#04

Seon-jae hurriedly called the gallery to reserve the painting. He informed them to charge an additional 1% for the delivery fee along with the address of the congressman’s house. After all, it wasn’t a purchase for tax evasion. If they made a fuss about the extra 1%, it was fine not to do the deal. There were plenty of customers.

After hanging up, he immediately left the gym. With a sports bag in hand, he stood around for a while, unsure of where to go. Suddenly, cold sweat began to trickle down. Sweat pooled in the palm of his hand that gripped the bag.

Where on earth was he? Standing in the middle of the street, he felt stuck. Bicycles and motorcycles passing by swerved sharply, cursing at him. He had to move if he wasn’t going to die on the pavement. He knew that in his head, but his body wouldn’t listen. His legs felt like lead. Looking down at his feet, a familiar face was gazing up at him. It was Father from the second floor. Seon-jae’s face contorted.

Damn it. He knew it was an illusion, but he stomped his feet vigorously to shake it off. Then he walked aimlessly. With every step, the gaze he had seen moments ago followed him. He bowed his head in greeting, and suddenly, she appeared, holding a flower pot and crying. The flower juice from the balsam flower stained his palm before disappearing.

He felt a tailing presence. He couldn’t tell when it had started, but one thing was certain: they were very flustered. Seon-jae had wandered over 10 kilometers from the gym, which was just a hundred meters ahead, back to the company.

After bathing in sweat, he showered at a sauna near the company and changed into workout clothes. He stuffed a suit haphazardly into his sports bag and returned to the company at 4:30 PM. He had walked for over five hours. His feet were on fire, and he was hungry. But he didn’t want to eat, so he just sat down.

Suddenly, he was filled with motivation. Seon-jae started processing the stack of documents on his desk. He signed a few and returned most. He didn’t forget to underline and add comments with a red pen. He cooled his head by reading the stock market and profit reports sent from the brokerage firm.

The real work was just beginning. Although it was called the strategic planning office, what Seon-jae did was play with money. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Ilgwang Financial could grow this much thanks to Seon-jae, as he was well-versed in numbers. To put it humbly, he was confident that he could compete with anyone in the world when it came to money. That was Lee Seon-jae.

The lending business didn’t require much intervention thanks to the system Seon-jae had built over a long time. Money rolled in effortlessly, and if it didn’t, the shoulders of others would step in. The most troublesome were the employees embezzling money, more so than the customers who didn’t pay back. They were skilled in numbers and deception, though not as much as Seon-jae, so he had to match numbers every month to find any gaps. It was one of the tasks Seon-jae hated the most.

What he enjoyed and put effort into was managing the money of VIP clients. Actively assisting with tax avoidance and evasion, creating slush funds, bribery, and so on. High-ranking political and business figures, along with their families and relatives, were the main clients, and recently, as he ventured into the construction industry, presidents and executives of construction companies had also made it onto the list.

He was holding onto documents until dawn. Recently, opportunities to concentrate without interruption had been rare, so he tried to get as much done as possible. He made copies of all necessary documents and made sure to keep the originals himself.

It had been quite a while since Seon-jae had prepared double-entry bookkeeping. The copies stored in the company, pretending to be originals, were also handwritten by Seon-jae, so he had never raised any suspicion. It wasn’t intentional; it was a kind of obsession. Thanks to that, he had become a valuable person. If asked whether it was a good thing personally, he would say maybe not, but now that it couldn’t be undone, he had no choice but to proceed as planned.

After meticulously packing even the floppy disks, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and turned off the light in the manager’s office. Dawn was breaking.

Two cleaning ladies were sweeping and mopping the office floor while emptying the trash cans. Seon-jae left the office, glancing at the CCTV cameras installed everywhere. Instead of the front door, he walked out the back and took a taxi. It seemed there was no one waiting all night.

Seon-jae had been followed since last week. It was from his side. Due to the difficulties in managing the company after hastily jumping into the construction industry, Uncle had come up with a policy to restore discipline within the company as a last resort. As part of that policy, instead of seminars or training for guidance, they began searching for moles who leaked information to competitors. They instructed all executives, including Seon-jae, to be followed and monitored.

It wasn’t like Uncle to do something like that when the company was in trouble. People whispered that he had lost his mind, searching for traitors like a third-rate gang leader. Looking back, it was around this time that Lee Hyun-joon had pulled off the Pangyo scam.

