By Zephyria 
∞ ∞ ∞
It wasn’t something he could handle by simply taking sick leave and insisting he was unwell. His father, who had promised to resolve the tabloid issue, was now irresponsibly telling him to handle it himself, saying he would never permit it anyway—words that were utterly useless. Manager Kang wasn’t even answering Hae-won’s calls. He had to deal with it himself before Woo-jin attempted any kind of ‘resolution.’
The anxiety was driving him mad, with Woo-jin’s voice from that night persistently echoing in his ears—pleading for permission to kill, wanting to kill, begging to be allowed to kill, insisting they should all be executed.
Hae-won stopped him as he was leaving for work much earlier than usual. They made a promise, linking pinkies, that he wouldn’t do anything. Woo-jin promised, having even linked fingers, that from now on, he absolutely wouldn’t do anything. The premise of ‘from now on’ was somewhat unsettling, but having secured the promise, Hae-won felt somewhat relieved.
Just as Woo-jin was maintaining his daily routine as if nothing was wrong, ignoring the tabloid, Hae-won needed to do the same.
First, he could break into his savings account and secretly slip the money to Manager Kang, then tell him to treat the reporters. No, that’s not it. If he breaks into the savings account before maturity, he won’t get any benefits and all the effort he’s put in so far will be wasted, so he should just leave it and take out a loan using the officetel as collateral. No, that’s not right either. You shouldn’t take out a loan recklessly.
What if he agreed to do that CF again from last time? If he received the contract fee and balance payment in a lump sum, it would be quite a bit of money. With that, he could treat the reporters, and if there was some left over, he should change the sofa. He’d also buy Woo-jin a desk. The sight of him working at the dining table was just too pitiful.
Busily making plans, Hae-won finished getting ready to go out. As he picked up his violin and opened the officetel door, Lee Jin-soo, who had been waiting, held out a coffee.
“If you’re here, you should ring the bell. I told you to come in and wait. Are you putting on a pitiful act on purpose because you want sympathy?”
“If I look pitiful, that’s a relief. Even if I wanted to come in, I can’t. The Secretary has repeatedly emphasized from the start that I shouldn’t enter the house. It’s not like I enjoy standing in front of the door like a guard dog.”
Jin-soo casually brushed it off, then belatedly realized that Woo-jin really did treat him like a guard dog and went, ‘Ah.’ He was slightly taken aback, but since Woo-jin was someone who provided sure compensation, Jin-soo soon brushed it off.
“You saying that makes me even more uncomfortable.”
Hae-won retorted, asking why he had to say it in a way that made him feel sorry.
An ordinary person would have apologized for causing trouble and expressed gratitude. Clearly, Moon Hae-won was no ordinary human.
Well, that’s probably why he was dating a man who got blood on his hands, whose actions were utterly incomprehensible.
No matter how handsome or rich, such a person was a hard pass.
“I’m truly sorry for making Hae-won-ssi uncomfortable. But since I’m being compensated with money, you don’t need to worry about it.”
“I’ll tell him to give you more.”
“I’d appreciate that if you did.”
Without any pretense of refusal, the manager readily accepted and pressed the elevator down button for Hae-won.
“Could you look at me for a second? Is this angle okay?”
“Don’t send any weirdly taken photos.”
“Thanks to you, my photography skills are gradually improving.”
Jin-soo took a photo of Hae-won with his phone camera.
If he had been a celebrity instead of a violinist, it would have been even better.
He would have become much more popular and famous than he is now.
Hae-won was a subject worth photographing.
Having started working at a management company, Jin-soo frequently saw actors and models, so his standards for looks were high. Hae-won was a beauty that always evoked fresh admiration in his eyes. The Woo-jin who supposedly worked for some government agency was also quite handsome, but Hae-won’s finely sculpted features on his small face were somewhat more attractive. Hyun Woo-jin was excessively expressionless.
Jin-soo sent Hae-won’s photo to Woo-jin and got on the elevator that had just arrived with him.
“Does the Secretary also send photos often?”
“Hyung? Why hyung?”
“Ah, don’t you exchange photos, video call, and things like that?”
