fake it 'till we make it
readingnotes
Summary:
He couldn't hold her, but they could walk hand in hand for a bit. They only had a fling, after all.
or: Five times In-joo and Do-il tried to keep up their fake dating act, and one time they realized the feelings were real.
Notes:
I had to write this before these next few episodes either make or break this drama/ship. fingers crossed they'll end up okay!
just thinking about how in-joo and do-il both claim to love money more than anything in the world and then seeing them prove that statement wrong. in-joo giving up her 60/40 share so do-il would investigate her grandaunt's death. do-il almost walking away from in-joo, someone's seventy billion won to him, because she brought him evidence to save his family. just :))
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Work Text:
He had been to funerals before. It came with the job. In college, there had been a vigil on campus; people had looked at Do-il strangely, like he was about to crack apart and burst at any given moment. He had chosen not to show any emotion. Shock, they'd said. It was just shock, because his girlfriend died and he had been in the car with her, and did they see how he was limping around with a broken arm? He must have been heartbroken.
But In-joo was not putting on an act. This was real, and there were consequences. She was sitting on a stone bench, still and silent. At least she was speaking again, but Won Sang-ah was hardly the best person to make conversation.
"Poor thing." Ms. Go shook her head. Do-il suppressed the urge to make a violent scene at a respectable funeral. "Bad luck seems to follow her around."
"You seem to follow her around quite often," he agreed.
"So do you."
"A fling, as I told you."
"Sure. Flings usually end badly for the girl."
He was accustomed to threats. In-joo wasn't; she was usually so blissfully unaware of them that she continued along, oblivious and quietly strong. Something fierce grew as he watched her tuck her hair behind her ear and wipe her cheeks. Do-il said, "If I find out you had something to do with Oh Hye-seok's death, I'll make sure this ends badly for you."
Her ensuing protests went in one ear and out the other. He had a different focus, now: he walked forward, held out his hand, and ignored his beating heart. "In-joo-ssi. Let's go."
She looked up at him, startled from her thoughts. There was fragility in her eyes, but there was also simmering anger and determination. In-joo took his hand; he squeezed it and pulled her up.
"Thank you." She nodded, but their hands stayed together. He saw a scene unfold: pulling her into his arms, cupping her head as it fit into the crook of his neck. He wanted to hold her, had wanted to do so since he saw the orchid in her hands. He needed her to trust him completely, to rest assured he would take care of it all and then the crease between her eyebrows would disappear. But there were too many people evaluating their every move. To want something like that, at such a public event, at her grandaunt's funeral, was ridiculous.
In-joo pulled her hand away slowly, but he caught her wrist again and folded their hands together. She was surprised, then grateful, and offered him a thin smile that betrayed every worry and fear inside her. He couldn't hold her, but they could walk hand in hand for a bit. They only had a fling, after all.
…
In-joo was affectionate, even when she criticized her sisters. "In-kyung is impulsive and ridiculously stupid sometimes," she told him, munching on a creamy chocolate cake for dessert. "But she's brave and forthright. She's always so unyielding. One time, when In-hye was eight, In-kyung found out she was letting her friend copy her homework. She ratted her out and they didn't talk for weeks."
He could see Oh In-kyung as a child, honest and ambitious and unintentionally harsh. In-joo, on the other hand, must have treaded lightly around her parents, carrying the secret of a lost child, and doted on her sisters while suppressing her own needs. "What would you have done?" he asked.
"I caught In-hye way earlier than she did, but I thought she was just making friends." In-joo shrugged. "Now, I think she's always been that way. Always trying to earn favor with others, but not with her own family." Do-il nodded and kept his mouth shut, deciding not to think about what it was like to be twelve in a foreign country and observed like prey by those who had imprisoned his mother and hunted his father.
In-joo continued to eat, savoring each bite of her last dessert before departing for Singapore. Her face was half hidden by her ridiculous baseball cap, as if that could hide her from prying eyes, and her mouth curled in a small smile with each spoonful of chocolate. There was a bit of brown above her lip, and she wiped it off, some of her lipstick fading away.
"Excuse me, miss." A waiter stood at attention and handed her a small menu. "Would you be interested in our wine list?"
"Woah, wine," In-joo said. "I'm not sure. Do you have any suggestions?" The waiter rattled off a few recommendations, using terms that made her frown in confusion and look to him for help. Do-il chose the most expensive one. It was her birthday, and they had money to spare.
