Chapter 62

Chapter 62

“You two don’t need to fight.”

Heeju’s voice was beyond calm; it was utterly devoid of emotion. Kang Sungang glanced back at her, then slowly released Lee Chulhyun’s collar.

Lee Chulhyun brushed at his shirtfront, where Sungang’s handprints remained, and turned to Heeju. Sungang furrowed his brow and asked Heeju, “Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

Heeju took a sip of her lukewarm beer, then picked up her chopsticks.

“…”

Tteokbokki, sundae, and various fried foods were spread out, the delicious spread growing cold on the table, mockingly untouched. Sungang had assumed their dinner was ruined by the unwelcome visitor, but when Heeju casually prepared to eat, he ambled back to his seat across from her.

Sungang pulled a fresh, cold can of beer from the ice bucket and hissed open the tab. He placed the new can in front of Heeju, replacing her lukewarm one, and spoke in a low voice.

“Hyung-nim must have his reasons. He wouldn’t treat you like a fool.”

He’s totally treating me like a fool.

Heeju thought this to herself as she picked up the cold can. Sungang lightly clinked his can against hers before chugging his beer.

His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and the loud gulping sound echoed. Lee Chulhyun, who had been standing awkwardly, took off his mustang jacket, tossed it onto the sofa, and plopped down next to Sungang.

“Give me one too.”

“Aren’t you just going to flutter off, you bat?”

“The person involved says she’s fine, so why are you making such a fuss? You’re so damn sensitive.”

“Yeah, I’m not fine. You should get a bat tattooed on your back, you know, while you’re at it.”

Despite their noisy bickering, Sungang pulled out a beer can and tossed it to Lee Chulhyun. While Lee Chulhyun chugged his beer, Heeju silently ate her tteokbokki.

The rice cakes, having swelled, were mushy and lingered in her mouth for a long time. Perhaps because of that, she felt a lump in her throat.

Click.

The bedroom door opened. The light from the hallway streamed through the gap, stretching a long shadow into the bedroom.

At the far end of where the light reached, there was a bed. Gukhyun stood at the doorway for a moment, looking at the person lying in the bed. So small and flat, buried under the covers, they were utterly still, almost making the bed appear empty at first glance.

Gukhyun stepped inside, leaving the door ajar. It was past midnight. Thick clouds obscured the waning moon hanging over the wall, making the outside unusually dark. Only the light spilling in from the hallway dimly illuminated the room.

The air in the bedroom was not just cool, but chilly. This was because the balcony door was open by about a hand’s breadth. Gukhyun recalled Heeju once standing precariously on the balcony, looking like a vengeful ghost, and he frowned slightly, closing the window.

The bedroom was silent, not even a soft breath audible, until he approached the bed and sat on the edge.

Inside the wastebasket next to the bed was a familiar item stuffed away. It was the muffler Gukhyun had wrapped around Heeju’s neck.

Had he ever personally chosen a gift for someone with his own hands? Yes. That was the first time.

Gukhyun stared silently at the muffler, crumpled and jammed into the wastebasket, then turned his head to look at Heeju. She was lying facing the wall, the duvet pulled up to her chin.

“You threw away what I gave you?”

“…”

“Didn’t you like it?”

“…”

“Are you going to keep pretending to sleep?”

Gukhyun reached out a hand toward the stubbornly turned-away back of her head. His hand, extended to caress the abundant, soft hair that would surely make his spine tingle if he touched it, stopped in mid-air before reaching Heeju.

“Alright, then.”

Gukhyun withdrew his hand and stood up.

“Good night.”

He left with a brief farewell. As the door closed, the light illuminating the bedroom vanished, and the room was plunged into complete darkness. Only after his presence receded did Heeju slowly open her eyes.

“I’ve contacted Prosecutor Kim’s side.”

Yunam was waiting for Gukhyun at the bottom of the stairs. He pocketed the phone he’d just been using and spoke to Gukhyun.

“They changed the meeting place. The previous location was too risky for exposure, so we decided on a spot we arranged.”

