Broken Trap - Chapter 1

He was a striking figure, sharp and cold like polished steel, yet there was a rare grace to his presence that one seldom encountered. Seong-Hyun found herself lowering her gaze, almost as if she were a humble fairy bowing before the radiant light of a god from an ancient tale. Beneath his perfectly tailored sleeves, his hands were immaculate. Strong and refined, they exuded elegance as much as they did precision.

She had never imagined those hands wrapping around her waist, yet every time his shadow crossed her path, her heart raced uncontrollably. There was a fleeting fragility to his movements as if they were as delicate as feathers. Sometimes, the fear that her heart might be snatched away by such tenderness overwhelmed her.

“Did you hear the news?” So-jin’s voice broke her thoughts.

“Hear what?” Seong-hyun responded, only half-listening.

“Director Yoon and Choi Ha-young broke up.”

“Really?” Seong-hyun kept her tone indifferent as she watched So-jin glance eagerly toward where the director had just walked past. If there was anyone more in tune with the love lives of the office than the celebrities they mimicked, it was So-jin. For her, gossiping about the breakups of those higher up was as thrilling as breaking news.

It wasn’t hard to see why. Director Yoon Seung-ha had the charm and wealth that rivaled any actor. But what did his breakup mean to Seong-hyun? Absolutely nothing. He would undoubtedly find another woman soon, someone who was effortlessly beautiful and kind. He would hold her close, smile warmly, and live in a world where Seong-hyun didn’t even register.

So why did her chest tighten with the thought?

“They dated for almost six months, didn’t they? They seemed perfect together, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Seong-hyun answered absentmindedly.

“They were such a good-looking couple. Choi Ha-young even had a role in that drama that ended last week. She was stunning—prettier than the lead actress, Jo Eun-Joo, in my opinion.”

Seong-hyun couldn’t even recall which drama had ended last week. Whenever she turned on the TV, Choi Ha-young’s face would appear, holding her attention for a few minutes before she switched it off again. It was only now that she realized Choi Ha-young wasn’t even the main character. As for Jo Eun-Joo, whoever that was, she figured it might be that bob-haired actress with wide eyes. She had been pretty too, in her way.

“Both were beautiful,” Seong-hyun remarked.

“Are you kidding? Ha-young was way prettier. But you know what? I heard she was being sponsored by Director Yoon. I mean, how else would a girl like her suddenly land a supporting role in a drama written by Park Chan-hee?”

Seong-hyun stopped stirring her coffee at the word “sponsored” and glanced at So-jin. With her arms crossed, So-jin continued gossiping, sneering at the idea that someone like Choi Ha-young could only secure her role by being a “sponsor girl.” Noticing the coffee in Seong-hyun’s hand, So-jin asked, “Is that mine?” Seong-hyun handed it over, planning to make herself another one.

“I don’t think it’s like that,” Seong-hyun replied softly.

“What do you mean? It’s obvious. If it’s not sponsorship, how would someone like her just land that kind of role?”

“Maybe he genuinely liked her,” Seong-hyun murmured. From a distance, Choi Ha-young seemed lovely enough. She didn’t know how they met, but if Choi Ha-young was just some girl who “sponsored” her way into a drama, then Director Yoon was just a man who did the sponsoring.

He probably didn’t even know Seong-hyun existed, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him being the kind of person who indulged in sordid affairs like the ones So-jin described. The Yoon Seung-ha she knew—or rather, the version she wished she knew—wasn’t that kind of man. Sure, she didn’t know him at all, but his smile had always felt warm to her. Even if Soo-jin would scoff at such thoughts.

“Maybe,” So-jin shrugged. “He probably gave her the drama role because he liked her, bought her designer bags, and all that.”

So-jin shrugged, letting the conversation drop as she followed Seong-hyun back to their desks. Seong-Hyun sat down and couldn’t stop replaying the words in her mind: “Because he liked her.” A woman Yoon Seung-ha liked. A woman he wanted to do anything for. Seong-hyun knew she could never be that woman. That clear, undeniable truth felt especially bitter today.

“I heard from this morning’s update that Director Yoon canceled his lunch meeting with Executive Kim at 12.”

