Side Story 1.9

Jinyoung signaled with her eyes that she would handle the customers and told Junhee to take a break. Junhee mouthed a small “Thank you” and continued to leisurely watch the rain. The increasingly heavy rain didn’t seem like it would stop anytime soon. She snapped a photo of the rainy scene with her phone and sent it to Dowook along with a message:  

[It’s raining. Don’t forget to bring an umbrella when you come out.]  

The world had become so convenient. Just a year or two ago, sending a photo via text would have incurred extra charges.  

But now, with the advent of smartphones, she could send photos and videos through a messaging app without any additional cost. There were no extra fees for long messages, and she could even see if the recipient had read her message.  

Feeling a renewed appreciation for technological advancements, Junhee scrolled through her chat history with Dowook. The messages he had sent her were full of trivial and affectionate notes:  

[What are you eating?]  

[You broke your finger again, didn’t you?]  

[Don’t eat instant noodles.]  

[I’ll send you your favorite soft tofu stew. Eat that.]  

[Should we go here next week?]  

[You said you wanted to visit this place.]  

[Pl]  

[ea]  

[se]  

[re]  

[ply]  

Sometimes, he would send random consonants without any meaning, and as soon as he saw that she had read the message, he would reply:  

[You’re alive.]  

He would send a photo of a chubby, grumpy-looking cream-colored cat sitting on a sidewalk, captioned: 

[Is this you?]  

Or he would take a picture of a flamboyant, cartoon-character-designed T-shirt hanging in a street shop—something he knew she would hate—and tease her:  

[This is totally your style. Should I buy it for you?]  

Scrolling through their chat history, Junhee chuckled when she came across one of his nonsensical messages:  

[Woo Junheeㅂㄱㅅㅇㄷㅇㅁㅈㄹㅇㅂ]  

Even an elementary school student wouldn’t send something like that. If this weren’t the smartphone era, the cost of all these texts would have been astronomical. Then again, Dowook probably wouldn’t care about text message fees.  

Though the specifics of Dowook’s messages varied, their essence was always the same: he craved Junhee’s attention and affection, constantly asking her to spend more time with him. Perhaps because he was the youngest in his family, he was unabashed in expressing and demanding affection.  

But today, the “1” next to her message to him didn’t disappear. Normally, he would reply within five minutes. After some hesitation, Junhee tapped on her keypad and sent another message:  

[ㅋㅋ]  

It was just two meaningless consonants, the kind of thing Dowook often sent her. For someone like Junhee, who wasn’t yet fully accustomed to messaging apps, sending such a trivial message was a first. She found herself looking forward to Dowook’s reaction when he saw it—he would probably be surprised and ask if this was really Woo Junhee.  

***  

Between two dark, narrow walls lay an old, shabby alley.  

Thud, thud. The dull sounds of impact echoed alongside groaning cries of pain. The man screamed as loudly as he could, hoping someone outside would hear him, but the heavy rain drowned out his voice.  

A man of considerable size was unable to stand properly, taking blow after blow from Dowook. At first, he had resisted, swinging his arms a few times, but now he seemed to have lost even the strength to flail, collapsing repeatedly. Yet, with a brazen spirit, he would occasionally try to crawl toward the alley’s exit whenever he saw an opening.  

Pausing to catch his breath, Dowook looked down at the man writhing on the ground like an insect and exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke. The rain threatened to extinguish the cigarette between his fingers. Taking a deep drag, Dowook flicked the cigarette onto the ground.  

When the crawling man finally reached the alley’s entrance, Dowook grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him back inside. The man, now sobbing, begged for mercy, muttering, 

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I won’t go to that convenience store again. Never again….”  

He clasped his hands together in a desperate plea. Dowook, who had raised his fist as if to strike again, suddenly changed his mind and crouched down. He brought himself to eye level with the man, who was groveling on the ground.  

The man looked at Dowook’s piercing gaze with unease, unsure when another kick or punch might come. He flinched, his shoulders trembling. Dowook, staring at him in silence, suddenly grabbed the man’s hand and placed it palm-side down on the ground.  

“Spit on it.”  

It was an abrupt command.  

“What?”  

“Spit on your hand.”  

“Here…?”  

“It’s yours. What’s there to be disgusted about?”  

The man, his face swollen, hesitated before cautiously spitting onto his palm. Dowook, unsatisfied, ordered him to spit more.  

Soon, the man’s palm was filled with frothy saliva, emitting a foul, fishy odor. Just as he grimaced at the thought of how disgusting it was, Dowook pressed the back of the man’s head down. The slimy spit smeared across his nose and mouth.  

The man screamed, his cries muffled as the spit was forced into his face. Dowook’s hand pressed firmly, grinding the man’s face into the mess. Only after the man’s face was thoroughly coated did Dowook release him.  

The man, his face covered in sticky saliva, couldn’t open his eyes properly. He gagged and retched, overwhelmed by the stench.  

Leaving the man behind, Dowook stood and walked out of the alley. He pulled out his phone and called his secretary, who was waiting nearby. The secretary quickly answered.  

“Book a hotel room nearby. It doesn’t have to be a large one; I just need a place to clean up.”  

He gave a few more instructions, to which the secretary responded smoothly.

