Chapter 63

It was Memorial Day, a day set aside to honor the fallen patriots who had sacrificed their lives for the country. As ten o’clock in the morning struck, the siren signaling a solemn moment of silent tribute wailed reverently across the city.

Yet at that very hour, while countless citizens pressed their hands over their hearts, Choi Sijin remained hunched in the backseat of Kim Jeong-seon’s car, his head clutched between his hands and buried against his knees. Having failed to sleep a single wink all night, he was steeped in bone-deep exhaustion, yet slumber eluded him entirely, leaving only a sour nausea churning in his stomach.

Where on earth had things begun to go so wrong?

The gut ritual held yesterday had been nothing more than their usual, routine affair. Even the leash used to bind the dog was a sturdy piece Kim Jeong-seon had custom-ordered herself and used for years without incident.

Yet right in the middle of the ritual, the leash had suddenly snapped, and the dog sank its teeth into Yang Ui-ju’s arm. The beast, which was supposed to have perished bearing all of Choi Sijin’s misfortune, fled into the wilderness with its muzzle slathered in blood.

Choi Sijin had assumed the beast couldn’t possibly have gotten far. What could a pedigree-less mutt even do wandering an unfamiliar mountain? He had figured it would catch the scent of treats, come bounding right back while panting, and start wagging its tail.

Yet despite dozens of people scouring the mountain for over an hour, the dog was nowhere to be found. It was as if the creature had simply evaporated into thin air between the crevices of the rocks.

Kim Jeong-seon stayed behind with a handful of people to continue the search throughout the night. Come morning, however, she returned home empty-handed without yielding a single trace. The sleeve of her blouse was torn by tree branches, and one of the cherished Akoya pearl earrings she held so dear had been lost in the woods.

Paying no heed to her disheveled state, she immediately dialed Yang Ui-ju. Yet he did not pick up a single call all morning. That was precisely why the mother and son were heading to his residence first thing in the day.

“This is driving me crazy.”

Choi Sijin muttered under his breath, his voice softer than the violin piece playing through the car speakers. When he returned home late last night, the reason he had called Choi Yook over was that he thought his brother’s presence would bring him some peace of mind. By looking upon the one person who was always favorably disposed toward him, Sijin had wanted to confirm that the weight of his name remained as intact as ever.

Yet when Choi Yook showed up, his demeanor—though masked behind his usual expressionless countenance—somehow felt foul-tempered. Perhaps it was because Sijin found himself walking on eggshells around him; Choi Sijin had babbled and spat in agitation as he explained what had happened at the ritual grounds, but Choi Yook’s face had remained beyond dry, downright chilling.

“How amusing. Didn’t you claim that so long as a god dwells within the body, they remain perfectly fine no matter what? But if a man bleeds like a slaughtered pig just from getting nipped by a dog during a ritual, is he a shaman or a common dog butcher?”

At those words thrown out so nonchalantly, Choi Sijin’s heart had plummeted into his stomach. Sijin had fought with all his might to deny the worst possible outcome.

“That wasn’t an ordinary dog! I told you, it was a hound that took my place and shouldered my misfortune! Fuck, just wait until that son of a bitch gets caught—the second the gut is over, I’ll rip the damn hide off it myself!”

Even while spitting out curses, Choi Sijin had been unable to take his eyes off Choi Yook’s face. It wasn’t possible that Choi Yook had come to despise him, was it? Had the worth of his name truly begun to slip? After sending Choi Yook away, Sijin had paced endlessly around the house, biting his nails down to the quick.

In the early days after stealing the name, everything had been wonderful. He had thoroughly relished his suddenly invigorated body, as well as the boundless love and popularity that came pouring in from every direction.

Yet as the position he occupied climbed higher and higher, Choi Sijin grew increasingly terrified of falling. Every single metric and fluctuating index seemed to portend the decline of his fortune.

That could never be allowed to happen. It was not merely for the sake of his own success. If he failed to keep thriving and constantly setting new personal bests, it was glaringly obvious that Choi Hak-gyun would no longer leave him be. The man might very well hang him upside down and force him through vocal drills.

For Choi Hak-gyun firmly believed that Yeongchwi Moneylending would prosper only in proportion to his youngest son’s success. Put the other way around, in order for Yeongchwi Moneylending to flourish, Choi Sijin had to succeed—no matter what means were necessary.

Choi Sijin desperately repeated the thought inside his head. He told himself that climbing all the way to this peak was entirely due to his own talent; because he was exceptional, he had done well, and everything would be just fine.

Yet no matter how much he muttered the reassurance, his racing pulse refused to slow. The truth was, ever since his debut, Choi Sijin had never put in a single shred of effort. Whether it was singing, dancing, or acting, practice was nothing but a tedious, exhausting chore. Besides, the time granted to savor a youth fleeting as cherry blossoms was strictly limited.

I’ll just practice next time. People adore me anyway.

With that mindset, Choi Sijin had repeatedly put off honing his skills whenever standing at a crossroads. Thus, his current internal mumblings could only ring hollow, like an empty husk devoid of substance.

“Fuck, why does this mess have to happen right now…?”

Gritting his teeth, Choi Sijin ground out the curse in a ragged near-whisper. This was precisely the juncture where he was about to make a genuine leap from an infantile career—right on the cusp of transitioning from an embarrassing, disgraceful past into a respectable figure.

Behind the wheel, Kim Jeong-seon somehow managed to pick out the faint murmur buried beneath the violin melody. She turned down the music’s volume.

