Seon-woo quickly realized that he had unwittingly let his startled expression show. He tried to fix his face the moment he noticed, but he had a gut feeling it was already too late.
“If you’re going to spout vague nonsense, save it for my father. What exactly are you trying to say?”
He organized his thoughts and responded coldly. The mention of his uncle had made him bristle for a moment, and hearing Seung-hyeon’s name thrown in had shaken him slightly—but the more he thought about it, the more suspicious it all sounded.
“You’re saying my father would never do something like that, but since I’m not like him, it’s probably my doing? Then you go and tell me I’m just like him? That doesn’t add up. Didn’t you realize that while you were talking?”
His tone carried a hint of sarcasm. It was hard to tell what Gwak Sang-hwa really thought of her older brother. If she meant to say that Gwak Sang-gyeong had at least a basic sense of human decency and wouldn’t manipulate his own brother into murder, then why had she earlier likened someone who’d committed terrible deeds to him? Clearly, she didn’t think of her brother as a decent person.
So that left two possibilities: either he was a man of too much pride to resort to cowardly tactics to take over a company, or he was an obsessive perfectionist who wouldn’t leave behind a single loose end that could expose him.
Either way, Sang-hwa’s words were contradictory. There was no telling whether she respected her brother as family, liked him, or downright despised him. At the same time, Seon-woo, having regained his composure, fired back with quick sarcasm.
“So I’m not like my father, who would never do such a thing, which means I would do such a thing—but then after doing it, I start hanging around with my cousin so now I’m just like my father, who wouldn’t do such a thing. Makes perfect sense.”
He let the words fly at full speed. It was more than enough to catch someone off guard. But Gwak Sang-hwa merely looked at Seon-woo with a calm, unreadable expression. And when she spoke, her voice was just as composed.
“You were rattled.”
Though calling it a reply felt off. It had nothing to do with what Seon-woo had asked.
“Why did that rattle you?”
It wasn’t even a probing tone—she sounded genuinely curious, like she honestly wanted to know. The fact that she’d picked up on his fluster beneath the rapid-fire sarcasm was impressive, but really, there was nothing strange or shameful about being shaken. He’d just been accused of poisoning his grandfather and, on top of that, of killing his uncle. Who wouldn’t be shaken?
But that wasn’t what had rattled Seon-woo. What truly unsettled him was the implication that he kept Seung-hyeon by his side because he was hopelessly, obsessively in love with him.
Still, that was something she couldn’t possibly confirm unless he admitted it. Seon-woo shot back with a cold and shameless tone.
“Stop trying to twist my words and just answer the question.”
Fortunately, Sang-hwa didn’t push the issue any further. Her response came swiftly.
“Well, you could interpret it in a few different ways. Maybe I just think it’s a shame that you didn’t inherit the one decent thing your father had—his sense of judgment—and instead ended up with the most obnoxious, inhuman traits he ever showed.”
So was she implying that Gwak Sang-gyeong, being someone with sound judgment, would never stoop so low as to join forces with Gwak Sang-cheol and commit fratricide—but Gwak Seon-woo, lacking that same discernment, might actually be foolish and inhuman enough to go through with it?
If so, then the “difference” Sang-hwa had mentioned between Seon-woo and his father boiled down to a single trait: judgment. More than anything, Seon-woo felt dumbfounded, not wronged.
Sang-hwa, wearing her usual blank expression, studied his bewildered face before speaking slowly.
“But that’s not what I meant. You could say I’m starting to think I may have been mistaken in what I suspected.”
Seon-woo replied with clear irritation.
“Is it really that hard to just say you might’ve been wrong?”
At that, something resembling a smile flickered across Sang-hwa’s face. It didn’t look like genuine amusement, but it was a surprising change in expression nonetheless. She said:
“So you’re not going to tell me why you were flustered.”
Of course, it was because she’d mentioned Seung-hyeon. But considering all she’d ever seen was the Gwanggong Gwak Seon-woo constantly tearing Seung-hyeon apart, there was no way she could have understood. Seon-woo brushed it off coolly.
“Isn’t it only natural to be thrown off by such ridiculous accusations?”
Sang-hwa studied his face with sharp eyes. A long silence passed. Just when he began to worry that even his breathing might be too loud, she finally spoke, her voice slow and deliberate.
“I’ve never actually thought you were the one who killed my little brother.”
Her gaze held something unspoken. Just from her eyes alone, Seon-woo felt he could sense how deeply the Gwanggong had once admired his uncle. He furrowed his brow. Then why bring up something so inflammatory in the first place? If she’d only said it to test him, then she was a piece of work in her own right.
“That should’ve been obvious. That idiot… he’s not so brainless that he’d hang around the person who killed his father without realizing it.”
Saying Seung-hyeon’s name himself left a strange itch in his mouth. Surprisingly, Sang-hwa, who normally pounced on every word, nodded in agreement without complaint.
“Right. That probably was the work of that moron.”
She was clearly referring to Gwak Sang-cheol. The bluntness of it caught Seon-woo off guard. But Sang-hwa didn’t even bother checking his reaction. Instead, she stroked her chin and continued.
“The way it was done—so petty and small-minded—it reeks of him. But what confused me came afterward. The cover-up was so thorough that no one has been able to uncover the truth all this time. And that man… he doesn’t have the brains or the finesse for that.”
