It meant that only one of the two would walk away unscathed. In other words, he intended to reduce them from two to one by his own hand—an announcement that made Winter’s throat go dry. She swallowed hard before forcing herself to speak.
“…It won’t be me, right?”
“…”
In Juhan merely wore that unsettling, ominous smile.
“Sir, i-it won’t be me, right?”
Winter’s pupils dilated in panic—her face pleaded for mercy, though she dared not kneel and beg.
Why isn’t he answering…?
Just as she prepared to drop to her knees, In Juhan finally spoke.
“We’ll see.”
Winter’s mind raced. Did that mean he’d spare her… or merely postpone her death? Still, she felt relief: she wasn’t dying today.
“By the way, Secretary Cha.” He lit a cigarette, smoke curling around his words. “How am I to trust you? If word ever got out about this slush fund, it would wreck both the company and my family.”
“N-no! I would never—ever blab about it! I’m tight-lipped, and I barely know anyone in the company…!”
Winter flailed her hands in earnest self-vouching, though her heart pounded with doubt.
“That won’t suffice,” he warned, eyes ice-cold through the haze of smoke. “I need a more reliable guarantee.”
He sounded like an apex predator toying with its prey.
“For example, you could manage the slush fund yourself.”
“W-what? M-me…?”
Winter’s heart stopped. To touch that money would make her an irredeemable accomplice. Until now, she’d still had a chance to slip away—but if she took on that role, she and In Juhan would be bound together in crime forever.
She’d guessed why his previous secretaries vanished without a trace: they learned too much. He couldn’t risk them speaking out, so he made sure they never could.
Thus she’d never once mentioned resigning, and she’d obeyed every order without question. If only he would let her depart quietly, she would have even waived her severance.
But to become co-guardian of this fund would be to sign her death warrant.
It would be a permanent resignation from life…
So for the first time, Winter dared to defy him.
“I’d be honored,” she lied through clenched teeth, “but I truly—”
“Count yourself lucky. My ship is sturdier than you think.”
He spoke as though reading her thoughts. Winter glanced at his massive hand and shivered—one strike, and her head would roll. He hated repetition; one more protest, and she might suffer dearly.
Yet she could not climb aboard his ship.
His ship… is not sturdy at all…
She knew too well how it would end.
Falling Flowers was, at its core, a romance novel. Despite its lurid violence, at heart it told the story of an Alpha and an Omega working at the same company, each striving to win the other’s heart.
A familiar trope—but with villainous In Juhan stirring the pot, it crackled with life. He committed every imaginable evil to entrap the protagonists, his cruelty fueling readers’ fury even as they turned each page.
In Juhan, the older brother of the Alpha hero, competed for the succession of the Saegyeol Group—one of Korea’s top five conglomerates. Naturally, the younger brother prevailed; as the supporting villain, In Juhan’s downfall was inevitable.
The Alpha hero, In Seongje, was young, handsome, bright—a figure impossible not to adore.
“Hmm….”
Winter doodled their names—In Seongje and In Juhan—on a blank sheet, lost in thought. No matter what In Juhan did, his ruin was certain; by contrast, Seongje (and his Omega love) would overcome all obstacles. That was their destiny.
Then where do I fit?
Realizing she would never slip free of In Juhan’s grip, Winter began to fear for her future. What fate awaited the loyal secretary of a psychopath? Though the novel didn’t dwell on it, she imagined it would be as miserable as his own.
Seongje, too, could be merciless; she would never earn his mercy in the end.
How could she alter her fate?
The answer was simple: prevent In Juhan’s atrocities. If he never kidnapped the Omega heroine or rigged his brother’s car to explode, perhaps the story would not spin into tragedy.
She knew the solution—but faced one obstacle.
I don’t remember…
She had read Falling Flowers—and enjoyed it—but the details eluded her. She recalled certain violent scenes but not their timing.
Others seemed to remember every nuance; why couldn’t she?
If only one memory surfaced, she might guide the story to a happy ending: In Juhan’s downfall, the union of true lovers. Yet all she saw were fleeting visions of blood and brutality.
“Hmm….”
She sighed and popped a single blueberry into her mouth. It was lunchtime, and as a vegetarian, she always packed her own bento. Today’s fare: a salad of blueberries, mango, and seaweed—half the greens grown in her own mini-garden, tasting that much fresher.
After her simple meal, Winter returned to her desk to start her tasks: compiling department reports, organizing the dizzying schedules for In Juhan’s approval. Any slip in his calendar could unravel the entire day—he was never anything but fully booked.
So she needed to focus—but…
“One, ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand….”
Winter refreshed the crypto wallet balance displayed on her screen. It had fallen by about four hundred thousand won since lunch, and her heart pounded.
What if I lose all the money while it’s under my watch?!
Her only assigned duty was to safeguard the wallet credentials—no trading, no investments required. Yet her nerves refused to settle; the balance must never shrink.
He might think I embezzled it…
He was the sort to punish without cause.
As she frantically clicked “refresh,” the intercom buzzed. It was In Juhan’s office.
In her mind she coached herself: Speak clearly! Speak clearly! before answering.
“Yes, sir!”
Her voice came out steady—though the roar on the other end nearly rattled her eardrums.
“Coffee.”
She realized she’d lost track of his regular coffee break while monitoring the wallet.
“I’ll bring it right away!”
Winter hurried to brew the strongest coffee she could and dashed into his office, placing the cup precisely on his side table.
“Late.”
“Sorry….”
She feared he tallied every mistake, ready to punish once she exceeded his invisible threshold. Today, she’d once again leveled up her demerit points.
“That’s fine. You may go.”
She bowed and turned—but froze. On his tablet screen glowed something unmistakable, and she couldn’t look away. She spun back, eyes widening, a grin spreading across her face as she recognized it.
“Why are you smiling so oddly?”
“Sir! That’s enough!”
Unable to contain her excitement, Winter clenched her fists and exclaimed—feeling as though she’d just won the lottery.
She didn’t notice the two pairs of eyes studying her every reaction.
With this, I can change everything!
At that moment, Winter realized she’d uncovered the clue capable of upending the entire narrative.