Prosecutor Kim Munkyung of the Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office was known as a chaebol hunter. From the top one to thirty biggest conglomerates in Korea, their chairmen were either already arrested by Kim Munkyung or were slated to be, a testament to his expertise in corporate corruption.

The meaning of Gukhyun meeting such a figure was singular: he was planning a clean-up.

To call it a hunt would be an overstatement; Chairman Kwon Jungman was too old and frail. He was a man who left messy trails everywhere and reeked of a foul stench. Yes, calling this a clean-up was more appropriate.

However, the crucial aspect of a clean-up was the timing and how meticulously it was executed. For all his age, Kwon Jungman was quick-witted, and his influence spread like a dense spiderweb, so touching one thread would inevitably pull out many others.

That meant many people were entangled, and there were escape routes and lifelines scattered everywhere to pull him out.

If not handled decisively, the entire scheme would fall apart. To avoid merely stirring up a hornet’s nest, they had to strike at the most crucial moment. For a perfect operation, the first step was to carefully gather their cards, and the second was to divert Chairman Kwon’s attention to another side.

In the midst of this, Kwon Suah had returned from her studies abroad at a timely moment, and she had always desired Gukhyun. There was no reason not to use her as bait to put Kwon Jungman at ease. However…

“Doesn’t she feel like the only obstacle in your choice right now?”

“You’re worried she’ll leave you.”

Gukhyun recalled Seokchan’s words and let out a scoffing laugh. He had always been unlucky. If only he had brought Ko Heeju a little earlier, or much later, after all this was over, Yoon Seokchan wouldn’t have blabbered on as if he saw right through him.

Yet, there was only one answer he could grasp.

He couldn’t let Ko Heeju die after she’d thrown herself into the sea, and from that moment, it was already foreseen that her existence would become a troublesome variable in his plans. Even though he clearly knew that using the engagement card with Kwon Suah at this point, with Heeju by his side, would hurt Ko Heeju, he couldn’t hesitate or compromise when faced with what he had to do now.

“Shall we head out immediately, Hyung-nim?”

“Yes. Let’s do that.”

Gukhyun replied casually. Normally, it would be more convenient and efficient to leave directly from the office, but he had purposely bothered to stop by the house, only to stare at Ko Heeju’s stubbornly turned-away head, pretending to sleep, before leaving again.

Though he swallowed a bitter smile, Gukhyun walked on without hesitation. Instead, Yunam, with a strained expression like an animal with a thorn in its throat, uncharacteristically faltered.

“But… will you be alright?”

“What?”

“I mean Ko Heeju.”

“What about Ko Heeju?”

“…”

“What do you want to say?”

Gukhyun stopped and turned to Yunam. His eyes, staring intently at Yunam, were not just emotionless but chillingly cold.

Can I even say this? Yunam’s lips parted, and he cautiously spoke.

“Even if not everything, wouldn’t it be better to explain at least about the engagement?”

“…”

“And the matter with Ko Heejin… she’ll be hurt if she finds out later.”

Gukhyun mulled over Yunam’s words for a moment. Then he spoke in a dry tone, utterly devoid of hesitation.

“She won’t find out. It’ll only make things harder for her if she knows.”

Yunam, who was usually absolutely obedient to Gukhyun, showed clear hesitation on his face today, for some reason.

“Of course, she might struggle a bit if she knew, but if you console her well enough…”

“Why create problems that will make things difficult? I just barely managed to get her mind off trying to follow her sister, so who knows what she’ll do again.”

“…But, Hyung-nim.”

“It’s better she doesn’t know.”

Gukhyun ended the conversation with a firm attitude. It meant he had no intention of changing his mind. With Gukhyun’s decision made, it was difficult for Yunam to say anything more. In fact, merely offering an opinion had been presumptuous enough.

Yunam glumly shut his mouth. Gukhyun glanced at the dejected Yunam, then gave a short laugh and put an arm around his shoulder.

“Yunam worrying about a woman? You must have too much time on your hands. Are you bored?”