“We’ve never done anything like that.”
“The Secretary is handsome too. He’d probably look good on screen.”
“He looks good on screen. Hyung Woo-jin has appeared in the news a few times. Haven’t you seen it?”
“I don’t watch the news.”
Hae-won took his phone out of his pocket and showed him a screenshot of a news screen. Jin-soo craned his neck and looked at the screen.
“He looks like a completely different person. He seems really cold.”
The real person at least had some humanity.
“He’s not as good as the real thing, right? The real thing is better, right?”
“The real thing is more striking.”
At Jin-soo’s response, Hae-won’s lips curved into an arc, and he gazed lovingly at Woo-jin on the screen with eyes full of pride that said, ‘He’s mine.’
In the symphony rehearsal room, the sound of members who had already arrived tuning their instruments could be heard. Amid the familiar dissonance, some were chatting while drinking coffee.
As Hae-won entered the rehearsal room, the conductor, who had been a guest conductor and became a permanent member this year, followed him in, tapped Hae-won’s shoulder, and greeted him.
Hae-won greeted the conductor with a dry ‘Morning’ and took his seat. Hae-won placed the violin case on the floor and unzipped it.
“Hae-won-ssi, I heard you were sick, but you came today. Want some coffee?”
As if someone had ordered coffee for the group, the cellist approached holding the same franchise coffee and sat in the next seat.
“I had some on the way.”
“Did you happen to hear the news?”
At the cellist’s words, his fumbling movements to take out his instrument halted abruptly.
He had said everyone who needed to know would know. Could it be that everyone already knows?
Ah, I shouldn’t have taken sick leave. I should have just feigned ignorance and pretended not to know. I shouldn’t have deleted my SNS account and just left it. They’ve probably all figured out who D and E are. I did something conspicuous, so they all found out.
“……What news?”
Hae-won asked in a voice that had shrunk considerably.
“About Teacher Kim Hee-kyung.”
“……Ah.”
It seems not. That’s a relief. Hae-won, who had hunched his shoulders tightly, straightened them and returned to his usual indifferent tone as he took out his violin.
“What about Teacher Kim Hee-kyung? I heard she’s returning to Germany soon.”
“She decided to perform in Korea. I heard she’s in contract negotiations with an agency? Have you heard anything like that? You performed with her on the Wednesday Art Stage last time.”
He asked with eager anticipation.
“A solo performance?”
“I’m not sure where, but I heard they offered an enormous guarantee.”
“She didn’t mention anything like that back then. She said she was going straight to Germany.”
“Ticketing will be incredibly tough, right? But you’ve collaborated with her before. Could you pretend not to know and ask Hae-won-ssi to request a few seats? My mom is a huge fan of Kim Hee-kyung. I just need three tickets.”
He had seen it coming from the moment he brought coffee and acted familiar this morning.
“I don’t have her contact information.”
“Ah……, really?”
Making no effort to hide his disappointment, the cellist took back the coffee he had brought for Hae-won and slipped away.
Hae-won placed the violin on his lap, took out the orchestra bow, and turned the screw. He applied rosin to the tightly wound bow hair.
Due to academic schedules, Kim Hee-kyung had politely declined the PD in charge who proposed a special program, saying she had to return to Germany. Hae-won, who happened to be nearby, unintentionally overheard. Given that she was a world-renowned pianist with popular appeal, getting tickets wouldn’t be easy.
Should I ask the agency president?
As Hae-won thought this while applying rosin to the bow, he glanced down at the case on the floor.
“…….”
Come to think of it, he had forgotten, but Woo-jin’s words about attaching a tracker to the violin case suddenly came to mind.
Hae-won placed the violin and bow on the next seat, crouched in front of the case, and rummaged through it, turning everything inside out.
“Do you need a string? I have a Dominant one.”
A woman in the back seat kindly asked Hae-won, who was rummaging through the case.
“It’s okay.”
Hae-won also had a few spare strings.
Where on earth did he attach the tracker here? When did he attach it?
