The car sped past the gates, moving steadily along the familiar roads of Iseul. Yet, as Yun-ji gazed out the window, what was once familiar now felt distant and foreign. So much had changed in the ten years she had experienced in her past life, and now she was back—reborn, wiser, and hardened by betrayal.
The trees lined both sides of the road in neat, disciplined rows, standing like soldiers at attention during a morning roll call. The car glided past the quiet residential communities, and soon, the hum of the city enveloped her as they entered the bustling streets filled with shops and office buildings. The skyline and architecture stirred old memories, but everything looked different now, tinted with the weight of her knowledge of the future.
As they neared her school, the shrine on the corner came into view. The last time she had visited that shrine was after returning from abroad, praying fervently for the success of her business—a time when her heart had been a storm of anxiety, determination, and helplessness. Back then, she had stood at that shrine feeling utterly alone. Scandals had alienated her from everyone, leaving her without friends or support. Even abroad, she hadn't had the luxury of forming connections, she too focused on working tirelessly to survive and save enough money to return home.
But this time, things would be different. This time, she wasn't the helpless woman she had once been.
The towering hotel loomed over the car, casting long shadows as it glided smoothly into the entrance. The bold, italicized letters spelling "HOTEL VERONA" gleamed against the backdrop, signaling their arrival at the grand venue. As the car came to a halt, Yun-ji felt a subtle knot of tension tighten in her chest. This was no casual dinner—it was a trap in disguise.
Choi Yun-ji and her sister, Choi Bora, stepped out of the car. Bora, ever the picture of affection, clutched Yun-ji's hand as they made their way toward the private room booked for dinner with Bora's friends. She greeted her group with an overly cheerful smile, exuding warmth as if nothing sinister lurked beneath.
"Bora, we've been waiting forever!" Wang Da, one of her friends, pouted dramatically. "My stomach's been growling like crazy."
With an apologetic smile, Bora responded, "I'm so sorry, guys. I was ready, but the delay happened because I had to bring my sister along."
Wang Da's eyes flicked toward Yun-ji, and a smirk twisted her lips. "Why apologize for your sister? She's the one who should be sorry for making us wait. She probably took extra time slapping on makeup, trying to compete with your natural beauty."
The rest of the group cast disappointed glances toward Yun-ji, as if the beauty they had admired was now tarnished by Wang Da's cruel insinuations. Their gazes, once appreciative, flickered with doubt, as though Yun-ji's elegance had suddenly become superficial in their eyes.
Yun-ji's beauty was striking yet subtle, like a delicate flower blooming after a long winter. Her porcelain skin, flawless and luminous, contrasted beautifully with her raven-black hair that cascaded down her back in soft waves. Her almond-shaped eyes, framed by long lashes, held a quiet intensity, deep pools of intelligence and emotion that drew people in. There was an air of grace in the way she carried herself—elegant and poised, yet unpretentious. Her full lips, often set in a serene expression, hinted at a calm resolve, but those who looked closer could see the strength hidden beneath her gentle exterior. She had a natural allure, the kind that made heads turn without effort, yet she had never cared for the attention. Unlike her sister, she found no joy in vanity—makeup was something she actively avoided.
Still, Bora's friends, especially the boys, couldn't help but admire Yun-ji. Their appreciative glances did not go unnoticed by Wang Da, who, out of jealousy, had launched the subtle attack. And Yun-ji knew this was only the beginning.
Bora, eyes misting with crocodile tears, leaned into her role. "It's my responsibility to apologize," she said, her voice soft and trembling. "She's my sister, after all. I couldn't have made it here without her, and I'm truly grateful. To make it up to you all, I'd like to offer a toast—to you for your patience, and to my sister, for bringing me here." With that, Bora downed two glasses of juice, her performance flawless.
The sympathy in the room shifted. The friends, moved by Bora's seemingly selfless apology, raised their own glasses, drinking in silent agreement. The narrative had been expertly twisted—Yun-ji was now the thoughtless sister who allowed Bora to take the blame.
Yun-ji watched the entire charade unfold with cold detachment, her expression unreadable. She knew this game all too well—her sister had always been a master of manipulation, weaving her webs of lies and deceit. But Yun-ji wasn't the same naive girl Bora had once easily controlled. She recognized the scheme for what it was: an attempt to drug her with the spiked juice.
Calmly, Yun-ji remained untouched by the false sympathy of the room. She hadn't touched a single glass, her mind already two steps ahead. If Bora thought she could catch her off guard, she was gravely mistaken. This time, Yun-ji would be the one pulling the strings.
The onlookers began to murmur among themselves, casting disparaging glances at Yun-ji.
"Look at her, she didn't even touch her drink," one girl sneered. "What a stuck-up brat."
"Maybe she thinks she's too good for us," another chimed in, her tone dripping with contempt. "I mean, who does she think she is, showing up with all that attitude?"
"She should be grateful Bora brought her along," a boy scoffed, crossing his arms. "It's not like anyone would want to hang out with her otherwise."
Yun-ji's heart raced at their harsh words, but she maintained an outward calm, fully aware that she had become the target of their scorn. If they wanted a game, she was more than ready to play. With a steady hand, she lifted the glass, feigning innocence as a sly smile crept onto her lips.
"Sister," she began, her voice sweet with false sincerity, "I only managed to regain conscious after fainting when you asked me to accompany you here. I was so weak that it delayed my getting ready." She paused, letting her words hang in the air, the onlookers hanging onto her every syllable. "I had no idea your dinner would be delayed, and that you would end up crying because of it."
With a dramatic flair, she raised the glass, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "So, I suppose I should drink this to console you."
As she sipped the drink gracefully, a smirk danced across her features, her confidence unwavering. With a swift motion, she drowned the entire glass, savoring the shocked silence that enveloped the room.