Kiss the Scumbag

Swallowing dryly, Yu-jin’s throat bobbed as he slowly nodded.

Winston watched him without so much as blinking.

“She’s my daughter. If something happens to me… she’ll be left all alone… Please, just put the gun away. I’m begging you.”

“A daughter?”

Once again, Winston repeated his words. Yu-jin blinked in confusion. He couldn’t understand what was going through this man’s head. His own heart was pounding out of his chest, terror gripping him as the barrel of the gun pressed against his temple—yet Winston, as if completely unaffected, merely echoed him in an eerily calm tone.

“You had a child.”

He muttered it again, his face blank with disbelief, as though speaking to himself. That low voice, detached yet somehow intimate, made Yu-jin grasp onto the fragile thread of hope. It’s okay, Winston will come to his senses soon. He’ll realize how absurd and dangerous this is. Then he’ll lower the gun. Maybe he’ll even let out a bitter chuckle and pull me into his arms like before, whispering that he’s sorry for scaring me…

That fleeting hope crumbled the moment he heard the next words.

“Whose kid is it?”

The sudden coldness in Winston’s voice stabbed through the illusion like a blade. Yu-jin flinched, yanked back into reality. The gun was still there. Winston’s icy gaze, the unrelenting contempt in his eyes, hadn’t changed in the slightest. Realizing he’d been drowning in a ridiculous fantasy, Yu-jin faltered, momentarily at a loss for words. His silence was all Winston needed to sneer.

“Of course, you wouldn’t be able to answer.”

A dry, humorless chuckle slipped past his lips.

“A filthy whore like you wouldn’t even know who the father is.”

It was as if something sharp had pierced straight through Yu-jin’s chest. His face drained of color, but all he could do was stare at Winston in shock.

It’s you.

He tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat, desperate and struggling to break free.

It’s you, Winston.

Yu-jin was still reeling, unable to form a single word, when Winston scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery.

“Babe, no one in this world knows better than me just how much of a shameless slut you are.”

The certainty in his tone was suffocating. And for that reason, Yu-jin found himself unable to argue. He knew—without a doubt—that nothing he said would ever reach this man.

He had seen it before. That look of utter distrust and loathing Winston had worn the day he abandoned him. He could still remember it as clearly as if it had been yesterday. The man who had so mercilessly cast him aside wouldn’t suddenly change.

So why had he let himself hope?

The moment he realized his own foolishness, self-loathing and rage surged forth, swallowing his fear whole. Without hesitation, Yu-jin drove his knee straight into the man hovering over him.

“…!”

Winston couldn’t even scream—only a faint, strangled groan escaped him as he collapsed. No, maybe there had been some small sound of pain, but one thing was certain: he had completely lost his ability to fight back.

Seizing the moment while Winston curled up on the bed in agony, Yu-jin quickly rolled away, escaping from beneath him. The cold pressure against his temple was gone. Just that alone sent a wave of relief and liberation washing over him.

As if Winston might grab him at any moment, Yu-jin hurriedly pulled his robe tightly around himself and scrambled off the bed. There was no time to put on his shoes—he simply snatched them up and rushed toward the door. Just as he was about to step out of the room, Winston’s voice rang out.

“That time.”

Yu-jin froze mid-step.

“You said you were pregnant… Is it that child?”

Too late. It was a question he should have asked before he had humiliated him. Yu-jin took a deep breath before turning his head slightly. Winston was sitting on the bed, staring at him.

Maybe he was thinking the child belonged to Harold. Just like the rest of the Campbell family did.

As Yu-jin looked at Winston’s expression, bathed in moonlight, he finally spoke. Now, it was his turn to mock him.

“As if. Did you forget what you said? It was a lie from the start.”

Angela was smaller than most children her age—it was easy to pass her off as younger. Even if Winston were to meet her, he would never suspect she was his. More than anything, he had never believed in Yu-jin’s fidelity in the first place.

Watching Winston’s face contort in frustration, Yu-jin felt a small, triumphant satisfaction. His voice was lighter as he added,

“Goodnight, Winston. Sweet dreams.”

With that, he stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

A deep silence settled around him. He let out a long, shaky breath. Now that the tension had finally broken, his whole body started to tremble. It’s okay. The beginning was a mess, but the ending was clean. If it ends well, then that’s all that matters. He repeated the familiar words he always used to comfort himself.

Crash!

A loud shattering noise erupted from inside the room. Yu-jin jumped, his hands flying to his mouth to stifle a gasp. His heart pounded violently, every muscle in his body tensing up again.

The image of the large vase that had been sitting on the table flashed through his mind. A chilling thought struck him, and without another second of hesitation, he turned and ran, still barefoot. If Winston came out and caught him—he didn’t even want to think about it.

The endless corridor stretched before him. Twice, his bare feet slipped on the smooth marble floor, sending him tumbling down. But he barely felt the pain. He kept running, glancing behind him over and over, desperately searching for the staircase he had taken earlier with the maid.

When he finally found it, he limped down, his knee throbbing from the fall. But he couldn’t stop.

Relief only came when he reached his daughter’s room, finding her sleeping peacefully. In this vast, empty house, she was the only one on his side. The realization made his nose sting, tears welling up in his eyes.

And then, it struck him—there had been no one standing outside Winston’s room.

They must have confirmed Winston had returned and left their posts.

He had walked right into the trap.

But right now, relief came before resentment. After all, he had made it here safely. That was enough.

Gently stroking the face of his peacefully sleeping daughter, Yu-jin murmured softly,

“Don’t worry, Angie. I’ll never leave you alone.”

It was a promise he had made countless times since the moment he found out he was pregnant. If it weren’t for Angela, he might have disappeared from this world long ago. When he had been completely and utterly alone, she had been the only one by his side. And so, Yu-jin had sworn, again and again, that he would never abandon her.

For his daughter, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.

A little humiliation, a few words of contempt—none of it mattered. He had already endured far worse. He hadn’t even been hit this time. It was fine.

As long as I have you, I’ll be okay.

Reaffirming that thought, Yu-jin climbed onto the small bed, forcing his body into the cramped space, and wrapped his arms tightly around his child. Half-asleep, Angela stirred slightly, instinctively burrowing into his chest. Yu-jin held her close, pressing his lips to the top of her head before closing his eyes.

The bed was too small, too uncomfortable—he couldn’t even stretch his legs properly. But he didn’t care.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he slept soundly through the night, undisturbed, until the maid came to wake him in the morning.

***

From the moment he woke up, Winston was in a foul mood.

He had suffered from insomnia for a long time, but it was rare for him to go an entire night without even a moment’s rest. At the very least, he would usually get thirty minutes or an hour of fragmented sleep. But last night, he hadn’t slept a single second.

He knew exactly why—but no one else seemed to notice. Even Lady Campbell, who held a special fondness for him among her children, assumed his exhaustion and sharp demeanor were simply due to the burden of responsibility.

Of course, he would be tired. Ever since Harold’s departure, he had taken on everything alone.

And yet, he was managing.

In truth, Harold had stepped back from leadership long ago, so this wasn’t entirely new. But the weight pressing down on his shoulders now was different.

Harold was gone.

And Winston was no longer merely standing in for him. He was now the true head of the family.

Lady Campbell, seated across the tea table, studied her weary son with a gentle smile. One arm rested on the chair’s armrest, her fingers lightly massaging the crease between her brows as if she, too, was feeling the strain.