Hae-won couldn’t believe his words. Although lightweight, Hae-won’s violin case was finished with Kevlar, a material used in armored vehicles and military bulletproof vests, protecting the instrument from heat and cold while also capable of blocking GPS.
But where did he attach it here? Shouldn’t GPS be blocked?
At first, his hands moved out of curiosity, but as a thought suddenly occurred to him, it gradually turned into obsession.
Unaware of the strange looks from those around him, Hae-won fiercely pulled everything out and searched. As rehearsal time was almost up, the search was halted by the conductor’s gesture.
“What’s wrong? Did a bug get inside?”
The violist asked with a startled look, making a gesture as if he might grab his instrument and run away at any moment.
“No, it’s not that. Hmm.”
Embarrassed, Hae-won neatly put away the bow and sat back down. He placed the violin on his shoulder, turned the peg, and tuned the strings. Following the oboe’s signal, the orchestra began tuning.
“The Senior Secretary for Civil Affairs is not the personnel authority for the prosecution. You shouldn’t speak as if you have appointment authority.”
“You think I don’t know they brought you in to take down Park Hyung-soo? There must be someone the VIP pre-selected from the start. Right?”
“Am I sitting here to fight with the Prosecutor General now?”
The positions of the High Prosecutor’s Office Chief and the Deputy Chief Prosecutor of the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office had been vacant for a month, and the Prosecutor General, who had come to the Chief of Staff’s residence to resolve the matter, sharply revealed his uncomfortable feelings. Although he was angry at Woo-jin, Chief Kwon knew the rebuke was meant for someone else to hear.
“You said Yoo Sang-ho is also unacceptable. This is abuse of power. Why don’t you just give us the list.”
The Prosecutor General was intentionally using informal speech with Woo-jin, who was a junior and an acquaintance.
“Compared to the previous administration, we are still guaranteeing prosecutorial neutrality. The Blue House’s goal is to normalize prosecutorial personnel organization, and I’m speaking out of sincere concern because I don’t want our own family to be disgraced, so please take it to heart.”
Woo-jin spoke to him in a cold tone. The Prosecutor General lowered his gaze and looked at Woo-jin’s hand. The blue fountain pen between his fingers on the documents had been bothering him for a while. Woo-jin wasn’t staying still; he kept spinning the fountain pen on his finger as if performing a trick.
“Is this organizational normalization? It’s appointment interference.”
“Chief Prosecutor Yoo Sang-ho blatantly formed his own line, kept only his line in key departments for over five years, ignoring rotation placement principles more than once, and there’s also a record of leaving some prosecutors who opposed him in branch offices for years. Shall I recite personal misconduct? There’s so much intelligence that even we can’t sort it out. If Chief Prosecutor Yoo is promoted to High Prosecutor’s Office Chief, many prosecutors will resign.”
“…….”
“The Deputy Chief Prosecutor of the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office is the person who acts on behalf of the Prosecutor General in emergencies. Don’t put forward someone who will just obey the Prosecutor General; submit a list of people who can do the job properly.”
The fountain pen, which had been spinning like a trick between his fingers, tapped the documents. It was an arrogant remark, as if lecturing someone. The infuriated Prosecutor General tried to snap back a retort, but under Woo-jin’s steady gaze, he exhaled a tired breath and backed down.
Knowing the internal circumstances too well was also a headache, but the Prosecutor General couldn’t shake the feeling that the guy had dirt on him, like a thief feeling a twinge in his own foot.
He didn’t raise his voice any further. He didn’t want to provoke Woo-jin. Hyun Woo-jin was a man whose actions were utterly unpredictable.
If it were the Minister or Chief Kwon raising objections, he could push back more strongly, but with Woo-jin sitting in that seat, the Prosecutor General couldn’t do this or that and had no choice but to move according to their will. There was no room to insert even a needle.
“Including this matter, how about handling it all at once during the regular personnel appointments? Both the Minister and the Prosecutor General should be flexible, and we will cooperate as much as possible.”
In the chilly atmosphere, Chief Kwon concluded the meeting with the most favorable words possible.
Leaving the Chief of Staff’s residence, Woo-jin returned to the Yeomin Hall.