“Really?” So-jin leaned in beside her, her curiosity piqued. Seong-hyun quickly checked Yoon’s schedule again, her eyes scanning the screen. With the lunch appointment canceled, she needed to ask what he’d prefer for his meal instead. It would probably be a salad or a sandwich, as usual.

After reviewing the tasks she needed to tick off for the day, Seong-hyun glanced at the blinds covering the large windows. The man she longed for was always hidden behind them. Unless he chose to walk out into view, she would never catch a glimpse of him. Just as she couldn’t speak to him unless he initiated the conversation. That distance felt insurmountable, growing deeper as her feelings for him intensified—whether it was love, resentment, longing, or despair.

How many people in the world know they should give up, yet can’t bring themselves to do so? How many can abandon their feelings the moment they decide it’s futile? Regardless of how many there might be, what mattered most was that Seong-hyun wasn’t one of them.

“Maybe it’s because I’m really that foolish,” she thought, a rueful smile tugging at her lips.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, constantly chastising her for looking foolish every chance she got. When she was younger, Seong-hyun believed that harsh words like those were just a way for her mother to express her frustration. But now, as she reflected on it, maybe her mother had been right all along. After all, loving someone she could never reach was more than just foolish—it was downright pathetic.

****

Seong-hyun was twenty-eight years old. She had lost her parents at fifteen and became an orphan, but thanks to a kind relative, her life hadn’t been as hard as it could have been. Although she couldn’t compare herself to her peers who grew up in stable, affluent families, she worked diligently, earning a scholarship to a university in the capital. For four years, she juggled part-time jobs and tutoring, saving up enough to afford a small apartment near her workplace.

She didn’t think of herself as particularly gifted, but if she had one strength, it was her diligence. She prided herself on her ability to work hard and stay committed. Lately, though, she wondered if that was something to be proud of. Maybe it wasn’t a strength, but simply a necessity born from the circumstances of her life.

After all, perhaps she was only diligent because she had no other choice.

Waking up early was a habit born from necessity. There was no one to nudge her awake, no one to rely on. If she wanted food on the table, she had to be the one to earn it. In her small, isolated life, there wasn’t a single person who would reach out a hand to help. She was the only one who could take care of herself.

To secure a place to call her own, she needed a job. To get a job, she needed to study. It was simple cause and effect, forcing her to push herself forward. Her so-called diligence wasn’t a trait to be proud of—it was survival, pure and simple. How could something so instinctual be considered a strength?

Still, she thought, I’m doing okay, aren’t I? She didn’t own the luxuries others did, but she never considered herself inferior because of it. Maybe, just maybe, things could get better someday. Even if true happiness seemed elusive, she wanted to keep pushing forward. Like a turtle swimming tirelessly toward shore, she refused to be swept away by life’s tidal waves. That was the life she thought she was living…

But today, doubts crept in.

“Haah…” Seong-hyun let out a weary sigh as she returned to her empty home. Tossing her handbag onto the floor, she collapsed onto her bed, her eyes scanning the plain, unadorned room. The 7.5-pyeong villa she’d rented around the time she got hired was small, with a narrow window that made it feel a bit cramped. But compared to the semi-basement she lived in three years ago, it felt like a palace. Cozy, warm, and conveniently close to work, it had everything she needed. Or so she used to think.

Maybe it was because she’d recently visited Choi Ha-young’s apartment, but today, her place seemed particularly small and stifling.

Get a grip, she scolded herself, but memories from her childhood surfaced anyway. What if her father hadn’t lost everything in that failed investment? Wouldn’t she have had a smoother life? Perhaps she could have led an ordinary, comfortable existence like others.

It wasn’t that she missed her parents, but ever since she started harboring impossible feelings for someone out of reach, Seong-hyun found herself indulging in meaningless “what-ifs.” What if her father’s business hadn’t failed? What if her mother had been a kinder person? Would she have grown up to be someone more confident, someone worthy of attention? Of course, even then, Yoon Seung-ha would never have noticed her.

Shaking off those thoughts, Seong-hyun got up and peeled off her stockings before heading to the bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror: black hair, pale skin, and neat, clean features. Her appearance was ideal for an assistant—pleasant, professional, and unassuming. But it was hardly the kind of beauty that made someone irresistible.

Comparisons were futile, she reminded herself. So were those pointless fantasies.