The Bad Husband (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 2

“Get married. And if possible, as soon as possible.”

Amid a heavy atmosphere, the elderly woman’s final ultimatum fell. In contrast to the three aunts whose eyes sparkled with excitement, Woo Jin let out a deep sigh.

Though she was over ninety, the woman was none other than Chairwoman Jung Man Ok—the founder of the present-day Jangwon Group and a legend in the business world. Thus, not a single person in this room could afford to ignore her words.

Chairwoman Jung’s word was law—at least within the Jangwon household.

“This is your second scandal with Park Seo Woo. The first time, we somehow managed to sweep it under the rug, but do you really think people will be fooled twice?”

As Chairwoman Jung sternly questioned Woo Jin, his third aunt, Young Sook, chimed in.

“Exactly. You kept insisting the relationship was over, so why on earth did you go there? No wonder you ended up with photos like these.”

“That woman must’ve clearly clung to our Woo Jin. How many times has this happened already? No matter how much of a top star she is, at the end of the day, she’s still just an entertainer. How dare she even look up to him?”

Hearing his second aunt, Young Hee, grind her teeth in frustration, Woo Jin shot her a fierce glare—but right now, staying silent was the wisest course of action.

As he wordlessly took a sip of coffee, Chairwoman Jung spoke again.

“I’ll ask just one thing: why did you go there, of all places?”

“I already told you. Seo Woo was injured during filming, and I went because I was worried about her.”

“If the relationship is truly over, as you claim, what business is it of yours if Park Seo Woo got hurt?”

“Surely, you’re not asking because you *don’t* know?”

Woo Jin’s dark eyes flared sharply as he retorted to Chairwoman Jung, who, despite knowing the answer, pressed the question anyway.

“Do you still… do you still carry that burden in your heart? You’ve done enough. It’s time you finally let that weight go.”

“…”

“Because you keep leaving openings, that girl can’t let you go either.”

“She… lost her only family because of me.”

“It was an accident.”

Though Chairwoman Jung pointed out this crucial fact, it did nothing to ease his heart. No—it was a weight he would carry for life.

He had lost his closest friend, while Seo Woo had lost her only sibling, her twin brother. Their shared grief over losing the same person forged a strong bond between them, eventually turning them into lovers.

He had mistaken that persistent ache for love. But when that feeling refused to evolve further, his rational mind confirmed it was not love after all.

He and Park Seo Woo had broken up a year ago. Yet ending the romantic relationship hadn’t freed him from her completely. She remained, irrevocably, the twin sister of the late Park Seo Jin—a fact that bound him like chains.

“In any case, further scandals will not be tolerated.”

“Emotionally, our relationship is completely over. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“And has *her* feelings ended as well?”

Faced with this sharp question, Woo Jin remained silent. He knew all too well that Seo Woo’s feelings were far from over. She still waited for his messages, still longed for him. Occasionally, she called him over under various pretexts and openly revealed her lingering feelings—just as humans instinctively crave what they cannot possess, her yearning had only grown more desperate.

“You seem unaware of how serious this matter is. If we fail to suppress this scandal now, reporters will dig deeper. And journalists always prefer stories with a bit more sensationalism.”

For a moment, Woo Jin’s dark eyes, deeply shadowed, turned toward Chairwoman Jung.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t know? That girl—raised an orphan, with not a single useful connection—is where she is today *because of you*. And how do you think this story will look to others?”

“…”

“Don’t treat me like a senile old woman hiding in the back room. I’m still very much alive.”

Unable to argue against Chairwoman Jung’s solemn warning—for half of it was true, and half was not—Woo Jin fell silent.

Of course, her talent for acting had played a major role, but it was also true that he had helped her. Still, not once had he resorted to anything illegal in the process.

—“Hyung, I’ll earn lots of money and take perfect care of our Seo Woo.”

—“People might mistake you for her much older brother.”

—“What? I was born five minutes earlier! Besides, she has no family but me—I *have* to be the older brother!”

—“So… what’s Seo Woo’s dream?”

—“To be an actress! Doesn’t it suit her perfectly? Though, honestly, she’s so stunning I doubt any camera could fully capture her.”

—“And what about *your* dream?”

—“Well… her dream *is* my dream.”

Park Seo Jin—the doting, younger-brother-obsessed fool—had grinned as he said those words.

Thus, pushing Seo Woo forward wasn’t about fulfilling *her* dream, but completing the dream of Seo Jin, whose life had been cut short at just twenty-one.

