DMSD | Chapter 22

Even when you tell the truth, the frustration and despair when the other person doesn’t believe you is something Myeongeun understood well. However, using someone’s disbelief as an excuse for violence was foolish, so he didn’t want to blindly defend Kwon Jinhwan.

Myeongeun simply glanced up at Jinhwan.

“……Alright. Next.”

He quickly looked down and moved on to the next item. Though he didn’t want to defend Jinhwan, he also didn’t enjoy seeing him smile in that bitter, self-deprecating way.

As he scanned the next rule in the internal regulations, the ninth item caught his eye.

“Jinhwan-ssi, do you ride a bike?”

Jinhwan blinked slowly.

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It’s dangerous if you ride dangerously.”

Seriously, was that an answer?

Myeongeun pursed his lips and took a deep breath through his nose.

“Don’t you use public transportation?”

He flipped to the next page of the regulations. The last page in the stack of five documents on the clipboard was Jinhwan’s resume. Although he was unfamiliar with the specific address on the document, he knew the neighborhood well enough. And it wasn’t just because it was a famously wealthy area.

So he still lives in Mansindang. Living there alone, with his grandmother gone?

As a slight pang of mixed emotions washed over him, Jinhwan spoke up.

“I hate it.”

“Sorry?”

Jinhwan lifted his head.

“I hate the subway.”

“Why?”

“Too crowded.”

Thinking he was talking about the sheer number of people, Myeongeun almost nodded in agreement but then felt a sudden chill as he realized that might not be the case.

“…You’re talking about actual people, right?”

“Yes.”

Jinhwan continued nonchalantly, “If you count those who were once people, I suppose.”

“…I commute by subway, you know.”

Jinhwan lowered his head, laughing silently at Myeongeun’s uneasy expression. The natural smile, without any hidden motive, momentarily unsettled him.

So he can laugh like that too.

It was a manly smile, different from the grin he’d shown two days ago while joking about San Ho in front of the storage room.

“You have a car too, don’t you, Jinhwan-ssi?”

Somewhat cheerful, he suggested, “Riding a car might be safer than a bike. I think your brothers are worried too.” But Jinhwan instantly grew serious and responded bluntly, “I’ll handle it myself.”

“Why does it matter what my brothers worry about?”

It seemed he still harbored some resentment toward his brothers, and just as that thought crossed his mind, Jinhwan’s phone on the table began vibrating.

“If it’s urgent—”

Before he could finish saying it was fine to answer, Jinhwan had already picked up the call, responding with a curt “Yes.”

Ugh. This guy, seriously.

Grinding his teeth, Myeongeun glared at him.

“No, I already mentioned it on KakaoTalk earlier.”

The caller was a woman. Though he couldn’t make out her exact words, her voice was loud and impatient.

“If it’s not her, then it’s probably her husband. Ask if they’ve visited a funeral recently.”

The woman’s voice softened, and then, suddenly, there was a burst of sobbing.

Realizing why she might have called Jinhwan, Myeongeun instinctively recoiled a bit. The woman continued to cry, seemingly inconsolable, while Jinhwan, indifferent to her tears, simply rubbed the rough skin beside his right index finger with his thumb, paying little attention to her.

After about three minutes of continuous weeping, she finally spoke in a trembling voice.

“Yes… No, I don’t. I already posted that I’m only doing KakaoTalk readings and phone readings for now. Please visit the shrine I first told you about. Yes, I’ll resend the address.”

After ending the call, Jinhwan began typing something on his phone. A minute passed, but he, as expected, continued his work without so much as a glance or apology, so Myeongeun focused on his own task, reviewing Jinhwan’s resume. As expected, most of it was blank, with only his high school listed, which immediately caught his attention.

Dropped out of Hansan High School.

Based on the year, he had dropped out in his first year at seventeen and passed his high school equivalency exam the following year. His highest education level was high school, and he hadn’t completed military service.

As he looked down at the final line of the resume, memories of Kwon Jinhyeok, Kwon Jinhyeon, and the HR Manager, the bulldog Director, flitted through his mind before fading, leaving him with a petty thought.

Would it have been better to hide it? Maybe just a small lie on his education? But our company accepts high school graduates, so does it really matter?

Feeling a twinge of injustice at having been looked down on by Kim Junyoung for graduating from a technical college, he reasoned with himself that Jinhwan’s case was different.

Yet the one unchangeable fact was that the HR Manager had seen this resume. Kwon Jinhyeok and Kwon Jinhyeon surely knew what kind of person the HR Manager was, so submitting this resume meant the three brothers, including Jinhwan, didn’t care much about academic background.

