Chapter 20: There’s No Lower Depth Than This

I headed straight from work to Daejin Hospital, where Mom and Dad were.

“Besides surgery, there’s no other option… but even then, the odds are extremely low.”

Dr. Kim turned the medical chart with a frustrated expression.

“So surgery really is the only way… Please keep trying for something else.”

Hearing “no other option” again made my heart sink. The doctor had hinted before that surgery might help, but I’d hesitated. I couldn’t gamble my parents’ lives on such a slim chance.

“I promise. I’ll do everything I can.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Dr. Kim offered a comforting smile. Their condition wasn’t his fault.

“Oh, and thank you for letting me visit after hours.”

Usually, evening visits weren’t allowed, but he’d arranged for me to stay until midnight. He nodded kindly.

“It’s all right. I know everything about your circumstances. Attorney Park also made an earnest request.”

“Uncle Hyeon-Ik called too?”

“Yes. He said, Your broadcasts end late.”

I apologized for the trouble, but he reassured me, “No problem. Feel free to stay. They do better when you’re here.”

He offered a gentle nod and left the room. The hospital ward was eerily quiet—my parents were on oxygen and barely breathing.

“Mom, Dad… Will you ever wake up?”

I wiped Dad’s wrinkled hand and sat beside Mom’s bed. If there was any chance—even small—I had to take it.

Surgery is the only chance…

But what if it failed? Could I still pursue my revenge if they didn’t make it?

Fear twisted inside me.

“You’re not going to leave like this, right? Hm?”

Seeing Dr. Kim’s face grow darker by the day made it feel like hope was slowly slipping away.

“There was a shareholders’ meeting last Friday. That man, Kim Young-Min… he was thoroughly prepared.”

“I managed to hold it off, but I’m still worried. Can I really do this? Can I protect the company?”

I mumbled while resting my head on my arm, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyelids were heavy.

Since returning to the past, I hadn’t had a single proper night’s sleep.

But now, with the warmth of my mother’s hand in mine, sleep crept in at last.

Soon a soft touch roused me.

“Ma’am?”

A night nurse flicked on the lights.

“It’s closing time.”

“I must’ve fallen asleep… Is it already time up?”

“Yes. Time’s up.”

Groggy, I sat up, brushing off a blanket that slipped away—a blanket I hadn’t remembered pulling on. I folded it and set it aside.

“Thank you.”

Peeking at the clock—it was past midnight. I offered my gratitude again, and the nurse smiled and exited.

When did I even fall asleep?

I stared at the folded blanket in my hand—this wasn’t mine. Quietly, I watched my parents and then turned away.

****

Later that morning…

KBC News FM

“That’s all for today’s news.”

The On Air light went off.

“Good job.”

“And thank you, announcer.”

Leaving the hospital late took its toll—my footsteps felt heavy.

“Announcer Yoon, can you handle a full shift today?”

“Yes—I’m on until the evening program.”

I nodded at a staff member helping with scripts—today’s slot went late.

“You must be tired. Are you going to lunch?”

“Um… I’ll skip lunch. I didn’t sleep well, so I’ll rest in the dorm room.”

“Would you like something to eat?”

I nodded gently.

“I’ll grab a snack—have a good lunch.”

Though I’d caught a brief, fitful nap in the ward, exhaustion clung to me.

After the radio, fatigue hit hard.

“See you on the afternoon broadcast.”

I gathered my things and left the studio. At lunchtime, the office was empty.

Lying down on the duty-room bed, I set my phone down, and it pinged.

[You’ll forget if you don’t review—Jae-Ha]

I couldn’t help a chuckle.

The funny thing is, I’ve been reviewing nonstop.

I began typing a reply—when suddenly, I overheard voices beyond the slightly open duty-room door.

“Honestly, I bet Seo-Rin’s got the edge on the public audition.”

I paused and glanced up.

“Yeah. I thought so too. She seems like the obvious front-runner.”

Several female voices agreed outside.

“Right? I mean, doesn’t it feel like Seo-Rin’s got this in the bag?”

At the clear mention of Chae Seo-Rin’s name, I sat up straight.

“But seriously, what’s her deal? She must have some serious backing. My brother said the higher-ups are totally involved.”

“Yeah, something’s going on. Just look at how the judging method was suddenly changed to an open audition.”

Their whispering grew louder as their footsteps neared.

“Seo-Rin says she’s confident she’ll get it.”

“But what about Senior Yeo-Jin? What’s her story?”

Just as I reached for the doorknob, I flinched at the unexpected mention of my name.

“They’re talking about me?”

Then came a sharply heightened voice.

“From what I heard, she’s a real snake. Like, scary-level persistent. Right now—ah, I’ll tell you later.”

“Yeah, let’s talk outside.”

The speaker clammed up suddenly and took it elsewhere.

The word “snake” echoed in my head.

—Clench.

My hand tightened on the knob.

I saw them walking out with others from different departments.

“What kind of rumors are being spread about me?”

****

By late afternoon, only the evening broadcast remained.

I finished recording the news lines and got ready to return to the office.

“I shouldn’t care… but it’s eating at me.”

Even while reading lines, that odd conversation at lunchtime had replayed in my mind.

When I stepped out of the recording booth, I ran right into Seo-Rin.

She merely nodded and glanced inside the booth.

“Came to pre-record?” she asked flatly.

“No one’s in there, right?”

“You can see for yourself. I’m leaving.”

She asked even though the room was clearly empty.

She must already know I’ve discovered her relationship with Ji-Han, yet still she kept that pristine, innocent expression.

A mask of an angel hiding a snake’s tongue…

Of course no one else knows. No one sees it but me.

She had been closer to me than any peer at the station, and yet it had all been a lie.

Of course. If she had a conscience, she wouldn’t have slept with my husband.

Disgust twisted inside me. I turned coldly and started walking away when—

“Yeo-Jin unnie. I heard what happened at the shareholders’ meeting.”

“What?”

“You and oppa broke off the engagement, right?”

Oppa?

Hearing her call Ji-Han so sweetly made my brows crease.

She took a step closer and smiled at me like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“You know, unnie. Maybe it’s time you stepped down, before it gets worse.”

Worse?

As if I hadn’t already hit rock bottom?

I laughed bitterly. In my last life, I’d already died—literally. That was rock bottom. Whatever she said now barely scratched the surface.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking. You’ve changed, Seo-Rin.”

She frowned at my offhand comment. But honestly, her jabs didn’t land anymore.

“You went from being the evening news anchor to radio. Doesn’t that humiliate you?”

“…Ah.”

“Ah? Please. You were demoted.”

She wasn’t wrong—I did go from anchor to radio announcer. At first, people looked at me with pity. I remember it.

“Sure. Maybe so.”

“So don’t embarrass yourself further with the audition. Just quit.”

There it is. That’s what this was about.

She hated that I was even competing. The smile on my face disappeared.

Seo-Rin crossed her arms and said, “I just feel sorry for you.”

“…”

“You don’t even need to work, right? You inherited all that wealth. Why not just stay home?”

She was trying to be slick, but I saw through her. That passive-aggressive bite, that fake concern—it all pointed to one person stirring the pot.

Seo-Rin. You were the one whispering into ears. Poisoning the water.

You must be so sure Ji-Han’s promised you the anchor seat.

“That’s why you’re spreading rumors about me? So I’ll just go away quietly?”

At that, her expression instantly stiffened.

She dropped her arms and stepped in close, her voice low.

“What rumors?”

She looked at me with a venomous gleam I hadn’t seen before.

“You don’t have any proof.”

She gave my shoulder a sharp push and walked into the recording room, leaving me behind.