A man as pale as a ghost stepped out from the door of a run-down house in the middle of nowhere—a place where it seemed no one could possibly live. His unkempt hair and a beard that looked like it hadn’t been shaved in at least a week framed his wide, bloodshot eyes.
Though it was he who looked like the ghost, it was the man himself who recoiled in shock, as if he had just seen one, upon spotting Seung-hyeon and Seon-woo. Clearly caught off guard by their unexpected visit, he stood frozen. But considering how quickly he opened the door, it didn’t seem like he was completely cut off from the world. If no one had ever come to visit, there was no way he would’ve answered the door that swiftly, as if he’d been expecting someone.
“Wh-Who…?”
The man muttered blankly, but soon, his expression shifted into something far more panicked—different from his initial surprise. If his earlier reaction had been mere confusion at the sight of strangers, this one was unmistakably that of a child caught doing something wrong.
And at the end of his stunned gaze stood Seung-hyeon.
From the moment the door had opened, Seung-hyeon had been glaring at the man with a contorted expression. The moment he recognized the shift in Seung-hyeon’s face, the man’s ghostlike appearance became less concerning than the dangerous change in Seung-hyeon’s demeanor. Judging by their reactions to one another, the two were clearly acquainted. Not exactly close, perhaps—but this was no mere passing familiarity.
“You…”
Seung-hyeon’s voice came out low—chillingly low. For a moment, he seemed to forget that Seon-woo was standing right beside him. An unwelcome sense of unease began to swell in Seon-woo’s chest, but he showed nothing on his face. Seung-hyeon’s razor-sharp gaze soon flicked toward Seon-woo, and with that subtle shift, he began to recover some of his usual composure.
“You remember me, don’t you.”
Despite his regained poise, there was no warmth in Seung-hyeon’s voice. The man stared at his face for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut. Earlier, he had looked like someone who’d seen something unreal—now, he wore the expression of someone bracing himself to face reality.
“…Come in.”
The man, who had only stuck his head out until now, opened the door fully to let Seon-woo and Seung-hyeon inside. Seon-woo glanced at Seung-hyeon from the side, watching for any sign of emotion. He remained still, rooted in place like a nailed-down plank. Seon-woo gently tugged at his sleeve and asked in a low voice,
“Do I go in alone?”
He had no intention of dragging Seung-hyeon in if he didn’t want to go, but striding confidently into this strange man’s house alone didn’t feel right either. At the question, Seung-hyeon finally seemed to snap out of his daze. Letting out a short “Ah,” he took a step forward. Only then did Seon-woo’s tension ease slightly as he stepped into the house.
The inside was just as eerie as the exterior—like something out of a haunted house.
Once the two of them had settled into a couch that looked like it would collapse at any moment, the man shuffled into the kitchen and returned with tea that looked like murky swamp water in a chipped cup. Before either of them could suspect poison, their instincts had already told them not to touch it. Seon-woo didn’t even reach for the cup. Neither did Seung-hyeon.
The man didn’t urge them to drink, perhaps knowing full well that offering the tea was nothing more than a token gesture of hospitality. Instead, his lips kept twitching, parting slightly as if to speak.
It took him a while to finally get the words out. With his hands clasped tightly together, he spoke in a voice taut with anxiety.
“I always knew… a day like this would come.”
His voice, serious and laced with a kind of forced honesty, suggested he intended to lay everything bare. But to Seon-woo, the man’s long-winded backstory—resembling that of a low-tier villain in some drama—didn’t spark much interest. The only reason he kept listening was because he wanted to understand what had provoked such a visceral reaction from Seung-hyeon.
“You’ve grown into a fine young man now.”
The man looked at Seung-hyeon with mock sentimentality. But Seung-hyeon didn’t look like he had any intention of entertaining such theatrics. He scoffed lightly and shot back with a cold retort.
“I don’t think I was a toddler even the first time you saw me.”
That icy attitude was something Seon-woo had rarely, if ever, seen from Seung-hyeon. He turned his gaze toward him, quietly studying the sharp profile of his face. The man offered an awkward, faltering smile, then hesitated before speaking again.
“You must have come here because… there’s something you want to ask me.”
“Yes. Just one question to start.”
