Chapter 66

To Choi Yook’s knowledge, Kim Jeong-seon had never once defied Choi Hak-gyun’s dictates. Down to the minutest detail—her makeup, her wardrobe, even her perfume—she adhered strictly to Choi Hak-gyun’s preferences. Far from feeling any resentment toward this subservience, she took genuine delight in it.

For such a woman to have kept a secret from Choi Hak-gyun—what could it possibly be? Choi Yook harbored no curiosity whatsoever regarding Kim Jeong-seon’s personal circumstances, but the fissure it created between her and Choi Hak-gyun piqued his interest.

Lost in thought, Choi Yook continued to smoke. A call came in midway through, but he let it ring out. Soon after, two text messages popped up in succession on his screen. They were from Seo Mu-yeong.

—“Are you busy, Section Chief? You haven’t answered my calls all day, so I’m worried whether something happened to you.”

Composed with punctilious grammar and spelling just as Choi Yook had ordered, the text held none of Seo Mu-yeong’s actual cadence or tone. Nor did it reflect his genuine expression or emotions.

Written words were merely such superficial records. The Seo Mu-yeong Choi Yook knew did not exist within this message; it was nothing more than an innocuous greeting anyone could read. Just as a sudden spike of irritation flared within him at that thought, another text arrived.

—“I miss you.”

The text devoid of a subject made his mood sour even further. Fuck, just who do you miss?

Choi Yook exhaled a long trail of smoke. What he felt toward Seo Mu-yeong was nothing more than carnal lust. Feeling such a base impulse—and having that desire persist for this long—was entirely unprecedented, but it hardly mattered.

A simple desire could easily be suppressed before it infringed upon his objective. It was only overblown because he had not yet slept with him; once he broke Seo Mu-yeong completely and took him, such wanton lust would surely vanish without a trace.

It was merely because the man was hung up on someone like Choi Sijin that Choi Yook felt this violent urge to crush him to pieces. It was a blind faith as deep-rooted and ancient as it was repulsive. Seo Mu-yeong had even shaped his life’s path around Choi Sijin, and his eyes shone endlessly whenever he spoke of him.

Yet after all that, he was swaying at a momentary touch of body heat and throwing himself into Choi Yook’s arms. Having lived such a solitary existence, Seo Mu-yeong was desperately starved for affection. Had anyone else embraced him instead, he would have yielded just the same—whether it were Choi Sijin, the errand center director, or that coworker of his.

For a man with such formidable pride, his heart was pitifully weak. Choi Yook needed to thoroughly break him of that atrocious habit—reaching with his hands in one direction while casting his eyes in another.

No matter what the man claimed, even if he begged and swore he had suddenly fallen in love with him, Choi Yook would neither believe nor accept it. Hence, there was no reason to waste effort on a reply.

Drawing on his cigarette, Choi Yook stared intently at Seo Mu-yeong’s text, waiting for the turbulence roiling in his chest to subside. Yet before the heat could cool, he sensed the quiet presence of someone approaching.

Choi Yook glanced back over his shoulder. Some distance away, Kim Jeong-seon stood hesitating awkwardly.

“Yook-ah,” she called out softly, clasping her hands tightly together as she stepped toward him. “The Chairman said everyone may leave now. Would you come to the kitchen for a moment before you go? I marinated some ribs, and I’d like you to take them with you.”

Her round eyes darted nervously in his direction. Seeing that she hadn’t bothered to send one of the household staff, she clearly had something private to say.

Choi Yook gave a slight nod. “Very well.”

Stubbing out his cigarette on the marble bench, Choi Yook followed after her. Kim Jeong-seon led the way into the pantry beside the kitchen. Crammed full of various dishware and food provisions, the narrow space forced Choi Yook to stand close enough to scrutinize every detail of her face.

Despite the late hour, Kim Jeong-seon wore freshly retouched makeup. She shifted her bloodshot eyes, visibly hesitating.

