hi guys! i'm like 600 years late with 600 replies to do, and this is like the most i can wreck my brain for so sry its ugly and short and i will continue to add BUT YES took some time to put together some headcanons/ potential plots/ juyeong's alibi! let me know if there's anything that will fit into ur muse's alibi, or if you want juyeong to be involved with your muse, or if youjust wanna brainstorm!! mwah 💋
her alibi is that she was with aera all along! spontaneous girls' trip because school was stressful!
what really happened was that after seunghan and juyeong had a chat (and kissed), juyeong didn't want to deal with her feelings so promptly got herself very inebriated! (dr*gs & alcohol)
and because of that, she doesn't really remember much. she doesn't really know where she was, what she did, what really happened. all she remembers is waking up the next day, hyungseo isn't there and checking out of the resort.
however, hyungseo's body gets found and is broadcasted, juyeong immediately writes up some fictional story. she's good with details so she makes absolutely sure that everything adds up. will she pay people off to make sure her story makes sense? hell fucking ya that's what money is for right! (potential plot if anyone needs a detail-oriented queen to help get ur story straight)
but she doesn't really want to know what really happened, so open to plot if juyeong did something crazy - (a) ur muse is blackmailing juyeong and she has NO clue if it rly happened or not??, (b) ur muse is gaslighting her on what happened. she obviously has a story that she'll tell the cops and she won't budge, but ur muse needs an alibi and desperately wants juyeong to buy into it
her family also hosts a prayer for hyungseo's family at their megachurch. juyeong acts as if she knew hyungseo! will speak kindly about him and be all "it's so unfair... life is so fragile, praise jesus", generally just putting up an entire show & performance!
sowon.
"juyeongie," sowon says so sweetly she could make herself sick, "what did i ever do to earn the privilege of your esteemed company out here? isn't there a heathen you should be trying to convert somewhere? or a sinner you should be disparaging in the name of christ? or am i lucky enough to be today's conquest?"
juyeong is many things — judgemental, dramatic, kind of a cunt and above all, a devotee to tradition. which is why she believes that the sanctity of the king’s club was tarnished the day lee sowon was indoctrinated into the club. it’s bad enough that she was nominated four years ago; even then, juyeong had very loudly protested against her presence. what does she even have to offer? she’d ranted to one of the chessmasters who’d propped the door open for her and eased through the initiations, we’re all fucked if we let her in!
(the chessmaster had retorted that she already did fuck half of them there. not that it brought any comfort to juyeong — only made her seethe even more.)
it gets even worse when sowon actually makes becomes a chessmaster, by the grace of some god (or the dick of some guy). and so, juyeong is forced to tolerate sowon’s presence for three agonizing years since. okay, tolerate might be a little strong — juyeong’s grievances are hardly skeletons in the closet. in fact, they’re showcased for all to see and all to hear. she’s aired them to anyone who even dares to bring up sowon’s names, drunk or sober, justified or unwarranted, doesn't matter. (sowon herself is not spared.)
tonight is another blatant reminder of the importance of upholding century-old conventions. jesus christ, who the fuck is kim haein anyways? yeah, sure, maybe her father owned one or two lavish buildings, but that most definitely did not give her the prerogative to host one of the worst initiations juyeong has ever had to sit through. she would even go as far to say that this had been crafted meticulously by god to torment his gravest sinners. juyeong can only take so much more when she decides to leave, on the pretense of having an urgent phone call.
unfortunately, yet another form of karmic retribution for god’s finest. lee sowon, beer bottle in hand, tight smile in her direction. juyeong lets out an exaggerated sigh of displeasure, before mimicking sowon’s smile with a sardonic one of her own, walking towards the girl. “sowon,” she acknowledges, as frosty as the air that nips at her skin, lips now downturned into an antagonizing scowl.
“sorry to disappoint, but i think you’re a little past redemption, babe. but i am feeling generous tonight, so i’ll share one of my favourite verses. 1 corinthians 6:18-20,” juyeong replies, a flicker of pure scorn darkening her gaze, “flee from sexual immorality. all other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body. your body is a temple and what not.”
derisive eyes skim over sowon's body, a trail of icy judgement in their wake. “not that it matters to you at this point.”
𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 for @heirdrop
even before the king’s club, juyeong knows of kim yul. of course she does; the constellation of affluent children revolve around a handful of familiar stars. yet, she’d never really made an effort to hold a conversation with him, out of some misplaced loyalty to his half-brother, who inexplicably held her heart in the palm of his hand. even when they were both in the king’s club, they’d merely orbited around each other, interactions limited to polite smiles and curt nods. in fact, she doesn’t think that they’ve even exchanged more than five sentences with each other. well, kang juyeong may be a bitch, but she is a loyal one.
it changes when seunghan appears in 2016. juyeong knows that she made her bed when she pretended to not know him, as though their history had been nothing but a wistful, starry-eyed reverie they’d both dreamt up. juyeong also knows that only in another universe, one where she isn’t the exalted heiress of mbc and he isn’t the son of his mother, do they have even a silver of a chance. yet, despite the stark reality laid bare in front of her, there’s a searing jealousy that festers in the pit of her stomach, scorching through her veins like acid when seunghan gives that fucking smile to someone that isn’t her.
what sharper weapon than the treachery of blood & kin? no blade cuts deeper than the one wielded by the one closest to you, and juyeong intends to exploit this razor-sharp edge to maim him as much as he has to her. and so, she finds herself sauntering to the one and only kim yul, lashes fluttering heavily against her lids, smile syrupy and cloying. “hi, yul,” she greets, voice honeyed as she tilts her head slightly, letting her gaze linger a second too long to be platonic.
hand lightly brushing against his arm before she leans in just a touch, faintest trace of his cologne mingling with the air between them. she brings her lips close to his ear, a delicate and intimate motion all too disproportionate given their non-existent relationship. "you look good tonight," she murmurs, soft and inviting with a tinge of conspiratorial sweetness. her gaze, however, divulge her motive as they drifting pointedly towards a different direction, a silent signal of the charade she has choreographed.
seunghan (...) seunghan pulls her forcefully from the dining hall and into the privacy of the corridor. only here, does he finally turn to face her, irritation on his brow. “what?” he spits — though perhaps, there is something to be said about the scene, how despite her glare, it is him who had closed the space between them. suppose it is undeniable, how it is within the nature of man to sin. how they’re drawn to it. kim seunghan stands a hair breadth away from her, but he doesn’t step away. rather, he keeps his glare on her eyes and presses, “what do you want?”
it was never love, and it would never be. what juyeong understands of love is a sacred devotion, a pledge to an omnipotent deity, a fervor that allows no questions. love is the endless adoration her grandfather lavished upon her, with opulent bouquets and promises of the world if she adheres to his doctrines. love is not the boy who used to share stolen glances with her, laced with clandestine desire during solemn sermons. love is not the boy with whom she commits her first act of treason, a forbidden kiss behind the sanctuary's revered walls. love is most certainly not the sacrilege of worshipping false idols traced in his jawline and tasted on his lips. and perhaps that's why she allows herself to betray every tenet she held sacred when it comes to kim seunghan — because she tells herself that it’d had never been love that bound them. and if it was never love, then it was a sin without consequence, absolved by its very nature.
it was never love, yet their lives remain inexorably intertwined. a divine reckoning, an inescapable convergence of two souls bound by a higher, unyielding force. high school, university, their past is shrouded with the present and all the years between them blended and simultaneous. she’s twelve and feels the almost imperceivable brush of his fingers across hers in the altar. she’s fifteen and clings to him like a sacred prayer. she’s seventeen and sees him only in the back of his car, where the dark of the night shrouds the stern disapproval of their respective families. and now, she’s twenty-four and he’s casting his charms like a wide net, a pathetic attempt at ensnaring a potential catch in the sea of the king’s club.
she’s not jealous. no, not at all. after all, it was never love, so she has no right to harbor envious pangs for an affection that was never hers to claim. (and yet, she feels the bitter taste of envy twisting her lips into a sneer, eyes darkened with contempt. shut the fuck up, seunghan. she's not that funny.) she's engrossed in a valiant attempt to seem nonchalant, while shamelessly eavesdropping on his vapid sweet-talk when he rudely pulls her out of the room. “let me go, asshole.” funny how that’s the first thing she says to him in years.
she's never one to retreat from a confrontation, least of all with kim seunghan. and so, she squares her shoulders and locks her gaze on his, eyes blazing with defiance. “why do i need anything from you?” each word punctuated and dripping with disdain. lets out a snide scoff, with a roll of her eyes. “aren’t you busy? there’s still like seven other girls you haven’t hit up yet - wait, i know! they don’t live up to me, do they? that’s why you’re here, wasting my time yet again,” she snaps, cutting lilt in her voice, sharpened to maim his being. “fucking acting like i’m the one who pulled you out of the room.”