"Right away," he said. "And you two make a lovely couple. I'm glad you finally showed up — she was waiting for you for a while."
In-joo's mouth opened wide. He couldn't resist. "Sorry about that, jagiya," he said, then turned to the charmed waiter. "See what she has to deal with?"
The waiter shook his head and left In-joo speechless at the table. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you keeping this up? It's bad enough In-kyung thinks we're dating."
"Is it a bad thing?" he said. She fought to keep her expressions at bay: attraction, irritation, disbelief. Do-il shrugged to keep his own excitement hidden. "For now, Ms. Go doesn't suspect my allegiance because I've covered it up with this."
"You told her we were… what?"
A fling would not be a wise thing to say. "We're partners, In-joo-ssi," he said. "Whether that is in work, crime, or something else, is our business alone."
The wine arrived, blood red in delicate glasses. "To partners," In-joo toasted.
…
One thing he learned about Oh In-joo: she could be a wonderful actress if she knew the role she was playing. She blushed, tucked her hair, and smiled at the right times. She took his compliments with grace and waved them off modestly. The others at the auction, whether they were spectators or spies, were easily drawn in by her earnestness. It seemed that way, at least, especially if his eyes were always trained on her, whatever she was doing. All part of their act.
He let her mingle with the others as he took care of their money: he contacted banks, scheduled appointments, and planned their escapes. A separation would be necessary. Park Jae-sang would send men after both of them; he would try to kill Do-il first. If he wasn't with her, he couldn't protect her. But if he let her go with enough money and a weapon, then she could manage without him, and he could draw their attention. He'd kill them all before they could look for her.
As he returned to the dining tables, Do-il heard her voice ring out clearly against the crowd's murmurs.
"Oh, these?" In-joo blushed and pointed to the jewelry. "My boyfriend bought them for me." The women cooed. They did look beautiful on her. The dress was also fittingly elegant, nothing like the girlish pink frills she had on before. This was In-joo: bold without being garish, significant without being loud.
"Oh, he's right here. Say hello, jagiya." In-joo beamed. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips were a deeper pink, and her eyes were dark.
"Hello, jagiya," he said, and pressed his lips against her cheek. He turned and waved to the other women, as his face suddenly burned. In-joo stared at him like he had grown wings, or like he had committed a felony. Her lips were parted, and her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. It was — he needed to stop before he couldn't think sensibly, because thinking sensibly was what saved her more than a decade ago. It had let him act like a heartbroken man at her vigil on campus. Controlling himself and calm, careful rationalization would save In-joo now.
He cleared his throat. "We'll be going now. We have that appointment."
In-joo nodded, bowed slightly to the others, and stammered, "Ah, yes. That's right. Goodbye." She linked arms with him and dragged him away from the table, where the conversation had changed to discuss their looks and my, how young and in love they seemed, and did you see the way he looked at her?
He cursed himself for being a terrible actor. In-joo had acted her way through the day, but somehow, he had failed to hide his most dangerous emotions.
…
The clamor of the hospital exacerbated his panic. "Where is Oh In-joo?" He rattled off a description. "I'm her partner."
"Sir, only family members can — "
"I'm all she has!" It wasn't exactly true. "In Singapore; I'm all she has in Singapore," he amended.
Stripped down to the core, Do-il trusted no one, not even himself. But he knew In-joo would crave vengeance over money, answers over blind trust, no matter how naive she seemed. This much conviction made his faith two-fold: he only believed in wealth and in Oh In-joo. He needed to find her before they destroyed her.
"She was carrying her suitcase," a nurse said. "Maybe she was on her way to her hotel or the airport."
Do-il laughed; it sounded hysterical. Of course, Oh In-joo would prioritize this over her own life. Of course, he would find her. The trackers in her jewelry really had been necessary. If not through the trackers, then it was easy enough to follow her through the CCTVs in the area all the way back to the Fullerton Hotel.
When he opened the door to her suite, she was stacking the money into plastic boxes. There was a pile of bricks next to the suitcase. She looked up, pointed his gun at the intruder, and did not relax when she saw it was him. There was blood on her neck and cheek, and her arm shook. She was stunning. Trust issues and acting skills. She had fooled him, and he wanted to kiss her for it.
"I told you to stay by my side."
"You also told me to shoot you."
He closed the door behind him and raised his hands. "Will you do it? Or will you let me help you?"
"Why are you helping me?" Her mouth twisted.
"We're partners."
"Are we? I thought Hwa-young-unnie was my friend. Now, I'm not so sure."
