Kim Young-min’s eyes darted wildly as Gwak Seon-woo grabbed him by the collar. Watching the scene unfold with a cold, unreadable expression, it was easy to see the beads of cold sweat forming on Kim Young-min’s forehead. With his eyes squeezed shut, he finally responded.
“If I talk… I might die……”
As expected, it seemed he’d been threatened. It was hard to imagine someone who looked this timid orchestrating something like that on his own. The idea that outside pressure had been involved made perfect sense. If the circumstances were less dire, one might have even felt pity for him. But Seon-woo had no room for sympathy at this point.
“So you think keeping your mouth shut means you’ll live through this?”
Seon-woo’s voice rang out, cold and unforgiving. The words were a thinly veiled threat—if he didn’t speak, he just might die by Seon-woo’s own hand. He couldn’t see his own face, but knowing how icy his Gwanggong expression could be, he didn’t need a mirror to guess. Kim Young-min, staring directly into that expression and still managing to resist even a little, was almost impressive. Avoiding Seon-woo’s gaze, he muttered:
“My family……”
He trailed off, but it wasn’t hard to guess what he meant. They’d likely used his family as leverage. As unfortunate as that was, Seon-woo didn’t have the luxury of weighing such considerations right now. His voice grew sharp with irritation.
“Tell me now, and I’ll make sure your family stays safe.”
But Kim Young-min still looked uncertain. Seon-woo had wanted to handle this in a humane way, but that clearly wasn’t going to be an option. Narrowing his eyes, he spoke again.
“You think I don’t know where your family is or what they’re doing right now?”
Kim Young-min’s head snapped up in shock, eyes locking with Seon-woo’s. The moment their gazes met, Kim’s body visibly flinched. And then, he finally broke.
“I-It was Executive Director Gwak Sang-cheol! He ordered it!”
Silence fell like ice water doused over the room. Seon-woo stared at Kim Young-min, lips pressed into a hard line—as if Gwak Sang-cheol himself were standing right there in front of him.
It wasn’t entirely unexpected. Based on how things had been unfolding, there was no one else who could’ve pulled the strings. The fact that Seon-woo could so easily believe Kim Young-min’s confession, even though there was no solid proof, only confirmed it. Still, hearing the name spoken aloud hit differently than merely suspecting it.
Seung-hyeon, who had been silent, finally spoke. The question he voiced was one that had been nagging at Seon-woo too—one he hadn’t dared to say aloud.
“Executive Director Gwak Sang-cheol… was he involved in that incident too?”
That incident. Of course, he meant the one that had happened to Seung-hyeon’s family—the one that had taken his father’s life.
Kim Young-min looked hesitant but answered cautiously.
“By ‘that incident’… do you mean your father, sir?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
His voice was ice-cold. Though Gwak Seung-hyeon’s frigid glare wasn’t directed at Seon-woo, it still made his skin prickle. The fact that Kim Young-min understood what that incident meant without any clarification only reinforced the connection.
Could it be? That was the assumption—but Kim Young-min quickly denied it.
“I don’t really know anything about that incident. I swear. I haven’t even been involved in… in things like this for very long… I was just an ordinary office worker until recently. Then, one day, Executive Director Gwak suddenly summoned me…”
As if desperate to justify himself, Kim Young-min’s words began to ramble. Realizing they had no time to waste listening to excuses, Seon-woo cut him off.
“So you’re saying you know nothing?”
Kim Young-min, who had been stumbling through his explanation, swallowed dryly and lifted his head. It didn’t take him long to answer. Though hesitation lingered in his eyes, he didn’t back down.
“I… I do know who my predecessor was.”
As soon as Seon-woo left the hospital, he immediately called his secretary and ordered protection for Kim Young-min’s family. The predecessor Kim mentioned had already been reported missing. Every other person who’d come before him and had ties to Gwak Sang-cheol had either mysteriously vanished or died in accidents.
That alone proved just how ruthless Gwak Sang-cheol truly was. If he deemed it necessary, he wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of either Kim Young-min or his entire family. Seon-woo had already promised to ensure their safety, but even if he hadn’t, he had no desire to see them caught up in a “tragic accident.” It was only right to act swiftly and assign them security.
***
Seon-woo and Seung-hyeon got back into the car. No words were exchanged, yet it was clear they both knew exactly what needed to be done. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Seung-hyeon turned on the GPS and input the address of Kim’s predecessor, which he’d just been told. While he did that, Seon-woo sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, lost in thought.
