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    ‘Today’s ally becomes tomorrow’s enemy, and vice versa—it happens all the time in politics. Isn’t that the charm of this unpredictable beast called politics?’

    It was a phrase his father, who had always dreamed of entering politics, would often say. If the day ever came when Park Shinhyeon needed to be regarded as an adversary, all of his daughter’s past deeds—school violence and her involvement in an incident of implied intent to kill—would inevitably resurface.

    What could he do? This is how the game is played.

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    He wasn’t an outright villain, but he wasn’t a saint either. Even as he began his career as a prosecutor, he had no lofty sense of justice or calling. He had attended law school and became a prosecutor because his father, who had walked the elite path of the legal world, wanted his youngest son to follow in the footsteps of his older brothers.

    In his busy first year, he was given an opportunity to join an international training program. He knew it was a privilege, but he accepted it without hesitation. After all, he had grown up in such an environment and was used to these circumstances, surrounded by families he had always known. He didn’t feel particularly guilty about it.

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    That’s how he had lived so far, and that’s how he would continue to live. His future children would likely follow the same path.

    When he thought of a family that didn’t yet exist, his chest grew heavy. If nothing else, he wanted to marry a woman of his choosing.

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    When Hyoshin Construction was still thriving, he had believed that an arranged meeting with Yoo Yisoo might come to fruition. When the late Chairman Yoo Namcheol had fallen out with Kwak Bugyeong, his father, Do Ilyeong, had started a friendship with Yoo based on the principle that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

    During family events, he often met Yisoo and her sibling, Yihyun, and gradually developed romantic feelings for Yisoo. So when he found out that Chairman Yoo was sending Yisoo to numerous matchmaking meetings, he had earnestly asked his father to arrange one for him as well.

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    Had Hyoshin not collapsed so catastrophically, scattering the family, he might already have had the opportunity to meet Yisoo formally through the Jungshik family’s connections. But now, the situation had changed entirely.

    Still, he couldn’t give up. If he could somehow persuade his family, there might still be a chance with Yisoo.

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    His two older brothers had successfully married well, and his elder sister was expected to marry into an influential family after his maternal uncle’s presidential campaign. Surely, the youngest sibling could choose his own path.

    Even though Hyoshin Construction had crumbled, it was merely a corporate collapse; the family members hadn’t faced scandals so severe as to be completely ostracized by society.

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    “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

    As they exchanged pleasantries, Park Seohye stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and shifted the topic.

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    “How did you know? Women’s intuition, I guess.”

    “It’s obvious. You suddenly reached out after ages of silence. There had to be a reason.”

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    “The truth is, I’m looking for someone. They’ve completely disappeared.”

    “Who?”

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    Seohye widened her eyes in surprise, quickly catching on that he was searching for someone quietly, without involving his father.

    “Is it a woman?”

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    He nodded calmly. Seohye, though impulsive, wasn’t someone with a loose tongue.

    “Do you remember Hyoshin Construction? I’m looking for Yisoo. I can’t seem to find her or Yihyun. I’m sure they’re alive, but… have you heard anything?”

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    Seohye’s eyebrows twitched.

    “So you liked Yoo Yisoo. I had no idea.”

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    “I used to see her often when our families were close. If Hyoshin were still around and our parents were on the same terms, there might have been talk of marriage. Even at gatherings, they used to joke about distant family ties leading to matchmaking.”

    “Yeah, back then… it might’ve been possible.”

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    After a long pause, she spoke.

    “And what if you find Yoo Yisoo? There are rumors of embezzlement, but that money will be seized by the state anyway… she has nothing left now.”

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    “I’m going to try persuading my father. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I’ll give it a shot.”

    “And if it doesn’t? Have you thought about what you’ll do? Sorry to say, but realistically, it might be tough for you two…”

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    Seongjun’s expression changed subtly, understanding what she was implying. Although she avoided using blunt terms like “mistress” or “second wife,” her meaning was clear.

    “I wouldn’t do that. I need to think about the future.”

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    Given his family and his social standing, he had no intention of doing anything that could compromise his position later. From the start, the only woman he had wanted to marry was Yoo Yisoo.

    “I don’t want anyone else but Yisoo.”

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    “I didn’t know you were such a romantic. But what should we do? I haven’t heard anything about her.”

    Lies slipped from Seohye’s lips effortlessly. She planted baseless hope in Seongjun without hesitation.