"I promise you," he said, the truth dripping from his lips like poison. "If you go, the person you meet will not be Hwa-young."
She shook her head. "Even if it were her, I'm here for the money. I have everything I need with this. I won't let anyone take it away from me."
He nodded. "And I will protect it for you."
"How do you expect me to trust you?" As if it wasn't enough that he allowed himself to be held at gunpoint, when it would be so easy for him to fight back.
"Park Jae-sang ordered me to kill you today, or he would kill me. As you can see, I'm choosing neither option." She chewed on her lip and he pressed forward. "If you trust me, if you let me help you right now, I'll take less of the money. A new deal: seventy-thirty."
She scoffed and lowered the gun. "No deal. We keep it at sixty-forty."
"Good. Let's go catch a murderer."
…
She stumbled in front of her grandaunt's mansion. He ran to catch her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to his side.
"Slowly," he said, "I got you." It must have caught up to her: the auction, the car crash, Won Sang-ah's mind games. Her head dropped onto his shoulder and lolled around, and he shivered as her nose brushed against his neck. "In-joo-ssi. We're almost there."
In-joo hummed in agreement. He guided her forward with one hand on her waist and the other on his gun. The blood was gone, and he had checked before their flight for signs of internal bleeding, so she would be all right. It was just shock, he told her, muttering underneath his breath as he swept the grounds and half-carried her up the steps to the house.
Do-il banged on the door until it opened to a wrathful sister. "Unnie!" In-kyung took her from his arms and glared at him accusingly. He ignored the anger radiating towards him and pushed his way in. Together, they lowered In-joo onto the couch in the living room.
"What happened?" She cut him off after concussion and bruised ribs. "What did you do?"
"Ms. Oh, this was not my doing."
"You're working for Park Jae-sang; you were trained to be a loyal toy soldier with your little scholarship. Give me one reason why I shouldn't kick you out the door."
"In-kyung, please, it's not his fault." In-joo's eyes were half-closed, and she waved her hand around until she found In-kyung and patted her leg. "He's helping me. He's my partner in all of this."
"Partner? Does he seem like a good partner to you?" The faded, healing cut on her forehead said otherwise. The money was safe, but —
He had something else, now. Someone to hold, to trust, to help. It wasn't about him, his survival, or his money anymore.
They were making a confusing mess of things. He had deceived her from the start, but slowly, she had unraveled him. He needed to kill her; he knew that was never an option.
In-kyung pushed his chest. "Are you just going to stand there? Say something!"
He stepped away from In-joo. Jae-sang's men would be looking for him soon. He knew too many secrets to be kept alive. He would not bring that danger to her.
"Choi Do-il," In-joo called deliriously. "Where are you going?" She pouted and furrowed her eyebrows, like she meant to be imposing and menacing, but it was too endearing for him to be frightened. He smiled reassuringly.
"I'll take care of all this. I'll be back, jagiya." It slipped out of his tongue by mistake, but she was half-asleep now. Maybe she wouldn't remember this. He certainly didn't remember any of his goodbyes to anyone. He always moved on. If he failed, it was better if she forgot about him, especially with one hundred percent of the money.
He turned to In-kyung, who brushed the hair out of In-joo's face softly. "Get her a blanket and some water. She'll be fine by tomorrow morning, but find somewhere to lay low."
In-kyung followed him to the door, footsteps quickening to match his speed. "Are you going to that house? Back to Park Jae-sang's side?"
He unlocked the door. "This will all be over soon."
"Your father wouldn't want you to — "
"One conversation in the woods doesn't make him my father again," he said. "What is it with you two and poking your noses in my family's business?"
In-kyung set her jaw. "Your mother will be disappointed."
"Then you can give my mother my apologies and thanks." He probably wouldn't be able to give them, anyway.
…
First, he disabled the CCTVs. Then, he climbed through the window. For two high school girls, they looked alarmingly calm when he slid into their room.
"I was warned you would come," Oh In-hye said, crossing her arms. "What are you planning to do?"
"That's for me to know. You two just have to follow my directions."
"Why would we do that?" In-hye stood in front of the bed between him and Hyo-rin. She was a good kid. But she was most definitely the wildest of her sisters.
"Because I'm your sister's partner," he said. "These people want to kill her. I'm going to stop that from happening. So, listen to me very carefully."
…
"A hunch will get you killed," his father had once told him. "But it can also save your life." Not very helpful advice from a man who disappeared from his life before he reached puberty.
