TIOAWN Chapter 37

“Ah.”  

 

A deliberate force was applied to the hand pressing down on the needle. Ha-yoon’s eyes widened in surprise, but the woman didn’t even blink.  

 

“A rookie who can’t even tell the difference between a nurse and a doctor.”  

 

How was I supposed to know that?

 

She wanted to argue in frustration, but Ha-yoon bit her lip. Ding-dong. The doorbell rang loudly.  

 

“Huh…?”  

 

What should she do? Should she go out or not? While Ha-yoon hesitated, Ms. Yang moved as if it were only natural.  

 

“No, wait…”  

 

Ha-yoon groaned as she reached up to remove the IV from the head of the bed and raised her arm.  

 

Has she been to this house before? The naturalness of her movements only deepened Ha-yoon’s confusion.  

 

“Housekeeping.”  

 

“Oh, yes. Please start with the living room first.”  

 

Ms. Yang responded smoothly. Ha-yoon rolled her eyes and stared at her.  

 

“Yes, ma’am.”  

 

The housekeepers bowed toward Ms. Yang as if it were the most natural thing and addressed her as ‘ma’am.’  

 

***  

 

Back in the room, Ha-yoon kept sitting and lying down on Moo-geon’s bed.  

 

The sun had set, night had come, and darkness had settled deeply, but Cha Moo-geon was nowhere to be seen, and the unfamiliar woman showed no signs of leaving.  

 

This is uncomfortable.

 

Ha-yoon curled up awkwardly. The gaze of the unfamiliar woman looking down at her weighed on her heavily. It was as if her eyes were drawing a clear line—You don’t belong in this house.  

 

But Cha Moo-geon hadn’t said anything. No, that wasn’t right.  

  

 

—Keep the door locked.  

 

  

With his shirt collar pulled tight and his eyes staring directly into hers, he had clearly said, Stay.  

 

It meant to wait. So she couldn’t be an unwelcome guest.…Right? Her eyes, reflected in the window, were clouded with confusion.  

 

Bang. The door swung open without even a knock.  

 

“Come out and eat.”  

 

Ha-yoon flinched and sat up. The strong scent of perfume made her dizzy for a moment.  

 

“What is this? Were you expecting room service to be delivered to your bed? I swear, this is ridiculous.”  

 

Ms. Yang turned away as if she couldn’t be bothered. She acted as though she fully expected Ha-yoon to come out.  

 

As Ha-yoon hesitantly stepped outside, the smell of food whetted her appetite. A perfectly grilled steak and a fresh salad. Beside them, instead of soup, there was an incongruous bowl of porridge. 

 

Just as Ha-yoon sat down and took a spoonful of porridge, Ms. Yang sat across from her and rested her chin on her hand.  

 

“What do you do? Are you a student?”  

 

She probably hadn’t graduated. 

 

Ha-yoon paused at the casual remark.  

 

“What university do you attend? What’s your major?”  

 

Caught off guard, Ha-yoon gripped her spoon tightly.  

 

“University…?”  

 

“What, don’t tell me you only finished high school?”  

 

Contempt was blatant in Ms. Yang’s eyes.  

 

Seriously? So she’s just a pretty face with nothing in her head, coasting by on her looks.

 

She had lived her life being called a genius, working hard, only for it all to amount to nothing. Meanwhile, girls like this latched onto the right man and turned their lives around.  

 

The more she looked, the more it irritated her. Ms. Yang folded her arms with a look of scorn.  

 

“You’re really something else, aren’t you?”  

 

And yet, she was here, staying in this house.  

 

“Is there anything you’re actually good at?”  

 

—Stop eating, Seo Ha-yoon. You don’t deserve to eat.

 

 

A voice, familiar like an echo, whispered around Ha-yoon’s ears. Deserve. Worth. Even her own parents had thrown those words at her like a habit. 

 

Words that had strangled her all her life now clogged her throat. Her stomach churned. Someone of no value.Words that had haunted her tightened around her gut.  

 

Ha-yoon’s hands trembled before she finally let go of her spoon.  

 

What was she good at?  

 

The woman in front of her had casually asked about university, and Ha-yoon had been unable to answer. That meant she didn’t even meet the most basic standard.  

 

What is my worth?

 

Hadn’t she spent the whole day just breathing on the window and fiddling with her fingers? The anxiety she had tried to suppress reared its head.  

 

Hearing such words from a complete stranger made her feel even smaller. Ha-yoon staggered as she stood up.  

 

“You’re not going to eat?”  

 

Unbelievable.  

 

When she told her to eat, did she think that meant she was supposed to shove the spoon into her mouth? Ms. Yang spoke toward Ha-yoon’s unsteady back as if she had done her duty.  

 

“I made sure you had food. Let’s be clear on that.”  

 

But whether Ha-yoon heard her or not, she walked straight back to Cha Moo-geon’s room.  

 

Ms. Yang let out a short sigh. Her gaze fell on the untouched meal.  

 

“What am I supposed to do with this?”  

 

Outside the door, Jaegyu and Hyunho would probably be waiting to check if she had finished eating.  

 

Oh well.  

 

Ms. Yang sat in Ha-yoon’s seat and elegantly picked up the utensils.  

 

“She’s got it good, doesn’t she?”  

