefully explained which exit from the parking lot would be easiest for her—to go with an unusually gentle tone.
“Unnie, I’ll go ahead first.”
“Okay. Don’t speed on the night roads.”
“Yeah. Even if I come back really late—it’s fine, got it?”
Ha Eun grinned mischievously, poking Ra Jin’s side as if she were a matchmaker.
“I’m really heading out now. Goodbye, Prosecutor.”
After waving both hands as if dancing and giving a polite bow, Ha Eun disappeared—and an unexpectedly heavy silence settled in.
The awkwardness became unbearable.
Ra Jin fidgeted with her elbow for no reason.
“Let’s go inside.”
“Oh, right.”
“This way.”
Ra Jin walked slowly, her eyes fixed on the straight line of his broad shoulders.
“Did you come straight from a shoot?”
“No. I took the day off due to feeling unwell.”
“Have you eaten?”
She briefly wondered whether this was just polite small talk or, like last time, if he still hadn’t had dinner.
With such limited social interactions and constantly reading between the lines, even simple questions made her scrutinize his intent.
But today, she’d decided to be honest—she’d answer everything truthfully. Having made up her mind, Ra Jin first removed her mask.
“I already ate at Ha Eun’s place. How about you?”
“Could you eat again?”
Having tasted that shake-and-fries combo before, his question stirred a flicker of anticipation in her.
“I should be on a diet, though…!”
An oval marble dining table.
Food filled both sides of the centerpiece, adorned with colorful ranunculus—tteokbokki, steak, even a fruit-and-cheese platter.
Ra Jin’s eyes widened instantly.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a bit of everything. Is there anything you particularly enjoy?”
“You must be busy—when did you even have time to…?”
Instead of answering, he simply waved his phone and gave a faint smile.
First, he’d been warm toward Ha Eun, who felt like a little sister; now, he’d ordered such indulgent food for her, someone surviving on salad alone. She’d already intended to cooperate—this whole effort really wasn’t necessary.
Overwhelmed by the sudden surprise, Ra Jin sat down as if in a daze. After all, they could discuss anything important after she finished her tteokbokki.
“Do you like white wine?”
What on earth was this man?
How did he know she preferred white wine over red, which gave her headaches? She’d never mentioned it even in interviews—was it just coincidence, or did their tastes align?
For a moment, she debated whether to ask him a personal question.
“Yes, I do. But just one glass tonight.”
“I’ll stick with soft drinks since I’m driving.”
“I’m causing you trouble again.”
“Not at all.”
His eyes, previously as cool as early winter, now curved gently—like the full bloom of spring. She’d once called him an impenetrable wall for showing so little emotion, but now that felt embarrassingly misguided.
Suddenly, she realized she’d judged him solely through professional stereotypes.
She, who hated others’ preconceptions so much, had unfairly held him to a strange standard. Silently, Ra Jin rebuked herself, feeling genuinely apologetic.
“The automatic opener’s tricky.”
Having only ever used manual ones, he struggled with the wine bottle.
“Just press that black button there. Yeah, that one.”
“This one?”
He rolled up his sleeves, and thick veins protruded from his wrist. In his large hand, the wine opener suddenly looked like a toy.
“The button must be too small—it won’t press down.”
“You’re showing your beginner side too much.”
When he tilted his head and smiled brightly, Ra Jin couldn’t help but smile back.
“Hold it steady—I’ll press it.”
The moment Ra Jin pressed the button, a loud mechanical whir echoed.
With a soft pop, the wine opened, and golden liquid gurgled into the glass. The once-clear wine glass now looked faintly misty.
“Let’s eat.”
They lightly clinked their glasses—one filled with white wine, the other with sparkling water—as he offered congratulations on her new drama’s premiere. He seemed genuinely intent on nothing else, even remembering to thank her for braving the cold during filming.
‘Was he really this thoughtful?’
Ra Jin was inwardly astonished—repeatedly so. This enigmatic man asked what she wanted to eat and personally served her just the right portion—neither too much nor too little. Then he double-checked whether she needed anything else.
“I’ll eat well.”
While focusing on the food, Ra Jin recalled the lines she’d rehearsed earlier.
Once the mood softened enough, she’d bring up again the proposal she’d previously declined. This time, she intended to discuss it as equals and state her needs confidently—which meant first clarifying why he’d wanted to meet. Slowly, without rushing.
As her thoughts settled, her tension eased, and a lazy sigh escaped her lips.
“I was worried since it’s delivery food. How is it?”
“This might sound silly, but it tastes incredibly comforting.”
The long-missed MSG flavor was blissful, and the white wine clung perfectly to her palate—no need to even consider food pairing.
