TIOAWN Chapter 12

“Let’s go.”  

 

As soon as Moo-geon got into the car, he picked up his tablet.  

 

“Song Woo-jin, huh.”  

 

Moo-geon twisted one corner of his lips at the clear intent behind the actions and their results.  

 

They say children grow up as they see. Isn’t what Song Woo-jin does exactly like Songhwa?  

 

Old-fashioned and outdated, both then and now.  

 

Moo-geon clenched his fist tightly, then loosened it.  

 

“Considering the fact that the incident occurred at the construction site Songhwa Company has the contract for, it doesn’t seem unrelated,” Kang-heon affirmed. He added that regardless of whether there was evidence of plotting, holding the person in charge accountable was inevitable.  

 

“Of course. Naturally,” Moo-geon replied.  

 

From the beginning, Yeocha Industrial Development’s job had been to clean up Songhwa Group’s messes.  

 

“Was there really a need to go this far?”  

 

Everyone was desperate to bring Moo-geon down. Even Kang-heon, who watched him closely, frowned at the situation.  

 

Born neither a thug nor not a thug, Moo-geon was smart, well-educated, and physically capable. Even if he pretended otherwise, everyone feared him.  

 

“But he is still just a kid.”  

 

Kids are always impatient. Rash, short-tempered, and lacking patience.  

 

“Kids lack judgment.”  

 

Sure, you can write it off as the folly of youth.  

 

But what about himself? Acting like a clueless fool, gnawing and sucking at things.  

 

Was it with the intention to save, fully aware of the futile struggle to survive? Or was it to trample on pure intentions cruelly?  

 

Was it a lowly, vulgar desire, or a mean-spirited, twisted yearning?  

 

Damn it.  

 

Moo-geon turned his gaze to the car window. The white sidewalk, drained of color by the snow; barren branches overtaken by the snow’s conquest. The falling snowflakes layered over his dark pupils, shaking him.  

 

In the midst of this serious situation, instead of the pale face of Song Woo-jin, the fair and beautiful Seo Ha-yoon’s face came to mind. Moo-geon pressed his fingers firmly against his temples.  

 

“I’m sorry to say this, but wasn’t Chairman Song putting you in the CEO position a warning that this was the end of the road? Or is Vice President Song Woo-jin carrying his head just for decoration?”  

 

Starting with shady back-alley loans, the company expanded into construction, electronics, fashion, and resorts.  

 

The late Chairman Song, who had brought Yeocha to the 10th rank in the business world, couldn’t abandon its foundational construction division. But in an effort to escape the dirty, unsavory image, he renamed the group “Songhwa.”  

 

Under Songhwa, a new construction division was established.  

 

Chairman Song handed over Songhwa Group to his son, Song Ho-yeol, and called in his troublemaking nephew, Song Moon-yeol, to lead Yeocha Industrial Development.  

 

And Song Moon-yeol acted exactly as the late Chairman Song had intended, repaying the favor.  

 

Yeocha Industrial Development handled illegal activities typical of the underworld, devoured anything the organization did, and even cleaned up the messes Song Ho-yeol couldn’t manage.  

 

The problem began after the late Chairman Song passed away. Song Moon-yeol, who firmly believed that at least the construction division under Songhwa would fall to him, was enraged when Song Ho-yeol consumed Songhwa entirely.  

 

And worse, Song Ho-yeol made the independent Yeocha Industrial Development a subsidiary of Songhwa, driving Song Moon-yeol into a rage.  

 

Wasn’t he supposed to at least rival Song Ho-yeol in status?  

 

In his fury, Song Moon-yeol stormed out of the inauguration hall and raised Moo-geon.  

 

Song Moon-yeol wanted one thing: to support Songhwa while gradually buying up its shares and reducing its stake in Yeocha Industrial Development, eventually building Yeocha’s size.  

 

It was an unreasonable plan from the beginning. And Song Ho-yeol wasn’t naive enough to overlook Song Moon-yeol’s ambitions.  

 

Just as Song Moon-yeol’s plan began to appear far-fetched, Song Woo-jin took control of Songhwa .  

 

The pampered rookie started making large investments here and there recklessly. The shares Song Woo-jin threw away were quietly purchased—not by Song Moon-yeol, but by Cha Moo-geon.  

 

Song Ho-yeol, the chairman of Songhwa Group, chose to place Moo-geon in charge instead of eliminating him as he grew more influential.  

 

After all, as the head of Yeocha Industrial Development, which handled Songhwa’s dirty work, Moo-geon’s apparent rise was only to cap his potential.  

 

If Yeocha Industrial Development ever made a mistake while cleaning up for Songhwa , the blame would fall squarely on Moo-geon.  

 

Even if the real culprits were elsewhere.  

 

“The stray dog Song Moon-yeol raised to clean up Songhwa’s mess has bitten its master and now arrogantly raises its head.”  

 

Moo-geon spoke dryly, resting his watch-bearing arm on his forehead.  

 

“From Vice President Song Woo-jin’s perspective, it must feel like I’m head-butting him right under his nose.”  

 

Would he bite back? Or swallow me whole, head first, like a snake? It’s no wonder Song Woo-jin is so worried.  

