Part 8. The Second Task Begins (5)
Jang Yuguk, aged 78. He died of a heart attack, the same hereditary heart disease that ran in his family, just like his father before him. If it had simply been a death, it would’ve been better—but the problem lay elsewhere. The news spread that Jang Yuguk had been at the Pyeongchang-dong mansion of the illegitimate son, Choi Suho, and was transferred to Liberty University Hospital after an emergency call. If it had been his longtime residence, the Hannam-dong main house, it would’ve ended quietly as a simple heart attack. But when the 119 paramedics arrived, the scene they encountered—one soaked in blood—made it impossible for them to regard it as a mere cardiac arrest.
First of all, Jang Yuguk unquestionably died of a heart attack. The device implanted in his heart did activate, but it was confirmed that his heart stopped due to an immense external shock.
However, the cause of the heart attack had to be identified. No matter how one looked at it, it didn’t seem like a typical case. Jang Yuguk died of a heart attack, and all the Jang brothers were rushed onto operating tables. The second son’s condition, in particular, was grave. He was in the worst shape and never came back out after being taken in for emergency surgery.
At least the eldest and the youngest, whose injuries were limited to broken bones, were transferred to another hospital, underwent surgery, and were able to give statements.
“It was just a scuffle between brothers.”
“What?”
This was a scuffle? From a detective’s perspective, it was the work of a professional. Joints snapped cleanly and precisely—nothing ordinary about it. And Choi Suho, who had been found naked, was in the most severe condition of all.
His entire body was covered in bruises. As if he’d been raped, that area was badly torn and swollen, to the point he could barely walk. It looked as though he was holding himself together purely through sheer willpower and pride.
There was an issue even more serious than his condition, which looked like he could collapse at any moment. When asked, “Your father passed away. Do you know anything? All your brothers are injured and on operating tables—if you know anything…,” Choi Suho couldn’t properly comprehend the question. His right eardrum had temporarily ruptured, rendering him unable to hear.
So when the police leaned close to his left ear and said, “Your father passed away—,” Choi Suho couldn’t withstand it and fainted on the spot.
At first, they suspected that Choi Suho—the notorious troublemaker set to inherit everything—had ordered someone to do this to his brothers. But the hospital’s medical findings instead suggested something else entirely: that the brothers had confined Choi Suho within the family home and beaten him over a long period of time, and that Jang Yuguk discovered this and died of a heart attack as a result. That kind of speculation even began to circulate.
It wasn’t unreasonable. The brothers only needed surgery, but Choi Suho’s body bore evidence of long-term abuse, bruises covering him from head to toe.
“Are you really saying it was just a scuffle between brothers?”
“Yes. That’s correct.”
Jang Jihyeok spoke while trying hard to enunciate properly through missing teeth.
“Suho had a lover. An Alpha lover who studied abroad in Hong Kong for a long time. I heard that lover had a violent streak. Father didn’t approve of him.”
Jang Jihyeok let out a long sigh. The detective murmured, “Ah…”
“We did find unidentified fingerprints, but could those possibly be—”
“Yes. They’re probably the lover’s. It’s a sad story, but as everyone knows, Suho was an illegitimate child. His Omega father passed away early, and our father tried to love him, but…”
Jang Jihyeok muttered with tears clinging to the corners of his eyes.
“We tried to treat him well, brought him to the main house so we could all live together, but he found it very difficult to adapt. That’s why he ended up living alone in the Pyeongchang-dong mansion. He dated indiscriminately—Alphas, Omegas—and then met that Alpha who studied in Hong Kong for so long…”
Jang Jihyeok hesitated, covering his mouth, then spoke in a low voice, as if confiding a secret meant only for the detective.
“It seemed like he wanted to have that Alpha’s child and start a family.”
“Ah, so that’s why the trait test showed you as a recessive Omega—the only one,” the detective said, nodding as he typed rapidly on his laptop. Then he continued, “But…”
“Yes?” Jang Jihyeok asked with a gentle, affable expression.
“Why does he deny being an Omega? He keeps insisting he’s a dominant Alpha.”
“He became an Omega because his lover wanted it. And now that our father has passed away…”
Jang Jihyeok rubbed his face, gently touching his swollen nose, and spoke the one truth he could offer.
“Father was the only person in this world who truly, sincerely loved and cherished Suho. So Suho probably can’t accept everything right now. And could you please end the investigation here?”
Jang Jihyeok said this with a kindly smile. The police asked Jang Jihun as well once he regained consciousness, but he gave the same answer. Jang Jihae’s response was slightly different in wording but similar in substance.
Choi Suho, completely out of his mind, unable to give coherent answers, was muttering things like, “Dad? Dad died? Dad didn’t die! That can’t be true. Jang Jihyeok killed him—Jang Jihyeok…,” or “I’m an Alpha! I’m not an Omega! There’s no way I’m an Omega! I was born a dominant Alpha, just like Dad!” His incomprehensible ramblings were lightly dismissed.