Neither did he, of course. He’d been the first to get promoted among his peers, many with more impressive academic backgrounds. He knew better than anyone that at Gaon, education wasn’t everything.

Still, his heart ached because he sensed there must have been a reason why Jinhwan had to drop out of high school, and he strongly suspected it was due to his unusual constitution.

“How long are you going to make me wait?”

The sudden voice startled him, and he looked up. Jinhwan, resting his chin on the back of his right hand, looked at him with a bored expression.

“Oh, are you done?”

“I finished ages ago.”

Jinhwan’s face displayed obvious impatience as he asked, “Is there anything else you need to say?”

Myeongeun wanted to smack himself for the moment of sympathy he’d just felt for him. Who cared about his constitution or his academic background?

After all, Kwon Jinhwan was part of the Gaon Group’s founding family.

There should be a limit to feeling sorry for the cat when it’s dealing with a mouse.

Suppressing a snort, he briskly flipped back to the internal rules.

“Here.”

He placed the clipboard on the table, pointing to item eighteen with his finger. Eighteen, of all numbers. He couldn’t help a wry chuckle to himself.

Jinhwan tilted his gaze down, still resting his chin on his hand, and read where he pointed.

<18. No use of spiritual force during work hours. Examples include mandatory avoidance of samcheck, prohibition of exorcisms, and restriction on the use of hwakyung.>

“What are samcheok and hwakyung?”

“Samcheok means to act like you didn’t see, hear, or feel something even if you did.”

It wasn’t professional terminology but rather shorthand that the three brothers used amongst themselves.

“And Hwakyung?”

This time, Jinhwan shifted his gaze from the regulations to look at him.

“In simple terms, it means seeing something like a picture. To put it even more simply, it’s like seeing someone’s thoughts.”

The idea of being able to see thoughts didn’t quite click for him.

“Isn’t that some kind of superpower?”

He felt silly for asking, but the next moment, Jinhwan answered casually, “That’s the easiest and fastest way to explain it.”

“Are you serious?”

In shock, he quickly clasped his hands over his head.

“Did you see my thoughts?”

Jinhwan lowered his hand from his chin and leaned back, reclining comfortably as he silently watched him for a moment.

“Do you believe me?”

“What?”

“…Do you believe what I’m saying?”

Blinking, he found himself pressing his lips together. He wanted to ask if it wasn’t a bit too late to be asking such a question, but he couldn’t. He saw a faint but definite tension on Jinhwan’s face. In that brief instant, he felt as if he’d caught a glimpse of the vulnerabilities and wounds Jinhwan carried from his life.

When they lived at the Mansindang, young Hwan would often pat his head or shoulder with his little hands. Each time, it felt like his head had cleared, as if the child had brushed away the negative energy sticking to him, much like his grandmother would have done. Whenever he thanked him, Hwan would just give a shy nod.

Back then, he and the child had never asked each other about their abilities. They understood each other without needing to speak.

“Hey, Go Myeongeun! Stop lying!”

“Ow! I’m not! I really did see a ghost!”

“Go Myeongeun’s a liar!”

“Teacher! I don’t want to sit next to Myeongeun. He only tells lies!”

“Myeongeun, you know, lying to your friends makes them dislike you.”

“Teacher, I… I didn’t lie… I didn’t…”

A faint memory from childhood flashed through his mind.

Now, he and Jinhwan were at a point where they had to ask if they believed in each other’s abilities. It made sense, given they’d been out of touch for nineteen years. In fact, starting from Assistant Manager Jang’s incident, Myeongeun’s natural acceptance of Jinhwan’s peculiarities might have been surprising to Jinhwan.

Yet despite all these logical reasons, a slight pang tugged at his heart.

“Jinhwan-ssi.”

He lowered his hands from his head and smiled warmly.

“Yes, I believe you.”

Without a word, Jinhwan lifted his paper cup and took a sip of tea.

“Now, be honest. Did you really see inside my mind?”

Narrowing his eyes, he asked.

“No.”

Jinhwan set his cup down and replied matter-of-factly.

“Unless it’s work-related or someone requests it, I don’t go around peeking into people’s heads. And even if I did, I wouldn’t see everything—it’s exhausting.”

He explained that each person who sees Hwakyung experiences it differently. Some see images, others see videos, some are shown visions by spirits, some unlock it through personal training, and some see the future while others see the past.

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TL Note:
Samcheok : Divination (a type of essential divination practice, possibly to gain insight)
Hwakyung: Magic Mirror (magical or spiritual mirror)