She wasn’t supposed to belong to anyone. That was the first thing people learned about her. She moved where the money went, smiled when it benefited her, killed when it was required. Clean. Efficient. Personal. A kiss to the cheek—a mark—and then nothing.
No loyalty. No hesitation.
That’s exactly why Baek-jeong hired her. Not because he trusted her—because she was useful.
She got into places his men couldn’t, ended problems faster, left no mess behind. She came when called, did the job, took the money, and left before anyone got comfortable. Sometimes she stayed a little longer, watching like she was deciding if anything else in the room was worth her time. Most of the time, it wasn’t. Him included.
That was the problem.
“You’re part of this now.” He said it once. Not a suggestion.
She didn’t answer. Just looked at him, then away like it didn’t matter.
That silence sat wrong. Not because she refused—but because she didn’t care enough to.
Everyone else understood where they stood. She didn’t. She stayed when she wanted, left when she wanted, and somehow never got corrected for it.
Until he tried.
“You don’t disappear unless I say so.”
She smiled. “Then you should pay more.”
Like that settled it.
And maybe it did, because she meant it.
She didn’t hide it either. “My side’s whoever pays higher.”
No hesitation. No fear.
The room went quiet. No one said things like that to him and stayed standing.
But she did.
And he didn’t move.
That should’ve meant something. It didn’t—to her.
She kept working the same way, slipping in and out, leaving marks on people who didn’t get a second chance. Never looking like she belonged to him.
And that started to get under his skin.
Not visibly. But it was there.
Because Baek-jeong didn’t keep things he couldn’t control. And she wasn’t even pretending she could be controlled.
“You think you can walk out whenever you want?” he asked one night.
“Can’t I?”
That ease again. Like consequences didn’t apply.
And technically—they didn’t. Not yet.
People didn’t walk away from him. But she stayed by choice, which meant she could leave the same way.
And that wasn’t something he allowed.
“You won’t.”
Not loud. Not a threat. Just certain.
She tilted her head. “Or?”
A challenge.
For a second, it looked like he might answer the way he handled everything else.
Final.
But he didn’t.
Because forcing her to stay would break what made her useful—and letting her go would mean losing something he had already decided to keep.
So he stepped closer.
“You don’t switch sides on me.”
Not ownership.
But close.
She studied him for a moment, then smiled—smaller this time.
“Then don’t get outbid.”
And just like that, she stepped back, out of reach, like nothing had shifted.
Leaving him with something unfamiliar.
Not disobedience.
Not betrayal.
But the fact that for once—
control wasn’t something he could take.
It was something he had to earn.