Relaxed, as if his sharpness had been drained away, he shared light, effortless conversation with her. Their dialogue was sweeter than dessert, and laughter flowed without pause.
Had she ever felt this comfortable with someone of the opposite sex? Someone not even in her industry, with no professional overlap—it all melded perfectly together.
From wine, their conversation drifted through travel tales, extreme job experiences, and eventually lingered on movies.
‘If you speak this well, why were you so silent at the event?’
His eloquence was stunning—she couldn’t even picture him as the stone-faced, silent figure from that ceremony. Beyond his vast knowledge, he seemed determined not to let even a moment of silence pass.
“Amazing. You even won Best Acting for a drama that nearly got canceled.”
“Honestly, the crew worked the hardest. My contribution? Maybe one-tenth—if even that.”
“Are you stopping with the wine?”
Lost in conversation, she’d already finished her glass.
Leave such expensive wine unfinished? Ra Jin narrowed her eyes, feeling oddly reluctant.
‘I could easily finish a whole bottle alone… but I should hold back, right?’
Still, to properly explain the hardships on set and detail the director’s outrageous behavior… maybe just one more glass?
After some internal debate, Ra Jin pushed her glass forward slightly.
“Just one more glass, okay?”
“Whatever’s comfortable for you.”
A freshly filled glass, and their drama talk resumed.
Without realizing it, Ra Jin grew animated, passionately recounting the villains of her filming set.
“No matter how good the script is, it doesn’t always get made.”
“Exactly. Even with secured investment, cancellations are all too common.”
“If a production gets canceled, where does the money go?”
“It depends—mostly on the director involved and whose money it is.”
Prosecutor Kang Ji Ho’s eyes sparkled as he nodded.
He was showing interest not in celebrities’ personal lives but in production matters. Ra Jin stared at him, noticing something different about him.
“Even if a project collapses, if the director’s solid, some investors will reinvest for their next work.”
Upon hearing how rare that was, he pulled his chair closer. Feeling as if she’d found a comforting counselor, Ra Jin poured out everything she knew about drama production.
In that space, tension and wariness had vanished.
Remarkably, he had a knack for drawing out exactly what Ra Jin wanted to say—making even serious topics feel light enough to laugh about. And whenever her plate emptied, he’d refill it with her favorite dishes—on a completely fresh plate each time.
“Hmm. This cheese is delicious. Where’d you order it from?”
“It was already in the fridge. I’ll pack some for you to take home.”
First sneaking into his mother’s studio, now raiding her fridge too? His absurd offer made Ra Jin burst into a quiet laugh.
At his grandfather’s garage, she’d eaten burgers; now, at his mother’s studio, she was taking home cheese. No matter how she thought about it, he really was just like a little mouse.
“Our talk got cut off at production failures.”
“Oh! If a project gets scrapped, lawsuits always follow without fail.”
“Does that happen often?”
“It’s a bit crude to say, but imagine it as a full-on dogfight.”
“There’s no way they’d just write off the loss as a business expense or something, right?”
Could something like that even happen? She’d chase anyone to the gates of hell to make them pay for their sins—no one showed mercy when money was involved. Of course, exceptions might exist somewhere.
“Usually, it depends on the amount.”
“What about, say, 50 billion?”
Ra Jin shook her head firmly. In industry terms, that simply couldn’t happen—she could guarantee it.
“Does that sound unreasonable?”
“Totally unreasonable.”
“Why?”
“Unless it’s a historical drama or a fantasy packed with heavy CGI, modern dramas don’t cost that much.”
She added that with 50 billion on the line, asset seizures and lawsuits would’ve already made headlines—and his brow furrowed slightly.
‘Is he really this interested in dramas?’
Ra Jin’s eyes lingered on his suddenly serious expression.
“Drink some cold water.”
Noticing her glass was empty again, he stood up. As he moved, the citrus scent floated gently through the air.
It wasn’t as if two glasses of wine could intoxicate her—but Ra Jin slowly closed and opened her eyes anyway.
Blink. Through her lashes, his shirt looked taut enough to burst as he gripped the fridge handle. Blink again. His shoulder muscles rippled fiercely as he twisted open a bottle of water.
“I’ll pour it into a cup.”
“Just hand it to me.”
As she reached out both hands to avoid adding to the dishes, she accidentally tapped the wine glass in front of her.
Before she could react—“Oops!”—the glass tilted and crashed straight onto the marble floor. Instinctively, Ra Jin lunged forward, trying desperately to prevent it from shattering.
Amid the clatter, the wine glass shattered into pieces.
“Park Ra Jin!”
Cutting through the air with a rush of citrus, a large hand grabbed her firmly.
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
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