Kim Jeong-seon began tentatively, “Yook-ah, you know… You remember the woman who looked after you when you were young, don’t you? Your… biological mother.”

At the out-of-the-blue opening, Choi Yook’s head cooled to ice.

“Of course I remember,” Choi Yook countered coldly. “Why? Are you offering to hold an ancestral rite for her?”

“No, not that… It’s just…” Kim Jeong-seon faltered, her gaze scattering.

She hesitated, visibly struggling to find the words.

Her voice dropped to an earnest whisper. “I heard she made things very difficult for you back then. That was why I wanted to raise you well. Truly. It wasn’t easy to accept at first, but as long as you’re the Chairman’s son, you’re as good as my own child too.”

Her child. Choi Yook sneered inwardly.

To be fair, she had never openly discriminated against Choi Yook when it came to basic food, clothing, or shelter. It was merely that whenever Choi Sijin demanded something, Choi Yook had to surrender it all. Even when Choi Yook was pelted with raw red beans by Yang Ui-ju, she had only offered a pitying glance, never once stepping in to stop the shaman.

It was nothing more than cheap, meaningless sympathy. Yet in her own mind, it had apparently been heartfelt pity—much like the way she lovingly walked and bathed the dogs that were slated to be slaughtered in the shamanic rituals.

“I have always been grateful,” Choi Yook uttered smoothly.

Choi Yook fed her the exact words she wanted to hear. As if emboldened, Kim Jeong-seon managed a faint smile and nodded.

“Yes, that’s such a relief,” she breathed. “So… you understand, don’t you?”

Her voice shrank noticeably as she posed the question. Choi Yook could not grasp the context of where this conversation was heading. He furrowed his brow slightly. “Understand what?”

She swallowed hard before whispering, “That she needed professional medical treatment.”

The forced upturn of Kim Jeong-seon’s lips trembled faintly.

“They say she never beat you, but even so, how could a woman be so heartless toward her own flesh and blood?” she chattered on, her voice tightening. “Just imagining doing that to our Sijin makes my heart shrink in agony. It wasn’t like you were living apart either—you lived together under the same roof, yet she never offered a single warm word, looking at a child like some object that didn’t even belong to her…”

Studying Choi Yook’s expression, she cautiously brought her words to a close.

“That’s hardly normal, is it?”

Naturally, it could not have been normal. The relationship had been aberrant from its very inception. Choi Yook silently nodded. He gave an impassive reply. “No, it wasn’t.”

Only upon hearing that did Kim Jeong-seon’s expression ease slightly. Her fingers toyed absently with the plastic container of marinated ribs resting at waist height.

Kim Jeong-seon inquired gently, “You and Sijin are getting along well these days, aren’t you?”

It was a question framed to expect only one answer—Yes. For a long time, Choi Yook had obliged with that very response. But now, things were different.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Choi Yook remarked coolly.

Choi Yook glanced down at the plastic tub where bones and flesh sloshed submerged in marinade. Though it was the bone that supported a cow’s frame, only the meat could be butchered and chewed.

For years, he had kept his head bowed, playing the role of an unremarkable eldest son. Behaving in a manner that never offended the family’s sight had sustained him.

Yet just as one had to strip away the bone to consume the meat, bringing them down required him to gradually shed this tedious charade of family.

Choi Yook shifted his weight casually. “Things have been rather unusual lately.”

Leaning back against the pantry shelf, Choi Yook crossed his arms. Bloodshot capillaries mapped Kim Jeong-seon’s eyes as her pupils wavered erratically.

“…Hm? What do you mean by that, Yook-ah?” she stammered in bewilderment. “Unusual—in what way?”

“Sijin,” Choi Yook enunciated with chilling precision, invoking the name she held most precious in the world. He continued in a measured cadence, “He’s nearly thirty years old, yet he still hasn’t gained independence from me mentally. Calling me multiple times a day, insisting he’ll go mad if he doesn’t see my face… No matter how close we might be as brothers, obsessing over me to this degree…”

Choi Yook fixed her with an unblinking gaze, tilting his head slightly. “That’s hardly normal, is it?”