Again, Seung-hyeon cut off the man’s wistful tone without mercy. Seon-woo, who had been sitting like a misplaced prop, happened to lock eyes with the man. He widened his eyes in a glare, as if asking what the hell he was staring at. The man flinched and averted his gaze almost instantly. In the meantime, Seung-hyeon asked his question, his tone clinical and emotionless.
“A few years ago—during the accident. Was the black car that deliberately rammed into us yours?”
Seon-woo whipped his head toward Seung-hyeon in shock. The question, spoken so calmly, was far beyond what he’d been expecting. But for someone saying something so horrifying, Seung-hyeon’s face remained eerily composed.
The man hesitated again. Then, after a long silence, he replied in a voice that was pitifully subdued.
“It wasn’t registered in my name… but yes, I was the one driving.”
For a split second, Seon-woo nearly sprang to his feet. An almost uncontrollable urge to grab the man by the collar and shake him took over his mind.
The fact that this man had intentionally caused the accident with Seung-hyeon’s family was infuriating enough. But what enraged Seon-woo even more—more than he could rationally understand—was the man’s earlier comment. The casual, smug tone with which he’d said, You’ve grown into a fine young man, like he was some long-lost uncle or a neighbor asking about someone’s kid. It was maddening.
Seung-hyeon seemed to sense that Seon-woo was seconds away from exploding. Quietly, almost as if by accident, he reached out and rested his hand over Seon-woo’s. But Seon-woo could tell—it wasn’t a mistake. It was Seung-hyeon’s way of holding him back, of calming him down.
With great effort, Seon-woo swallowed his rage and stared the man down with a gaze cold as steel. Bowing his head like a guilty man, the man slowly rose from his seat, voice faltering.
“There’s something I want to give you.”
If what he wanted to offer was his own life, that would’ve made sense… Gwak Seon-woo watched the man with clear disapproval written all over his face. The man staggered off somewhere and, after quite a while, returned to his seat. In his hand was a USB drive—barely the size of a fingertip.
“This contains a video I’ve protected with my life.”
Of course, that was unlikely. If it turned out to be just some pirated movie he’d downloaded, Seon-woo might actually want to kill him. Fortunately, just before Seon-woo could lunge across the table and strangle him, the man explained the contents himself.
“It’s a recording of Executive Director Gwak Sang-cheol speaking to me directly. I believe… it could be useful to you.”
From between his messy strands of hair, it looked like tears were trickling down his face. His voice, choked with guilt, trembled as he went on.
“I always swore I’d give this to you one day, Young Master—”
“Do I really need to hear any more of this?”
Seung-hyeon cut him off with that same cool, curt tone. Seon-woo hadn’t even had a chance to say anything.
As soon as the words left his mouth, Seung-hyeon straightened up from the couch, looking as if he were about to stand. The man slowly shook his head, an expression of desperation on his face, like he wanted to explain—but no more excuses came out of his mouth. Instead, he simply addressed Seung-hyeon’s back as he rose from his seat with military precision.
“Take care of yourself.”
Seon-woo stood up silently and followed. That parting line—Take care of yourself—was far too shameless to come from someone who had a hand in his father’s death.
“He was one of my father’s subordinates.”
The moment they got into the car, Seung-hyeon spoke. It was something that needed explaining, but Seon-woo hadn’t planned on prying if Seung-hyeon didn’t want to talk. He hadn’t expected him to speak up so soon.
Seon-woo gave a small, quiet nod.
“A subordinate… and probably a friend, too.”
Seung-hyeon said it like a man confessing a sin. But despite the expression on his face, his voice was steady—like a late-night radio DJ reading someone else’s tragic story. It didn’t sound like he was talking about his own life.
“I met him once when I was a kid.”
Seon-woo fell into thought, trying to grasp what Seung-hyeon might be feeling. If his father hadn’t died in an accident, but was instead murdered—on someone’s orders—and if the person who actually drove the car was someone he’d once been introduced to… a friend of his father…
Should he be offering comfort right now? But what could he even say?
“I kind of expected it’d be someone familiar.”
Seung-hyeon let out a long, heavy sigh. Then he turned his head slightly and, without warning, leaned his face gently against Seon-woo’s shoulder. It was a movement entirely free of hesitation, as if he knew Seon-woo wouldn’t push him away.
“…What do you want to do?”
Seon-woo spoke softly after a long pause. Seung-hyeon lifted his head and gave a faint smile.
“If I said I wanted revenge… would you help me?”