Above all, Jang Jihyeok—the man set to become the successor of Korea’s foremost Free Enterprise—had said, “That’s enough,” and had framed it as a fight between brothers. Was there really anything more to investigate?
The investigation ended there. The police did not look deeply into Choi Suho’s lover, nor into the fact that Choi Suho had undergone a trait conversion from Alpha to Omega.
And as for why Jang Yuguk had suddenly gone to the Pyeongchang-dong mansion, or whether he had been killed there by a heart attack, both the doctors and the police concluded the case as a “simple heart attack.”
“Jang Yuguk, Honorary Chairman of Free Enterprise, passed away yesterday at his Pyeongchang-dong mansion due to a heart attack. The cause is believed to be a hereditary heart condition…”
He had only closed his eyes for a moment. And yet his father was gone. At first, Choi Suho thought everyone was lying to him. How could his father—perfectly fine just yesterday—be dead?
“That’s ridicu—”
Just as he was thinking the news was a false report about his father’s death, a single scene spread thickly through his mind like fog. Choi Suho clamped a hand over his mouth. His face drained white, and with his left hand—one that might not even have fully healed from its cast—he covered his ears and muttered.
“No… no… it can’t be… because of me… there’s no way…!”
It was in front of the entrance door. Ji Haesu, hooking both arms under his armpits, stood before the full-length mirror, sneering at him and saying he’d become an Omega.
“That can’t be… why would I be an Omega…?”
Choi Suho covered his ears and muttered like a madman, unaware that Ji Haesu was watching him from the doorway with his arms crossed. Normally, Suho would’ve noticed Ji Haesu’s gaze and snapped, What? Why are you here? But now, like a sandcastle battered by violent waves, his mind had collapsed, and he couldn’t think straight.
It wasn’t as though his mental fortitude had ever been particularly strong to begin with. As Ji Haesu took a step forward to approach him, Choi Suho clutched his head, buried his face into his knees, and continued repeating the same words.
“Dad couldn’t have died. No. No. Jang Jihyeok… he did it on purpose, just to fuck with me… to make me see…”
The image of his father screaming, Stop it, stop it, stop! as he collapsed replayed over and over. His father clutched his chest, letting out a final, agonized groan. At that moment, all the Jang brothers stared at their father with cold eyes, as if wishing for his death.
And then, like a spotlight, their gazes turned on him, saying, You killed him.
No. I didn’t kill him!
Then Jang Jihyeok approached, cupped his face, smiled with a face so much like their father’s, and said— Hyung Juho, and Father too… they all died because of you.
“No. They didn’t die because of me…!”
Please—please tell me that at least Dad didn’t die because of me. He was the only person in this world who truly loved me!
“Choi Suho. Suho.”
“…!”
At the sensation of hands grabbing both his wrists, Choi Suho’s eyes shook violently. Seeing this fragile side of Suho—a side he’d never shown before—Ji Haesu frowned. The moment their eyes met, Choi Suho screamed, “Aaaaargh! Ji Haesuuuu!” and lunged forward, trying to strangle him.
“It’s because of yooou!”
But they say the mind governs the body. With Suho’s weakened mental state, Ji Haesu seized his neck and subdued him in a single motion, smiling in satisfaction.
“Yes. That’s more like it.”
“You fucking bastard—you did this on purpose…! Khk!”
“Sorry, but I didn’t know your brother would show up either.”
Ji Haesu’s tone was glib, yet it didn’t sound like a lie. Tears immediately welled up in Choi Suho’s eyes. Bruises and red swelling that showed no sign of fading framed eyes where thick, rain-like tears pooled. How could something like this feel so seductively pitiful? With a free hand, Ji Haesu traced Suho’s chin, even entertaining the absurd thought—Does Choi Suho have a peach-blossom curse or a crimson-fate mark or something? As the pressure on his throat increased, Suho grabbed Ji Haesu’s hand and cried.
His father was dead. His body remembered it, too. Ji Haesu was indirectly, unmistakably telling him the same thing.
And the one thing he could be most certain of was—
“Khk!”
Choked, Choi Suho sobbed, tears clinging to his lashes.
“I let Si-in’s father die…”
“Well, that was one of the plans the client asked for. I’m not denying it. It was just one of the things you had to suffer through.”
Choi Suho opened his mouth, gasping—huff, hack—barely able to breathe as he broke down sobbing. Ji Haesu showed not a shred of mercy. He released Suho’s neck, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked him closer.
“Now that it’s your turn, does it hurt your heart? Losing the only blood relative you had—does it feel like you’re going insane?”
Every word was true. Because of his choices, Do Si-in had lost a child, lost part of his body, and because of that day’s accident, Suho had lost his father as well. Ji Haesu was merely returning everything exactly as he himself had experienced it. Who was there to blame?
Hyung Juho, and Father too… they all died because of you.
