Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Sewon pushed his wet hair back. He tilted his head. He stared at the dim ceiling and bit down on the soggy cigarette filter. Bitter ash dripped onto his tongue.

“Ah… fuck.”

His dark brows furrowed. He pulled the cigarette from his teeth and dropped his gaze. Not to Heejae this time, but to Sangcheol.

“A fucking mutt gets a little horny and forgets his place. Is that how it is?”

“N-no, Director! I didn’t know it was you…!”

“You’re trying to ruin my fucking life. Who’s your Director, Sangcheol?”

Sewon rubbed his stiff jaw. He took a step forward.

The dark shadow crept over him. Terrified, Sangcheol dropped to his knees. He scrambled for the right title, bowed his head to the floor, and shouted.

“I’m sorry, Boss!”

Sewon stopped dead.

“Boss, huh…”

He let out a dry, disbelieving laugh. He looked down at the short cigarette butt pinched between his fingers.

“You must really fucking miss those days. Want me to play along?”

He flicked the butt. It landed right between Sangcheol’s kneeling legs.

A cigarette burn straight to the crotch. Sangcheol went pale. He stared down at the smoldering linoleum, his eyes shaking. A domineering voice from his past struck the back of his head.

“Position.”

It was a command he’d heard countless times back in the day, back when pride was everything. A dog really couldn’t change its habits. Sangcheol reflexively clasped his hands behind his back. He clenched his jaw.

“You remember the drill. Make a sound, and you’re dead.”

Sewon lifted his dripping dress shoe. Sangcheol thought he was going to stomp out the cigarette. He wasn’t. The heavy leather sole landed squarely on the bulge of Sangcheol’s crotch.

“If you want to fuck, go to a room salon. Or go play with your favorite teahouse whores.”

“Ugh…!”

“Why do you have to make a mess of things, you stupid fuck. Can’t even tell shit from piss.”

The shoe pressed down hard on his vitals. Sangcheol barely swallowed a groan. He wouldn’t last long.

Kim Sewon wouldn’t show mercy. The unhesitating pressure of that shoe made it perfectly clear.

His crushed testicles felt like they were going to burst. His thighs trembled. Spit dribbled from his mouth. Unable to take it anymore, Sangcheol broke position and unclasped his hands.

“B-Boss… I fucked up…!”

He grabbed Sewon’s shoe with both hands. He had to do something, anything, to appease him. He shot a desperate look at Heejae.

“You too, urgh- I’m sorry. I just lost my mind for a second—”

Smack. Before he could finish, Sewon ripped his foot free and kicked him square in the face.

Sangcheol’s massive body flopped backward. Fresh blood gushed down his already ruined jaw.

His head rang. His vision swam. Still, Sangcheol wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and dragged himself back to his knees.

“I’m sorry…!”

Sewon’s expression didn’t change. He casually slipped both hands into his pockets. He pressed the sole of his shoe against the shoulder of the groveling man.

“Again.”

“…Huh?”

“Say it again.”

“I-I’m sorr—”

Smack. Sewon kicked him in the shoulder. Sangcheol crumpled to the floor. Like a fool, he dragged himself back up again.

“Again.”

“Sorr—”

Smack. Sangcheol knew the kick was coming, but he couldn’t disobey. It was a dog’s habit, ingrained deep in his bones. Pure survival instinct. He crawled back into a kneeling position. His split lips parted.

“I’m sorry, Boss…!”

Truthfully, Sewon wasn’t the one owed an apology. Strictly speaking, he had no reason to be dishing out this kind of violence.

He wasn’t doing this out of some righteous fury against injustice. He didn’t have that kind of moral compass. It wasn’t about disciplining a subordinate, either. Yeom Sangcheol didn’t even work for Geumseong D&C anymore. Whatever bullshit Sangcheol pulled wouldn’t leave a single scratch on the company’s reputation. If anything, Sewon beating him half to death was exactly the kind of scandal their enemies were looking for.

He knew that. But something unbearable was boiling up from the pit of his stomach. A few kicks weren’t going to cut it.

Sewon pulled his hands from his pockets. He unclasped his wristwatch.

“So.”

Sangcheol was too paralyzed by fear to answer. Sewon pressed him.

“You’re sorry. So what are you going to do about it?”

Sangcheol’s lips trembled. No sound came out.

“This is why I hate that word.”

He wrapped the loose watch strap around his knuckles. He clenched his fist.

“Because it doesn’t solve a fucking thing.”