Unlike before, when her feelings toward Sang-cheol were unclear, this time there was no doubt—Sang-hwa despised him. But the next thing she said wiped any trace of amusement from Seon-woo’s face.
“That’s why I thought maybe it was you.”
“You mean the one who covered up the crime?”
Sang-hwa didn’t answer. But the silence was as good as a yes. Seon-woo frowned as he replied.
“You seriously thought I’d help him after knowing what he did to my uncle?”
Compared to her calm demeanor, Seon-woo was genuinely baffled. Sang-hwa gave a casual shrug, as if stating something perfectly reasonable.
“Well, there are people in this world who’ll do just about anything in the name of revenge.”
“If it’s about revenge, then why would I do something that benefits someone else?”
At his continued line of questioning, Sang-hwa let out a laugh, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to throw me off or if you genuinely don’t get it.”
He could understand why she’d be suspicious. But to try and mislead her? He didn’t even have enough information to do that. When Seon-woo didn’t answer, Sang-hwa frowned slightly, but still offered a straightforward explanation.
“Even if the truth had come out back then, it wouldn’t have changed anything. At the time, the Chairman was obsessed with performance metrics and thought he was some kind of lion ruling the plains. If one son killed the other, he would’ve chalked it up to survival of the fittest and swept it all under the rug.”
Even though Seon-woo had a rough idea of what kind of man the Chairman was, hearing it said aloud sent chills down his spine. Thinking back to the softened demeanor the old man had shown in the hospital, it was hard to reconcile the two.
“Now he’s just a toothless tiger, wasting away and getting all sentimental… It’s not strange for someone to see that and think, ‘Now’s the time.’”
Despite the formal honorifics she used when referring to her father, the content of her words was laced with harsh contempt. There wasn’t a shred of respect in her tone. Like a neutral narrator, Sang-hwa continued dispassionately.
“So that idiot finally decided to expose what he’d done, thinking he’d get the reaction he wanted. But when the punishment didn’t come, and the Chairman didn’t give him the response he expected, he got pissed off and ended up…”
Her words trailed off in a deliberately dramatic pause. Seon-woo asked without thinking,
“Ended up?”
“…And that’s what I suspected happened.”
Sang-hwa answered calmly, with an oddly wry tone that left Seon-woo feeling unexpectedly deflated. He snapped back, coldly,
“You must read a lot of novels.”
She only gave a faint smile and didn’t respond. Instead, she idly brushed her fingers along the cooling coffee cup before shifting the subject slightly.
“Compared to your uncle, you’re more emotional, more impulsive, and you don’t have much control over your feelings. So I thought maybe you’d pulled something reckless.”
The way she framed it, Gwak Seon-woo sounded like nothing but a bundle of flaws. Anyone would take it as an insult. As Seon-woo scowled in displeasure, she spoke again.
“But even if you’re more emotional, impulsive, and unstable than your uncle, you’ve definitely inherited his shameless streak… So I figured I wouldn’t be getting a confession or any kind of satisfying answer out of you today.”
Her voice remained even, but the content of her words was painful to hear. Seon-woo was at a loss for words when she added with a casual remark,
“Though I’ll admit… I never expected you to keep that guy around.”
This time, her mention of Gwak Seung-hyeon actually helped. Hearing his name grounded Seon-woo, allowing him to regain some of his composure. He muttered gruffly,
“If this is how you were going to be, what was the point of coming here?”
“Take it as a warning.”
Was she talking about her dead brother? Her collapsed father? It felt strangely out of character for her. Seon-woo replied in a vague tone,
“You must have a very special kind of love for your family.”
“You must be joking.”
She let out a blatant laugh. It didn’t seem like she was giving a warning out of familial affection. That only made Seon-woo more curious—if not for family, then what was driving her?
“Then what is your reason? If you think about it, this all ended up working in my aunt’s favor anyway. Didn’t you say it yourself? That the ones who benefited were my aunt and my father.”
Even as he said it, he realized how twisted it sounded. It was the kind of remark that could easily make someone more suspicious of him. But his curiosity got the better of him. Sang-hwa shot back in a biting tone.
“You think I live my life licking up the crumbs other people leave behind?”
Seon-woo shut his mouth instantly.
As if signaling the end of the conversation, she scraped her chair back and continued.
“Whoever did it, and whatever their reason was—I don’t care. Whether it was you or not, just remember this: I will be the one to deal with it.”
Seon-woo didn’t answer. He stayed silent, watching her expression until the very last moment. Sang-hwa rose to her feet with a calm demeanor and left him with one final line.
“I’ll be going now. Your cousin must be waiting for you.”
The derision in her voice was obvious, but it didn’t anger him. Nor did it make him want to laugh. All he felt was a tangled mess in his head. This meeting had left him with nothing but confusion.
Being suspected as the culprit had been absurd, but the more he thought about it, the more he could understand why. And there was no guarantee others wouldn’t reach the same conclusion. Which meant he needed to figure out who the real accomplice was—as soon as possible.
But he had so little to go on. Nothing but vague instincts telling him who it probably wasn’t.
At that moment, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Once again, the timing was uncannily perfect—almost as if orchestrated.
Instinctively, Seon-woo thought of who the caller might be. Just as Sang-hwa had said, he figured it was likely Gwak Seung-hyeon, waiting for him.
But the name on the screen made him freeze mid-motion. His guard down, he had picked up the phone without thinking.
Seo Eun-jae.
The moment he saw the name, Seon-woo put the phone down like it had burned him.