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    “Should I ask my grandfather to put some people on it? It might take some time, though. Since it’s not an official investigation but a personal inquiry, even for you, it won’t be easy.”

    “Would you? That’d be a huge help!”

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    Seongjun’s face lit up with gratitude as he promised to repay her kindness someday. His expression was full of anticipation, like a young man longing for news of a lost first love.

    “Thanks. I’ll discreetly drop a word to someone higher up at the department store,” Seohye said with a sweet smile, her eyes curving into a playful expression.

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    She couldn’t help but wonder how Do Seongjun’s smile would vanish when he learned the truth: the Yoo Yisoo he was so desperately searching for was currently living off her fiancé, Kwon Siheon, as his sex partner.

    The cold, detached look on Kwon Siheon’s face when he had left her behind in a hotel elevator not long ago flashed through her mind. He had claimed that an urgent matter had come up, but she knew better—it was a lie.

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    It had been humiliating beyond words. That strange and bitter sense of defeat had kept her awake the entire night.

    Kwon Siheon was a man with a sharp mind but an empty heart. He never acted in ways that could compromise his image or result in a loss. He despised people who let emotions overrule logic and viewed them as utterly contemptible.

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    And yet, how could he? Losing himself over a woman he was just playing around with?

    “Oh, by the way, how are your family elders doing? I see your father on TV often these days; he must have some good things coming up,” Seohye said casually, steering the conversation elsewhere.

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    “They’re all well, thanks. I hear plenty about Assemblyman Park, too, given how actively he’s been working.”

    “Yes, my dad’s been quite busy lately, too,” Seohye said with a harmless smile.

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    It was clear to her that Seongjun was entirely in the dark. He had no idea that the late Chairman Yoo Namcheol had died leaving behind damning evidence against a political heavyweight, nor was he aware of the whispered rumors that the chairman’s children—Yoo Yongjin, Yoo Beomjin, and Yoo Yijin—had been systematically killed or forced to their deaths as part of a cover-up.

    Of course, it was unlikely for such rumors to reach the Prosecutors’ Office. After all, Do Ilyeong, the Chief Prosecutor, and his children, who had followed his path into the legal world, were all part of the organization at the pinnacle of public authority.

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    After sharing a few more drinks with Seongjun, Seohye slipped into a car driven by her chauffeur.

    Seongjun oppa, actually, Yoo Yisoo is living with a man right now. The man she opens her legs to every night is none other than my fiancé, Kwon Siheon.

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    It took all her effort not to let the words on the tip of her tongue spill out.

    I’ll break it off with her as soon as I set the wedding date, but she’s already tainted. You should give up. We’ll be seeing each other often, so let’s not make things awkward.

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    If the man involved weren’t Kwon Siheon, the one she was set to marry, she might have blurted it all out without hesitation. But she couldn’t—her pride wouldn’t allow it.

    She had no idea when things between them had begun. She knew of the past connection between the late Chairman Yoo Namcheol and Kwon Siheon, but to dismiss this as a simple act of loyalty would be laughable.

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    Kwon Siheon was a man who acted solely for his benefit. The only reason he would keep Yoo Yisoo by his side was crystal clear. And hadn’t Yoo Yisoo herself tacitly admitted at the department store lounge that she was Kwon Siheon’s mistress?

    Whether this was just a casual fling or somehow tied to the rumored vast slush funds of Hyoshin Construction and the powerful presidential candidate Kwak Bugyeong, she couldn’t say.

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    Through a private investigator she had used before, she had only uncovered two facts: that Yoo Yisoo and Lee Yihyun had returned from Hong Kong alive while the rest of their family was dead, and that Yoo Yisoo was now under Kwon Siheon’s protection.

    The latter was something she had stumbled upon while probing Kwon Siheon’s surroundings. The investigator had initially hesitated, saying it was difficult to confirm the woman’s identity, but after Seohye offered extra payment and pressed harder, they eventually revealed that the woman was Yoo Yisoo—and that she was living with Kwon Siheon.

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    In what might become their marital home, no less.

    Clenching her teeth in frustration, Seohye closed her eyes. She couldn’t claim to be spotless herself, so she couldn’t really object to Kwon Siheon’s pre-marriage indulgences.

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    But something about Yoo Yisoo deeply unsettled her. There was something ominous and repulsive about it all.

    Her desire was simple and clear: to get rid of the thorn in her side, Yoo Yisoo, and ensure she was permanently removed from Kwon Siheon’s life—and their world.

