Back in Time: The Best Actress Surrenders

The bitter scent of burnt espresso barely registers. Seo Yul sits frozen in a coffee shop near Cheongdam Aria, still reeling from what she's just seen.

She doesn't know exactly when it happened—only that, at some point, she had left the 20th floor and wandered in a daze until she ended up here. 

Needing to calm down and gather her thoughts, she stepped inside and ordered a strong cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would snap her out of the lingering shock. 

The sight of another woman in his condo—wearing only a bathrobe—burned itself into her mind.

How could she have forgotten?

Seeing him with someone else dragged her back into memories that were vivid and far too familiar.

Back then, after spending five years in Country A, Yul returned to Country B to further her acting career—drawn by fresh opportunities, driven by ambition, and burning with the passion to reach the top.

With a solid portfolio from abroad, paired with her talent, work ethic, and captivating screen presence, she quickly gained attention as a rising dark horse in the industry.

But just as she was about to soar, everything came crashing down—her reputation sabotaged by none other than her own father.

Seo Illhyun, the CEO of Orion Models—one of the top modeling agencies in Country B—maintained a pristine public image. To the outside world, he was a charismatic executive with an eye for talent, credited with building the careers of more than thirty percent of the country's top models.

He was also celebrated as a devoted husband and a loving father.

In public, he played the role to perfection—attending charity galas hand-in-hand with his elegant wife, gifting her luxury items during interviews, and mentioning her in speeches with affectionate ease.

They had two children together: a son and a daughter, both frequently seen in family magazines and social media posts that painted them as the ideal family.

He never missed his son's fencing competitions or his daughter's piano recitals, always appearing as the picture of supportive parenthood. To outsiders, the they were flawless—a family straight out of a commercial.

But if the public ever discovered that he had a third child hidden from view—Seo Yul, his illegitimate daughter—that carefully curated image would shatter.

Worse, if reporters began digging into her background, they might unearth the secret he had gone to great lengths to bury.

What no one knew was that behind the scenes, Orion Models operated one of the largest sex trafficking rings in the country—servicing high-ranking military officials, influential politicians, and powerful businessmen.

Seo Yul's mother, Ha Yerin, had been one of the models caught in its web.

At first, Yul had known nothing of this. She hadn't even known who her father was—

Not until after her mother's funeral, when she found a letter Yerin had left behind.

Ha Yerin had once been a poor, struggling model with big dreams. Desperate for a chance at success, she signed an unfair ten-year contract with Orion Models—lured in by its carefully curated reputation.

What she didn't realize was that the agency would bleed her dry—charging exorbitant fees for training, photoshoots, housing, and every little expense in between. When she couldn't keep up with the mounting debt, they offered her a way to "pay it off"—by entertaining wealthy clients behind closed doors.

In exchange, the agency promised modeling contracts, fame, and international opportunities. Like many other unfortunate models, Yerin agreed. She was carefully groomed to believe this was her only shot at success—that anything else would mean poverty, violence, or life on the streets.

Just as she was about to be passed around to wealthy, aging men, Seo Ilhyun noticed her.

Taken a liking to her unique beauty, he pulled her aside—temporarily shielding her from the worst of it. For a brief moment, Yerin thought she had escaped. He gave her special treatment, dressed her in designer brands, let her stand beside him at exclusive events as if she were someone important. 

And she fell for it. She thought she had been chosen—not just for her looks, but for something more.

But the illusion began to crack.

The change was slow, but the signs were there. Ilhyun became less tender, his attention more fleeting. He still slept with her, yes—but she wasn't the only one anymore. Soon, the gifts stopped coming as frequently. Invitations to events grew sparse. 

When she asked about them, he was distracted, dismissive.

Worse, he began to "introduce" her to other powerful men. 

At first, it was subtle—escort this chairman, accompany that investor. Eventually, she began sleeping with them. She could see it clearly: her status was slipping. The resources once lavished on her were now being funneled into newer, younger, shinier girls.

Then, she found out she was pregnant—five months along. She took a DNA test, and to her relief, the child was Ilhyun's.

She used it as leverage—as blackmail.

It wasn't love or maternal instinct that made her cling to the pregnancy—it was survival. The baby gave her leverage, a reason to demand Ilhyun's continued support: money, connections, whatever scraps of opportunity he still had to offer. She insisted on being compensated for the life growing inside her, certain he'd keep paying if he wanted to avoid a scandal.

