Chapter 11: Marriage Registration

I turned around reflexively and met Ji-Han’s furious face.

“What is this? At this hour.”

His fierce gaze burned into me; I felt as though he might devour me at any moment. His car was parked not far off, which made me think he’d been waiting. I looked back at him. He’d been silent as if silently protesting—then his lips parted.

“What were you doing with my brother until now?”

He squeezed my wrist with unyielding force. Pain like my wrist would snap twisted my face, but he didn’t care.

“Answer me.”

Was it the events at the hotel today that set him off this badly? Ji-Han glared at me with eyes ablaze.

‘I’m the one who should be angry. So why are you acting like this?’

I couldn’t believe it. Why was he angry at me when he was the one who was tangled up in the hotel? I was sick of his shameless attitude when the roles were reversed.

“What is there to answer?”

“What?”

I pulled my wrist free and saw it red and swollen. My fiancé didn’t even care about my condition. Ji-Han frowned, seemingly provoked by my reaction.

“I went to Jae-Ha’s room because Seo-Rin spilled wine on me.”

“……”

“My dry-cleaned clothes arrived, so I’m just returning now. Satisfied?”

Even stating the facts plainly, he remained unshaken—his intense gaze fixed on me. I returned it with cold eyes.

“I want to ask you—how could you just sit back and let me be such a mess?”

“That’s—!”

“Even if it was a situation you created, you should’ve taken care of me, not Seo-Rin.”

My blunt reproach made him scowl. He hadn’t expected me to reprimand him—after all, the old Yeo-Jin would’ve stayed silent even if suspicious.

“Someone might think you’re not my fiancé, but Seo-Rin’s.”

“That’s nonsense… unbelievable.”

When I stared silently, Ji-Han let out a hollow laugh.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I can’t say that I don’t.”

“I thought I explained it—no, let’s just go inside and talk.”

Though the complex was quiet, maybe he was self-conscious. He strode toward the apartment building. I called after him, “If you want to talk, do it here.”

“……”

“I’m so tired. I don’t want to argue at home.”

I planted my feet, refusing to move inside. Eventually, he returned. His eyes pinned on me, relentless as if probing my thoughts.

“You’ve changed.”

He had said that before. Knowing what he meant but feigning ignorance, I replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How could you change so suddenly? The you I knew wasn’t fierce or loud.”

“Haah.”

A sigh escaped me. I was furious at his attempt to fit me into some molded puppet.

“I don’t know why you met with my brother today, but don’t hang out with him.”

‘Today?’ His tone suggested he already knew I’d seen Jae-Ha before. His darkened eyes chilled me.

“I know you two met before.”

“Haah… Now you’re investigating me too?”

All of his long talk had led to this warning: don’t meet without his knowledge. His brazen attitude made me laugh in disbelief.

“I’d rather call it concern than an investigation. I have the right to know what my fiancé is doing.”

Normally, one would call that suspicion… I didn’t know how long I had to listen to his twisted logic, so I looked up at him.

“I don’t know what kind of persuasion Seo Jae-Ha is giving you, but you’re so carefree it’s like floating on clouds.”

Foolishly, he seemed to think Jae-Ha was the reason I’d changed lately. Well… my fiancé wouldn’t imagine that I changed because I literally died and came back.

‘That would actually be the more reasonable assumption.’

I felt almost grateful to Jae-Ha for that—I doubted he could even imagine the sharp blade I was sharpening behind the scenes. Ji-Han then held out a brown document envelope toward me.

“What’s this?”

Silently, he signaled me to open it. When I did, the bold lettering on the white paper caught my eye:
‘Marriage Registration Form.’

My hand trembled as I grabbed the stack.

“At twenty-nine, you’re not some naive child—you know the situation. Right now, Yoon Yeo-Jin, your position isn’t good.”

Ji-Han spoke coldly, as if discussing some distant fact, warning me with his gaze that now wasn’t the time for childish stubbornness.

“You’re the sole heir to a group with no proper successor.”

He stepped toward me.

“Though you might’ve received large shares, there are no shareholders who will listen to what you say.”

“……”

“What you can do now is marry me and stabilize your position.”

His eyes seemed to say, “So don’t waste time—just sign the marriage certificate.”

His words felt like threats. But there was truth in them. If I were the Yeo-Jin of my past life, I might’ve given in and stamped it, fleeing into Ji-Han’s arms, desperate not to end up alone.

‘But I’m no longer that immature Yeo-Jin.’

A rising heat filled my chest. I crumpled the edge of the paper with the stack in my fist, drawing in a sharp breath to suppress the anger threatening to erupt. My nails dug against my palm. I wanted to shred the document, but I forced myself to remain calm.

“Are you threatening me now…?”

“I apologize if that’s how it sounds.”

He met my gaze shamelessly and offered a chilly smile before shaking his head and speaking quietly, “I’d like to say it’s concern for my fiancée…”

But it was a lie. Then, as though nothing had happened, he slipped back into his usual composed self.

“And I hope we clear up today’s misunderstandings.” In my past, I never raised my voice at him. The shift from anger to calm unsettled me.

“If we marry, all your problems—the succession and the troublesome shareholders’ meeting—are solved.”

His arrogant gaze assumed I would accept. Well, if he wanted to misunderstand me, fine—let’s make it clear.

“Fine. Marriage is the surest way.”

“I also want my husband to lead the group.” But it wouldn’t be you.

Only then did Ji-Han smile in satisfaction.

“Smart thinking. Get some rest.”

Leaving those words behind, he departed. I stood frozen a long moment before returning home.

***

At home, I flipped on the lights, dropped the shopping bag I’d been carrying, and collapsed onto the sofa. Inside, I saw a brown envelope—the marriage form.

‘A marriage registration form…?’

I chuckled at the memory of Ji-Han so brazenly talking about marriage. As I pulled the papers out, a message arrived—from the person assigned to Ji-Han. It was a photo of Seo-Rin, surprised, leaning into Ji-Han as they got out of a car. She seemed surprised that he had returned home, whom she had thought had gone back.

“So the wedding will just be the two of us.”

I thought of the future ahead for them—now they were both poor. In this life, there would be no wedding for the two of us. I crushed the form in my hand.

“Laugh all you want. But soon, that smile will fade too.”

Staring at Seo-Rin laughing in the photo, I ripped the form apart. Paper shreds fluttered away.

“That laughter will soon stop.”

****

Early the next morning, a phone call rang.

“Announcer Yoon, report to work next Monday.”

Frozen in place, I stared at the phone—my reinstatement was so sudden, I was stunned.

“What’s happened? You said no, right?”

“Well… returning to the main anchor role is tough. But it’s not impossible.”

Was it yes or no? His subtle tone left me puzzled.

“I have news you’ll like.”

“News that I’ll like?”

“I’ll explain when you start—let’s discuss it in person.”

When I questioned him again, he offered only that cryptic remark before hanging up. I remembered how adamantly he’d said that returning as anchor was impossible.

‘The fact that my arrival at work has been decided like this means that there has been a change in the appointment of Chae Seo-Rin as anchor.’

He said not to expect the anchor role, but the reluctance hinted that I, too, could be in the running. It might depend on how I play my cards. Whatever the details, the outcome was better than expected. I felt a lightness in my chest. I ended the call and sat on the terrace, smiling softly as I considered what lay ahead.