My Bloody Valentine - 90

Chapter 90

Shin Soyoung: South Korean Actress

Born: July 2, 197*, Seoul, South Korea
Agency: Yeoul Actors
Education: Master’s in Visual Arts, Hyunseo University (Graduated)
Spouse: Hong Jihoon (Married in 20** ~ Divorced in 20**)

Shin Soyoung receiving the Best Actress Award at the Sangchun Film Festival (20**)

Shin Soyoung is one of South Korea’s most renowned actresses, having won two Sangchun Film Awards, three Baekyeong Awards, and five TV Acting Grand Prizes.

Born and raised in Seoul, Shin Soyoung made her debut in the entertainment industry as a child actress, appearing in the KBC children’s drama Hello, Teacher in 198*.…

The soft click of the bathroom door opening was followed by the sound of Taeshin tapping the mouse. The screen he had been reading smoothly scrolled downward, disappearing from view.

Amid the faint white steam, Han emerged from the bathroom. Her steps faltered upon noticing Taeshin sitting at the desk. He hadn’t been there when she entered the bathroom. Surprised but trying to sound casual, she greeted him awkwardly.

“Oh, when did you get here?”

“Just now.”

Han fidgeted with her damp hair, hesitating before pointing toward the bedroom.

“Not sleeping yet…?”

Perhaps due to recent events, Han had become more timid. She frequently glanced over her shoulder even when no one was around and startled at the smallest sounds.

The most significant change was that she struggled to fall asleep unless Taeshin was lying behind her.

“Go ahead and sleep first.”

“…It’s already late, so if you’re tired, you should—”

Her voice trailed off as she startled herself, jumping as if she had said something inappropriate.

“No, I mean… You must be tired from work, so I was wondering when you’d rest….”

“…”

“Never mind. I’ll go to bed first.”

Feeling exposed under Taeshin’s silent gaze, Han retreated into the bedroom. Left alone in the living room, Taeshin reopened the browser window and continued reading through the search results about Shin Soyoung.

The search yielded countless articles, not just about her career but also her personal life. Several headlines caught his attention.

『Shin Soyoung Donates 500 Million Won to Pediatric Ward.』
『Shin Soyoung Donates All Advertisement Profits to Single-Parent Families.』

Some articles hinted at her guilt.

Rising from his seat, Taeshin walked to the window. His eyes lingered on the flowing river outside before he picked up his phone and called Junho, instructing him to investigate Shin Soyoung. Once the call ended, he looked out the window again.

The dark sky seemed low enough to touch, obscured by thick clouds that threatened imminent rain. The stars and moon were nowhere in sight.

The rainy season was approaching.

“Apparently, three months ago, she went to the U.S. for a private audition. It’s for a series by Pacific Pictures, a major distributor, and it’s expected to span at least three installments, which would take about five years. Some in the industry speculate she’s planning a full transition to Hollywood.”

In one of the rooms at Tascenda, a space with no name, Taeshin listened to Junho’s report. The room’s dim lighting and subtle music created a calm atmosphere, perfect for a quiet drink.

“It seems everything Choi Haejun said was true. Here’s proof of her purchasing a house near Burbank, L.A.”

The investigation confirmed all of Choi Haejun’s claims. Shin Soyoung appeared to be wrapping up her life in Korea, starting with her divorce.

She sold off many properties that were difficult to manage, keeping only a few key assets.

The most notable detail was the rumor circulating in the industry that she was no longer accepting scripts for films or dramas.

Staring at the records before him, Taeshin murmured to himself.

“…Is she planning to come out or something?”

“Perhaps. If news broke that she had a child at such a young age, both Shin Soyoung and her son, Han Yi, would face relentless scrutiny from the press. They might find it impossible to live in this country.”

“…”

“Moving abroad seems like a wise choice.”

Junho’s tone was measured as he cautiously observed Taeshin’s reaction.

Everyone around Taeshin—Junho, Jina, even Wooshin—agreed that letting Han go was the logical decision. Taeshin himself knew it made sense.

But deep down, another voice within him kept asking:

What’s the point of a day without Han?

Taeshin tried to imagine a life without Han. Coming home every evening to a house that no longer carried her comforting scent. Lying in bed at night without her by his side.

What’s the point of living if she’s not there?

“I’ll take my leave now.”

Even after Junho left, Taeshin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the documents in front of him. Ever since learning about Han’s biological mother, he hadn’t slept properly. A peculiar sense of unease kept him alert.

