When You Forget Me (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 3

Gi Ju removed his hand from Eun Chae’s face and dropped the stack of documents he’d been holding in his other hand onto the floor as if discarding them.

“It seems you prepared this meticulously—if I hadn’t found it first, you would’ve been caught.”

Eun Chae stared blankly at the scattered immigration documents and passport near her feet—the evidence of six months of careful, secretive planning she’d undertaken to escape her despair. Now it lay shamelessly exposed at her feet.

“If you just stay quiet for the next two months, I’ll turn a blind eye to this. You’ll follow the schedule and move accordingly.”

Ha. A sigh tinged with a bitter laugh escaped through Eun Chae’s clenched teeth.

She didn’t need to understand everything—she’d heard loud and clear that between him and her, the relationship was strictly that of bodyguard and protectee. Nothing more, nothing less.

Which meant she was to stay quietly locked away until her marriage to Han Seung Yoon.

She sneered at Kwon Gi Ju, who was nothing more than Chairman Song’s obedient dog.

“Three months, right?”

After a brief silence, he finally parted his tightly closed lips.

“Two months.”

Eun Chae furrowed her brows in confusion, but Gi Ju offered no further explanation.

Instead, he stepped closer and reached out his hand toward her. Flinching, Eun Chae bit her lips and sharply swatted away his long fingers as they carefully brushed against her swollen, bruised lips.

“…Get out.”

At Eun Chae’s sharp words, Gi Ju lowered his outstretched arm.

Tension gathered in his hand emerging from the stiff shirt cuff, and without another word, he turned his back and left the room.

Eun Chae, who’d been clenching her eyes tightly, let out a long breath and collapsed onto the bed. Her eyes drifted toward the spot where he’d just stood—and she quickly shut them again.

Memories she’d locked away along with his name began flooding back into her mind.

She’d been so naive, never imagining she’d be abandoned so miserably.

“That bastard…”

The man she once believed she loved had now returned—not out of affection, but as a tool to bind her hands and feet, forcing her into marriage with a brute like Han Seung Yoon.

Not content with betraying her, he was now offering to help escort her from one hell—her father—to another—Han Seung Yoon.

Eun Chae sank helplessly before an overwhelming despair.

✽ ✽ ✽

The security team gathered in the annex for shift change watched Kwon Gi Ju in hushed silence as he entered and headed straight for the bathroom.

Kwon Gi Ju was unnaturally taciturn—and somehow, just plain unlucky.

Team members who’d worked with him two years ago eyed the closed bathroom door with clear displeasure.

Soon, the water stopped running, and Gi Ju emerged wearing only sweatpants, toweling his wet hair.

The guards in the living room instinctively gaped—then quickly snapped their mouths shut.

Gi Ju’s body hardly looked like that of a mere graduate from a security studies program. It wasn’t just a physique honed by exercise—it was something more primal, a weapon optimized for combat.

His thick neck and sharply defined, broad shoulders bore what looked like bullet scars, and vivid lacerations remained visible across his imposing abs.

It was the kind of body that naturally drew admiration and awe.

Indifferent to the stares, Gi Ju entered his room. Seizing the moment, the youngest guard—whose curiosity had been simmering—finally spoke up.

“Team Leader Kwon… Were you really just on sick leave for health reasons?”

“Who knows? He never talks.”

“Look at that body. Does that look like someone who was sick? I heard rumors he dabbled in organized crime—maybe he went back, things went south, and he returned here.”

“I also heard he’s ex-UDT?”

“And why is the team leader assigned exclusively to the young lady? Shouldn’t you be guarding the chairman with Director Kim instead?”

Rumors about Kwon Gi Ju kept branching out wildly, but the truth remained unknown to all. He’d been personally brought in by the security director, and whether two years ago or now, his work remained impeccably thorough.

Just as the team began bombarding him with questions in hopes of uncovering something, Gi Ju stepped back into the living room holding his phone—and they all instantly fell silent and stood up.

In the ensuing confusion, only the youngest guard managed to keep his composure enough to speak.

“As you know, unless you’re called, you stay on standby here. If anything happens, I’ll be your backup—just contact me. You do know my name, right?”

Gi Ju gave no reply, merely bending down to examine the CCTV feed on the monitor. The youngest guard bristled—but a teammate yanked him away by the sleeve.

Now fully seated in his chair, Gi Ju spotted Eun Chae leaving the house in a linen dress that reached her ankles and entering the greenhouse.

A faint, knowing smile touched his lips.

“She really loves flowers, doesn’t she? Doesn’t even sleep.”

Watching her hunched over the blossoms, he enlarged the footage until Eun Chae, squatting on-screen, filled the entire monitor—his gaze locked unwaveringly on her.

He looked at her small back and recalled what had happened that morning.

He’d been in a daze from failing to adjust to the time difference—almost in a semi-conscious state—when his phone began incessantly buzzing with notifications. It was Kim Jin Ho, Chief Secretary to Song Myung Hwan, Chairman of D1 Group.

[Han Seung Yoon has a woman.]

Han Seung Yoon was Chairman Song’s prospective son-in-law—the third son of Representative Han Ji Chang, with an older brother and sister. Thanks to his maternal family’s business empire, he’d carved out a modest position in the hotel and resort sector, but his standing was notoriously weak. To cope with this insecurity, he’d gained a notorious reputation as a womanizing gambler and troublemaker.

[The chairman instructs you to ensure today’s engagement ceremony proceeds without disruption.]

A quiet chuckle slipped through his teeth. There was no way Chairman Song had only just learned his future son-in-law was chasing women. He’d known all along but turned a blind eye—now acting only because things threatened to surface publicly.

