Only Bad for Me (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 14

A charcoal-grilled meat restaurant.

Eun Jo took Sun Woo to her favorite spot for samgyeopsal.

It was already packed during dinner hour, probably because it was such a popular place.

But thanks to Eun Jo immediately making a reservation after his call, they were able to sit down right away.

While neatly arranged side dishes were being served, the two exchanged stories about how each had changed.

She teased him about his longer hair making him look even more handsome; he joked about how easily she’d become a specialist.

Predictable things—but that’s exactly what made them comfortable.

After Sun Woo took a sip of his cold cider, Eun Jo pushed the freshly steamed egg custard toward him.

“I think this might be my fifth time having this.”

“What? The egg custard? Or the samgyeopsal?”

“Both.”

“So you hate it? Then maybe we should just…”

When Eun Jo set down her chopsticks and pretended to pick up her handbag, Sun Woo quickly waved his hands, startled.

“Oh, no! I meant it’s really good. Please sit down—don’t joke like that.”

Eun Jo grinned and, settling back into her seat, confessed honestly,

“Sorry, but I really wanted soju—so I’m using you, Sun Woo.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t like drinking. Has that changed?”

“It’s been three years since we last saw each other. Enough time for anyone to change. Wow… feels like just the other day, yet here we are.”

Eun Jo poured soju into her glass, then filled Sun Woo’s as well.

“Time really flies, doesn’t it? Guess I’m not the only one who feels that way!”

“By the way—when are you leaving again? Or wait, when did you even arrive? Why come back so suddenly without telling anyone? Are your parents, your grandmother doing well?”

“Whew… hot, hot! I didn’t catch a word of that. Slow down—I’ve got plenty of time.”

Yet even while saying it was hot, he scooped up another generous spoonful of egg custard. Sun Woo truly seemed like a born-and-bred Korean.

“You eat slowly too, Sun Woo. You’ll burn your mouth.”

Here, this—Eun Jo kept placing perfectly grilled meat slices in front of Sun Woo, while she herself kept downing bitter soju.

“Da On’s grown so much, right? Kids really shoot up fast.”

“Let’s definitely meet before I leave. He’s completely different from how he was three years ago.”

For the first time, Eun Jo put a small piece of meat into her mouth and smiled. Sun Woo, nodding in agreement, gently took the soju bottle from her hand.

“I’ll pour. But take it slower, okay?”

“Okay.”

Just as Sun Woo had filled both their glasses halfway with soju, kimchi stew arrived. Eun Jo clapped her hands and laughed like a schoolgirl.

Except for the brief moments when the staff came over to grill their meat, the two never stopped talking.

Whenever Eun Jo teasingly called Sun Woo “Doctor Choi,” he’d blush faintly.

She’d wanted soju because she’d hoped, if only briefly, to forget everything. But somehow, somewhere along the way, the liquor started tasting sweet.

Slightly tipsy, Eun Jo rested her chin on her palm and asked out of nowhere,

“Doctor Choi—you’re rich, right?”

“Me? No, you mean my parents? Well, they mostly inherited what they have from their own parents. Why ask that all of a sudden?”

“I was just curious what rich people think about all day.”

“I wouldn’t know—I’m not rich. But people are probably all pretty similar, don’t you think?”

“Ah! Isn’t it just about enjoying making others suffer? Like, scheming how to tease or torment people—that’s what rich folks do, isn’t it?”

“Who’s been tormenting you, Eun Jo? Some rich person?”

Eun Jo, who’d been dipping well-grilled meat into spicy oil sauce, suddenly froze and stared blankly at Sun Woo.

It suddenly struck her as pathetic—how she barely had any real friends.

And frustrating—how she wasn’t even the kind of person who could ask someone for a loan.

Now, blurting out such nonsense to a friend who’d come all the way from America—she truly felt mortified and deeply embarrassed.

“There’s no one like that. I’m just drunk and rambling. It’s stupid—please ignore me.”

“But—it kind of is true. My parents, my grandmother… they all keep nagging me nonstop about the same thing.”

“Still about getting married?”

“Yes!”

This time, Sun Woo filled his own glass to the brim himself.

“Sun Woo, aren’t your standards just too high?”

“Me? How’d you know? That’s exactly it!”

Their tiny glasses clashed together so hard they nearly shattered. Laughter followed immediately.

.

.

“But how could I possibly, leaving a lady like you…”

“I’m not a lady.”

Eun Jo finally shoved Sun Woo into a taxi, insisting he let her take one home alone.

“Aren’t you a lady—a tipsy lady at that?”

“I’m not drunk. The driver’s going to get annoyed. Just close the door already. Call me again tomorrow.”

“Uh… Eun Jo.”

The moment she pushed the heavy taxi door shut, the car sped off as if it had been waiting for just that.

It vanished instantly from her sight.

“Phew…”

All her energy suddenly drained away. Feeling hollow, Eun Jo glanced around, searching for anywhere she could sit down.

She spotted a bakery that had already closed early.

“…”

In front of the dimly lit shop, she crouched on the small steps and rested her heavy head on her knees.