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    ***

    Although Kwon Siheon might currently be deeply infatuated with Yoo Yisoo, she was, to him, nothing more than a disposable plaything, a tool to extract every last drop of sweetness before being discarded. He was not a man to incur even the slightest loss for the sake of ambition.

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    Still, that night at the hotel… no matter how much she thought about it… No, she reminded herself, now wasn’t the time to dwell on such trivialities.

    Seohye bit her lip, struggling to shake off the creeping unease that threatened to consume her.

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    Her head throbbed painfully. She cared little about political battles or leverage. Whether it was Kwak Bugyeong or anyone else, she just wanted everything to explode and for Yoo Yisoo to disappear for good.

    She wished for Yoo Yisoo to be separated from Siheon, never to be seen again.

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    That was the crux of what Seohye desired. Up until now, she hadn’t cared whom Kwon Siheon associated with, primarily because he had never kept a woman around for long. Only now did she realize the reason for her indifference.

    He had never been like this before—never fixated on a single person, let alone shared a space with them. Unlike her, who, during her years studying abroad, couldn’t endure loneliness and always kept a man nearby, genuinely invested until the relationship cooled, Kwon Siheon had been fundamentally different.

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    To him, women held only two purposes: temporary tools to satisfy physiological needs or rational alliance partners. Beyond that, there had been no exceptions—until Yoo Yisoo entered his life.

    ***

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    On a rainy morning in mid-August, the day of Yoo Incheol’s special pardon, the summer drizzle soaked the air with heavy humidity.

    Under the gray sky, Yisoo stepped out of the car with an eager heart, taking the umbrella handed to her by Secretary Yang.

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    There was no need to wait directly in front of the heavily guarded prison gate, but despite Yihyun’s suggestion to stay in the car, her desire to greet Yoo Incheol personally outweighed her discomfort. Her chest swelled with anticipation at the thought that the three of them could finally live openly as a family.

    “Yisoo, you don’t need to stand out here. Just get back in,” said Yihyun, lowering the tinted car window to reveal her face. Without Sera accompanying them today, the twins had come with only Kwon Siheon’s driver and Secretary Yang for protection.

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    “It’s fine. It’s not even raining that much…”

    The plan was for Uncle Yoo Incheol to stay with Yihyun at Sera’s villa for a few days before moving into an officetel arranged by attorney Kang Manseop, once the security system installation was completed. It was a safe environment where they could quietly plan their next steps and begin the process of restoring their family registry.

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    “There he is! He’s coming out!”

    After a long wait, Yoo Incheol finally appeared in the distance, descending the wooded hill toward the gate. The older man waved vigorously upon spotting Yisoo.

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    “Uncle!”

    Yisoo waved back in delight, and Yihyun joined her under the umbrella, stepping out of the car. Even without an umbrella, Yoo Incheol’s steps toward freedom were light and swift despite the rain soaking him.

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    “Yisoo! Yihyun!”

    That was when it happened.

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    As Yoo Incheol called out their names, halfway down the hill, he suddenly collapsed forward. At the same moment, something red began to spread over his head like a halo.

    Yisoo’s vision filled with a crimson tide. Yoo Incheol, having fallen face-first, did not move again.

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    Security guards stationed at the gate and prison officers who had been silently observing the departing inmate rushed over to check on the man, now lifeless. Two gunshots had blown apart the back of his skull, leaving fragments scattered across the rain-soaked ground.

    Someone’s shrill scream pierced Yisoo’s ears—it was Yihyun’s wailing cry. As Yihyun stumbled forward toward the gate without her cane, the driver quickly grabbed her to prevent her from falling. Meanwhile, Secretary Yang’s firm grip pulled Yisoo back toward the car, urging her to retreat for safety.

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    Just as the car door opened, Yisoo’s knees gave way, and she collapsed. Her gaze dropped to the ground, and her cheek touched the cold, muddy water. Her vacant pupils glimmered like empty glass marbles.

    Her vision felt frozen, unbearably cold, until it finally surrendered to darkness—a deep, inescapable abyss of shadows.

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    Late-arriving security personnel loaded the stunned twins into the car and started the engine. Meanwhile, the relentless rain continued to pour in sheets.

    The blood that had spilled from the body was quickly washed away, leaving no trace behind.

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    ***

    Siheon perched at the edge of his desk, listening to Kim Jaewon’s report. The cigarette clamped between his teeth had been crushed beyond recognition as the secretary spoke.