Feeling fatigue seep into him, Taeshin rolled his stiff neck. That was when he finally noticed.

Something significant had occurred in this very room.

On the cleanly polished linoleum floor, Han sat collapsed, crying with one cheek swollen.

Han had rushed through the suddenly opened door and come to me.

“P-Please help me…!”

I had watched intently as his desperate face, begging for help, turned from despair to resignation under the violence I inflicted.

Until recently, Han had been nothing more than a toy I could play with at will.

When did it start? The feeling of not wanting to treat even a single strand of his hair carelessly.

Fleeing the space as if running away, Taeshin wandered down the corridor. Eventually, his feet led him into the elevator and to the room where Han had stayed.

Everywhere he walked, Han’s figure seemed to appear like a mirage, only to fade away. Most of the time, Han appeared frightened, cowering, or looking at Taeshin with stubborn eyes full of rejection.

Arriving at room 301, Taeshin went straight to the bed and lay down where Han must have been. A ceiling with a delicate pattern came into view.

What kind of thoughts must he have had while staring at this ceiling? If it were possible, Taeshin wanted to own even Han’s thoughts.

Lying on his side, he gently stroked the pillow. Han’s faint scent seemed to linger there. The faint smell made his throat dry. It was a thirst that could only be quenched by Han’s presence.

As Taeshin rose to leave the room, he noticed something and stopped. On the cleanly pasted wallpaper was some scribbling.

Underneath a mess of calculations about money were circles. They resembled marks someone stranded on a deserted island might make to count days. There were twenty circles, fourteen of which had been crossed through with long lines.

It wasn’t hard for Taeshin to guess what they meant.

Each time their bodies intertwined, Han had returned to his room and crossed out a circle, as if enduring something horrific. Like a monk counting prayer beads while undergoing harsh penance.

The count stopping at fourteen was because Han had been staying with Taeshin. Though Han had not accurately kept track, Taeshin, who had not forgotten even a single moment spent with Han, remembered it vividly.

To date, Taeshin had embraced Han exactly nineteen times.

And the original agreement between the two had been for twenty nights.

Taeshin exited Tacenda and headed to the flower bed at the corner of the building. It was a place he often went to smoke, and as expected, someone was there.

Jina noticed Taeshin and nodded in greeting.

“You’re here?”

“…”

Without saying a word, Taeshin approached and put a cigarette to his lips. Jina looked at him knowingly, as if understanding everything he was thinking and the decision he had made.

“I heard from Junho. Shin Soyoung, of all people.”

“…It’s different from the rumors.”

“How so?”

“Not a single suspicious detail.”

“…”

No matter how much he dug, all he found were good deeds. Secretly helping staff in financial trouble, standing up for those facing unfair treatment, or quietly volunteering somewhere.

Perhaps Taeshin had hoped to uncover something unsavory. He wanted an excuse to keep Han by his side.

He had always lived selfishly, chasing after immediate gains and leading a life driven by calculations.

Now, for the first time, he was trying to make a decision for someone else.

After parting with Jina, Taeshin returned to the 15th floor and went straight to his bedroom. Han was sound asleep, lying buried in the pristine white bed.

Taeshin stared at Han, who was breathing evenly with slightly parted lips, for a long time. Like a child uttering their first words, Taeshin carefully spoke the word he had never been able to say.

“I love you.”

As if testing an uncertain hypothesis, the moment the words left his mouth, he realized they were the truth.

A strange tremor swept over him from the tips of his toes. All the unease he had felt toward Han stemmed from this very feeling.

The kind of emotion he had thought only existed in cheesy song lyrics. The one he believed he was incapable of feeling.

“…I love you.”

As if reviewing whether the answer was correct, Taeshin whispered it again. This time, a confident realization followed.

The moment he acknowledged his feelings, he felt a metallic click beside his ear. It was as if a key had perfectly fit into a locked padlock and turned. Unlike the sharp ringing sound of scratching glass he usually heard, this was clear and resonant.

“Mm…”

Taeshin climbed onto the bed, and Han, sensing movement, slowly opened his eyes. Taeshin was sitting on his thighs.

“Mm… When did you get here?”

Instead of answering, Taeshin unbuckled his belt with a soft click, looking down at Han. He opened his trousers, took out his unaroused member, and leisurely stroked it until it hardened. His intense gaze fixed on Han as he spoke.

“I want you.”