“Sijin, don’t worry so much,” she said soothingly. “We can just go to the Master and ask him. Everything will work out fine.”

Her hand, still stained with mud because of her hasty dressing, patted the steering wheel instead of her son’s back. Choi Sijin jerked his head up from his knees.

Choi Sijin glared at her in the rearview mirror. “And if it doesn’t? What are you going to do then? Are you going to take full responsibility, Mom? If you had just handled that damn dog and its leash properly in the first place, none of this would have happened!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Taking a deep breath, Kim Jeong-seon met Choi Sijin’s eyes in the rearview mirror. She offered a reassuring look. “Still, it will all work out fine. Mom will make it happen. I can do anything—because I love my son.”

Kim Jeong-seon pressed down harder on the accelerator with a faint smile. Before long, the car pulled up in front of Yang Ui-ju’s house. Bearing a Korean beef gift set she had urgently procured, Kim Jeong-seon rang the doorbell at the front gate. Yet no response came. It remained the same no matter how many times she pressed it.

Biting her lip, Kim Jeong-seon pulled out her mobile phone. Choi Sijin sat in the car, restlessly tapping his feet.

From inside the car, Choi Sijin kicked the floorboard. “Why bother calling again? The Master isn’t going to answer anyway.”

“I’m not calling the Master,” she replied flatly.

Giving that calm reply, Kim Jeong-seon stepped closer to the gate with her back turned to Choi Sijin. After switching between several contacts and dialing a few times, she finally managed to connect.

“Hello? I seem to have forgotten the door lock passcode.”

Kim Jeong-seon’s voice flowed with practiced sweetness into the receiver.

She tilted her head toward the gate. “You see, there’s an ill patient inside, and we need to get in immediately. Could you come over and force open the door lock? Since it’s a public holiday, I’ll pay triple the service fee. Yes, thank you so much. Please hurry.”

Her gentle tone held not the slightest hesitation. Her white silk blouse fluttered lightly in the breeze.

Because the house was located in a secluded suburb, it took quite a while for a locksmith to arrive and tear off the digital door lock. Choi Sijin followed Kim Jeong-seon through the breached door. Perhaps because the interior was finished in marble, or perhaps because of the extraordinary silence, the house felt strangely chilly and eerie even though no air conditioner was running.

Kim Jeong-seon peered down the silent corridor. “Master, are you here? Are you unwell somewhere?”

Looking around, she called out into the stillness. After peering into the small back room beside the kitchen, she turned back to Choi Sijin.

“He doesn’t seem to be on the first floor,” she said. “Let’s head up to the second.”

Choi Sijin hesitated on the bottom step. “But the second floor is the Master’s private living quarters—he told us never to go up there.”

“If he’s collapsed, we have to save him,” Kim Jeong-seon urged.

Kim Jeong-seon set foot on the staircase without the slightest hesitation. As Choi Sijin climbed after her, he paused and glanced down at his feet. Faint, dark-red smears stained the pale marble steps.

It looks just like blood… No way…

Gripped by an ominous foreboding, Choi Sijin’s steps slowed to a crawl. Kim Jeong-seon, however, marched onward without pause and pounded on the closed door.

“Master?” she whispered.

The instant she called, the heavy thud of a weighty object dropping echoed from inside. Amidst the scraping sound of something dragging and drawers rattling open and shut, faint groans were interspersed like an uneasy rhythm. Soon after, a hoarse voice drifted through the thick door.

“What is all this racket first thing in the morning?” the voice rasped from within. “What has you so anxious that you dare set foot in this sacred sanctuary without my permission?”

Though badly cracked, it was undeniably Yang Ui-ju’s voice. Kim Jeong-seon swept a hand over her chest, letting out a sigh of relief.

Stepping closer to the door, she bowed her head. “We’re so sorry. We were simply worried sick. Are you feeling all right?”

A momentary silence settled over the hallway.

“Come inside and see for yourself whether I’m all right,” Yang Ui-ju replied coldly.

Kim Jeong-seon threw the door open immediately. The moment her eyes landed on Yang Ui-ju, both of her hands flew up to cover her mouth in shock.

She gasped in sheer horror. “Goodness, Master!”

Choi Sijin sucked in a sharp breath the instant he saw him as well. Yang Ui-ju was propped up in bed beneath a duvet, still wearing the exact same summer suit from yesterday. Greasy strands of hair fell in an unkempt mess over his forehead. Yet his disheveled attire and tangled hair were the least of it.

The bridge of his nose, which normally sloped smoothly down from between his brows, was crooked midway and grotesquely swollen, as if broken in two. A purplish bruise engulfed the area from the bridge of his nose to the hollows beneath his eyes, and flaky, half-wiped dried blood clung to his philtrum.

Had he been assaulted by a robber? Because he had always groomed himself impeccably, this was the very first time they had ever witnessed him in such an appalling state. Kim Jeong-seon set down the Korean beef gift box as if tossing it aside.

“Master, what on earth happened?” she asked in horror.

Letting out a low groan, Yang Ui-ju shifted his posture on the bed. Turning his gaze away from Kim Jeong-seon, his bloodshot eyes locked onto Choi Sijin standing by the doorway, ablaze with fury.

Yang Ui-ju pointed a quivering finger at the doorway. “You insolent rascal, Sijin!”

At that thunderous rebuke, Choi Sijin froze on the spot. Even while wincing from pain, Yang Ui-ju fiercely raised his voice.