That’s how he made Seo Woo a top star—and her talent only accelerated the process.

Yet, as Chairwoman Jung had said, if his support for her survival in the entertainment industry were distorted in the media, the public’s reaction would be all too predictable: just another sordid tale of collusion between chaebol and celebrities—nothing more, nothing less.

A perfect narrative to bring down not only Seo Woo, but him as well.

“If you get married, Park Seo Woo will change—and naturally, the scandal will fade away on its own.”

As Chairwoman Jung brought a small teacup to her lips, the eldest aunt, Young Ja—who until now had remained silent—handed him a photo.

“You know her, right? Go Ji Hye, the second daughter of Hansung Group. I heard she was your university classmate.”

Woo Jin’s cold gaze turned toward Young Ja.

Unlike her sisters, Young Ja—childless and divorced—had raised him in place of his deceased parents. To him, she was like a mother. But somewhere along the way, an unbridgeable rift had formed between them.

A relationship fraught with love and resentment.

“Marriage is a business arrangement. From that perspective, Hansung Group is the most perfect partner for us at Jangwon.”

Unfazed by his fierce glare, Young Ja continued calmly, her expression impassive—and Woo Jin let out a wry laugh.

Overseeing Jangwon’s department stores, outlets, and various cultural ventures, Young Ja was the daughter who most resembled Chairwoman Jung—not just in appearance, but in business acumen and her meticulous, perfectionist nature.

And yet—the profile she’d just handed him was of *Go Ji Hye*.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Auntie, your judgment seems to have seriously deteriorated.”

“What did you say?”

“Or perhaps Director Lee, your loyal right hand, simply failed to do his job properly.”

Woo Jin tossed Go Ji Hye’s photo onto the table.

“It’s true. Go Ji Hye and I attended the same university in the U.S.—so I know her better than anyone.”

“…”

“That she had a very messy affair with the second son of Jeongdo Construction. And that I still occasionally run into him at social gatherings.”

Even rushed marriages required better discernment than this.

Tsk.

“Let me be clear, Aunt.”

“…”

“I *never* chew gum someone else has already chewed.”

Though Young Ja’s face hardened with anger, Woo Jin ignored it, fastened his suit buttons, and stood up. Immediately, Young Hee rushed to hold him back.

“Hey, hey—Woo Jin! You’re just leaving like this? So what about the marriage?”

“Pass the profiles to Director Park—but *not* Go Ji Hye’s.”

“So you *will* go through with it?”

“Yes. I will. But since *I’m* the one getting married—and *I’m* the one choosing my future wife—it’ll be *my* decision. Not yours, Aunties.”

As he walked out of the lounge, Woo Jin drew a firm line.

Marriage? Fine. He’d do it.

Honestly, it wasn’t a bad idea. He’d planned to marry someday anyway—moving it up slightly wouldn’t change much. Moreover, timing-wise, marrying now could quell the scandal *and* perhaps give Seo Woo the natural push she needed to finally move on.

In that sense, this was the perfect moment.

Then why did bitterness keep welling up in his throat? Outside, Woo Jin pulled out a cigarette to suppress his emotions.

But even the cigarette failed to soothe him. His mouth felt dry, gritty—as if he were chewing sand. He missed someone, desperately.

—I thought I was lucky. Lucky to stay by Hyung’s side, even like this. Lucky to be the one who could.

The one who, because of me,

—truly… just got used,

—truly… just died.

* * *

One week later, late evening.

Even as he drove somewhere after work, Woo Jin kept his phone in hand—it was an extension of his job.

[The policy hasn’t been officially announced yet, but things seem to be heading in a direction we didn’t anticipate. And if the contract isn’t renewed, we may need to relocate the factory in China.]

“No need to wait. Start preparing for withdrawal immediately. There’s no point clinging to something doomed. Cleanly wrap it up and prepare for relocation.”

[Understood, Executive Director.]

Though the call ended, Woo Jin remained deeply unsettled. China, once welcoming foreign investors with cheap labor and open arms, had gradually begun expelling them, shifting its stance entirely. No matter how favorable the terms offered, none of it mattered—the socialist state prioritized policy over capital, making capitalist logic irrelevant.

Of course, sensing this two years earlier, Woo Jin had quietly begun preparing to move the factory. But this time, instead of concentrating everything in one country, he opted for diversification. Though the initial investment was steep, this approach promised long-term stability.