Kim Jeong-seon could only gawk in stunned silence. Her narrow shoulders recoiled like antennae sensing mortal danger. Choi Yook looked down at her ashen face.

“He isn’t a paranoid, jealous lover,” Choi Yook pressed further. “His managers and staff are all human beings with ears to hear; who knows what they must think of him? Even for an ordinary office worker, this would spawn endless gossip—let alone for an actor experiencing the most explosive rise of his career.”

“…” Kim Jeong-seon’s lips trembled, rendered entirely speechless.

“I’m only mentioning this out of concern for Sijin,” he concluded evenly. “Please speak to him so he understands. He won’t listen to me, but he will obey his mother.”

Kim Jeong-seon had frozen entirely rigid. Snatching the container of ribs beside her, Choi Yook strode out of the pantry.

In the driver’s seat of the black sedan parked in the garage sat Han Seo-yoon. Tossing the container haphazardly onto the back seat, Choi Yook slid inside. Only after the car glided silently out of the neighborhood did Choi Yook finally break the silence.

“What were Yang Ui-ju’s movements yesterday?” Choi Yook inquired.

“After the gut ended, he searched for the dog and went straight home,” Han Seo-yoon answered without hesitation. “If there was anything peculiar…” She continued in a low voice, “it’s that his disciples usually manage his household and take turns living and eating there, but yesterday he dismissed them all without letting anyone inside.”

Choi Yook remarked dryly, “That’s obvious enough. An accident happened, and pretending everything was fine must have made his head feel like it was about to explode. What about after that? Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“No, sir. He fell asleep a few hours later,” Han Seo-yoon confirmed.

Choi Yook cracked his stiff neck from side to side. No matter how he looked at it, it seemed unlikely the shaman had only injured his arm; had the man deliberately self-harmed to instill guilt in Kim Jeong-seon?

With his spiritual potency coming under suspicion, resorting to such an extreme gambit was plausible enough. Failing to do so risked severing not only his financial lifeline, but his very throat. Leaning back against the headrest, Choi Yook directed a cool gaze ahead.

Choi Yook broached the topic casually. “About locking Lee Yeon-jae away in a mental hospital.”

“…Yes, sir.”

Han Seo-yoon offered a cautious acknowledgment. Choi Yook looked at him with detached eyes.

“Turns out it wasn’t my father who wanted it done, but my stepmother,” Choi Yook remarked mockingly. “Driven mad with jealousy, she wanted a person locked away, yet she pleaded her case with such pathetic, heartbreaking tears. One would think she was the victim begging for her life from inside an asylum.”

Choi Yook found Kim Jeong-seon utterly laughable. Terrified out of her wits simply because a dog bit someone; it seemed she was at least aware that her past misdeeds invited retribution.

Even in that state, she displayed neither shame nor guilt. There was not a trace of the sadness and regret she had feigned whenever her dogs were slaughtered. She merely dreaded divine retribution.

That alone told Choi Yook everything—Kim Jeong-seon genuinely despised Lee Yeon-jae. Consequently, she harbored neither remorse nor regret for what she had done. Choi Yook’s contempt for her naturally transferred to the son she cherished above all else.

Choi Yook noted with a cold smile, “Stepmother aside, Sijin seems awfully anxious as well.”

Han Seo-yoon nodded in immediate agreement.

“He likely places tremendous faith in the shaman,” Han Seo-yoon surmised. “An exorcism being ruined of all things must strike him as a terrible omen.”

Choi Yook’s mouth curved into a chilling arc. “Right. Then we’ll just have to make sure that terrible omen comes true.”

It was an ideal opening to thoroughly fracture the trust that had begun to waver. A modest start yielding disproportionately devastating consequences would serve best.

“About the cosmetics brand Sijin models for,” Choi Yook prompted.