SACCHARIN
CHAPTER 14

“Chief Shin will take good care of you… So, let’s see each other again in good health next time, Wan-yi.”

Chairman Pyeon Jae-ho’s words echoed in my mind—the way he had casually mentioned giving Shin Chi-woo to me as a birthday present.

No way… That can’t be what this is about.

I silently prayed that the sudden stop of the car had nothing to do with anything sinister.

“Everyone, step out and take a break.”

“Yes.”

“Wait outside until I tell you to get back in.”

“Understood, sir.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, I heard the sound of seatbelts unfastening, followed by the near-simultaneous opening and closing of the driver’s and passenger’s side doors.

The short-haired woman and the burly man had stepped out.

Which meant…

Now, with the engine off, the only two people left inside the car were me and Shin Chi-woo.

A different kind of fear gripped me.

Before, I had feared falling into ruin as a person.

But now, I feared what might happen to me as a woman.

At the hotel earlier, we had been alone for a brief moment, but at least then I could see him, and I wasn’t handcuffed.

I could read his movements, shout if necessary, or at least attempt to run.

And in a hotel room, someone could barge in at any time, making it harder for him to act on any dark impulses.

But here…

Here, things were different.

The confined space of the car added another layer of tension, making it all too easy for a person to give in to their impulses.

I clasped my hands tightly together, silently begging for him to do nothing.

“……!”

With my vision blocked, my other senses were heightened.

For a long time, it had been so silent that I wondered if he had fallen asleep.

But now, I could feel it.

He was moving.

Getting closer.

Towards me.

Closer.

And closer—until he was right up against me.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

The instant his cold fingers brushed against the curve of my right ear, I instinctively held my breath.

The touch wasn’t ticklish—it was terrifying.

Every muscle in my body tensed, my shoulders creeping up towards my ears.

A chill ran down my spine, and my pulse pounded violently in my chest.

If only I could stop breathing altogether… Maybe then I could escape this situation without being humiliated.

But then—

“Relax. Since it’s just the two of us, you can take this off.”

“…….”

“But not the handcuffs. I still need at least some security measure.”

His fingers, unexpectedly gentle, removed the strap of the blindfold from my ear.

I blinked in shock as part of my vision returned.

His face was still cold and indifferent, but… it had softened slightly.

Had Shin Chi-woo lost his mind?

He leaned in closer and removed the strap from my left ear as well.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he pulled back, putting distance between us again.

Between us, only the discarded blindfold and an awkward silence remained.

I parted my lips slightly, wanting to say something—but then decided against it.

There were too many questions I wanted to ask, too many things I wanted to demand answers for.

But for now, I chose to wait.

With my vision restored, I instinctively rubbed my eyes several times.

I was worried that something might have gotten into them from the blindfold.

But apparently, he thought I was crying.

The sound of my handcuffs clinking as I rubbed my eyes must have made it seem that way.

His voice came, surprisingly soft:

“You’re making it seem like I made you cry.”

“I’m not crying, so don’t worry.”

“Still holding out, huh? Then I guess I don’t need to worry.”

His words were still cold, but his tone had definitely changed.

What the hell?

Was he some kind of split-personality psychopath?

I turned slightly to the right and shot him a brief glare—just to prove that I wasn’t crying.

And then…

He smiled.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile.

As if he found me amusing.

I was a little taken aback.

I didn’t think that man was capable of making that kind of expression. But before I could process it, he sank deeper into his seat, his body pressing into the cushioning.

With a tired face, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

As if I wasn’t even worth his attention.

“…….”

I had no idea how much time had passed, but there was no defying basic human needs.

A loud grumble came from my stomach—he must have heard it too.

Embarrassed, I instinctively clutched my belly and stole a glance at him, still sitting beside me with his eyes closed.

Strange.

Shin Chi-woo just sat there, unmoving.

That only made me more confused.

His words and actions were full of contradictions.

It would have been easier if he had just consistently treated me like the daughter of a traitor—or if he had kept up his physical intimidation.