He began by recalling what he knew of Gwak Sang-cheol. The man had always come off as temperamental and mean-spirited, neck-deep in corruption, and filled with a clear loathing for both Seon-woo and Seung-hyeon. So it wasn’t entirely surprising that he would have orchestrated attacks on them. And yet… something didn’t sit right.
The reason Seon-woo had never been particularly wary of Gwak Sang-cheol was because, for all his bluster, he’d always seemed more like a loud, reckless hothead than a meticulous schemer. Even now, with the mounting evidence that he had orchestrated something as monstrous as murder, that impression was hard to shake.
Was it really Gwak Sang-cheol? Why would he go that far?
It might’ve been pointless to question a narrative that had already been laid bare—but for some reason, this time, he couldn’t push those doubts aside.
The only sound in the car was the steady hum of the road for a long while. Eventually, it was Seung-hyeon who broke the silence. Though the pause had stretched on for some time, his voice sounded like he was simply continuing a conversation they’d never paused.
“Something feels off.”
Without a hint of surprise, Seon-woo turned to him. Keeping his eyes on the road, Seung-hyeon continued to drive while Seon-woo replied naturally.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s got to be a reason Gwak Sang-cheol kept picking people like that to work for him.”
It was the same strange feeling Seon-woo had been wrestling with. Still, he was curious to hear Seung-hyeon’s perspective, so he pressed further.
“What do you mean by people like that?”
“Someone who’s utterly ordinary… but also connected to the target.”
The utterly ordinary part made immediate sense—but the idea of them being connected to the target was harder to grasp. As if reading Seon-woo’s thoughts, Seung-hyeon continued.
“Take Kim Young-min, for example. When I was first assigned to the company, he was on my team. He didn’t adjust well, and eventually, by chance, got transferred to a subsidiary.”
Seon-woo frowned. So they’d known each other? That would certainly explain how Kim might know what had happened to Seung-hyeon’s father. Seon-woo didn’t know why Kim had gone out of his way to hide their past connection, but he figured there must have been a reason—and chose not to press the issue.
“Even if he was just a low-level employee, the fact that he ended up under Gwak Sang-cheol’s wing… well, it probably wasn’t all that coincidental.”
Seon-woo simply nodded in response. Someone ordinary wouldn’t raise suspicion. Someone with a personal tie to the target could be framed as acting on their own—that’s how you cut loose ends cleanly. As he pieced it all together, Seung-hyeon went on.
“If we haven’t been able to catch the tail until now, it must mean he’s been hiding it that thoroughly… but why did the thread unravel so easily this time?”
Seon-woo had a suspicion. It might have something to do with the storyline in the original game. Maybe they were nearing the final arc of the ‘incident resolution’ phase, and the game had loosened the threads on purpose. They’d already experienced a few moments that had only made sense because they were inside a game, after all.
But that was something only he knew. He couldn’t explain it to Seung-hyeon—and even if he tried, it’d be impossible for Seung-hyeon to accept. In the end, Seon-woo gave a calm, feigned response.
“He never seemed like a particularly meticulous guy to me. Honestly, it’s kind of amazing he managed to cover things up for this long.”
“You’re not wrong about that.”
Seung-hyeon gave a faint smile. It was the first sign of softness on his face in a while. His hardened expression had likely come from thinking about his father.
The taste in Seon-woo’s mouth turned bitter. Right now, he was little more than an outsider who barely even knew what kind of person Seung-hyeon’s father had been. And yet, when it came to Gwak Sang-cheol—the man who had ordered his own brother’s murder—just thinking about him made Seon-woo’s stomach churn with disgust. Seung-hyeon was surely feeling even worse.
Perhaps the only one who could truly understand what Gwak Seung-hyeon was going through right now… was the original Gwanggong himself. The thought that he couldn’t fully understand this person, no matter how close they seemed, left a faint pang of sadness and regret. Seon-woo silently turned to look out the window.
They drove on in silence for some time. Eventually, a rundown house came into view. The place looked remote, far removed from any signs of life. The moment Seung-hyeon stopped the car, Seon-woo unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the passenger door.
It was the kind of place that didn’t seem inhabitable by anyone.
A strange sense of unease welled up inside him. He turned his head toward Seung-hyeon, whose expression remained as unreadable as ever as he stared at the worn-down door.
Seon-woo reached out and rang the bell. It took quite a while, but eventually, the door creaked open…
And the moment they saw the face of the person who stepped out—
Seung-hyeon’s face twisted into a grimace of pure shock.