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    “It was the work of a professional. Based on the cartridge, the shooter is believed to be a foreign national, but the police haven’t uncovered anything further. We’re pursuing leads unofficially, but it may take time.”

    “It may take time”—a roundabout way of saying they might not catch the culprit. It wasn’t a good sign, but at least there was someone to suspect, which was better than nothing.

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    “Find out where Yoo Hyeonrak is.”

    Siheon flicked the half-smoked cigarette into a glass of water. Perhaps it was finally time to track down the wayward youngest son. A fissure spread across his furrowed brow.

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    Yoo Hyeonrak was the illegitimate child of the first chairman, Yoo Jaegwang. Like Yoo Namcheol, the legitimate heir, he wasn’t exactly a man of upstanding character. Early on, he had been involved in loan sharking and laundering dirty money for powerful figures in politics and business. Since the bankruptcy of Hyoshin Construction, however, his whereabouts had been unknown.

    “Investigate the connection between Yoo Hyeonrak and Kwak Bugyeong thoroughly—leave no stone unturned.”

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    Yoo Hyunrak maintained a tight-knit business relationship with so-called “foreign technicians” living under illegal residency. These shadowy individuals, often referred to as janitors or technicians, relied on brokers like Hyunrak for contract work that kept them afloat. One of these individuals was bound to be caught in Hyunrak’s web.

    But now… what reason would Hyunrak have to kill Yoo Incheol at this point? If he were going to kill him, wouldn’t it have been after extracting valuable information, like hidden funds or incriminating evidence?

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    This leaves two possibilities. First, Yoo Incheol had outlived his usefulness, either because his information was no longer relevant or Hyunrak had already uncovered what he needed. Second, Hyunrak was clueless about the information in the first place and simply subcontracted the job from Kwak Bugyeong.

    If a choice had to be made, much like picking between heads or tails of a coin, the latter seemed more likely.

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    “Yes, sir. So, it’s likely this was Kwak Bugyeong’s doing?”

    “Probably. Double the security at Sera’s villa and our own facilities—both the house and the hospital.”

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    “Understood, sir. I’ll take immediate action. However, if we don’t leave for the airport now, you might miss your flight. There’s not much time left before the private jet departs.”

    “I’m on my way.”

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    Siheon clicked his tongue in annoyance, rising from his chair. A critical matter required his presence in Jeju that day, and rearranging the schedule was out of the question.

    “Triple the hospital security. Connect every single CCTV feed to this device.”

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    He tossed a tablet to Kim Jaewon before leaving the office. His head throbbed. There were times when the thrill of veering off track was exhilarating, but now was not one of them.

    Who could have predicted Yoo Incheol’s demise?

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    As for the death itself, it left Siheon indifferent—no emotions, no sentiment, just the gnawing frustration of an unexpected complication. That frustration was rooted in one thing: the ripple effects on Yoo Yisoo.

    This is a mess. Damn it.

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    Hyunrak or Kwak Bugyeong—once caught, they wouldn’t even have bones left to collect. He’d never felt such a violent desire for retribution on someone else’s behalf.

    ***

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    Two days later, Siheon returned to Seoul and headed straight for the hospital. A dragged-out itinerary had already cost him an additional day.

    While in transit, Kim Jaewon provided further updates. Hyunrak’s whereabouts were still under investigation, but photos and video evidence hinting at his connections with Kwak Bugyeong had been secured.

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    “What about Lee Yihyun? They said she’s faring better than Yisoo, right?”

    “Yes. Lee Yihyun began eating again after three days of starvation, though only just.”

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    Three days earlier, she had insisted on staying at the hospital with the collapsed Yoo Yisoo, worsening her leg condition and forcing her return to Sera’s villa. Yesterday, she’d even demanded to visit Yisoo in a wheelchair, only to relent after Siheon’s security team intervened.

    Siheon could authorize Yihyun’s stay at the hospital ward, but for some reason, he was reluctant to do so.

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    Before long, a stark white building came into view. The VVIP wing of the Shinmyeong Group-affiliated hospital resembled a fortress guarding a head of state, with layers of impenetrable security.

    The top floor housed just one patient, isolated as if quarantined. It was an excessive measure, but it didn’t feel unwarranted.

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    “What’s her condition?”

    Siheon abruptly addressed the doctor who greeted him courteously. There wasn’t even time to step into a room for a conversation; they stood in the hallway.

