Chapter 47

“I don’t value your worth that highly,” Sunwoo replied without even the slightest hint of a smile upon hearing Woo-jin’s comment that his face wasn’t even worthy of comparison to the West Sea.

Sunwoo couldn’t find it in himself to ridicule the face that was right in front of him. He couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh at that contemptuous expression.

“Still, I must commend you for recommending the Maldives to Woo-jin.”

“What?”

For a moment, the atmosphere turned icy. No one knew about Sunwoo’s conversation with Min Woo-Jin. It was merely a spontaneous act to verify if the woman who had married Woo Jin could board the plane.

Suppressing the feeling of his hair standing on end, Sunwoo opened his mouth.

“How did you…?”

“Your phone. I played a little prank on it.”

My phone?

Sunwoo looked down at the phone inside his handbag. It was impossible for anyone, even the man who used to be his driver, to have access to his phone, which was a repository of his private life.

“When did you…?”

“When isn’t important. What matters is who I get to do it with.”

The smile that appeared on Geon-ho’s lips was unmistakably sardonic. Sunwoo thought there couldn’t be anything more surprising, but the chill running down his spine told him otherwise.

And from Geon-ho’s lips came words that were almost too unbelievable to accept.

“Your sister, Ji-Woo.”

“What, you mean…?”

“Blackmail isn’t something only you can do. She knew you killed that woman and pretended not to know. Thanks to that, things went smoothly.”

Sunwoo ground his teeth in frustration. His foolish sister had been the problem all along, despite being family. Anger surged through him, causing his entire body to tremble.

After glancing at his watch once, Geon-ho turned away.

“Handle it neatly.”

Perhaps it was because the fact that his own death was imminent hadn’t quite sunk in yet, or maybe it had sunk in too deeply. Sunwoo burst into insane laughter.

The chilling sound of laughter made Geon-ho, who was about to step into the car, freeze in his tracks. Sunwoo, who had abruptly stopped laughing, cleared his throat lightly behind him.

“Shall I give you a piece of advice?”

It was ironic. Sunwoo had always followed in his shadow, but now, in a life-or-death situation, something seemed to have shifted in his favor.

However, the subway track that Geon-ho was currently treading on had undoubtedly been laid by Sunwoo in advance.

Staring directly into Geon-ho’s eyes, Sunwoo, as if mocking him to his heart’s content in the darkness, spoke, “I told you that irrational actions would eventually bring trouble. Take the advice of someone with experience, you little bastard.”

And gradually, his field of vision blurred due to something blocking his view. The last sight reflected in Sunwoo’s eyes was Geon-ho’s back, leaving without a hint of regret, as if he had wasted his time.

****

Sunwoo Yoon, of Moon-Ik Construction, Dies in a Car Explosion – How Far Will the ‘Moon-Ik Tragedy Go? ]

Hae-gang stared blankly at her phone screen. The headline that appeared along with a photo of a completely burned car, barely recognizable, was enough to drain the life from her soul.

And below that, in an article related to Sunwoo Yoon’s funeral, was a photo of Geon-ho wearing a black suit.

She couldn’t bring herself to touch anything, and after a long time of just staring at the screen, she finally turned off the phone.

“Madam, have you finished your meal?”

The housekeeper approached her, her face filled with surprise.

“What’s going on? Why do you look so pale?”

Startled by the loud voice right beside her, Hae-gang finally snapped back to reality. She stood up from the dining table, momentarily feeling weak in the legs. She almost collapsed back into her chair, but she grabbed onto the backrest to steady herself.

“I’m feeling a bit dizzy. I’ll go upstairs to rest.”

“Are you sure? It’s not like you to have such a pale complexion. Shouldn’t you go to the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine once I get some rest and sleep.”

Hae-gang, gripping the railing, slowly made her way up to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, feeling as weak as a deflated doll. On the main screen, filled with articles about Moon Ik, the one that caught her attention the most was Geon-ho’s face, seemingly devoid of any sadness. Seeing his dry expression brought back the nightmarish moments, and Hae-gang tightly closed her eyes, burying her face into the pillow.

At the same time, Woo-jin was also reading a similar article. He had heard about it through a director before the article was published, so he wasn’t particularly surprised. He just had a skeptical look on his face.

