Prologue

She believed that God didn’t exist, in any way, shape, or form. Denying the existence of God is similar to not acknowledging the afterlife. That’s why, she also considered the soul residing within the human body a fabrication as well. The same went for spirits unable to cross over to the other side, wandering the mortal realm.

If an absolute God who created the world did exist, they wouldn’t stand idly by while such injustice ran rampant. Therefore, it must be true that there is no God, no soul, no ghosts.

It had to be… but….

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Is this what it feels like to face a ghost?

The man concealed half of his face, like the ‘Phantom’ from Gaston Leroux’s novel The Phantom of the Opera. Eunseong felt as though she had become a reporter, sitting in a corner of the Paris National Conservatory of Music, delving into ancient documents to uncover the truth about the ‘Angel of Music.’

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A cold sweat trickled down her spine. Eunseong took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

“Thank you for your time. I’m Kang Eunseong from the ABS news department.”

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He could simply be someone with a similar atmosphere. Eunseong wondered if she was mistaken, perhaps intoxicated by the thick wine aroma in the underground cellar.

After confirming the name of that man, Jung Woojin, on the list of deceased, the shock, conscious or not, had been significant. 

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Could I be seeing things?

Was Jung Woojin such an important person to me, to the point where I see his image in another man?

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This is all because she is nervous about this important interview. It’s a reporter’s instinct to become anxious when information is lacking. 

The man placed a bottle of wine and two balloon-shaped wine glasses on the table, glancing at Eunseong.

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“You must be tired from coming all the way here.”

A chill ran down her neck. The low, deep voice was exactly like Jung Woojin’s. A dead person couldn’t have come back to life, so this too is another illusion.

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The wine cellar was large enough for voices to resonate. The vast space can also distort sound.

The smell of alcohol, mingled with the gloomy and eerie atmosphere, made her head spin.

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“It’s only natural to come when given such a valuable interview opportunity.”

Eunseong, determined to pull herself together, smiled as naturally as possible.

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“I apologize if my unreasonable demands caused any offense.”

She had felt some resentment towards this person who, acting as if they were someone of great importance, had blocked contact from all media outlets and then specifically chosen a reporter from a particular broadcasting station for a demanding interview.

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Generally, in such cases, the interviewee often had intentions of using the exclusive interview for their own purposes. Eunseong hadn’t become a reporter to be someone’s puppet.

“Protecting the identity of a source is a reporter’s duty.”

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He pulled out the small serrated knife from the wine opener and ran it along the rim of the bottle. Though the knife hadn’t touched her own throat, Eunseong held her breath, unable to even swallow.

“Reporter Kang Eunseong seems to be quite moral and ethical.”

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As if implying that, unlike her, he was immoral, the man smirked, lifting one corner of his lips.

He skillfully removed the wine capsule, inserted the pointed screw into the center of the cork, and slowly began to twist it in.

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Each time his large hand moved gracefully, blue veins stood out on the smooth back of his hand. Because his sleeves were rolled up, the muscles rippling sensually from his wrist to his elbow were clearly visible.

This was definite proof of life, evidence that he was a living, breathing being, not a ghost.

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Eunseong’s eyes scanned the pulsing veins on the back of his hand and the firm muscles of his forearm as she carefully observed his appearance.

Dressed in a black waistcoat over a white dress shirt as pale as his skin, the man looked as though he had stepped out of Savile Row in early 20th-century England.

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The romantic suit, a seemingly modern reinterpretation of a classic style, fit snugly across his broad, thick chest, and the suit pants, made of the same material as the waistcoat, made his long legs appear even longer.

A similar impression from the first time she met the man named Jung Woojin in the cafe washed over her. Even with half his face covered, he was unbelievably beautiful.

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While Eunseong observed the man, his gaze was also fixed on her. It was a sticky gaze, as humid as the cellar air devoid of sunlight.

After smoothly removing the cork, he gently wiped the bottleneck with a white cloth. The movement of his long fingers felt strangely like a caress on her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

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He poured the wine into the clear glass.

“I apologize, but I can’t drink alcohol during interviews.”

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He nodded as if he understood. However, the words that followed his nod were provocative, contrary to his gesture.

“I didn’t say we should drink enough to get drunk.”

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Every media outlet was desperate to interview him. It wouldn’t be beneficial for Eunseong if the exclusive interview was canceled because she had offended him.

“Ms. Kang Eunseong.”

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When the man uttered her name, omitting her title as a reporter, her heart pounded.

As if this had happened before.

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“Yes.”

Mr. Jung Woojin….

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She almost added the name of the dead man. Eunseong bit her lower lip with her front teeth.

“You seem perceptive, but you can’t stand injustice, can you?”

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She had no intention of responding to his attempt to probe her journalistic ethics.

“You’ve concealed your own face, yet you try to see through the minds of others?”

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When Eunseong responded with a question, he laughed, as if amused.

“I’m not God, I have no intention of seeing through anyone’s mind. I’m just making an assumption.”

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He shrugged, pulling down the corners of his lips.

“Or perhaps you’re afraid…”

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He paused, gazing at Eunseong, then flashed a deep smile.

“…that I’ll see through you?”

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Before Eunseong could reply, he gestured to the chair with his palm up.

“Let’s sit down for now.”

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She had anticipated that this wouldn’t be a typical interview, but she hadn’t expected that there would be conflict right from the start.