But right now, he was an enigma, a question too complicated to even begin solving.

I was staring at an unsolvable problem, unable to make a single move because I had no idea what answer would come next.

“…….”

How much more time had passed?

What the hell was Shin Chi-woo doing?

No matter how much I tried to make sense of the situation, I couldn’t figure it out.

There’s a condition where people suddenly collapse into sleep—narcolepsy, I think it’s called. Was that what this was?

But no—watching him from the side, I could tell he wasn’t actually asleep.

After tilting my head in confusion several times, I eventually resigned myself to just sitting still like him.

For what felt like forever, I sat there, staring blankly ahead, blinking occasionally—just like Shin Chi-woo.

The car hadn’t stopped at a rest area.

It was parked in a quiet, secluded spot along some deserted road.

Why were we wasting time like this?

What was Shin Chi-woo waiting for?

And to make things worse, with the engine off, the temperature inside the car wasn’t being regulated.

The longer we sat in silence, the more condensation formed on the windows.

…Should I try to unlock the door and run?

But realistically, escaping was close to impossible.

If I ran and got caught, I’d just be giving them an excuse to treat me even worse.

Not to mention, there were still two more guards outside—I couldn’t forget that.

Maybe I should just strangle him instead.

But looking at his neck, I could tell my hands wouldn’t even be able to wrap around it completely.

Even if I wanted to sit still, this prolonged silence was making my mind spiral into all sorts of dangerous thoughts.

I’m going insane.

Why had we stopped here?

Was he waiting for someone?

If this was a hand-off point for the people taking me to the factory, there was no reason for the other two to leave the car.

If this wasn’t about hurting me, then…

Could it be that we were meeting my father?

I needed to ask.

I stole another glance at Shin Chi-woo, who still had his eyes closed.

To make him open them, I deliberately moved my handcuffed hands, making the metal clink loudly.

But ultimately, I decided on a more direct approach.

I couldn’t just sit here waiting forever.

I had to ask him.

“Are we waiting for my dad?”

Slowly, I turned my upper body to the right.

The car was dark, but my eyes had adjusted by now—I could see his face well enough to read his expression.

Summoning all the courage I had, I spoke.

“Hey.”

“I don’t know where Director Seo is either.”

His answer came so quickly that the tiny sliver of hope I had felt was immediately crushed.

I wanted to be upset, but honestly, it was a relief.

If he was telling the truth, it meant there was no proof that my father was dead.

If my father had abandoned me and run away, then I hoped—more than anything—that he would never get caught.

That he would stay alive, no matter what.

And judging by the fact that he had even mentioned my father, it seemed like there were no listening devices or cameras in this car.

That meant… I could ask more questions.

“So… what exactly does the factory make?”

“Funny. You only use formal speech when you want something.”

“…….”

I pursed my lips, embarrassed that he had caught on so easily.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. A real factory. I wasn’t speaking in metaphors.”

“…Oh. That’s… a relief.”

“You know what kind of company your father works for, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“You gonna keep using honorifics?”

“That’s my choice.”

Pyeonjae Trading, the company my father had dedicated his life to, had originally started with saccharin manufacturing and exports.

Now, it produced not only saccharin but also sugar, flour, and fertilizer.

I had always known it to be a strong, mid-sized company with a stable foundation.

But in the past, a major corporation had been caught smuggling saccharin, and there had been a long-standing rumor that saccharin was carcinogenic.

As a result, domestic consumption had declined for quite some time.

Chairman Pyeon Jae-ho had adapted by importing saccharin’s raw materials, refining and processing them in Korea, and then selling them overseas under a Made in Korea label.

Pyeonjae Trading’s saccharin products had the highest global market share in the synthetic sweetener industry.

That said, it wasn’t a massive conglomerate like Taeyoon or Chahyun Group.

Most people didn’t even know the company existed.

But because it operated outside of the public eye, it had a greater range of movement.

For better—or for worse.

 

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