* * *
As time passed and the second part began, Cheon Sahyun found himself facing a new adversary in Baek Kanghyuk, the male lead.
Thankfully, Baek Kanghyuk wasn’t particularly strong in terms of combat ability.
After all, his character was designed as someone who had lived a straight and upright life in a peaceful household.
However, for Cheon Sahyun, enemies surrounded him on all sides.
One could almost believe the author originally intended this story to be a dark and miserable tale.
Even without Baek Kanghyuk stepping in, there were plenty of people ready to torment Cheon Sahyun.
Starting with someone closest to him: Cheon Jaemin, who shared the same family registry.
Cheon Jaemin was someone who lacked both the talent and intelligence Cheon Sahyun possessed, yet his greed knew no bounds.
Despite constantly losing to Cheon Sahyun in battles of wits and subtle power plays, Cheon Jaemin never gave up.
His relentless persistence was something to begrudgingly admire.
What Cheon Jaemin coveted was one thing: Cheon Sahyun’s position as the legitimate heir to the corporation.
Backing Cheon Jaemin was a powerful ally: his biological mother, who happened to be Cheon Sahyun’s stepmother.
Cheon Jaemin wasn’t a blood member of the Cheon family.
He had been given the family name upon joining the household.
The story began when Cheon Sahyun’s biological mother passed away early on, and Cheonryung Group’s Chairman remarried.
His new wife brought her biological son, Kim Jaemin, into the family, and Kim Jaemin became Cheon Jaemin, now listed in the Cheon family registry.
The chairman, Cheon Sahyun’s grandfather, was a staunch believer in the philosophy of harsh education—akin to throwing a cub off a cliff to test its survival.
He never handed anything to his only biological grandson, Cheon Sahyun, easily.
In fact, the chairman eagerly welcomed Cheon Jaemin, claiming it was good for Cheon Sahyun to have competition.
In the beginning, he even went as far as promoting Cheon Jaemin, trying to elevate him to a position equal to Cheon Sahyun’s.
Naturally, this put Cheon Sahyun’s position in jeopardy, as rumors spread that the chairman and director favored Cheon Jaemin.
This led to Cheon Sahyun being sent to an overseas branch.
It was essentially a test to see how far he could climb on his own.
In contrast, most of what Cheon Jaemin had achieved was handed to him.
Hardly any of it was earned through his own efforts.
On the other hand, Cheon Sahyun had to build everything from scratch.
Ultimately, Cheon Sahyun transformed the barren overseas branch into a thriving company, multiplying its revenue several times over.
He secured his position and even managed to re-export his business ideas back to Korea.
Only then was Cheon Sahyun allowed to return to Korea.
By that time, Cheon Jaemin had already secured a position as the executive director of the Korean branch.
Cheon Sahyun, meanwhile, held the position of managing director.
Their clashes over management and business practices were endless.
Employees began choosing sides, wary of the tension between the two.
It was during this tumultuous time that Han Siyeon, someone completely uninvolved in the office politics, appeared before Cheon Sahyun.
She was the female lead who had no strings attached to anyone.
What’s more, Han Siyeon was quite capable.
Though she was only an assistant manager at the time, her career progression was impressive given her age and tenure.
Her personal and team performance were both commendable, and she was particularly well-regarded by her teammates, who consistently gave her exceptional peer reviews.
Rumor had it that even Cheon Jaemin had his eye on her as a valuable asset.
Cheon Sahyun had no reason not to approach her.
This, however, was a perspective entirely absent from the romance novel’s main narrative, which was told from the female lead’s point of view.
If Cheon Sahyun had been officially designated as the male lead, his past might have been explored in the second or third part of the story.
Unfortunately, Cheon Sahyun’s story never made it into the novel.
‘Why do I even have to know all of this?’
Burdened with all this knowledge, Do Yejun found himself unable to escape Cheon Sahyun’s orbit entirely.
He even discovered that Cheon Sahyun was undergoing various psychiatric treatments, from medication to hypnosis, to combat his obsessive-compulsive tendencies—and that he had been suffering from insomnia for nearly two decades.
At this point, Do Yejun felt less like an observer and more like Cheon Sahyun’s personal secretary.