[Also, make sure you’re not late for your appointment with Miss Eun Chae.]

Miss. Eun Chae. Miss. Eun Chae.

He repeated the words in his mind, then rose to his feet.

The VIP suite at Hotel MK wasn’t available to just anyone with money—it was reserved exclusively for a rigorously vetted, select few.

One hour later, after gaining access to that secret room with a simple phone call, Gi Ju stood before the suite door. The staff member stared at him dumbfounded.

“I’ll… I’ll ring the bell, then.”

The employee raised a trembling index finger and pressed the doorbell.

Ding… dong.

“Room service.”

No response came from inside.

As the anxious attendant pressed the bell again, Gi Ju readjusted his leather gloves—then snatched an axe from the burly man standing behind him and swung it at the door.

Thud! Thud!

After only a few strikes, the door splintered and crumpled inward.

Muffled panic and faint curses spilled out—then the door flew open, revealing Han Seung Yoon’s flushed face.

“What the hell?”

The attendant’s face had gone completely pale, his expression trembling violently.

“I-I-I…”

Gi Ju lightly shoved the poor actor aside and pushed the door wide open with one hand—like parting a folding screen to peer into a coffin.

“Well now. Am I an uninvited guest?”

He stormed inside without hesitation, prowling through the suite like a lion unleashed from its cage, prompting Han Seung Yoon to shout.

“Who the hell are you? What do you want?”

The room, occupied just two hours earlier, was in utter chaos. The bedsheets were tangled beyond recognition, clothes lay strewn about like shed snake skin, and the bathtub had been left running so long that water was spilling over onto the floor.

With an engagement ceremony just hours away, it was glaringly obvious he’d been indulging in reckless thrills.

“You’re thirty minutes late.”

His indifferent tone carried unmistakable authority. Just as Han Seung Yoon—previously on the verge of mocking this intruder who’d smashed down his door—saw his face flush red with humiliation, he sputtered in protest, clearly flustered by the presence of a woman.

“Who the hell are you? Is this how MK Hotel treats its guests?”

“Miss Song Eun Chae isn’t someone with that kind of free time.”

At the mention of “Song Eun Chae,” Han Seung Yoon’s face immediately darkened—not from shame at being caught in debauchery, but from the clear assumption that the man before him was merely a secretary, someone beneath his notice.

“Ha! Has this bastard lost his mind? A mere secretary dares barge in like this? Did Chairman Song order you to act this way? Do you even realize the trouble I can cause you?”

Trouble? There’s nothing I can’t handle.

Gi Ju instantly twisted Han Seung Yoon’s arrogantly raised arm, then grabbed his head with brutal force and slammed it onto the table.

“You’ll go downstairs right now and offer a proper apology.”

“…”

“Like a gentleman. Understand?”

He flung Han Seung Yoon—who was already at his arm’s limit—aside. The woman who’d been with Han screamed shrilly, threatening to call the police.

Pathetic.

Gi Ju dismissed the thought and placed his hand on the CCTV monitor, pressing firmly on her rounded figure with his thumb.

His long, thick fingertips roughly traced from the nape of her neck down her spine—then withdrew.

“…”

Gi Ju, who’d been gazing fixedly at the monitor with lowered eyes, turned sharply without hesitation.

A faint, tender fingerprint remained clearly imprinted on the screen.

✽ ✽ ✽

The chill in the air had eased somewhat. Eun Chae, who’d been quietly gazing up at the overcast sky, soon walked toward the waiting limousine.

Without a sound, a hand reached from behind and opened the rear door for her. Eun Chae lifted her eyes sharply and stared coldly at the composed Kwon Gi Ju.

The cut on his cheek was unusually conspicuous—and irritating. As time dragged on, her dark eyes drifted downward.

Sensing his presence, Eun Chae averted her gaze before their eyes could meet and ducked into the limousine.

Gi Ju, shielding the top of her head with his hand to prevent her from hitting the ceiling, closed the car door.

From the corner of her eye, Eun Chae watched him step back a pace—then turned her head aside.

Chairman Song’s eyes gleamed fiercely as he snapped at her.

“You’re lighting a match under my plan to marry off my ill-fated daughter to a worthy match?”

What touching paternal affection.

Unlike her mother—who’d been moved to tears when the chairman offered to legally adopt a child with no blood relation—Eun Chae saw straight through Chairman Song’s intentions.

The reason Chairman Song, who calculated every move with precision, had raised his late wife’s daughter all these years had nothing to do with paternal love.

She was bait. A tool for business expansion. In other words, purely a commodity.

That explained his frantic efforts to label the notorious scoundrel Han Seung Yoon as a “worthy match” and rush the marriage through.

“If you’ve lived off my generosity, it’s time to repay me. You’ve always been frail—collapsing at the slightest stress. They even had to rush you to the ER again this time. So go use that eloquent mouth of yours and apologize properly.”

Experience was truly formidable. After running and rebelling dozens of times only to end up right back where she started, her willpower had vanished.

Was this what hopelessness felt like? Being deceived knowingly—and unknowingly.

Accepting that truth once again, Eun Chae gave a small nod.

Chairman Song’s tone softened slightly as he continued.

“I hear his family has a deep interest in the arts—even built and sponsors a classical concert hall.”

“…”

“Try to weave in some conversation about your major. He’ll likely appreciate it.”

He even went on at length about classical music—a subject he clearly cared nothing about.

Eun Chae listened silently, then turned her gaze to the window with a faint scoff.

She focused on the swiftly passing scenery, amused by the irony: the same man who’d wanted to throw away her viola the moment her mother passed away was now giving her advice on classical music.