Chapter 2.2

Chapter 2.2

“Hospital… don’t you need to go to the hospital?”

“It’s okay.”

There was no hospital that would willingly write me a medical report. Just as my husband had said, no law firm would even take on my divorce case.

I had already tried in the early days of my marriage. The result was a brutal beating.

“Dinner…”

“I’ll do it. How could you in this state?”

“Please give me my clothes. I’ll go downstairs.”

Then a thought crossed my mind.

“Mrs. Ahn, can you give me my phone?”

I turned on the camera on the phone Mrs. Ahn brought and said, “Please take some pictures.”

“Ma’am…”

“It won’t cause you any trouble. I just want to survive.”

Holding the phone, Mrs. Ahn said resolutely,

“If you need a witness, I’ll testify. I’m ready to retire anyway.”

“Mrs. Ahn…”

“Show me your back. No, I’ll start with your face. The bruising is severe.”

Following her directions, I posed for the photos, my heart in tatters. All I could think about was filing for divorce. I would search the whole country to find a lawyer.

Thanks to Mrs. Ahn’s consideration, I didn’t have to prepare dinner. However, I received a message from my mother-in-law to prepare crab soup for breakfast the next day.

My mother-in-law surely knew what had happened today. She was aware of her son’s nature, and this wasn’t the first time. She deliberately instructed me to buy crabs, knowing I was in pain.

My husband didn’t come home. Rather than feeling empty, I felt more comfortable without him. I stayed up all night, eyes wide open. Instead of sleeping, I gathered evidence for the divorce.

At 3 a.m., I left the room to go to the fish market. As I left the house, Mr. Sung, the chauffeur, greeted me. Mr. Sung is an elderly and cautious man.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

“Yes. I’m sorry for the early hour.”

“Not at all. Please get in.”

When I leaned my head against the seat, Mr. Sung looked into the rearview mirror and said,

“Mrs. Ahn gave me some citron tea. Would you like some?”

Thinking of Mrs. Ahn making tea for me, who was starving since dinner, I couldn’t refuse.

“Yes, please.”

I took the tumbler, opened the lid, and the fragrant smell brought me some comfort. As I carefully sipped the tea, the car left the mansion.

After driving for a while, we passed the barricaded main gate when Mr. Sung noticed an approaching car.

“It’s Miss Yena’s car.”

Peering out, I saw it was indeed her car. She had said she was working late, and it seemed she was just coming home now.

“Yes, it is.”

Miss Yena noticed us, too, and flashed her headlights. The light changed, and our car and Miss Yena’s car slowly crossed the intersection.

And then it happened. Like a scene from a movie, a speeding dump truck crashed into her car in the blink of an eye.

“Ack!”

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion. Her car was pushed and collided with ours. All I could do was watch. With no seatbelt fastened around my waist, I was thrown around the back seat violently.

I was terrified of dying. In that split second, I prayed desperately to be saved.

Please, save me! I don’t want to die like this!

Our car flipped, and I found myself lying on the ceiling, which had become the floor. Barely conscious, I saw Mr. Sung hanging upside down, motionless. I tried to move, but my body was motionless. My throat felt strange. I blinked slowly and felt my consciousness slipping away.

Am I going to die? Just like this? Did Miss Yena survive? With those thoughts, I lost consciousness.

—

My whole body hurt. Through my barely opened eyes, I saw an unfamiliar ceiling. I tried to turn my head slightly, realizing I had a neck brace on and a cast on my left arm.

Thankfully, it seemed I had survived. My first thought was about Miss Yena. What happened to her? And Mr. Sung?

Just then, the door opened, and Mrs. Ahn came in, startled when she saw me awake. She rushed over.

“Miss! Are you awake?”

“Yes…”

I didn’t realize it then, but she called me “Miss” instead of “Ma’am.” Mrs. Ahn pressed the call button, and before I could ask anything, doctors came in.

“Miss Namgung Yena, are you awake?”

I blinked. Namgung… Yena?

“Miss Namgung Yena, you were very lucky. You had a narrow escape.”

Why do they keep calling me Namgung Yena? I’m Lee Buyeon.

The doctors looked at the chart and prodded various parts of my body, pleased that my nerves were responsive. I wanted them to leave quickly so I could talk to Mrs. Ahn.

As soon as the doctors left, I asked,

“Mrs. Ahn, what happened? No, can you give me a mirror first?”

I didn’t know what to expect. But when I looked into the mirror, I was stunned. I had never been so surprised in my life.

The reflection wasn’t mine but that of Namgung Yena.

“How… how is this possible…”

Mrs. Ahn started crying.

“Miss, you were incredibly fortunate to survive… but Ma’am… Ma’am…”

Ma’am? Could it be…

“Are you talking about Lee Buyeon?”

“Yes… Mrs. Lee Buyeon died instantly at the scene… her funeral is happening now.. heuk…”

The mirror fell from my hand.

Am I dead? And now I am Miss Yena? I couldn’t believe it. How could such a thing be possible?

A moment later, I insisted, despite Mrs. Ahn’s protests, and went down to the funeral hall in a wheelchair. People parted like the Red Sea, staring at me as if they had seen a ghost.

I heard whispers of “It’s Namgung Yena,” but I didn’t care. I was in a daze, in my hospital gown with casts on my arm and neck. I couldn’t understand what on earth was happening.

When I reached the mourning hall, I froze. There, in the memorial photo, was me.

It was Lee Buyeon.