“[CEO Yoon Sun-woo was found dead in the garage of his home in Yongsan-gu, Seoul, on April 23. His will left behind mentioned the late Ms. Lim Seyoung. The police are giving weight to the theory that the deceased, who couldn’t overcome the torment caused by recent controversies, chose to end his life. The residence where the deceased was found is the same place where Ms. Lim Seyoung passed away two years ago.]”

The content of the article was quite romantic in a way, enough to dispel recent suspicions about Yoon Sun-woo. Perhaps, if they hadn’t known the truth, they might have felt sorry for him. His tightly sealed lips slightly parted, and he let out a small sigh.

Woo-jin took out his phone, a little worried, and felt the urge to make a call.

“Hello?”

After a few signal beeps, Hae-gang’s voice came through, sounding low and despondent.

“I see you’ve read the article.”

There was no response from the other end. Woo-jin, too, couldn’t easily break the silence. He didn’t know what she was thinking, so he had to choose his words carefully.

“I decided to call because I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Min Woojin.”

“Yes, Dawn.”

“Why did you call then?”

“I was worried about you and wanted to know how you were feeling,” Woo-jin said.

At that moment, a small sound of laughter came from the other side of the phone. It was an awkward sound, more like a sigh than laughter.

Honesty had its merits, as it allowed them to figure out what to say.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not particularly bad, but I feel confused. Right now, I…”

Hae-gang’s voice trailed off briefly, and Woo-jin didn’t press or rush her to continue.

“On one hand, it feels like that crazy guy deserved to die. But at the same time, his death seems unfair. I don’t know.”

Woo-jin repeated the word “unfair” from her statement as it resonated with him.

“Unfair.”

“It’s unfair. There’s no way he committed suicide.”

Woo-jin almost sighed upon hearing Hae-gang’s words. She seemed to understand situations too well. Perhaps if she had lived a more innocent life without thinking or judging, she might have lived a less exhausting life.

He couldn’t deny the possibility in her words, as he had thought the same.

In silence, they both listened to the endless abyss of sound on the line.

“Do you think he killed himself?”

Woo-jin recognized the hint of sobbing that followed Hae-gang’s question. He immediately stood up from his chair and left his office without hesitation.

“Dawn, this isn’t something you should be concerned about. Don’t think about how he died, who might have killed him, or why. Overthinking won’t provide any answers.”

“I want to do that too, but I can’t just sleep without thinking. What should I do?”

In response to his secretary’s question about where she should go, he simply said, “Home,” and quickened his pace.

Thinking back to the precarious Hae-gang he met before, it was no less unsettling to leave her alone. Nevertheless, she was in a somewhat more stable condition back then, not as disoriented as she seems now.

As Woo-jin got into the car, he called out her name, “Seo Hae-gang.”

It was the first time he had addressed her by this name. There was a moment of silence, perhaps because Hae-gang felt awkward hearing her name come from his lips.

“Why are you calling me that way?” she finally asked.

“Because I’m talking to Seo Hae-gang right now,” Woo-jin replied.

His frustration eventually found its way out through his words: “Changing your name and identity doesn’t change who you are. I can change the first two, but the rest is up to you.”

“Don’t worry about Moon Ikga. Han Saebyeok has nothing to do with Moon Ikga.”

The person who had walked with thin hotel slippers, who had lived isolated from the world for two years, the daughter-in-law of the Moon Ik family, Geon-ho’s former wife—they were all the deceased Seo Hae-gang, not Dawn.

Woo-jin hoped she would gradually differentiate between the two roles. However, reality was far from that, and her indecisiveness frustrated him.

Woo-in was strict with himself and others, but he couldn’t handle the role of being both the judge and the pacifier.

“Let’s get the facts straight. If you’re Dawn, then don’t concern yourself with their affairs. But if you’re Seo Hae-gang…”

Frustrated by the constantly interrupted signal, Woo-jin impatiently tapped the steering wheel. He decided not to transmit his anxiety to her any further and continued speaking in his usual manner.

“Whether the country’s economy falters or not, we should hope that Moon Ik goes down. If I were Seo Hae-gang, I would have stepped up without hesitation, even to make up for those two years.”

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