Well, technically, Cheon Sahyun did have an external secretary and a shadow secretary whose existence even his family was unaware of.
But, of course, Do Yejun knew. In fact, they were in frequent contact.
‘Why me, though?!’
No matter how much he tried to feign ignorance or pretend not to notice, Cheon Sahyun always managed to rope him back in.
At this point, Do Yejun was certain Cheon Sahyun was deliberately leaking information to keep him entangled—and he wasn’t wrong.
Cheon Sahyun had no intention of letting Do Yejun slip from his grasp.
He crafted a web of traps that played on Yejun’s sense of responsibility, leaving bait he knew Yejun wouldn’t be able to ignore.
Do Yejun learned firsthand what it meant to be completely outmaneuvered.
Or rather, to be hooked so tightly there was no escape.
Still, Do Yejun had one clear goal: to create a happy ending and safely exit the novel’s world, returning to his original one.
After three years, he succeeded—at least partially.
The “happy ending” part, that is.
Time would tell if this was truly the happy ending, but considering the story’s framework, this moment seemed to mark the clear end of the plot.
Now, the main couple was preparing for their fairytale wedding, and Cheon Sahyun showed no interest in Han Siyeon.
To the world, Cheon Sahyun seemed like a tragic figure abandoned by love.
People pitied him, offering him comforting words about how he would eventually find someone better.
Hearing such stories through Cheon Sahyun’s shadow secretary drove Do Yejun mad.
Unlike with Han Siyeon, Cheon Sahyun kept his connection with Do Yejun a closely guarded secret.
Every interaction and shared schedule was kept private.
Cheon Sahyun had long realized that anything exposed, whether a vulnerability or a treasure, would no longer truly belong to him.
Unbeknownst to Do Yejun, Cheon Sahyun had meticulously prepared for their relationship far more thoroughly than he’d realized.
Even the psychiatrist Cheon Sahyun had trusted for over a decade didn’t know about Do Yejun.
When asked, “You seem happier these days. Has something good happened?” Cheon Sahyun simply smiled faintly and replied, “Do I? I feel the same as always.”
He wasn’t about to let his personal life show cracks in his armor.
“It’s done. It’s really done!”
Do Yejun slammed his notebook shut, finally completing the timeline.
He even added two carefully drawn hearts beside the final period.
This story had to end here.
Why?
Because that’s the unspoken rule of romance novels!
And that’s how romance novels are supposed to go!
The rest of the story—whether they had kids, lived happily ever after for a thousand years, or whatever else—wasn’t something he cared about.
They could spin it off into a separate epilogue or leave it unresolved. It wasn’t his concern.
“So, what exactly needs to happen for this to end? When are you going to send me back…?”
Do Yejun raked his hands through his hair in frustration.
Lately, his memories of the time he spent as Baek Yoomin had been fading.
And that fact only doubled his sense of unease.
He couldn’t remember who had recommended this novel to him, how old he was in that world, or even what kind of job he had there. It was all a blur.
Do Yejun flipped to the very first page of his notebook.
[Unbelievable, but fuck… I think I’ve been transmigrated into the novel ‘The Angel’s Mask Doesn’t Smile’.]
That was the first sentence he’d ever written down.
What followed were scribbled notes filled with curses, jumbled plotlines, and a chaotic list of the novel’s characters.
Back then, Do Yejun had been so consumed with the idea of twisting the novel’s narrative that he hadn’t paid attention to anything else.
Like someone racing desperately toward the story’s end, he documented the lives of the main characters, excluding himself entirely from the narrative.
The notebook was filled with nothing but notes about the novel.
At first, there had been a few entries about how much he missed his mom and dad, but as time went on, the self of Baek Yoomin faded completely from the pages.
It was the flailing of a foreigner stranded in an unfamiliar world, clinging to the desperate hope that the road he’d stumbled onto wasn’t a one-way path.
[Cheon Sahyun is a goddamn psycho. Avoid him at all costs. Not that it matters now—it’s already too late. He’s not going to kill me, right?]
Reading the note he’d written two years ago, Do Yejun let out a hollow laugh.
* * *
