Masquerader Chapter 11

The hospital room had been changed. It was a larger, more luxurious, and more secluded place.  

 

After the prosecutor who had secured Seol-ah’s statement left, a man who introduced himself as Yang Chi-wook, the chief secretary, came to visit. When Secretary Yang appeared, Seol-ah was standing at the entrance of the hospital room, staring at a nameplate at eye level that read “VIP.”  

 

“Oh? You shouldn’t be out here.”  

 

Chi-wook pushed Seol-ah back into the room and gave a glance to the burly men in black suits who had followed him. Then, as he stepped inside and closed the door, he spoke.  

 

“From now on, those guys will be guarding outside your hospital room. We’ve also deployed security personnel downstairs at the hospital, so for the most part, you’ll be safe. But just in case, don’t leave this room.”  

 

Chi-wook walked straight to the window, glanced at the surrounding buildings, and pulled down the blinds.  

 

“I doubt anyone would go that far, but I have strict orders to be thorough. If someone really wanted to take a picture, they could. Keep the blinds closed while you’re here. Even if it feels stifling, you’ll have to endure it.”  

 

“Why… do I have to do that?”  

 

It was a question she had had since the moment her room had been changed.  

 

“It’s the will of Executive Director Seo Tae-shin of Seomyeong Group.”  

 

The secretary answered plainly. There was no additional explanation, as if the name alone demanded unquestioning obedience.  

 

That condescending attitude was enough to make Seol-ah feel repulsed. The moment she heard the words “Seomyeong Group,” an instinctive aversion surged within her. Her stomach churned, and her ears began to ring.  

 

“Who is that?”  

 

“He’s the one who had your status changed from perpetrator to victim.”  

 

“And why would the executive director of Seomyeong Group do that?”  

 

If she had been changed from the perpetrator to the victim, it meant that Seo Gyo-jin, in turn, had been demoted from victim to perpetrator.  

 

Seol-ah had no power to make such a thing happen. Yet someone from Seomyeong Group had done what even the Korean police had hesitated to do?  

 

“Hmm…”  

 

Chi-wook nodded, as if acknowledging that it was a reasonable question. He seemed to take a moment to choose his words before answering in a neutral tone.  

 

“Because the executive director is a man of great justice.”  

 

Although the secretary’s expression was serious, his words didn’t sound entirely truthful. A savior appearing like a ray of light in her tattered life, like some hero of justice? That was nonsense.  

 

A helping hand like that only existed in the fairy tales she had read as a child. She was too jaded and wounded to believe in stories that always ended with good triumphing over evil.  

 

Noticing the skepticism on Seol-ah’s face, Chi-wook added, as if cautioning her,  

 

“So, in consideration of the kindness being extended to you, I hope you’ll refrain from any rash actions. We’re doing our best to protect you right now, and if we’re rowing the same boat, we need to be in sync, don’t we?”  

 

“When the fall accident happened, there was someone who fell with me.”  

 

Seol-ah’s words were out of the blue, and Chi-wook slowly closed his lips.  

 

“What happened to that person?”  

 

No one knew about the man’s whereabouts. The medical staff had said that Seol-ah had been brought to the emergency room alone.  

 

“Was there really such a person?”  

 

The secretary looked slightly surprised as he asked. He didn’t seem particularly interested, but he feigned concern.  

 

“I’ll check with the detective in charge. If someone else had fallen at the scene that day, the police would have investigated it.”  

 

Seol-ah had already met the detective in charge—Song Seok-gu, with his shadow of stubble along his jawline. He had also said that the only person the rescue team had found on the mountain that day was Seol-ah.  

 

Had it really been just a dream?  

 

Her mind had been a mess, so she wasn’t certain of her memory. And yet, the solid warmth that had wrapped around her body, holding her tightly, remained vividly imprinted in her senses.  

 

“In any case, we’ll be handling the conclusion of this case. The rules you need to follow here are simple. The blinds. Don’t leave the hospital room.”  

 

Chi-wook counted off on his fingers as he spoke.  

 

“Don’t have unauthorized contact with outsiders. No one but the designated medical staff is allowed in. If someone other than your attending physician comes in, don’t follow them or answer any questions. Contact me immediately.”  

 

He took out a business card, waved it lightly in the air as if urging her to remember it, and then placed it on the bedside table.  

 

“If anyone says they want to visit you—honestly, it’s best if you don’t meet anyone, but even so, let me know first. We need to at least keep track of who you’re meeting.”  

 

Seol-ah looked at him as if asking whether all of this was truly necessary. In response, Chi-wook picked up the remote control and pressed a button toward the TV.  

 

“You haven’t watched the news?”  

 

The large built-in screen on the wall flickered on with a pop, and the news began to play. Seol-ah turned her gaze as if entranced. On the screen behind the news anchor’s grave expression was a profile picture of Seo Gyo-jin.  

 

— Allegations have surfaced that Mr. Seo, the third-generation heir of Seomyeong Group, brandished a firearm and committed sexual crimes against a civilian woman invited to the family event ‘Gangmu,’ sparking widespread public outrage.  

 

It was a major report on the incident that had taken place in the mountains that day.  

 

— As the case reported to the police spread through an anonymous online community, two additional victims claiming similar experiences at the hands of Mr. Seo have come forward, further escalating the situation.  

 

Aerial footage captured by a helicopter appeared on the screen. From above, the dense forest where Seol-ah had fled in terror, as if running for her life, looked merely beautiful.  

 

— Voices of suspicion are growing that such grotesque crimes by Mr. Seo may have been tacitly condoned by the group and have been occurring annually. Seomyeong Group is expected to face difficulties in avoiding demands for an explanation.  

 

The dense forest. The flapping of startled birds. The sound of the helicopter’s propellers filled the audio.  

 

Beeeeeep— A sharp ringing echoed in her ears. Seol-ah squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palms against her ears.  

 

“The victim’s identity has been kept confidential, so you don’t need to worry about that. We will ensure that you do not get exposed to the media or have to stand in court. However, the other side will keep trying to investigate, so you must be extremely careful not to be caught on camera, even in the slightest…”  

 

Chi-wook, who had been murmuring while watching the screen with his arms crossed, turned at the sound of a thud. Seol-ah had collapsed onto the floor, curling up like a pill bug.  

 

“Miss Yoon Seol-ah!”  

 

Alarmed, Chi-wook rushed over and grabbed her shoulders. Seol-ah’s wrist dropped limply as she lost consciousness.