CHAPTER 72

An inexplicable nausea overwhelmed her, making her stomach churn. The emotions she’d been suppressing, the ones she didn’t want to talk about, had grown too big to handle. Something that had been swirling inside her stomach finally erupted like a prayer gone awry, surging upward.

“You like me? Do you even have the right to say that? Why did you deceive me!”

Leeseo slapped Taegyeom’s broad shoulders as hard as she could from where he sat on the bed. Thud, thud. Despite the random blows, he seemed to welcome her touch as if it pleased him.

“You knew all along what my father was involved in, and you didn’t care, and you let me lie awake at night in your arms, do you know how it feels to hear it from someone else’s mouth? Do you know how miserable I was? Do you have any interest in how dire my situation is?”

The tears that she had been holding back forcibly broke free.

“If you really cared about me, you would’ve told me the truth during those nights instead of whispering sweet nothings! Whether your father is involved in some insane antics right now or not! You’ve deceived me while holding me, turning me into an ignorant fool!”

Leeseo wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks with the back of her hand, glaring sharply at Taegyeom.

“If you knew all of that, why didn’t you use me? Was your grandiose pride too precious to allow it?”

Her hand that was haphazardly wiping her eyes was suddenly grabbed. Taegyeom’s eyebrows, looking at her swollen and reddened eyes, twisted in a pained expression. He tightened his grip on her wrist, looking into her eyes, and spoke.

“You may not know, but I’m a guy who doesn’t know things like pride or shame. Not telling you, knowing that it would hurt you with betrayal, is because it’s a problem that you don’t need to know or interfere with, given your stubborn personality.”

With eyes filled with unwavering certainty, he looked directly at her. Even if time were turned back, she was sure that this man would completely exclude her from the issues involving Gyucheol. Whether it was considered his consideration or deception, she was sure of it.

“That’s our downfall. Not being honest with each other till the end.”

“….”

“I had a vague suspicion, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I was scared that you might be involved in that incident.”

When she unexpectedly saw Yoo Jinwoo at the prison she had visited to meet Gyucheol, she couldn’t shake off the deep discomfort. The connection between the two was undoubtedly pointing to Taegyeom.

However, she also never brought herself to ask. Perhaps, back then, she already knew that it would bring unhappiness to her narrow little world, much like opening Pandora’s box

“All of this situation is just… disillusioning.”

Leeseo spoke with a weary voice.

“To get involved with a complicated and tangled man like you, I don’t have the energy for it.”

She exerted all her strength to pull her wrist away from Taegyeom’s grasp, but like a tenacious vine, he didn’t budge an inch. There was no way she could break free with sheer force.

“I used to think the background surrounding you was glamorous and luxurious. But now, it’s scary and overwhelming. You’re Chairman Kwon Kyungrok’s son, and as long as that undeniable fact remains, I can’t handle you.”

The mention of ‘Kwon Kyungrok’ hung heavily in the cold air, the strength in the hand gripping her wrist inexplicably loosened. In that unexpected moment, her heart sank with an unexpected sense of loss.

The topic, which shamelessly exposed the deeply ingrained painful wounds on her chest for so long and even cruelly sprinkled salt on them, made her feel like she was losing him. She wanted to pull back the hand that had slipped away, selfishly cling to it.

In truth, she wanted to be with him. No matter how miserable she became, she wanted him. Leeseo found such self-desires horrifying.

“I don’t want to be involved in your family conflicts anymore. Please, just leave me alone.”

She strengthened her stance, turned her head away from Taegyeom’s gaze fixed on her, and awkwardly averted her face. Then, she turned her body.

“Don’t go.”

She shuddered. His anguished voice wrapped around her ankles like a trap.

Don’t look back. Don’t mess it up now. 

Leeseo repeated this to herself countless times.

If she looked back now, it was clear that it would be irreversible. With a struggle, she managed to lift her foot from the clinging grip on the ground and took a step forward.

“Don’t leave me.”

She closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip. She could taste the metallic tang of blood as she bit down forcefully. But the pain from biting her lips was nothing compared to what she felt. Leeseo continued to walk, not stopping for a moment.

As she walked along the long corridor, the automatically lit orange lights above her head created dim shadows trailing behind her. The sharp gaze, like a noose, seemed to follow her from the back of her head to her toes, making her knees weak.

It wasn’t until she finally pushed open the door and took a deep breath of fresh air that she realized she was sobbing uncontrollably. Tears streamed down silently as she swallowed the sobs. The door slowly closed behind her.