The report to Song Yeong-joo was postponed for the moment. The secretary hesitated at the sudden request.  

It was foolish to think that Choi Dowook wouldn’t know about the daily surveillance of his every move, which was reported back to Song Yeong-joo. However, his mother wasn’t naive enough to hire someone incompetent. The secretary must have been feigning surprise to maintain some semblance of respect toward Dowook.  

After ending the call with the secretary, Dowook dialed Yeong-joo’s number. She didn’t answer. It was around the time she would have been at the foundation, so he briefly considered waiting before trying again. Eventually, after a long series of rings, Yeong-joo picked up.  

“I hit someone.”  

— …What?  

“I got hit a few times too, so technically it was self-defense. Still, if Grandfather hears about it, I think he’ll be very disappointed.”  

— You don’t care if I’m disappointed?  

“What can I do? When I’m in trouble, the only person I can think of is you, Mother. At Heejeongwon, you’re the only one I have, Madam Song.”  

The sound of high heels clicking against a marble floor could be heard, followed by the faint noise of a door opening. It seemed someone was nearby.  

Dowook could imagine Yeong-joo quietly clenching her jaw, swallowing a sigh. She was someone who hated showing even the slightest crack in her composure in front of others.  

“You don’t want to lose favor with Grandfather either, do you?”  

— So, you want me to clean up your mess?  

“Well, the other guy started it, so I feel a bit wronged.”  

— You said you hit someone. How badly?  

“It’s not serious. Honestly, I could handle this with Secretary Jo.”  

— Then why are you calling me?  

Her voice, laced with irritation, grated sharply in his ears. Dowook pulled the phone away from his face for a moment, frowning.  

“You know why I’m like this.”  

— ……  

“The more Woo Junhee struggles outside, the more I feel like this will keep happening. I don’t want to show you this side of me anymore either.”  

— And?  

“Please settle Junhee’s father’s debt.”  

Yeong-joo let out a short, exasperated breath.  

— What kind of hardship could she possibly be going through?  

“A lot. Enough to make your only son’s heart burn black with worry.”  

— …He’s struggling that much?  

“It’s hard for me to watch. You know Junhee isn’t the type to complain about these things.”  

— ……  

“If Junhee finds out we helped, her pride will be hurt. Please handle it discreetly. If you agree, I’ll consider what you mentioned last time.”  

— …You mean taking those management lessons from the Chairman?  

“I’ll visit Grandfather, listen to his stories, humor him, learn what I need to, and do what you want. So please help me.”  

After a brief silence, Yeong-joo agreed.  

— Don’t call me about things like this again.  

Though it sounded like a command, Dowook knew that if he got into trouble again, she’d be the first to panic and clean up after him. She hated the thought of her only son tarnishing her reputation. What she despised even more was the possibility of her father’s mistress’s children taking over the position of heir to Taesan Group.  

Knowing this, Dowook obediently replied, 

“Yes, I’ll listen to you.”  

Maintaining a good relationship with Yeong-joo was important because it would please Junhee. At the very least, he needed to act like an obedient son on the surface.  

As he turned a corner, his waiting secretary approached and opened a black umbrella with a soft pop. Taking the towel handed to him, Dowook dried his rain-soaked hair and got into the back seat. He grabbed a bottle of sparkling water from the car’s mini-fridge and drank it in one go.  

When he finally checked his phone messages, he saw:  

[ㅋㅋ]  

The sight of the message made him laugh unexpectedly. To send such a carefree text after turning his world upside down—how audacious.  

His bright laughter pierced through the sound of the rain. Thinking about how charming Junhee could be, Dowook wondered what he could do next to make Junhee quit her part-time jobs and spend more time with him. He wanted Junhee to quit all her jobs, move out of that tiny, cramped studio, and even replace all her belongings.  

More than that, he wanted Junhee to move in with him. But with her pride, stubbornness, and sharp mind, Junhee wasn’t someone who could be easily persuaded. The only way was to slowly and carefully make her accustomed to the comfort Dowook provided.  

Even if all the debts were paid off, Junhee might insist on keeping at least one part-time job for pocket money.  

“Seriously, Woo Junhee is so difficult.”  

Nothing ever came easy with him. Despite the thought, Dowook’s lips remained curved upward. Leaning back against the seat, he gazed out the window. The rain outside was still pouring heavily. It was the kind of spring rain Junhee loved.  

“Woo Junhee must be happy.”  

Murmuring to himself, he closed his eyes in contentment.  

***

One night. She got a call from her grandmother.

• Junhee, oh Junhee! The debt is all paid off!’  

Her voice was filled with emotion.  

It was during midterms, and Junhee had dozed off while studying. She answered the call in a daze.  

• I just came back from the real estate office after signing the contract. You know that old piece of land in Seobong-ri I’ve had forever? The one surrounded by nothing but rice fields, and no one wanted to buy it? Well, rumors spread about it being developed into a residential complex, and the price shot up. It’s finally sold! Our Junhee, you don’t have to suffer anymore. You’ve been through so much, haven’t you? Now you can quit your part-time jobs and focus on what you want to do in Seoul.”  

“That’s great…”  

As Junhee turned over in bed, her grandmother’s voice, filled with gratitude—“Oh, thank you, Lord. Thank you so much.”—echoed in her ears like a lullaby.