 

Kang-heon swallowed a sigh mixed with anger at Moo-geon’s response.  

 

“Still, Sir, isn’t this a bit much? You’ve only been CEO for a week.”  

 

It was obvious why Song Ho-yeol handed Moo-geon the CEO position of Yeocha Industrial Development: to let him get his hands dirty and fade away under the weight of disgraceful glory.  

 

Moo-geon had no intention of stepping back, but the juvenile tactics were grating.  

 

Having followed Moo-geon for over ten years, Kang-heon found Song Woo-jin’s childish antics incomprehensible.  

 

“Don’t waste your energy, Kang-heon.”  

 

Song Woo-jin’s foolishness actually worked to their advantage, making Moo-geon’s actions seem minimal.  

 

“I’ll deploy some men to catch the culprit by the end of the day.”  

 

“Once you catch him, check if he’s connected to Seo Myung-sik.”  

 

Tap. Tap.  

 

Moo-geon tapped his tablet with his index finger.  

 

“And investigate his relationship with Song Woo-jin again.”  

 

Of course, Song Woo-jin wouldn’t have personally abducted Seo Myung-sik. He wasn’t a child, after all.  

 

Right. He wasn’t a child.  

 

Seo Ha-yoon.  

 

In the flow linked by his subconscious, Moo-geon gripped the tablet as if he were about to smash it.  

 

The motions that had clung to him so fiercely it felt like his brain was melting, the ragged breaths, the small hands that tearfully reached out to him—all of it came rushing back.  

 

The moment he saw the red surgical scar he had tried so hard to ignore, the thirst for revenge aimed at Seo Myung-sik veered off course. Knowing full well that he was taking out his anger on the wrong target, Moo-geon still couldn’t stop himself.  

 

He thought he had wielded it all recklessly. Was that arrogance?  

 

In the end, it was he who felt as if his soul had been drained and everything was out of place. His chest ached, and his feelings for her twisted in a strange way.  

 

From “nothing” to “something.” He had expected her to exist without any presence, like a pure white feather, but instead, she pierced him sharply, like the tip of a pen.  

 

That night, after cornering her, why had he brought her home? Why had he left her in the living room? Why had he even called a doctor? Moo-geon decided not to question his own actions anymore.  

 

The figure lying on the sofa was so small it was barely noticeable from afar. Only her long hair, spilling down limply, gave any indication of her presence.  

 

When he heard her stirring as he left the front door in the morning, he pretended not to notice. He had stationed Oh Jae-gyu and Joo Hyun-ho in the hallway outside, so there was no way she could escape, he thought.  

 

“By the way, she needs food.”  

 

“Pardon?”  

 

At the mention of food, Kang-heon turned to look back.  

 

“Never mind.”  

 

What was he doing, worrying about feeding her? She didn’t seem particularly cautious either. If she got hungry, she could just grab something from the fridge.  

 

Moo-geon buried his gaze in the tablet.  

 

***

 

So thirsty.  

 

Ha-yoon licked her dry lips as she opened her eyes.  

 

“Ah.”  

 

Where am I?  

 

A spacious living room and furniture that looked expensive at first glance. The living room, with its tones closer to gray than white, wasn’t bright but felt sleek and cold.  

 

When she sat up, the blanket covering her slid off, sending a chill through her. Her dress was gone, leaving her in only her underwear. Startled, Ha-yoon grabbed the blanket and pulled it over herself.  

 

Her entire body ached with dull pain, especially as it radiated down the insides of her thighs.  

 

Only then did fragments of what she had done come back to her.  

 

Last night had been excruciating. Her heart had shrunk, her hands and feet had gone numb with cold, and she could barely breathe. It reminded her of the sorrow and intensity she had felt as a child in the hospital, gasping for air.  

 

So Ha-yoon curled herself into a ball, over and over again. 

 

“Seo Ha-yoon.”  

 

The voice calling her had been exceptionally low, husky, and deep.  

 

Her brain felt as if it were splitting in two, her bones cracking from the cold. The chill was so intense she thought she might die, so she desperately clung to the warmth she had found—even though it exceeded any normal temperature.  

 

“Is this your worth?”  

 

The voice asking her was harsh—terrifying, rough, and relentless.  

 

“Open your eyes.”  

 

When he grabbed her quivering shoulders, nibbling on her earlobe, blood began to circulate through her stalled heart, and her frozen senses flared back to life.  

 

The bites on her neck were unyielding, his weight pressing down on her brutal, and his seeking tongue and firm fingers devoured her entirely.  

 

Even as he clung to her with suffocating closeness, he made sure to give her air. When her throat went dry and cracked, when thirst overtook her, he would promptly drench her, saturating her senses as if he had been waiting for it.  

 

There was no escape in the middle of it. No chance to declare surrender.  

 

“He is right, my worth.”  

 

As if to awaken her fading sanity, his words lingered in her ear to the end.  

 

When she recalled those words, which had circled around her ear until the end, Ha-yoon responded with sharp clarity.  

 

“Is this what he meant by proof of my worth?”  

 

Had she proven it sufficiently?  

 

She couldn’t tell. She hadn’t received any evaluation or permission from him afterward, after all.