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    “She hasn’t recovered from the shock yet. She refuses to eat, so she’s surviving on IV drips, but her body is already so weakened…”

    “Let’s go in.”

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    Cutting off the doctor mid-sentence, Siheon strode toward the ward. The guard standing stiffly by the inner door straightened further and opened it, ushering him inside.

    ***

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    The door opened to greet him with a faint scent of medicine and the mist expelled by a machine—either a humidifier or an air purifier. A nurse stationed by the bed rose and informed him that the patient had just fallen asleep before discreetly stepping aside.

    Siheon gazed silently at the motionless figure on the bed. Yoo Yisoo lay there like a withered flower, dried and crumpled, with no hope of blooming again—a lifeless remnant of something once vibrant.

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    Even so, he couldn’t take his eyes off her gaunt face. Despite her frail state, the princess-like dignity remained intact, her hands clasped neatly in quiet composure.

    His eyes flicked to the IV line connected to the bed, and he swallowed a sigh. It seemed it would take a long time for her to recover from the shock and piece herself back together.

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    The senseless death of her biological father—whom she had never even addressed as “Dad”—appeared to strike a different kind of blow compared to the loss of Yoo Yijin.

    ***

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    Death is no big deal, really.

    The cynical line, uttered by some protagonist in a movie or a book, came to mind.

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    At this very moment, someone was being born, and someone else was dying. In this world, teeming with people to the point of suffocation, what weight did life or death really carry? What great meaning could it hold?

    Yet, the ripples of someone’s death were undeniably vast. They could shake and overturn the lives of those left behind, completely and irreversibly.

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    Someone whose presence had been so natural, so expected, until yesterday. A person you shared laughter and conversation with—or even silence, communicating through fleeting glances, the flow of air, subtle gestures, and minute changes in expression.

    These are the people we call family—the most precious and meaningful connections in our lives.

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    To lose such a family member—to wake up and find they no longer existed in this world—how could anyone believe it? How could anyone come to terms with it?

    His chest tightened, the pain so intense it felt like his blood might freeze in his veins. Every pore in his body felt sealed, suffocating him, as though his entire being would implode.

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    Father. Dad.

    I should have called you “Dad” sooner.

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    The regret, sorrow, and guilt were overwhelming, crushing his heart.

    No matter how much Chairman Yoo had terrified him, he should have secretly visited him in prison. He should have gone with Yihyun. Or better yet, he should have talked to him more when he still had the chance.

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    His uncle—his real father—had always been a towering, formidable figure. Even before knowing the truth, Siheon and Yihyun had felt his warmth. Unlike the cold, detached demeanor he showed the rest of the family, he had always been kind to them.

    Approaching them as their uncle, he had gently tousled their hair, asked if they were doing well in his gruff but affectionate voice, slipped them pocket money in secret, and encouraged them to endure, no matter how hard things got.

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    “Yisoo, our dad… he wasn’t just our uncle. He told me the truth—that we’re his kids. He promised we’d leave this house together when the time came, so we just had to hold on a little longer.”

    Yoo Incheol had struggled to suppress his paternal instincts, but on one cold night, when young Yihyun was locked in the basement after being beaten, his emotions finally overflowed with hot tears. It was the night she had been imprisoned for two days for accidentally breaking a plate and waking Yoo Namcheol.

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    “The woman who gave birth to us… it was her. The pretty lady who came to the house that night and left after the robbery.”

    Looking back now, it felt like a riddle. How had they, as children, managed to bear such a monumental secret? Even a single slip of the tongue could have upended the household. Was it the fear, as Yihyun often said, that they might both be killed if the truth came out?

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    “We’ll be sent somewhere far away, somewhere no one will find us. And we’ll never come back. Uncle said so. That’s why we have to keep this a secret.”

    Yoo Namcheol had been the embodiment of terror and dread. In hindsight, he wasn’t just a stern and intimidating father; there had been a pathological cruelty about him, masked by a veneer of social propriety.

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    Even so, even so… he should have called him “Dad” at least once in secret.

    Yihyun, he was our real dad. Our dad.

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    Layer upon layer of regret bound him to the still unbelievable reality, refusing to let him go. Tears flowed ceaselessly, soaking the pillow. He’d shed what felt like a lifetime’s worth of tears over the past week, yet his eyes remained damp.

    Turning her face away from the damp pillow, Yisoo stared up at the stark white ceiling. It took another five days before she could fully regain her composure and open her eyes properly.