But he chose to gamble on the hunch that Jae-sang wouldn't murder him right away. Do-il was all about taking risks, now.
Park Jae-sang did not like to gamble. This was a fact he knew intimately. So, underneath the cursed orchid tree, Do-il waved his phone around, brandishing a picture of his trophy proudly: a bloody hammer used to murder a man and frame his mother. "If you kill me, Oh In-joo, or any of her sisters, your political career is over."
"So, Choi Hee-jae is your father, after all. A traitor has spawned a traitor." Jae-sang waved a hand, and a sharp, sudden pain brought Do-il to his knees. Above him, Ms. Go prepped her baton for another swing.
…
"Yah, Ahjussi."
Do-il blinked, was almost immediately blinded by a phone light that worsened his miserable headache, and raised his hands to block it out. In between his fingers, he saw a blurry figure, waiting for his brain to catch up. "In-joo-ssi? You can't be here, you'll — "
"Ew, relax," the voice said, and after a few pokes to his bruised cheek, his vision adjusted to find Oh In-hye in front of him. Beside her, Park Hyo-rin was unlocking his handcuffs. "We're breaking you out. It would go smoother if you were quiet."
"I told you to leave me." These kids were going to give him ulcers.
"Yeah, well, I don't think my sister wants you to die." In-hye didn't seem pleased about this.
"Do you need to go to a hospital?" said Hyo-rin.
"No hospital." Were his ears ringing, or was that just the panic setting in about two high schoolers breaking him out of this house? "They'll find us easily."
"Good thing my sisters found a safe place to hide." His car keys dangled from In-hye's fingers. "You just need to drive us there."
…
The thing about kids was that no one noticed them. This was something he had learned before he was twelve. His parents had never noticed him listening to their conversations about espionage and bribery. His guardians, the ones who kept an eye on him in case he turned or in case his mother opened her mouth, had never noticed him sneaking out at night in America.
In the Park residence, no one noticed Hyo-rin filming Park Jae-sang ordering his men to beat Do-il half-dead and interrogate him about incriminating evidence. Afterwards, no one noticed In-hye stealing his car keys from Jae-sang's office. They would only realize something was wrong once Hyo-rin uploaded the video onto the Internet and he crushed her phone with his tires.
It was a little insulting that they had left him alone in the orchid room without guards for the night, but Jae-sang's fatal flaw had always been underestimating his enemies.
"Ahjussi, you don't look too good." Hyo-rin was in the backseat, while In-hye was — "Over there. Take a right!" — politely navigating, sitting shotgun. She wasn't as nice as her sister.
"If I was as nice and naive as my sister, I wouldn't have been able to get you out of there," In-hye said, which was a fair point.
Do-il turned sharply around the corner into a driveway of a run-down shack. He stepped off the car, wincing as the impact brought waves of pain to wash over him, stinging like salt over his wounds. He brought a hand to his ribs and curled into himself, hurling up his last meal next to the front tire. Then there were hands on him, ushering him to the front door. Hands on him, asking where was the hammer, where were the ledgers, where was In-joo, what did he do to the money, the money, you traitor?
"Unnie!"
"In-hye is here." A door slammed open. "In-hye, where have you — Choi Do-il?"
"I'm fine," Do-il said, annoyed that he was being babied by two high schoolers, but his vision was going in and out, and the blood on his shirt seemed very red and very bright. He stumbled when he tried to enter the doorway. Wiry arms caught him and barely pulled him up; they moved him inside and against a wall. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and he sagged, leaning over until his savior held him still.
"Do-il-ssi." In-joo was here. Was she safe? "Do-il-ssi, I'm all right. You're the one who — you need to lay down." She grabbed his shoulders and, leaning forward, inspected the scrapes and bruises on his face. She was worried, even after he failed to protect her. She would have been safer on her own, but she was close, caring, beautiful, and she was worried about him. No one had done that in a long time, and he wanted to lean down and —
Two interruptions: a parrot squawked in greeting, and In-hye said, "Unnie, you need better taste in men."
"Oh In-hye, get inside." Her tone switched like a whip. "Hyo-rin-ah, are you all right?"
In-hye groaned and rolled her eyes. Do-il shrugged. She flipped him off. It was the perfect time to go to sleep —
…
— only for a second. Commotion screamed in his ear; it was an alarm as effective as adrenaline. He jerked awake, shaking his head until his surroundings became clearer.
