Chapter 65

Choi Yook seized upon the passing thought. If Yang Ui-ju had indeed injured his legs, it would make complete sense for Choi Sijin to groan in such agony. What he had to carry wouldn’t have been a mere folding screen or ceremonial table, but a full-grown middle-aged man his own size.

Yet among the frantic complaints Choi Sijin had blabbered yesterday, there had been no mention of Yang Ui-ju’s legs. Could the man have somehow tumbled down the stairs by himself in the dead of night? Unable to find a definitive answer, Choi Yook looked back at Park Yeong-hee.

“It seems they never managed to find the escaped dog,” Choi Yook observed quietly.

At Choi Yook’s inquiry, Park Yeong-hee paused her tidying of the grapes and turned her head. For the first time, a faint smile appeared on her usually impassive face.

“Yes,” she whispered softly. “He may seem like the biggest fool, but deep down, he’s the cleverest of them all.”

The judgment Choi Hak-gyun had made long ago when assigning Park Yeong-hee to Choi Yook’s side was only half right. It overlooked the truth that even a person indifferent to children might not be entirely devoid of warmth.

Park Yeong-hee felt uncomfortable around complex, capricious children. Instead, she poured her heart out to simple, loyal dogs.

Even the special treats for the dogs were always imbued with her utmost devotion. From selecting cuts of Korean beef at the supermarket to boiling, cooling, and shredding the meat into bite-sized strips, every step was touched by her hands. Steaming sweet pumpkin and sweet potatoes, dehydrating duck wings and chicken breasts—she carried out those tasks more happily than any culinary dish.

And so, Choi Yook had revealed the truth to her: precisely where Kim Jeong-seon was sending the dogs she had raised with such devoted care under the guise of ‘adoption.’

Thus, a pact was struck between Choi Yook and Park Yeong-hee. So long as she provided intelligence and acted within boundaries that kept her out of harm’s way, Choi Yook would hand over the dogs alongside generous financial compensation on the day his revenge reached its end.

Having gathered the general gist of what had transpired, Choi Yook headed into the dining hall separated from the kitchen. On one side of the expansive dining table, Choi Sijin and Kim Jeong-seon sat side by side.

The tabletop was half-filled with dishes. Beside grilled minced beef patties dusted with pine nut powder sat spicy stir-fried intestines; next to a royal hot pot adorned with peeled walnuts rested a steaming earthenware pot of tripe-and-offal soup. Delicate fish dumplings garnished with thinly julienned rock tripe mushrooms were paired alongside dark, reddish-black blood sausages.

The marker indicating the head seat—still empty—was a single green soju bottle. Though Choi Hak-gyun suffered from a deteriorating liver, no one dared challenge his desire to enjoy just one bottle alongside his evening meal. Kim Jeong-seon never dared broach the subject, Choi Sijin gave it little thought, and Choi Yook silently stood by, letting it take its course.

Choi Yook took a seat one spot away from the head of the table, facing Choi Sijin. Once all the dishes were laid out, Park Yeong-hee went upstairs to the second floor to notify Choi Hak-gyun that dinner was served.

The three seated at the table rose to their feet to receive him. Kim Jeong-seon went all the way to the entryway and opened the door.

Choi Hak-gyun, wearing an impassive expression, sauntered into the dining room. He was clad in a white undershirt over dress trousers, yet unlike the other family members wearing slippers, he went barefoot without even socks. A dark, florid hue flushed his face, and his thick belly protruded heavily, displaying its rounded contours.

That alone might have softened his appearance, but his heavy, blunt features remained unburied beneath the alcohol bloat, still projecting a ferocious air. His broad, square shoulders, the defined musculature of his forearms, his hair cropped short like a career soldier’s, and his towering frame all contributed to the formidable pressure he exuded.

When Choi Hak-gyun seated himself at the head of the table, the rest of the family followed suit. Only after he chewed and swallowed a piece of blood sausage were the others permitted to lift their spoons. Choi Hak-gyun reached for the green soju bottle.