In any case, not only Seon-jae but also the executives found their actions restricted, and they had to be cautious of smoke rising from a non-existent chimney. The fortunate thing was that Seon-jae, who usually preferred public transportation over his own car, wouldn’t raise suspicion by taking a taxi or getting on the subway or bus.

Public transportation had its variables, so they often missed Seon-jae. In such cases, they usually waited in front of his house. Of course, just because they weren’t being followed didn’t mean he let his guard down.

Seon-jae got out of the taxi and went down to the subway. The subway was quite crowded with people heading out in the early morning. He briefly squeezed in among them and then transferred lines. He took a white baseball cap out of his backpack and put it on. Then he went back up to the surface and took a taxi.

After going around in circles, he finally arrived at his destination, and it was already 7 AM. This time, the delivery person had changed. Seon-jae handed his backpack to a man who matched the description given earlier and received a similar backpack in return. This was the sixth time, and it was the last.

After finishing his business, Seon-jae returned to his apartment where he lived alone. The 22-pyeong public apartment built in 1978 was aging every year while waiting for reconstruction.

The wallpaper and flooring he had done seven years ago were worn enough, though not as much as the apartment itself, and the cheap dining table and sofa had scratches and tears in several places. He hadn’t turned on the second-hand TV in a while, and occasionally listening to music on the record player was his only form of entertainment.

The only place that looked relatively new in the house was the kitchen. Since he rarely cooked, there was no grease or water stains. He mostly drank bottled water, and if there was none, he drank tap water. The apartment was merely a place to sleep and do unfinished work from the company. It was not a sweet home but merely a lodging, neither more nor less.

After taking a shower, he got ready for work. The man in the mirror looked pale, as if he had never seen light. Excluding his complexion, he looked healthy for someone who had spent a sleepless night. The whites of his eyes were clear, and there were no bloodshot veins.

“You’re looking too fine.”

He chuckled to himself.

He thought it was a silly notion that insomnia might show itself differently depending on the person. It was actually a good thing; he was annoyed that he didn’t look sick in a childish way. He involuntarily frowned at the memory of his mother, who had let his older brother skip school when he pretended to be sick, while sending him, who was genuinely ill, to school.

Family. What a terrible name.

He shook his head to dispel the thought.

D-1

As Seon-jae entered, everyone in the meeting room looked at him as if they had made a pact.

“I’m sorry for being late.”

He bowed respectfully to apologize and was about to sit down when their gazes remained fixed on his forehead. Raising his hand to touch his forehead, he felt a sting. Blood was smeared on his fingers.

Damn it. When did I get cut?

Seon-jae couldn’t even remember the fact that he was injured.

He had definitely left the apartment on time. Yet, when he came to his senses, he found himself not knowing where he was. He hurriedly caught a taxi but got stuck in traffic on the way to work, unable to move. By the time he finally reached the company, he inexplicably got out of the taxi. Why had he tried to cross the street? If he had known that, he wouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the road.

Snapped back to reality by the loud honking of horns, the moment he stepped forward, he heard a screeching sound. Instinctively, he dodged the car and then fell. Fortunately, no one else was hurt except for Seon-jae, and the car was fine. The driver rolled down the window and started cursing.

Did I hit my forehead when I fell? How did I even fall?

Disjointed thoughts chased each other.

Uncle frowned.

The already heavy atmosphere grew even heavier.

“So what I’m saying is—”

The former executive cautiously broke the silence.

He continued the conversation that had been going on before Seon-jae entered.

As the meeting dragged on, the executives’ voices grew louder, and eventually, accusations were thrown around. Uncle remained silent, merely observing the scene. The atmosphere was tense, but Seon-jae was dazed. Normally, he would have been attentive to every word from the executives, closely observing their facial expressions and body language to grasp their true intentions and meanings. It was something he did instinctively, not because someone told him to.

But he couldn’t hear anything. It had started again. He realized only belatedly that the meeting had ended. Recently, the intervals between these episodes had been getting shorter. Just as he managed to gather himself and straighten his appearance to stand up, Uncle called out to him.

“Director Lee, stay a moment.”

All ten executives turned their heads to glance at Seon-jae and Uncle.

As soon as the meeting room door closed, papers flew in. This time, he couldn’t avoid it, so he just took the hit. To be honest, even if he had tried to dodge, his body wouldn’t have listened, and he couldn’t have avoided it anyway.