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    When she finally did, she rose unsteadily and moved toward the bathroom without calling for a nurse. Passing the desk, she stopped in front of an ornament—a small sculpture reminiscent of a religious icon, placed as decoration beside the mirror.

    Extending a trembling hand, Yisoo turned the sculpture around, facing it away. Her fingertips quivered as though she had committed an act of sacrilege, but her eyes remained resolute.

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    God was cruel beyond measure. How could He be so harsh and merciless?

    Her mother, who had been missing for so long, died the day she came back to find her twins. Then came the deaths of her younger brother Yikyung and older sister Yijin, and now, her father was gone too.

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    Her hand grabbed the statue with reckless force. The urge to throw it across the room and shatter it overwhelmed her. Blood seemed to flow in reverse, and her heart, consumed by rage, felt as if it would burn with the intensity of her fury.

    Please, save me. Please… save me.

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    The silent cry echoed in her ears, like a phantom whisper. In that instant, without a knock, the door flung open, and a broad shadow was cast across the threshold.

    Kwon Siheon entered the room. As usual, he was impeccably dressed in a perfect suit. His hair, slightly tousled over his exposed forehead, was the only sign of any disarray; other than that, he appeared unwavering.

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    As he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, that brief moment felt like an eternity. During that short time, he did not take his eyes off Yisoo’s face for a single second.

    “I caught Yoo Hyunrak.”

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    Kwon Siheon broke the silence in an instant. It was the news she had been waiting for. A twitch rippled under Yisoo’s eyes.

    “He was holed up at Gaehang-ro, but we moved him to our storage.”

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    His posture—arms crossed, leaning nonchalantly against the door—was as composed as ever, his neat suit at odds with his defiant, almost careless stance. There was not a hint of sympathy in his demeanor.

    “What should we do?”

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    But the most practical form of condolence came from his lips.

    “Do you know why… why he killed Uncle? Why… Why did he do it?”

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    “The reason you’re thinking of is probably the right one.”

    Yisoo closed her eyes. Was it true? Had someone hired Yoo Hyunrak to kill him in search of something Yoo Namcheol had left behind?

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    Perhaps it was related to illicit funds, or some kind of information—a clue others were after.

    The most likely person, the current frontrunner in the ruling party’s presidential race: Kwak Bugyeong.

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    “Whoever had the evidence probably had them all buried. They figured it would be impossible to find.”

    “Do you know who that person is, Kwon Siheon?”

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    “Find out for yourself.”

    He pulled out his phone, bringing up a video and handing it to Yisoo. Her frail wrist accepted the device, and she pressed the play button.

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    A large man, covered in blood and nearly unrecognizable, was seated in a chair, his hands and feet bound. Someone lifted his chin with a wooden beam, revealing a familiar face.

    It was the half-uncle who used to come to their house during the holidays and cause trouble when they were teenagers. Though his appearance had changed—he had gained weight and aged—it was him without a doubt. The video showed Yoo Hyunrak, his lips cracked and dry, mumbling in response to a question.

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    — Yes, it was Kwak Bugyeong, the member of parliament. He hired a pro to kill Yoo Incheol… to kill my brother.

    Unfortunately, this video alone wouldn’t be enough to do anything about Kwak Bugyeong. If he claimed it was all coerced or false testimony under duress, there would be no way to act on it.

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    Yisoo kept her eyes wide open, staring at the bloody footage. Something hot began to rise from the depths of her chest, a burning sensation.

    And… the only witness, Yoo Hyunrak, would be dead soon enough. This video would eventually become his last will, as he, too, would fade into nothingness.

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    Yisoo clenched her teeth. Her eyes, bloodshot and burning, felt as though they might burst.

    — They said they’d destroy everything, because no matter how hard they searched, they couldn’t find it.

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    So that was it. The Hyoshin Construction family’s surviving members—he must have thought that removing them all would finally bury the threat once and for all, trapping it beneath the surface.

    Yisoo’s pupils dilated. A cold shiver ran down her spine at the sudden realization—Kwak Bugyeong would target the last surviving members too.

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    At that moment, Yoo Hyunrak, with his blood-stained lips, spoke again.

    — I didn’t say anything about the kids. I don’t know anything.

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    The man holding the wooden beam said something else, but Yoo Hyunrak lifted his head sharply, then began pleading toward the camera.