On Woo-jin’s desk in the Anti-Corruption Secretary’s office, documents were piled up, including pre-questionnaires for high-ranking public official candidates with over two hundred pages per case and reports submitted by the special investigation team leader—more than ten cases in total. They weren’t there before the meeting. As he skimmed through the verification documents that had suddenly piled up, an administrative officer, without being asked, gauged his reaction and spoke.
“They came from the Senior Secretary for Personnel’s office. They said it could garner tens of thousands more votes during the general election; it seems the ruling party representative recommended them. Secretary Kim was conducting verification when issues arose and was inspected, and eventually returned to Secretary’s original ministry.”
“…….”
It meant they couldn’t touch just anyone.
The surveillance targets of the Anti-Corruption Secretary’s office special investigation team were high-ranking public officials. Compared to the Civil Affairs Secretary’s office special investigation team, which monitors presidential relatives or internal Blue House staff, or the Public Integrity Secretary’s office special investigation team, it inevitably held the greatest influence. The fact that these were passed to him meant that there were personnel included that were tricky to handle. It seemed Chief Kwon had instructed to pass the difficult cases to Woo-jin.
“For details, the Senior Secretary said he would give instructions via Telegram and asked to organize the raw data before intelligence collection.”
“Tell the special investigation team leader and desk to come in tomorrow morning.”
“Understood. Oh, right, the Senior Secretary’s office staff brought snacks; have you had some?”
“No. It’s fine.”
“They brought expensive ones because they’re giving out wedding invitations. Should I bring you a piece?”
“No. I won’t eat.”
Checking the message from Jin-soo, Woo-jin responded indifferently, showing no interest.
“Then we’ll step out for a moment.”
Several employees, gauging Woo-jin’s mood, went outside. The sound of them whispering among themselves reached Woo-jin’s ears.
Hearing the word ‘tabloid,’ Woo-jin looked up from his phone and watched their retreating backs.
Woo-jin also went outside. He entered a meeting room where someone had prepared refreshments. On the table were handmade cakes, macarons, coffee, and such, as if specially arranged for distributing wedding invitations.
Employees working in the Senior Secretary for Civil Affairs’ office were chatting leisurely, enjoying a rare afternoon break. Civil servants who had passed the administrative exam and worked in government agencies before being dispatched formed one group, while those like Woo-jin, who had become civil servants by chance, formed another, naturally dividing into factions and mingling among themselves.
“Secretary Hyun, here’s a wedding invitation for you.”
“Congratulations on your marriage.”
A secretary handed Woo-jin a wedding invitation with a neatly tied white ribbon.
“We prepared some snacks; please enjoy.”
“Yes.”
Woo-jin picked up a small plate with a slice of cake and a fork and approached the group of non-exam civil servants.
“Where’s Minsoo-ssi?”
When Chief Kwon wasn’t around, employees referred to the Civil Affairs Secretary as Minsoo-ssi, the Public Integrity Secretary as Gongbi, the Anti-Corruption Secretary as Banbi, and the Legal Affairs Secretary and Civil Affairs Secretary as Beopbi and Minbi, respectively.
As Woo-jin, who usually didn’t even converse much with them, initiated the conversation, the employees actively informed him of Minsoo-ssi’s whereabouts, though they weren’t particularly curious.
Woo-jin naturally blended in with them, making small talk, and subtly brought up the tabloid issue.
“Minsoo-ssi was talking about some tabloid; have you heard anything?”
“Ah, really? Minsoo-ssi knows too? We thought only we knew. Secretary, do you know anything?”
“I heard it was a non-exam civil servant working in the provinces, not the main office.”
“I heard it was the Blue House?”
Non-exam civil servants are called ‘neulgong’; as Woo-jin spoke, pretending to recall, the administrative officers raised questions and made a fuss among themselves. Woo-jin listened to their conversation without batting an eye.
“What grade is he?”
“That tabloid content changed and a new one came out; seems like you all haven’t seen it yet?”
Woo-jin casually remarked.
“Wow, could you send it to me via message?”
Woo-jin took out his phone and forwarded the content he had received yesterday morning.