Just ten more minutes like this—she figured her buzz would fade and the embarrassment would ease a little.

How utterly humiliating… Yet despite desperately wishing she could find a mousehole to crawl into, she found herself chuckling softly instead.

Her benefactor, whom she hadn’t seen in three years.

Staring at the man whose face now radiated pure, innocent smiles, a sudden thought crossed her mind:

He was probably the—no, the second-richest person she knew.

And possibly the only one who could lend her money.

Was this what they called repaying kindness with betrayal?

“I’m insane! Absolutely crazy, Yoon Eun Jo!”

Eun Jo buried her burning face in both hands and yelled aloud.

“I heard you. Get up.”

“…?”

The richest person she knew—and the one whose face she least wanted to see.

His flawless features loomed over her, staring down intently.

.

.

About two hours earlier.

[Turn the car around—no, follow them. Hurry!]

After much indecision—and turning Secretary Kang’s face ashen as his own—Jae Ha finally let out a sigh of relief.

Because he hadn’t missed seeing the two enter a restaurant near his office.

Had he gone straight home instead, he surely would have burned down Yoon Eun Jo’s meticulously organized dressing room.

[You can head in now.] [What are you planning to do?] [Kill them, of course.]

Jae Ha, eyes wide with alarm, yanked the bewildered “Edward Kang” right out of the driver’s seat.

[Good work. Go home.]

Suppressing the urge to hide and keep watch anyway, Secretary Kang glanced back at his boss as he turned to leave.

Was this petty revenge? Or love disguised as hatred?

Or perhaps obsession bordering on madness?

No—right now, with Kwon Jae Ha, every single one of those descriptions fit perfectly.

Until Edward stood close enough to assist Jae Ha directly, he’d been both his junior and friend.

Yet no matter how casually they interacted, “Yoon Eun Jo” remained an extremely delicate topic.

Like an itchy wound—aching to be scratched, yet certain to bleed if touched carelessly.

According to Kwon Jae Ha—that useless, nonexistent thing called “love.”

And especially with that word attached, the name “Yoon Eun Jo” could never be spoken aloud.

Only Kwon Jae Ha could say that name—and only Kwon Jae Ha would instantly lose all reason, ranting wildly at the mere mention of it.

And now.

Leaning against a rarely seen luxury sedan, arms crossed, glaring into that unremarkable little restaurant—

From afar, Secretary Kang watched and muttered quietly,

[I’ll see just how long you keep insisting, “Absolutely not.”]

.

.

“Shall I help you up myself?”

Though no one else was around, Jae Ha spoke in a low, subdued voice.

“Oh, look who it is—the creditor himself. Where’d you pop up from all of a sudden? Checking if I’m dead or alive again?”

“Get up, Yoon Eun Jo. Your skirt’s—”

“So what? I want to stay seated. I’m dizzy. Might even throw up.”

“You absolutely will not throw up—but stand up right now.”

“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do! Do I belong to you?”

“You must be too drunk to remember—I have every right over you.”

“For just six hundred million? I’m a person, not some object! Get lost! And take that smug face of yours with you—ugh!”

When Eun Jo covered her mouth with both hands, Jae Ha quickly stepped back.

Hmph. Scared already. As her small hands dropped from her lips, a mocking smirk appeared.

“Are you kidding me?”

“If you don’t want your shiny shoes dirtied, just keep walking.”

“Yoon Eun Jo. Your panties are showing.”

He gritted his teeth, voice muffled through clenched jaws—Do you plan to advertise your white panties to the whole world?—before finally grabbing her arm and pulling her upright.

“…!”

Startled before she could even react, Eun Jo swayed as she was yanked up—and reflexively collapsed against the broad chest right in front of her.

“Wha…? How did you—why are you even here?”

“Walk. My car’s over there.”

“Are you even listening? I asked why you’re here!”

“Hmph.”

Snorting, Jae Ha tucked Eun Jo tightly against his side and started walking.

Eun Jo flailed her slender arms wildly—determined to scratch that infuriating face, six hundred million be damned—but it was a futile effort.

By the time she gave up and tried to catch her breath, she found herself already dumped into the passenger seat of his car.

In one last act of defiance, Eun Jo shot him a sharp, defiant glare as he got into the driver’s seat.

“I happened to be passing by. When I saw some woman flashing her panties, how could I just walk away?”

“Total lie.”

“Who’s lying?”

“It wasn’t white… not really.”

Not drunk at all, huh? Jae Ha chuckled softly and gently turned the steering wheel.

“It was worse—honestly.”

“…?”

“Teasing like that—barely showing, barely not—that’s way worse.”

“…”

Eun Jo bit her lips hard, struggling to rein in her rising emotions, then closed her eyes.

An awkward silence filled the car.

Jae Ha, too, remained quiet.

How well did they know each other?

What kind of relationship did she have with that guy?

He was dying to ask—

But after a long while, he weighted those low-level questions with heavy stones and sank them deep into his chest.

Grit scraped inside his mouth, and his throat stung.