    — Yisoo! Save me! Please! If you spare my life, I’ll leave and never come back! Please, just save my life…

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    The video cut off abruptly, with the man crying and pleading for mercy. Yisoo numbly held out the phone to Kwon Siheon. He took it from her with smooth, deliberate motions, like someone handling a fragile object.

    ***

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    The stark contrast between Kwon Siheon and herself hit her anew. His impeccable, high-end suit, neatly combed hair, and robust, rock-solid demeanor stood in sharp contrast to her disheveled appearance, from head to toe like a patient from a psychiatric ward.

    From now on, this man and I will always run parallel, never intersecting. Like this.

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    Ironically, every time she asked him to eliminate someone, the gap between them widened further. From the start, theirs was a relationship that could never truly merge into one.

    “Kwon Siheon.”

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    She parted her lips to answer the question he had posed earlier. The echo of her own voice, pleading with him months ago to get rid of Yoo Hyeoksu—the man who had wrecked Yihyun—resounded like tinnitus in her ears.

    “Please, eliminate him. Make sure he can never torment us again.”

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    “So, you’re asking me to kill your cousin?”

    His gentle, yet pointed rephrasing of her words had been seared into her memory. And then her voice, as she asked him to take care of Yoo Minseop, the cousin of Yoo Namcheol, the chairman, echoed as well.

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    “Kill him.”

    “How? Like I did with your cousin Yoo Yisoo?”

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    “Yes. Yes…”

    Conversations she’d had with Kwon Siheon about taking out yet another distant relative, Yoo Hyeoksu, replayed in her mind. Gritting her teeth, Yisoo forced herself to speak again.

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    “Yoo Hyunrak. Do the same with him. Like Yoo Hyeoksu and Yoo Minseop.”

    It felt as though the air had frozen.

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    “Protect Yihyun and me. Please.”

    “Your brother is now under Chairman Jung’s jurisdiction, and as long as you’re here, you’re safe. Even so, you want him dead?”

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    “Please… keep the contract. Keep your promise.”

    Yisoo lifted her gaze to him. Her vision blurred, making it hard to see clearly. She thought she understood his prolonged silence.

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    “Even if you leave him as he is, he’ll die eventually—either dealt with by Kwak Bugyeong or through self-destruction. If you prefer, I could render him unable to use his limbs.”

    She knew Kwon Siheon was skilled in psychological warfare. He wanted her to expose the very depths of her degradation, to bare the ugly emotions buried at the bottom of her soul. She resented him for it.

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    But she had no other choice. So Yisoo, slowly and deliberately, revealed her hatred.

    “No. Kill him. Right now.”

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    A tear dropped onto the sleeve of her hospital gown. It no longer streamed down her cheeks but simply fell.

    “When I think of my father’s final moments… every second this man breathes feels like a waste…”

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    Blood seeped from her lips as she bit down hard. Another droplet fell from her other eye. Her eyes felt like they would burst, as if blood might spill from them.

    “Use the cruelest method you know, Kwon Siheon. Make him pay. Please.”

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    She finally spat out her last, desperate plea. Yisoo closed her eyes, her breath hitching in agony. A face resembling hers flickered like an afterimage in her mind.

    Yihyun must have wanted the same thing. She was certain of it.

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    “Alright.”

    Kwon Siheon responded calmly. Even in the face of Yisoo’s fully unleashed thirst for vengeance, he maintained the detached attitude of a third party.

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    “I’ll do as you asked. Rest now. We’ll finish discussing the contract tomorrow.”

    With that, Kwon Siheon left the hospital room. Yisoo sank to the floor in front of the bathroom, burying her face in her knees.

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    She couldn’t remember how long she stayed like that. When she opened her eyes again, she was lying on the bed under soft lighting. Beyond the curtain, the shadow of a caregiver loomed, and on the other side, the IV line connected to the back of her hand glinted faintly.

    That night marked the onset of Yisoo’s headaches. The sudden, unrelenting pain felt like silent screams from her brain as it oscillated between boiling and freezing.

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    It was as if someone was pulling her brain out of scalding water, plunging it into icy, iceberg-laden seas, and then thrusting it back into roaring flames. The only ways to escape the agony seemed to be sleep or death.

    The sorrow of those left behind was vast and profound, a depth that grew with each instance of abandonment. As it swelled and expanded, it threatened to engulf her entirely.

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    Thus, there was no other path left but retaliation. To survive, she had to kill first.