“Eldest,” Choi Hak-gyun called out.

“Yes, Father.”

Choi Yook answered promptly. Without so much as meeting his eldest son’s eyes, Choi Hak-gyun poured liquor into his shot glass.

“I had no intention of bringing this up with you,” Choi Hak-gyun muttered gruffly.

Choi Hak-gyun cast a sideways glance toward Choi Sijin. It was a silent rebuke for having thoughtlessly passed along the turmoil from yesterday’s exorcism to Choi Yook. Flinching under the glare, Choi Sijin forced an ingratiating smile.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Sijin wheedled, leaning forward. “Still, hyung gives me so much support. The Master said having Hyung stay by my side is best, too.”

Choi Hak-gyun grunted, “He did.” He scolded Choi Sijin no further. Rather than paternal affection, it was closer to the gingerly caution of tending to a sacred ancestral jar.

If he disciplined Choi Sijin—the one who bore the family’s destiny on his shoulders—and something went wrong with Yeongchwi Moneylending, the blame would fall squarely on him. Tilting his shot glass, Choi Hak-gyun finally turned his gaze upon Choi Yook.

“Don’t get any useless ideas,” Choi Hak-gyun warned coldly. “You know well enough that so long as Sijin thrives, nothing will go wrong with the business. For the time being, don’t cause any bloodshed and keep yourself in line.”

Choi Yook bowed his head slightly. “I will keep that in mind.” He answered meekly while scoffing at him inwardly. He had once overheard talk of it—before he was born, in the wake of Yang Ui-ju’s curse, his uncle—who had originally been slated to become the syndicate head—died suddenly. Soon after, parcels of land Yang Ui-ju pointed out to Choi Hak-gyun were redeveloped into fortunes, leading Choi Hak-gyun to revere the shaman as a god.

Faith that had started as rational investment transformed into wild speculation in the blink of an eye. As Choi Sijin was born, grew healthy, and overlapped with Yeongchwi Moneylending’s explosive rise, Choi Hak-gyun’s belief evolved into blind worship. Just look at him now. He had let down his guard completely over a variable that had nothing to do with running a business.

Choi Yook expected Choi Sijin to show a look of smug satisfaction. Never once had Sijin failed to relish the superior status he held in this household.

Unexpectedly, however, Choi Sijin appeared fraught with anxiety. Instead of looking at the side dishes, his brown eyes darted restlessly across empty air.

“I think a great script will be coming in soon, Father,” Choi Sijin blurted out.

Choi Sijin had spoken while forcing the corners of his mouth up into an exaggerated grin. Choi Hak-gyun nodded lazily.

“I’m not worried,” the patriarch remarked. “Things have always gone smoothly for you. If you need anything, whether it’s entertainment expenses or bribes, just say the word.”

Choi Sijin swallowed dryly. “…Yes, thank you.”

Having spoken as if choking on his words, Choi Sijin poked at grains of rice with his chopsticks, picking them up only to drop them again. Kim Jeong-seon picked apart the braised cutlassfish, placed tender white flesh onto her son’s spoon, and cautiously looked over at Choi Hak-gyun.

Kim Jeong-seon ventured tentatively, “Honey, I was wondering if we should ask the Master to light more prayer candles for us.”

Choi Hak-gyun waved a dismissive hand. “Go ahead. How much is it?” He reacted as if it were of no consequence. Kim Jeong-seon shook her head.

“No, I’m not asking for money,” Kim Jeong-seon explained softly. “I’d like to cover the cost myself by parting with my jewelry or whatever I have. Since I just spend the allowance card you give me, those pieces are the only things that truly belong to me. Sacrificing my own possessions will show so much more devotion.”

Choi Yook glanced sidelong at her. For reasons unknown, Kim Jeong-seon was trembling with anxiety, exactly like Choi Sijin. Choi Hak-gyun, on the other hand, scoffed at the absurd notion.