He grabbed Sangcheol by the collar, hauled him up, and rained down a merciless barrage of punches. With every sickening thud, the glass of the watch face cracked. Blood seeped into the fractures, spreading like red spiderwebs. Sangcheol’s eyes rolled back. He went completely limp.

Sewon wasn’t done. He dropped to one knee and pulled his arm back for another strike. A fragile, trembling voice cut through the air.

“Kim Sewon…”

Heejae was slumped against the side door, clutching her torn shirt together. She stared at his silent back.

The brutal beating stopped. He didn’t turn around.

His broad back, the fabric of his shirt pulled taut across his shoulders, blurred into double vision.

It wasn’t just her sight. Her limbs felt like lead. She couldn’t move. At first, she thought it was the shock. Then she thought it was the relief.

But she still couldn’t twitch a muscle. Was she terrified? She squeezed her unfocused eyes shut, then forced them open.

“Stop. You’re going to kill him.”

Not that the bastard doesn’t deserve it… She hadn’t even spoken the thought aloud, but Sewon let out a short, dry laugh.

He finally turned his lazy gaze toward her.

“Whose side are you on? Did you hit your head?”

“I’m not taking his side…”

Thud. Sewon let go. Sangcheol’s massive body slumped lifelessly to the floor.

Heejae couldn’t stomach the sight of the blood. She looked away. A beat later, she finished her sentence.

“If anyone’s going to kill him, it should be me… Why are you stepping in? Just call the police.”

Sewon slowly stood up. He pulled his phone from his pocket and brought it to his ear. Thank God. He was actually going to call it in.

“Get in here and clean this up.”

Heejae’s eyes flew wide open.

The casual tone was one thing, but clean this up? He didn’t say it to the cops… It didn’t take long to figure out who was on the other end of the line.

Hakju stepped into the room like he’d been waiting right outside. His expression didn’t change as he hauled Sangcheol’s limp body over his shoulder and carried him out.

They both looked entirely too used to this.

A stark reminder of exactly who she was dealing with. Heejae struggled, trying to force her heavy limbs to move.

The blood-spattered tips of his black dress shoes stopped right in front of her.

“As you know, the cops are a bit of a problem for me.”

He pulled his loosened tie completely off. His voice was rough, gravelly. He slowly crouched down in front of her.

He grabbed her left hand. The sudden contact brought back the phantom feeling of Sangcheol’s grip. She tried to yank her hand away, but her body refused to obey.

She bit down hard on her lip. Sewon let out a soft chuckle. He was staring down at her bloody hand, amused by the heavy rock she was still gripping like a lifeline.

“I guess a high-class lawyer like you wouldn’t know…”

He used his tie-wrapped hand to pry her pale, bloodless fingers open, one by one.

“You smash someone in the head with this, they just die.”

Like I had the luxury of worrying about that? She wanted to snap at him, but a wave of dizziness hit her first.

Her vision swam. An old, familiar school uniform superimposed itself over Sewon’s black shirt. A hallucination. She gave her head a sharp shake.

Sewon kept talking.

“You have to aim for the nose or the jaw.”

“…”

“That usually doesn’t kill them. Might cripple them, if they’re unlucky.”

He finally coaxed the rock from her stubborn grip. It hit the floor. He began wrapping his tie around her torn palm.

His lips were pressed in a tight line. But Heejae could almost hear the rest of the sentence.

“Actually, making him a half-cripple wouldn’t be so bad. Look at the state of you.”

…

It was a memory. Her father had come home drunk again that night. He’d dragged her out of bed, just like always.

“Studying is useless bullshit. Just be polite and treat your parents right. That’s all that matters. You hear me?”

He was barely a parent, but he still wanted to play the patriarch. He’d made her kneel on the floor for two solid hours, repeating the same tired lecture over and over.

When she finally started to nod off, he slapped her hard across the face.

“You crazy bitch. Your father is talking and you’re falling asleep?”

He beat her for a long time after that. She finally managed to run out of the house. The night was dark and terrifying. She had nowhere to go. She was huddled in front of Dong-a Supermarket when she heard footsteps.

A boy in the same school uniform. He strode over and slid open the window just above her head. He moved like he’d done it a hundred times before.

The broken window only opened wide enough to squeeze an arm through. That was all he needed.

He shoved his arm inside and grabbed two pastries off the display rack. He dropped one right on top of Heejae’s huddled head.

“Eat this and keep your mouth shut about what you saw.”

She had been there first. He’s the one who decided to steal in front of her…

She didn’t say anything. She just rustled the wrapper of the sweet pea pastry. He plopped down right next to her.

“You get beat up again?”