Chapter 2

From a young age, I lived with my grandmother in a dilapidated, unfinished building.

My mother ran off with someone else, complaining about our poverty.

My father went to work on ships to earn money for my grandmother and me.

He disappeared on his second trip out.

His death benefits barely supported my grandmother and me.

I was always either studying or working part-time jobs.

The day I met Derek, I was being mugged by some thugs.

He appeared like a guardian angel, but even he couldn't fight off so many attackers alone.

Derek was kicked in the groin. Fortunately, the police arrived in time, but I still found out about his... functional impairment.

From then on, my goal of working hard to provide for my grandmother gained another purpose:

To repay Derek, and to seek revenge for both of us against those who had attacked us.

But I never expected those people to come directly to my home.

My grandmother was pushed while trying to protect me, and she became paralyzed.

It was Derek who appeared again to save me.

He helped me take my grandmother to the hospital and paid for her hospitalization and medical expenses.

He even hired a caregiver to look after my grandmother so I could focus on my studies.

Unfortunately, despite the enormous amount of money that I couldn't repay, my grandmother still died in the hospital.

Before she passed away, she said that Derek was a good person, but we shouldn't take his kindness for granted.

The hospitalization costs must be repaid.

After burying my grandmother, I became Derek's assistant.

I worked for Derek, keeping only $500 for living expenses and sending the rest to him to repay the debt.

I also learned self-defense for free, partly to prevent being attacked again, and partly to take on the job of Derek's bodyguard. The salary from that job also went straight into Derek's account to repay the debt.

Secondly, I had to avenge my grandmother.

As I got busier, the little white dress I used to love became a hindrance.

I took off the dress, and to make my bright appearance look more intimidating, I had my entire back tattooed with a dark pattern.

Two years passed.

I got my revenge, and the debt was cleared.

But no matter what treatment method was tried, Derek's "third leg" remained useless.

He became a man with the tool but unable to use it.

I stayed by his side like I was atoning for a sin, ready to do whatever he asked.

It wasn't until he confessed his feelings to me that I realized it wasn't atonement - I loved him.

I had been with Derek for eleven years, from a loyal subordinate to a girlfriend, and then to a loving fiancée.

With my assistance, he became an underworld kingpin in the city.

Our life was peaceful.

Although Derek couldn't use his "tool," he liked to hold me in bed at night.

He would press my head against his chest and repeatedly stroke my hair that never seemed to recover from its dryness.

"Evelyn, I still prefer how you used to be."

I always answered him, "Isn't this still me?"

It wasn't until this 18-year-old girl showed up that I realized what he meant.

The "me" he was referring to was the one who hadn't taken off the little white dress for him.

The one who couldn't escape poverty and needed him to shelter her from the wind and rain.

Now, this me who shielded him from the bloody storms of the underworld, who was called "Big Sister" by a group of subordinates - he didn't like this version of me.

I always believed what my grandmother said, that Derek was a good person.

But this good person's affection had stopped at my 18-year-old self.