TIOAWN Chapter 32

Did Seo Ha-yoon do this alone? Or was she used by Seo Myung-sik?

 

Moo-geon bit back his self-mockery at the nerves that had loosened so helplessly.

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No. If Seo Ha-yoon was as brazen as her father, she could have done even worse.

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There was no reason to be disappointed anew.

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Moo-geon took a beat to correct his briefly misplaced reason.

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Jin Bo-young?

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Was it her who sold Seo Ha-yoon’s paintings as if they were her own?

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Moo-geon crushed his cigarette into the ashtray with force. The cigarette, unable to withstand the pressure, crumbled pitifully.

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He pressed down on the completely ruined cigarette with his index finger, tormenting it.

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This only made it all the more difficult to let go of Seo Ha-yoon. A strange light flickered in his dark pupils.

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Turning his gaze to the window, he saw that the snowflakes had disappeared without a trace. One may not notice when something arrives, but one always notice when it’s gone. Moo-geon’s gaze lingered on the branches for a while.

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***

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Had someone been here overnight? Tossing in her sleep, Ha-yoon suddenly woke up in alarm.

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“Cha Moo-geon.”

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She fumbled for the space beside her, but of course, he wasn’t there. She had never even seen him asleep by her side in the first place.

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Then why did she feel so empty?

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A vague anxiety settled in her heart. Ha-yoon pulled her knees up and buried her face in them. While she curled up, a nurse took her temperature, and a doctor drew blood for testing.

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“Am I very sick?”

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With no one else to ask, she turned to the nurse.

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“Your fever has gone down a lot. As for the inflammation levels, we’ll have to wait for the blood test results.”

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“Then, can I be discharged?”

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What if that man called Director Jin really showed up here?

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There were too many people constantly coming and going at the hospital. Even as a child, before her heart surgery, her father had appeared out of nowhere.

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She didn’t want to stay any longer.

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“You know there’s a problem with your nutritional status, right?”

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“You need to eat well,” the nurse reminded her, as they always did.

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“Is that so?”

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Ha-yoon responded indifferently. It wasn’t surprising; she had heard the same diagnosis countless times before.

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Malnutrition. Every time she underwent tests for her heart, the doctors would always say the same thing.

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But what did it matter?

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There were people who had been burned and abandoned on the streets, while she was here, indulging in the luxury of hospital care.

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Whenever she thought of the floating corpse, nausea would still rise. She couldn’t force even a single spoonful of food into her mouth.

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Besides, when she had offered to suck him off, hadn’t Cha Moo-geon ended up devouring her instead?

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What exactly is my worth?

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She really didn’t deserve to eat.

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Ha-yoon shook her head and pushed her breakfast aside.

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She left her lunch untouched as well.

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Was she protesting, or was the hospital food simply too unappetizing?

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O Jaegyu and Joo Hyunho glanced around the hospital room, then erased the words “no abnormalities” and replaced them with “did not eat.”

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***

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“Director.”

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“What is it?”

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“The catalog draft is ready. We’ve prepared two cover design options based on your directions. Please review and indicate any necessary revisions, and we’ll implement them accordingly.”

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Even hearing the word ‘catalog’ made Bo-young feel suffocated. She started to check the draft, then abruptly closed it.

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“There’s no rush, is there?”

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“Excuse me? Director, we’re already pressed for time to begin production. You’ll need to finalize your decision within this week so we can proceed with revisions and complete the final version.”

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When the gallery staff calculated the schedule and reported it, Bo-young pressed her temples.

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“Chief Joo. Have all of Artist Ryu Min’s works been transferred?”

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“There’s still time left for that. We planned to do a final status check on the pieces and report to the artist before—”

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“Then take care of that first! Why are you still standing here?!”

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“Pardon?”

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Although there was still time, the urgency in Bo-young’s voice was odd. However, Chief Joo didn’t question it. It wasn’t the first time Jin Bo-young acted like this.

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“I’ll confirm it.”

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Even after Chief Joo left, there were countless tasks that required checking and instructions to be given. All of them pertained to the exhibition, and as time passed, Bo-young’s demeanor grew sharper.

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As the employees left for the day, Bo-young sat alone in the Director’s office, checking her messages again and again. Searching, still searching, she seems to be with someone—there were several texts from Lee Sung-sik.

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She didn’t care whether Seo Myung-sik lived or died, but Seo Ha-yoon was different.

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With a grim expression, Bo-young headed to the studio where Ha-yoon’s paintings were kept.

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Only two paintings had been completed with signatures.

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Far too few. Incredibly lacking. Her throat felt parched as if she were stranded in the middle of a desert without even a sip of water.

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Bo-young stood still for quite some time, staring down at the paintings as if nailed to the spot.

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“I can’t do this.”

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Her judgment may have been clouded, but some things were simply impossible.

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Even if she brought Seo Ha-yoon back, there wasn’t enough time.

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Should she delay it? Change the schedule? No matter how much she thought about it through the night, she couldn’t reach a conclusion.

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What to do? What to do?

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Bo-young clenched her fists, pacing around the studio. Her hand, raking through her hair, was visibly trembling.