    The despair and thirst for revenge that had swept over her like a wildfire razing a plain had, over time, transformed into an intense yearning for survival.

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    ***

    In the building at No. 1 Uisadang Avenue, the upper floors overlooking the lawn and fountain plaza were exclusively occupied by senior lawmakers serving their fifth terms.

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    In one of the corner meeting rooms, a private conversation was unfolding over beer and light snacks. Despite the late hour, the exchange between the room’s occupant and his guest was lively. Everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly, like a ship sailing unimpeded through calm waters.

    “I get chills thinking about the day when you’ll reign supreme, Congressman.”

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    “We must proceed with utmost caution until the end. One misstep could be disastrous.”

    “Absolutely. Who could have predicted what happened to Congressman Kim just last week?”

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    “Indeed. Who would’ve thought a child’s school bullying scandal would bring him down? They say that’s like blowing your nose without touching it.”

    “Exactly. It seems heaven is on our side.”

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    At Kwak Bugyeong’s remark, his aide chuckled heartily and chimed in. Kwak Bugyeong replied with a meaningful smile.

    “Heaven has always been on my side. Not once has it failed to align with my wishes.”

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    As a child, he had cursed the heavens, often throwing rocks at the sky. This was why the dirt paths of his rural village were often strewn with stones.

    He grew up under a father who was a jobless drunkard, a mother who had died of a stroke, and older brothers who beat him, demanding he beg for rice from neighbors. His sister, who had taken over household chores, eventually ran away, unable to endure the hardship.

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    All he had was a sharp mind of dubious lineage. His relentless studies caught the attention of his middle school principal, and through the principal’s connections, his father got a job at a small theater in a suburban area. This marked the beginning of their move to the outskirts of Seoul, where he attended a local high school. Though they still lived in poverty, at least they had enough to eat.

    When he received a scholarship acceptance letter to a prestigious university in Seoul, the family’s theater was auctioned off. His father, in a stroke of luck, signed over the theater’s shares in exchange for unpaid wages. Shortly after, the area was slated for redevelopment, and his father profited handsomely by selling part of the theater’s land to the state.

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    With this windfall, his father bought another old theater. For Kwak Bugyeong, it was a stroke of fortune. The theater, located in the heart of Seoul, became the foundation of his wealth. Instead of joining a major corporation like his peers, he dove into the film industry, learning the ropes of production and distribution from the ground up.

    Eventually, he married one of the most famous actresses of the time and achieved great success by investing in a major corporation’s film division. His private funds supported social welfare initiatives and illegal operations alike.

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    It was all thanks to that theater.

    The only two good things his father ever did were bringing him into this world and buying that theater on a whim. Everything else was worthless. Luck and opportunity don’t favor those destined for poverty. They merely visit briefly, pretending to offer hope, before leaving again.

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    His father squandered his newfound wealth, drinking himself to death. One winter night, while drunk and on his way to a hostess’s house, he collapsed on the street and never got up again.

    “Of course, none of this came for free. It’s all the result of my hard work and sweat.”

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    He was determined to overcome the final hurdle and emerge victorious. He would crush those who dared to expose his past mistakes and climb to the highest seat of power, triumphant.

    As Kwak Bugyeong mulled over his resolve, his eyes wandered to the TV screen. The long-reigning president of another country appeared. Kwak Bugyeong clicked his tongue enviously.

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    “Say what you will, but that country’s discipline comes from having one strong leader in power for so long. Our country should adopt a four-year presidential term with a re-election option. A competent leader should rule for at least a decade. Instead, we have to step down just as we’re getting the hang of things. That’s why we never progress.”

    “Absolutely. And that competent leader would undoubtedly be you, Congressman.”

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    “People are inherently hierarchical. You have to maintain strict control and pressure to keep peace. Especially our nation—it’s ingrained in our bones. Like Singapore, we need to enforce strict governance and gradually amend the laws.”

    “Exactly. That’s the essence of your ‘return to the hierarchy of equality,’ isn’t it?”

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    “Precisely. Not some lofty idealism, but a practical and peaceful reality.”

    Kwak Bugyeong nodded. This country had gone astray. Unlike him, who had built his success with blood and sweat, the rabble—those who refused to work yet claimed to be equals—spouted nonsense. Women disrupted society with their talk of equality, and the lowly masses demanded rights as if they were entitled to them.

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    He would rebuild this failing nation, steering it back onto the right path.

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