 

This is exactly why kids these days are hopeless.  

 

***

 

With the pitch-black nightscape at his back, Moo-geon completed his signature without the slightest disruption in his posture. Soon, he reached for a file at the far right end of the desk, one without a title.  

 

The amount of material organized in chronological order was considerable. It was all compiled while tracking Song Woo-jin. If he set his mind to it, bringing down Song Woo-jin would be a trivial task.  

 

Of course, that was if he chose to do so.  

 

Knock, knock.  

 

After leaving behind a crisp knock, Ji Kang-heon entered, brushing off his jacket without fail.  

 

“Sir, it’s Kang-heon.”  

 

“Come in.”  

 

Without lifting his gaze from the documents, Moo-geon rubbed his impassive face with his palm. Kang-heon’s eyes briefly flicked over Moo-geon’s desk.  

 

“The prosecution has requested that you appear for questioning as a witness regarding the recent scaffolding accident.”  

 

“The prosecution.”  

 

Moo-geon echoed the word in a murmur.  

 

“The prosecutor in charge is Park Seung-ho.”  

 

The very prosecutor that Song Woo-jin had brought into the mix.  

 

“The pretext?”  

 

“It’s exactly as they say—witness questioning. My guess is they haven’t found any grounds to formally charge you as a defendant.”  

 

Excuses could be manufactured at will, but they hadn’t even been able to do that. The best they could come up with was calling him in as a witness…  

 

Since Song Woo-jin had maneuvered to get him that position, he needed to show some results, but so far, there was nothing solid.  

 

As Moo-geon remained silent, Kang-heon added,  

 

“What should we do?”  

 

“What do you think we should do, Chief Ji?”  

 

Uh—Ji Kang-heon hesitated for a moment. Moo-geon was one to give orders, not one to seek opinions, so he didn’t think for a second that Moo-geon was actually asking for his input.  

 

At most, he figured it was a test to gauge his competence.  

 

“The lawyers have advised that you are not obligated to comply with the questioning.”  

 

There’s no need to provide any leverage by voluntarily participating in the witness interview. Kang-heon cautiously added his own opinion.  

 

Moo-geon stroked his chin lightly in agreement.  

 

“It really is troublesome, making a fuss over something that’s not even mandatory.”  

 

They were barking and snarling, desperate to sink their teeth into him.  

 

And yet, what if they ended up getting bitten instead?  

 

Moo-geon lifted his gaze, his expression chilling. At this point, it wasn’t about whether he was guilty or not. The very act of complying with the prosecution’s summons would serve to destabilize his position.  

 

“How cute, Song Woo-jin.”  

 

Moo-geon slid the materials regarding Song Woo-jin across the desk. Then, with a casual flick, he tapped a photograph with his index finger.  

 

“The one who should be investigated is our Vice President Song.”  

 

No matter how blinded by ambition he was, he should at least play within the bounds of the law. But clearly, he couldn’t.  

 

At Moo-geon’s subtle signal, Kang-heon promptly picked up the photograph. In it, Song Woo-jin was captured entering a hotel with a young girl.  

 

Flipping to the next page, Kang-heon found another image—Song Woo-jin’s face, clearly visible, tangled in a sordid mess within a hotel room.  

 

“The girl is currently recovering without issue at Ms. Yang’s hospital. She is confirmed to be a minor. We’ll time the release to coincide right before the MOU signing.”  

 

Moo-geon had merely pointed to a single photo, but Kang-heon immediately grasped his superior’s intentions. He laid out the follow-up steps seamlessly, leaving no room for error, prompting Moo-geon to give a small nod.  

 

With this, even if Song Woo-jin wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to show his face at the meeting.  

 

And once that happened, Songhwa Group would lose yet another pretext to interfere with Yeohwa’s business.  

 

With the owner’s risk looming this large, there was no way Songhwa Group could dare to take the lead.  

 

A glint of amusement flickered in Moo-geon’s weighty gaze.  

 

“What about Ms. Yang?”  

 

For the first time that evening, Moo-geon picked up his glass of water.  

 

Was this really a question worth parching his throat over?  

 

Quickly processing his brief thought, Kang-heon answered at once.  

 

“Oh Jae-gyu and Joo Hyun-ho have been keeping tabs on her, and there are no unusual developments.”  

 

“Good. There shouldn’t be.”  

 

Moo-geon’s voice dropped slightly, making Kang-heon’s throat tense instinctively.  

 

“Assemblyman Ahn Hyung-geon from the opposition party has requested another meeting.”  

 

“Why?”  

 

Moo-geon asked indifferently, flipping through the documents in his hands.  

 

“He says he wants to personally congratulate you on your appointment as CEO.”  

 

“And it’s not just an excuse to get congratulated for his own election as party leader?”  

 

The words sounded nice, but Moo-geon responded with a sneer.  

 

“From what I gather, it’s more along the lines of: now that you’re CEO, why not work together toward the next presidential election?”  

 

Moo-geon took out a cigarette and tapped it against the desk.  

 

“As he keeps stuffing himself with dirty money, he’ll burst one of these days.”  

 

With just a slight application of pressure, the pristine white packaging crinkled with a snap, and soon, the loose tobacco spilled out in a cascade.