But by then, Yerin was no longer the beautiful, sought-after woman she once was. Alcohol clung to her breath like a second skin. Her depression ran deep, and the countless nights spent in the beds of powerful, aging men had hollowed something inside her.

Even when she managed to land opportunities, the public no longer responded. It was like shouting into the void—she made no waves, left no impression.

Her late-stage pregnancy forced her to step away from work, pushing her even further out of the spotlight.

She withered quietly behind closed doors, forgotten.

Ilhyun sent child support, but it was just enough to survive—never enough to rise again.

Seo Yul learned early that no one was coming to save her. Her mother, Ha Yerin, spent most of the child support money on alcohol, drowning herself in bottles while blaming the world—and Yul—for everything she had lost. 

When the liquor wasn't enough to numb her misery, she lashed out, sometimes with words, other times with her hands. 

By the time Yul was ten, she had stopped asking for lunch money or help with homework. She started working odd jobs—passing out flyers, wiping down tables at cafés, cleaning acting studios in the evenings—anything that paid under the table. 

It was during those evenings, while rehearsals were still wrapping up, that she first fell in love with acting.

She'd linger near the back of the room, mop in hand, as actors ran their scenes. The way a voice could tremble, a body could break, a silence could say everything—it stirred something in her. A yearning she didn't yet know how to name.

She kept it tucked away, like a secret she wasn't sure she was allowed to have.

But it gave her something to hope for. 

Every odd job she took, every won she earned, felt like a small step toward that dream.

At an early age, she was able to afford her own meals, school supplies, and secondhand clothes. She memorized bus routes, packed her own lunches, and lied to teachers about the bruises. While other children clung to their mothers, Yul taught herself to walk ahead.

She swore she would never become her mother.

That vow became her armor—fueling her determination to grow strong, to prove to herself and the world that she wasn't the kind of woman who leaned on men to survive, who drowned her pain in alcohol, or depended on anyone or anything. Ever.

Until she met Baek Sijin.

He made her want to rely on him completely—and that was what made it so frightening. It triggered the fear she'd carried for years: the fear of becoming like her mother—dependent, vulnerable, broken.

Independence had been her shield. Being a lone wolf made her feel safe. It was exhausting, yes—but it was the only way she knew how to survive.

It was familiar, and familiar felt safe.

Leaning on him felt like stepping onto unsteady ground, like trusting a dream she feared would vanish the moment she opened her eyes.

When she flew to Country A, she thought those feelings were behind her.

But they came rushing back the moment he handed her that contract.

At the time, no one—not even Yul—knew he was the CEO of Sentricon and Kairox Security. To the public, he was known only as the powerful face behind one of the country's top three entertainment empires: Pulse Entertainment.

As one of the youngest CEOs in the entertainment industry—and with strikingly good looks to match—he was famous in his own right, with a devoted fandom that followed his every move. Rumors circulated about his affairs with various women, but they never sparked true scandal. To the public, it simply made sense—for a man of his status, indulgence was expected.

Yul watched him from a distance, denying her feelings and telling herself that five years was enough for him to forget her. Seeing him with other women helped her convince herself that leaving him had been the right choice. If she had stayed, she told herself, she would've ended up like her mother—used and thrown away.

But what shocked her the most was when, after her father ruined her reputation—spreading rumors that she had been sleeping with men for roles—Sijin approached her with an offer.

She could never forget that day.

The contract was clear: in exchange for sexual favors, he would give her everything she needed—top-tier resources, protection, and a shield from her father's influence.

She felt like she'd been slapped. Hard.

All the effort she had poured into not becoming her mother—toiling away since the age of ten, earning a hard-won scholarship abroad, surviving long nights to pay for tuition and living expenses—had it all amounted to this?

To end up living like her mother—something she had spent her whole life trying to run from?

What made it worse was that, despite everything, a part of her still wanted to cling to him.

All the anger, shame, and deep-rooted unworthiness she'd carried since childhood erupted in that instant, consuming her.

Before she even realized it, her hand flew up—and she slapped him across the face.

He took the slap without flinching, standing still. No anger, no pain.

She could never forget the way he looked at her then.

His eyes fixed on her, burning with unrestrained desire.

He looked like a man who had given up on restraint, completely surrendered to the darkness within him.