“F*ck. This is exactly why I hate authoritarianism.”

Even with preparations underway, relocating an overseas factory was no simple headache. Overtime and frequent business trips abroad seemed inevitable for the foreseeable future.

His head ached. His heart was restless.

He couldn’t tell whether it was due to the factory relocation—or the sudden acceleration of his marriage plans.

“Executive Director, we’ve arrived.”

At Director Park’s quiet announcement, Woo Jin’s gaze shifted out the window.

Cheongdam Restaurant, “Leane”—the venue for his blind date that evening.

Checking his wristwatch, he noted he was ten minutes early. Reaching into his suit pocket, he pulled out a cigarette—but before lighting it, he stepped out of the car.

An irony: he smoked, yet loathed the lingering smell of smoke on himself. Though people supposedly couldn’t smell their own smoke well, his fastidious nature forbade it—he *never* smoked in enclosed spaces.

With a *clack*, the flame from his Zippo lighter touched the cigarette’s tip. Inhaling deeply the bitter, pungent smoke, he shifted his gaze—and saw her.

A woman, standing vacantly between the restaurant entrance and the tip of his shoes.

He instantly recognized her as his blind date, Min Tae Eun. Or rather, he *couldn’t* fail to—she possessed such a distinctive, arresting presence that even without having studied her photo beforehand, anyone’s eyes would have lingered on her. In real life, she was far more stunning than in her picture.

So much so that a middle-aged man exiting the restaurant just then nearly slipped on the icy pavement, distracted by her—though, of course, she remained unaware, still lost in thought, staring down at her shoes.

What on earth was occupying her so deeply?

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he watched her. After all, he, too, had just behaved no better than that old man.

Over the past week, he’d reviewed countless spouse profiles sent by his aunts—but none appealed to him. Their intentions were far too transparent.

His grandmother, Chairwoman Jung, and his aunts all wanted him to marry Go Ji Hye, the second daughter of Hansung Group. Thus, every other profile was merely a formality—except one: that of Min Tae Eun. Or more accurately, the woman *in* the photo had seized his attention.

Beauty worthy of a professional actress—or beyond—radiating such captivating allure that it leapt off the page. So powerful was her presence, it instantly overshadowed her unimpressive background.

In chaebol circles, marriage was typically viewed as a business transaction. Hence, many around him maintained separate marriages and romantic relationships. But he disliked that approach. Between managing a wife and tending to a clinging lover, he simply had no time to spare.

If the marriage couldn’t meet conventional conditions anyway, her appearance became paramount—only then could love, or at least affection, possibly begin after the wedding.

By that standard, Min Tae Eun passed effortlessly. In person, her beauty was even more striking, three-dimensional—her aura, undeniable.

“Huh…”

Exhaling a white plume of smoke, his eyes narrowed as he watched her through the haze.

Then—she answered a call. Her expression darkened immediately. Even from several steps away, he could tell the voice on the other end was far from friendly.

Whoever was speaking seemed so incensed that, after several terse replies from Tae Eun, a shrill, hysterical scream faintly carried over: *“If you don’t secure that after-party booking, don’t even bother coming home!”*

After hanging up, she let out a heavy sigh—and watching her, he couldn’t help but smirk.

Her profile came to mind.

Her father was biological, but her mother was a stepmother, if he recalled correctly? Just one phone call vividly revealed how grueling her daily life must be.

She stood for a long while, biting her lip, clutching her disconnected phone. Then, slowly, she lifted her hollow gaze elsewhere. So precarious was that look, it made his heart clench.

What was she thinking, right now?

Anxious, his eyes refused to leave her.

And finally—when she moved to walk away—he found himself speaking without thinking.

“That’s not the right direction.”

Startled by this unsolicited comment, she turned her downcast eyes toward him—as if to ask, *What’s it to you?* Undeterred, he closed the distance between them. Up close, her eyes brimmed with hostility.

Yet something felt strange. Those eyes… weren’t unfamiliar. An inexplicable sense of déjà vu sent a sharp pang through his chest.

Why…?

An unspoken emotion held them in silence for a beat.

Uncomfortable with the quiet, he drew deeply on the cigarette held between his fingers and finally spoke.

“What, were you planning to stand me up?”

Unlike the dissipating smoke, his scattered thoughts suddenly snapped into place—simply because *she* stood before him.

A truly bizarre phenomenon.