He was laying on a ratty couch, with its springs half-broken and white fluff peeking out wide rips in the fabric. The tattered remains of his shirt laid on the floor next to it. It smelled like a hunter's cabin, like raw meat and burnt wood, similar to Choi Hee-jae's hideout. That was a pleasant, bitter thought: twenty years of silence, and he only returned to help the Oh sisters avoid their own family's fate.
Next to him, In-joo was dipping a cloth in a basin of water. In-kyung was digging through a first aid kit and bickering with In-hye about her recklessness. The kids were on the opposite side of the cabin, staring at him, hand-in-hand.
"We weren't going to leave him there," In-hye said. "Hyo-rin and I sneak around that house all the time. We know how to get in and out without anyone knowing."
"You still should have told us. We could have helped." In-joo squeezed the water out of the cloth and turned to him with a frown. "You're awake."
"Thank you for your help," he said.
"You're awake and you risked my sister's life and you got hurt." She pressed the cloth onto one of his cuts. He winced as stinging pins and needles made his vision flicker.
"I can take care of myself," In-hye said, and Hyo-rin nodded along with her. This statement was, apparently, In-kyung's breaking point.
"You're barely sixteen, you idiot. Were you trying to get killed?" She marched over to the girls and dragged them outside. Their protests faded at the door.
As silence settled, In-joo cleaned the wounds slowly. The disinfectant stung, and he kept his eyes on her expression of deep focus. Eyebrows drawn together, lips pursed. Eyes fluttering as she winced with him, as if she could feel each twinge and creak in his body. Her fingers trailed upward to the marks on his face; her hand stilled on his cheek and cupped his bruised jaw. He leaned into her touch, and she looked at him with equal amounts of gratitude, weariness, and affection. It was overwhelmingly new, and he held his breath.
He indulged in a stray thought: in their previous lives, he may have been a soldier, and she a nurse, and they would have met on a battlefield, on the same side. There would not have been this confusion between them, her hesitance to trust in his alliance.
He took the bloody cloth from In-joo's hand. "I can finish this myself."
He sat up with difficulty and, unbidden, In-joo snaked her arm around his waist and supported him. It was kind. It was unbearably kind, and Do-il forced himself to think about something else, something other than her hair on his bare shoulders and her hand on his back.
"Did you get hurt because of me?" She handed him bandages and splints, careful not to jostle his swollen fingers. He nodded his thanks and continued to wrap himself up.
"No, I got hurt because I stole his money."
"Because you helped me. Because it was either me or you."
Do-il shrugged. "We're partners. It's my job to protect you."
"Because you need to protect your money."
He heaved a sigh. "Yes, I did this for the money."
She wiped away more blood from his temple. Then, he was surrounded by her: her hands on his face, her nose against his, her body pressed against broken ribs as she pulled him in for a kiss. Her hands gripping and sliding down his back, and her legs wrapped around his waist. He lost all sensible thought, drinking her in, kissing her more. Greed filled him, along with awe and hope, and he wanted to tell her everything he knew and was and had lived through.
There was no one else but her. He was caught in her storm, anchored by her touch. Do-il was gone, swept away and replaced by this new man who no longer wanted to die slowly in the lion's den. Living dangerously was a much more appealing option.
"Why did you go there alone?" she said. "Don't you know you're worth forty percent of seventy billion won to me?"
"Twenty-eight billion won isn't a lot of money." She kissed him harshly to make her complaint. It wasn't the answer she was looking for. He tried again: "I told you, it's my job to protect you."
"Me," she said.
"You," he confessed. "Not the money. You."
This was the correct answer. He was rewarded accordingly.
…
"So, brother-in-law," In-kyung said over breakfast. "How are you going to take these people down with a stab wound and a couple broken ribs and fingers?"
"Urgh, gross." In-hye gagged in In-joo's direction. "Isn't he worse than the first one?"
"Yah, In-hye, show some respect." In-kyung wagged a finger at him. "Choi Do-il isn't just a conman, he's a personal money launderer. This is an improvement for Unnie!"
Do-il was not interested in being bullied by In-joo's sisters. Besides, she probably did not want to break it to them that she liked kissing a man who was raised to be their worst enemy's right hand man. "We're just partners," he said.
In-joo took his hand and brought it to her mouth, where a mischievous smile was forming rapidly. He was struck by lightning; electricity ran up his arm and to his heart. "That's right, jagiya. We're partners. Whether that is in work, crime, or something else, is our business alone."