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“If I get through this event successfully, I can cover up Woo-jin’s mess, too.”

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With public attention already fixated on the succession race, if Woo-jin’s investment blunder were to surface…

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She didn’t even want to imagine it. Bo-young tightly shut her eyes.

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If the exhibition fell apart and she couldn’t secure slush funds, she wouldn’t be able to clean up Woo-jin’s disaster, nor would she be able to maintain her own reputation.

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Song Ho-yeol would mock her, saying she was incapable of handling slush funds properly and ruined his business.

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“Ruined…”

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Muttering the word, Bo-young suddenly let out a strangled scream, covering her ears and curling in on herself.

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– Don’t forget that you are ruining the reputation that has been built for generations.

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Whenever she heard those words, her fingers gripping the brush would throb, and her toes would curl as if they were about to snap.  

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– Well, you’ve always been lacking since you were a child. I always doubted whether you truly carried the ‘Jin’ family blood.

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The gaze looking down at her was filled with contempt. Father—she couldn’t even bring herself to say that word.  

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Tsk. The sound of a tongue clicking grew louder, and the blatant disregard swelled into an invisible form.  

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Ha. Bo-young clenched her teeth and scratched her arms vigorously.  

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– I brought you here hoping you could at least make some money with your paintings, but for months, you’ve done nothing but waste materials.  

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Drunk, Song Ho-yeol loosened his tie and thud, thud, thud—struck the easel hard.  

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His gaze remained fixed on Bo-young.  

 

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The still-wet paint mixed together, and finally—thud—the easel toppled backward.  

 

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– If you want to keep staying in this house, then go make money with that painting. Prove that you’re worth more than a politician’s daughter.

 

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With paint smeared all over it, Song Ho-yeol’s tie was flung toward Bo-young’s face.  

 

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Scratch, scratch, scratch. 

 

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Bo-young rolled up her sleeves and began scratching her arms again.  

 

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How hard had she worked to build this up until now? She couldn’t let everything fall apart like this. That, at least, was unacceptable.  

 

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She had to be acknowledged. No matter what. But how?  Anxiety surged once again. Her breath caught in her throat, and her vision turned stark white.  

 

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What if I say the exhibition can’t be held because the paintings disappeared?

 

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Her hazy mind wavered. The pressing situation gnawed at her nerves, making her desperate for an escape.  

 

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Should she have them stolen?  

 

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No. The moment the paintings were found, the exhibition would have to proceed. What could she possibly do with just two pieces? 

 

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Still, she couldn’t let things continue like this.  

 

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I have done my best, but due to unavoidable circumstances, the exhibition must be postponed.

 

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She needed an excuse—something that would make everyone sympathize with her.  

 

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What could she do?  

 

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Unavoidable circumstances. Unavoidable circumstances.

 

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Bo-young muttered the same phrase dozens of times.  

 

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An artist’s unavoidable circumstances. Something that could delay the exhibition for a long time—something like that.  

 

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Damage.  

 

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Yes, she would say the paintings were damaged.  

 

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Bo-young’s eyes gleamed as she fixated on Ha-yoon’s painting.  

 

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She picked up the cutter knife from the corner of the studio and walked forward without hesitation.  

 

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The blade touched Ha-yoon’s painting. With just a little pressure—just a little—it would pierce through. Knowing this, Bo-young tightened her grip.  

 

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Rip, rip.

 

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As her arm moved, the painting split apart, revealing the canvas beneath.  

 

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Rip, rip.

 

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She repeated the action several times, leaving the canvas tattered.  

 

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Bo-young placed her hand on the next painting.  

 

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Tear, tear.

 

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Wherever she passed, the torn paintings cried out in agony.  

 

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“Ah.”

 

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The cutter knife fell to the floor.  

 

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When she came back to her senses, the paintings were no longer recognizable. They had been reduced to ruins.  

 

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It was clear to anyone that they had been deliberately destroyed.  

 

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Faced with the evidence of her own actions, Jin Bo-young covered her mouth with both hands.  

 

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“I just need to report it and ask them to find the culprit.”

 

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And then, she would announce that the exhibition had to be canceled.  

 

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Bo-young grabbed her phone.  

 

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She would buy time while the investigation started and they searched for a suspect.  

 

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Finally, she felt at ease.  

 

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Leaning her head back, she took a deep breath—  

 

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And then, the CCTV camera blinked at her, twinkling as if it were smiling.  

 

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“That damn CCTV.”

 

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How could she have forgotten about that?  

 

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Bo-young staggered.  

 

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The relief she had felt vanished, replaced by rapid breathing and a ringing in her ears.  

 

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“I need to get rid of the CCTV footage first, so I have to call Lee Sung-sik—”

 

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Her fingers moved to search for Lee Sung-sik’s number, but before she realized it, she had already pressed 112.  

 

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“This is the emergency response center.”

 

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The moment she heard the voice, Bo-young frantically tapped the “End Call” button.  

 

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– If you’re going to tarnish Songhwa’s reputation, then shut down that damn exhibition right now.

 

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Thud.

 

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The phone slipped from Jin Bo-young’s hand and fell to the floor.