Choi Hak-gyun barked, “Why be so petty? Do I look like the kind of man who needs to scrape together spare change from his wife?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just felt I had to do something…” Kim Jeong-seon’s voice trailed off.

“You already go over to Sijin’s place to cook and clean in his stead,” Choi Hak-gyun cut in bluntly. “Stop talking about selling things off, and go get another spa treatment or massage instead.”

Choi Hak-gyun cut her off as if there were nothing more to discuss. Fidgeting anxiously, Kim Jeong-seon looked as though she were on the verge of tears. Amidst this, Choi Sijin shrugged his shoulders as if aggrieved.

Sijin shrugged petulantly. “Come on, Father, I really didn’t do anything wrong. The Master said it’s all Mother’s fault. He said that even though he tried to stop her, Mother got greedy, and that’s why we incurred such heavy resentment.”

The atmosphere around the dining table instantly froze. Choi Hak-gyun, who had been ladling up intestine soup, plunged his spoon straight into his rice bowl. Resting his elbows on the table, he turned to face Kim Jeong-seon.

Choi Hak-gyun demanded in a low growl, “What is the meaning of this?”

“…” Kim Jeong-seon froze in suffocating silence.

“Earlier, you told me it was just Sijin’s mistake and nothing to worry about,” Choi Hak-gyun pressed, his voice tightening dangerously. “Are you lying to me? Using Sijin as an excuse, no less? Did you think I wouldn’t interfere just because it involves him?”

The spoon planted upright in the center of the heaping rice bowl evoked an ancestral memorial rite for the dead. Red, greasy broth clinging to the metal seeped between the stark white grains.

Kim Jeong-seon shrank back, trembling. “Dear, that isn’t what happened.”

Having turned deathly pale, she struggled desperately to draw breath.

“You know about it too,” she pleaded in desperation. “That one single favor I asked for back then. You permitted it and said it was fine. You said having that much ambition was good, that you liked my thinking!”

She pressed on with her earnest pleading. Yet Choi Hak-gyun merely stared at her with glacial eyes—not the eyes of a spouse, but of a despot wielding absolute power.

Choi Hak-gyun spat out, “Because I was never told the Master tried to stop you! I never dreamed you would dare hide anything from me. Especially something that could inflict damage on me and my company.”

Tears welled in Kim Jeong-seon’s eyes as the words tore into her. Yet Choi Hak-gyun did not stop there, cornering her where she had nowhere left to flee.

He leaned across the table with a savage sneer. “If that isn’t true, look me straight in the eye and say it with confidence. Tell me it wasn’t you who lied, but Sijin. Go on, argue your case and say it to my face!”

There was only one answer Kim Jeong-seon could give. Clenching both hands, she cast her eyes downward. Her slender fingers drained of color, and her lips quivered uncontrollably.

“I… I failed to inform you properly,” she whispered weakly. “I was wrong, dear. Truly, that was the only thing. I swear I haven’t hidden anything else from you.”

In the heavy silence, Kim Jeong-seon’s voice rang out in a miserable crawl. Choi Hak-gyun’s bloodshot eyes gleamed ominously. Tension locked into his square jaw, the masseter muscle bulging prominently beneath his skin.

“Everyone get out except Jeong-seon,” Choi Hak-gyun commanded in a chilling tone.

At the grim order, Choi Yook rose without a shred of hesitation. Even faster than him, Choi Sijin had already slipped out of the room like a ghost.

Stepping out of the dining room, Choi Yook shut the door behind him. From within, the sound of smashing porcelain echoed in rapid succession. The royal court dishes, prepared with endless time and labor, would now be splattering against the floor in a vile mess with the offal.

White incandescent lights burned brightly through the living room and hallways—a desperate, violent glare defying the darkness that had settled outside.

Escaping the piercing illumination, Choi Yook stepped out into the garden. Rather than sitting on the polished marble bench, he leaned against the wall and flicked a lighter to his cigarette.

From start to finish, tonight’s dinner had been riddled with unexpected developments. Among them, the most astonishing had been Kim Jeong-seon.