The private cove below the cliff-top villa was a secluded sanctuary. Black, volcanic sand, smoothed by centuries of ocean waves, gave way to cool, clear water. The afternoon sun cast long shadows, and the air was filled only with the rhythmic sound of the tide.
Min-Joon and Seo-Yun walked along the waterline. For the first time in months, Min-Joon seemed truly detached from his professional burdens. He rolled up the sleeves of his expensive linen shirt and breathed deeply.
"This is what success buys you," Min-Joon mused, gesturing grandly at the horizon. "Not just the property, but the complete separation from the noise. Silence, security, and absolute privacy."
Seo-Yun walked a few paces ahead, skipping a smooth, dark stone across the water. "And what does all that silence and privacy cost, Min-Joon?" she asked, without looking back.
He frowned slightly, misinterpreting her philosophical tone as dissatisfaction. "Cost? It cost the last fifteen years of my life, my dear. Relentless work. It cost the willingness to make difficult choices. But it was worth it. We have everything."
"Do we?" she pressed, turning to face him. Her oversized sunglasses concealed the intensity of her gaze, but her voice was tight. "We have assets, properties, and portfolios. But have we paid the price of silence for us?"
Min-Joon sighed, a sound of mild annoyance. He hated abstract conversation, especially when it veered toward emotional complexity. "Seo-Yun, not now. We are here to relax. Don't invent problems where none exist. Our life is exemplary. We are partners, running a flawless life."
"A flawless life is often a façade, Min-Joon," she whispered, the words barely audible over the tide. She wanted to tell him the truth, to break the flawless glass of his reality just to see his reaction, but the imminent 'Sunset' kept her chained to her plan. She had come too far.
She quickly redirected the conversation, steering it towards his favorite topic—his success. "Tell me about Sungjin again. How exactly did you know they were vulnerable?"
Min-Joon, relieved, immediately launched into a detailed, strategic analysis of the acquisition. As he spoke, detailing the tactical brilliance of his move, Seo-Yun listened intently, not out of interest in finance, but to gauge the measure of the man she was about to ruin. His pride was immense, his confidence unshakeable. It was this confidence—the belief in his own infallibility—that was her greatest weapon. He would never see her as a threat.
They spent the next few hours in a forced proximity that Seo-Yun found suffocating. Later, they returned to the villa for a late afternoon rest.
Seo-Yun used the time in the bathroom to check her hidden phone again.
Joo-Hyuk had sent a final confirmation: The tide is high at 22:00. Look for the three flashes.
It was the final, non-negotiable instruction. Three flashes from a boat near the cove. That would be her cue.
She began the methodical process of preparing her escape bag. It wasn't luggage—she had no intention of taking her heavy designer suitcases. It was a small, high-quality, weather-resistant backpack. Inside, she packed only essentials: the M-Data flash drive, her passport (which Joo-Hyuk had helped her acquire a discreet, secondary one for her escape), a handful of cash, and a burner phone. She carefully concealed the bag in the bottom of the walk-in closet, under Min-Joon's least-used golf bag.
As the sun began its dramatic descent over the horizon—a beautiful, fiery orange and purple spectacle—they sat on the outdoor terrace, sipping chilled white wine. The sunset was majestic, yet Seo-Yun felt only a profound sense of foreboding.
"A perfect view," Min-Joon commented, raising his glass to the fiery sky. "To a perfect weekend."
"To perfection," Seo-Yun echoed, her eyes focused on the coastline, searching for any early sign of Joo-Hyuk's boat.
As darkness crept over the island, the tension became almost unbearable. Seo-Yun felt her control slipping. She was supposed to remain calm, the picture of the relaxed, vacationing wife. But the enormity of her action, the finality of the betrayal, weighed down on her.
"Min-Joon," she started, her voice sounding strange even to her own ears. "Have you ever regretted anything? Any moment, any decision?"
Min-Joon took a thoughtful sip of wine. "Regret is unproductive, Seo-Yun. It is wasted time. Mistakes are made, yes, but they are simply data points for better future decisions. The only thing I would regret is allowing my ambition to falter." He smiled, that cold, confident smile she knew so well. "Why? Do you have regrets?"
"No," she lied, the word tasting like ashes. "Not yet."
At 9:30 PM, they moved inside for a light dinner. Seo-Yun forced herself to eat a few bites, needing the energy for the night ahead. Min-Joon, oblivious to the emotional warfare across the table, talked about building an art foundation in her name—a beautiful, generous gesture that would tie her reputation irrevocably to his legacy.
"It will be a monument to your taste and our partnership, Seo-Yun. You will be forever associated with the Kim name and its contributions to Korean culture," he announced proudly.
The idea, meant to be loving, only solidified her resolve. She did not want to be a monument to his legacy; she wanted her own name, her own life, unbound by his control.
"It's a beautiful thought," she managed, rising from the table. "But I have a terrible headache again, Min-Joon. Perhaps the sea air."
It was her familiar, reliable excuse.
Min-Joon immediately deferred. "Go to bed, my dear. I have some late-night work with the New York office. They are just opening. I will work in the study; you won't be disturbed."
Perfect. He had provided the essential cover: separation and a logical reason for his absence.
Seo-Yun retired to the master bedroom, locking the door behind her—a habit she claimed was for privacy, but which tonight was for security. She quickly changed into dark, durable clothing and retrieved the backpack.
At 9:55 PM, she positioned herself by the glass wall, the vast, dark ocean spread out before her like a silent, waiting maw. The wind had picked up, and the waves were crashing against the rocks far below. The countdown was in its final moments.
She held her breath, staring into the blackness, waiting for the three, swift, silent flashes of light that would signal the end of her life as Mrs. Kim Min-Joon.