She stood there for a while, hand on the closed door. The lights that had automatically turned on had faded, and by now, the room was likely completely immersed in darkness. The image of a man standing alone in a room that was entirely dark became vivid in her mind.

‘When he’s trapped in the dark, he cowers and shivers and sweats like a beast that’s lost its mother.’

Leeseo immediately wanted to open the door, rush back in, throw her arms around his shoulders and slip her hands through his soft hair, and comfort him. But she shook her head to dispel the welcoming thoughts.

Tears fell onto the carpeted floor. She slowly removed her palm, which had been pressed against the cold door.

She felt as if her shattered heart would never regain its original form again

* * *

Inside the dark hotel room, Taegyeom stood by the window where the faint light of dawn seeped through. He buttoned his shirt after putting on his wristwatch and picked up his cell phone. Although it was a time when normal people would be deep in sleep by now, there was no hesitation in Taegyeom’s fingertips as he found the call list and pressed.

Ring, ring, ring.

The prolonged ringing of the phone suddenly stopped. As if just waking up from sleep, Taegyeom waited for the silent voice on the other end, looking down at the Han River beyond the window. The reflection of the bridge’s streetlights flickered colorfully on the still surface of the river as if the flow had stopped.

– Oh, f*ck. What time is it…… it’s five o’clock, crazy. Hey, are you not sleeping again?”

Jinwoo’s voice, barely out of sleep, rumbled.

“Jinwoo.”

At Taegyeom’s soft call, the murmuring on the other side of the phone ceased. Jinwoo, sensing an unusual atmosphere, cleared his throat and responded with a husky voice.

– Uh, talk. I’m listening.

“Finish processing the data that was set to be completed by 6 PM. We have a meeting scheduled with Hyun Gyucheol at 3 PM, so be prepared. If the negotiation succeeds, update the data with the new DUI case as well. If it fails…”

The sound of Jinwoo swallowing dryly echoed loudly, filled with tension.

“If it fails, we’ll handle it with the information we’ve gathered so far. How many friendly media outlets did you say we have?”

– Four in total, including one on public television. I’ve also been in touch with another public broadcaster, and we have a meeting scheduled for lunch today. Since it’s a sensitive matter, if we provide them with a bit of information, they won’t miss it.

As Taegyeom’s face was like a business card, dealing with Korean media outlets was Jinwoo’s responsibility. Scratching his scraggly head, Jinwoo pushed himself up to sit on the head of the bed and picked up the tablet he’d left on the nightstand.

He turned on the scheduler, changed a few schedules that were marked for the afternoon to different dates, and added new events. Since it was a schedule synchronized in real-time with the secretary, adjustments would likely be made by the time he arrived at work.

– If we cause a stir on just two public networks, others will jump on it like wildfire. Whether it’s our friendly media or those siding with GK, they’ll report it in a chain reaction. From then on, we’ll need public opinion. I’ll take care of that, so don’t worry. As for Hyun Gyucheol… um, how should I put it, have you, by any chance…”

Jinwoo chose his words with an uncharacteristically cautious tone.

“Hyun Leeseo is irrelevant. Approach it legally, and if that doesn’t work, focus on the casino witness.”

– Ah, the casino. We’ve secured a statement from there, so we’ll have to see how much impact the testimony will have.

Jinwoo sighed as if expressing regret and took another bite. On the day of the accident, they had secured a statement from an employee at the Incheon casino, where the company vehicle supposedly driven by Hyun Gyucheol had stopped.

This employee was the only witness who had seen Jingyeom at the casino. However, with the solid testimony of a fake witness created by the GK side, the chances of a shaky fight were high.

“The evidence to be handed over to the prosecution is in the Yangpyeong safe. It might be better to hand it over before the media gets too noisy, so I’ll take care of it on the way to Seoul Detention Center.”

– Okay. Contact me if any issues arise.

Whether it was tension, anticipation, or both, an overwhelming emotion surged in, and Jinwoo pressed his palm against his chest as if trying to calm his pounding heart. The evidence prepared for submission to the prosecution was a sort of criminal chronology of Chairman Kwon Kyungrok’s embezzlement, neatly organized.

It was something Taegyeom had been working on for years, trying to complete a list of business embezzlement that exceeded the 5 billion won threshold under the Act on the Aggravated Punishment of Specific Economic Crimes. If direct investigations were to take place, they needed to collect as much evidence as possible, considering the possibility of not being recognized as a crime until the end of the process.