“A reporter is someone whose profession is to gather information. ‘Gather’ and ‘material’. It’s a job of obtaining information from others for reporting, not revealing my own inner thoughts. Perhaps you have secrets you fear the world will discover…. Perhaps it is you who’s afraid?”

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He held the stem of the wine glass between his thumb and forefinger, raising it as if to let light pass through the dark red liquid.

“Do you know why people hold wine up to the light?”

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“To check for impurities.”

“No, to look sophisticated.”

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His playful remark almost made Eunseong laugh in disbelief.

“This isn’t the Middle Ages. With how advanced brewing technology is, how could there be impurities? Holding it up to the light is just showing off.”

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He took a sip of wine and smiled faintly.

“I’m just saying, let’s relax. Anyone watching would think I was threatening you with a wine opener, Ms. Kang Eunseong.”

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He was being overly provocative, considering he was the one who agreed to the interview. Eunseong placed her elbows on the table and stared into his eyes. He swirled the wine in his glass and added in a low voice,

“Wine glasses come in all shapes and sizes. Balloon-shaped, elongated. But good wine glasses have something in common. They narrow towards the rim.”

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Eunseong naturally picked up his words.

“I’ve heard it’s to focus on the flavor.”

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“Yes, focus. The same wine can taste different depending on the shape of the glass. The rim of the glass is narrow so you can focus on the taste of the wine without any distractions…. but what should I do if the reporter seems distracted?”

Like holding the wine up to the light to appear sophisticated, his provocation seemed like an attempt to hide something.

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Jung Woojin’s eyes became distinct, a dark purple, when they caught the light. A suspicious glint shone in the eyes of the man sitting across from her.

Eunseong gently traced the rim of the wine glass with her right index finger. The pattern of her skin left a smudge on the clear rim. His gaze followed her finger.

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Jung Woojin….

She silently repeated the dead man’s name. Like the phantom hiding in the opera house, he had covered half his face, but unfortunately, his performance in front of Eunseong was a failure.

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Just as the fingerprints on each person’s fingertips leave unique marks, each person’s eyes hold distinct patterns, shaping the way they gaze. The idea that one can read emotions through the eyes means that by observing the movement of a person’s gaze, one can discern their intentions.

The man’s eyes held the same color and moved in the same way as Jung Woojin’s.

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If you were going to deceive me, you should have covered your eyes too.

Her heart began to beat faster. She wasn’t sure if it was from relief that the man wasn’t dead, or fear that she had encountered a psychopathic villain.

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Or perhaps, did he want her to recognize him?

Despite her pounding heart, a sense of calm settled over her now that she had grasped his identity to some extent.

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“I seem to be distracted because I lack information about the person I’m interviewing. Why did you refuse all other media outlets and grant an interview only to ABS? Please introduce yourself first.”

“I deal in things that are old and valuable.”

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Eunseong smiled as if to say she already knew that.

“I didn’t come all this way to get information I could have easily deduced. The Goryeosa (History of Goryeo) was believed to have been lost during the Imjin War. Did you by any chance deal with smugglers handling items stolen during the war?”

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He was the one who had offered to donate the Goryeosa, which scholars claimed no longer existed. That was why he was attracting so much attention.

“Smugglers?”

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“I’ve heard there isn’t even a proper list of how many cultural artifacts have been smuggled out of the country. Are there secret channels for handling missing cultural properties besides the Goryeosa? If not, is there a possibility that the Goryeosa is a forgery?”

He scoffed, as if in disbelief.

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“A forgery?”

“The man sitting in front of me seems quite skilled at deception.”

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He slowly rose from his seat.

“Deception….”

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A mischievous chuckle resonated in his murmur. After a thoughtful pause, the man placed one hand on the table and leaned forward slightly.

“If I’m completely honest, will you believe me?”

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His breath, escaping his red lips, tickled Eunseong’s forehead. It seemed she needed to provoke the ambiguous man a little further. Eunseong curled her lips provocatively.

“You want me to believe you? If you were going to deceive me, you should’ve at least changed your cologne first, Mr. Jung Woojin.”

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He inhaled sharply, then formed a strange smile. His eyes gleamed haughtily, as if to say he could gracefully handle her trick.

“Hardly. You need to be subtle with your traps. I’m not wearing any cologne today.”

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With a captivating smile, he pulled off the mask that covered his face. It was at that moment…

“Oh? Sunbae! Are you done filming upstairs?”

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Startled by Eunseong’s casual question directed towards the staircase, where not a soul was in sight, he knocked over his wine glass.

“I wonder why you’re so afraid of your identity being revealed?”

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He looked down at Eunseong coldly. Eunseong continued without pause,

“Why would someone afraid of being known to the world approach a reporter? A reporter’s job is to tell the world what they’ve discovered.”

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You have to be careful not to push a cornered animal too far, lest it bite.

“Shall we hear your story, Mr. Jung Woojin? Of course, if you wish, we can pretend this interview never happened.”

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His large frame slumped back into the chair. He threw the mask on the table and ran a hand through his fine hair.

Staring intently at Eunseong with a face now devoid of a smile, he smoothed the furrow in his brow, as if he had made a decision.

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“Have you ever heard a story that began but has no end, a story where the beginning is unknown, and the end cannot be foreseen?”

Resting her chin on her hand, Eunseong looked at him with interest. The aroma of wine still lingered intoxicatingly in the air. And his dark purple eyes gazed at Eunseong’s faintly smiling lips as if licking them. 

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