“As far as I know, his brothers are… not you.”
“I’m a hyung he knew a long time ago.”
Director Cha’s face said he wasn’t quite buying it, but Moon Heesung didn’t have the air of someone desperately trying to be believed. No matter how he turned it over, the situation refused to make sense to Director Cha — he pressed his brow together as though fighting off a headache and spoke again.
“Even so… this is a bit sudden. We were actually the ones intending to make you an offer… The criminal record wasn’t something I’d anticipated.”
“There won’t be any trouble.”
“That’s your word for now.”
“I can do anything. Just give me the instruction.”
He truly looked like someone who meant that. Director Cha’s expression said he was struggling to reconcile rational judgment with the tangle of impressions pulling at him.
“…Is money the goal here?”
“No. I don’t need it.”
“Then some kind of grudge against Sinju…”
“Nothing like that. If anything, the opposite.”
The complete absence of any apparent agenda pushed Director Cha into genuine deliberation. He couldn’t understand why he was finding the man’s words credible when every sensible part of him knew placing someone with a record in this role was out of the question. The one who should be refusing outright was Director Cha — and yet the one who was actually most desperate right now was also Director Cha. There was not a single person in the entire country willing to take on the job of managing Yoo Sinju — the most volatile, mentally unwell person in the industry right now. That desperation was precisely why Director Cha had been ready to grab a complete stranger off the street and beg.
“Managing Sinju won’t be easy. That’s exactly why we were prepared to approach someone we’d only just met. I know that sounds strange, but your impression and your presence just seemed like the right fit…”
“I won’t let you down.”
Truthfully — he liked him. Just as he had from the start. No wasted words, that quiet manner, the confidence behind everything he said. But still…
Director Cha exhaled with a note of regret and said quietly:
“…Even so, a criminal record. I’m sorry. It’s an unanticipated risk.”
“Then why not put me to the test.”
“……”
“If you’re still not comfortable, you can have someone watching. And if your mind still doesn’t change after that — I’ll step away cleanly.”
The calm, measured proposal made Director Cha pause to think. He couldn’t bring himself to answer easily. The risk of a criminal record was too significant — the Representative would have his head if they found out — and yet, strangely, the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.
What a shame. That presence. That nerve. And my own instinct.
“……”
Several minutes passed with no answer from Director Cha. At that, Heesung finally let out a quiet breath of resignation and rose to his feet. He’d anticipated this. The other party was the agency’s highest-valued actor, and he was a convicted criminal. The risk was too great, just as the man had said.
Heesung stood, gave a quiet bow, and turned to leave. He was about to walk out of the conference room when Director Cha’s voice, the product of long deliberation, landed squarely in his ear.
“What’s your reason.”
The most essential question. The reason Heesung was going this far. The agency needed someone to manage that disaster right now — that much was obvious — but why was this man pushing so hard for it. If money wasn’t the goal, why did he need to be the one taking on Yoo Sinju.
“Your reason for wanting this job this badly.”
At the question, Moon Heesung slowly turned back around. Heesung’s blank gaze and Director Cha’s gaze — alive with curiosity — collided somewhere in the space between them.
“That guy.”
“……”
“I’m going to make a decent human being out of him.”
The answer was so far from anything Director Cha had expected that a baffled breath escaped him.
Strangely — it was the exact same reason as his own.
**
Moon Heesung had started working from his middle school years. That was around the time he’d gone out to find work on his own. It was also around the time his father’s businesses collapsed one after another and the family moved to a crumbling shantytown, and around the time his once-functional father began to come apart.
He went to an unlicensed factory outside Seoul before dawn, then cycled through every part-time job that would take him during the day. If somewhere said they’d hire a middle schooler, he was there without hesitation, doing whatever could be done. That meant by the time he got home, it was late at night or the early hours of the morning. His father — already cut off from the world — sat in his room and drank, and when the drinking made him mean, he took it out on whichever child was within reach. Or he’d use the mother who’d run away as the excuse to pour his rage onto his children.
Because Heesung was gone so often for work, most of that came down on his brother. Because of it, Huijae would either stay outside until late or wait for his hyung alone in the empty playground. That night was no different.
But at some point, his brother stopped being alone. The wealthy neighborhood kid — Huijae’s peer who’d been catching Heesung’s eye for a while now — was with him. Seeing the two small figures crouched side by side, each with bruises just as livid as the other’s, sent a vague, complicated ache through Heesung.
‘Why are you only here now?!’
The kid, who had been nodding off, sensed his presence and snapped at Heesung sharply. His brother Huijae was asleep, leaning against the kid’s shoulder.
‘…You stayed with my Huijae.’
He’d been seeing them together a lot lately. The two of them were identical only in always being injured — in every other way, they couldn’t have been more different. Where the kid was sharp and bright beyond his years, Huijae was slow in everything, including learning to read. Where the kid lived in the biggest house in the neighborhood, Huijae lived in a place that reeked of mildew. Polar opposites — and yet they kept ending up side by side.
‘It’s not like I stayed because I wanted to.’
The kid’s voice was crisp and clear even in the late hours of the night, eyes wide awake.
‘Still, it’s pretty late. Wake up. I’ll walk you home.’
‘No thanks. I can go by myself.’
Heesung scooped the sleeping Huijae up in one arm and held out his free hand to the kid. The kid hesitated, staring at the offered hand.
‘I’m not some little kid…’
Grumbling, the kid awkwardly took Heesung’s hand. When Heesung pulled him up to his feet, the kid’s face went faintly pink — and just barely, just briefly, there was a smile he tried not to show.
‘I said to get along with my brother — I didn’t say you had to stay out this late with him.’
It was far too late for a small child to be outside.
‘What does it matter.’
The kid tightened his grip on Heesung’s hand and muttered grumpily. At the contradiction between the words and the action, Heesung glanced at him with the look of someone watching something peculiar, and continued evenly:
‘Your parents will be worried.’
Not that there were any parents in their household who did the worrying.
At the matter-of-fact remark, the kid who’d been snapping back at everything went quiet. The silence stretched long enough that Heesung glanced over — and the kid was pressing his lips tightly shut, expression unreadable. That look was enough for Heesung to understand there was something unspeakable in this child’s situation too, and he didn’t press any further.
‘…There’s no one to worry about me.’
The answer came out reluctantly, and Heesung nodded with the look of someone who’d roughly expected as much. The reason this kid was free to be out this late — that had always been obvious. And the injuries always showing up somewhere on his body. Heesung’s eyes caught the cut near the kid’s mouth — fresh, by the look of it — and he let out a heavy breath before tossing out a plain, offhand remark.
‘Where do you keep getting yourself beaten up like this.’
‘…Why. Are you going to deal with them?’
‘Me?’
He asked back with an even face, and the kid squeezed his hand tighter and pushed on, disgruntled.
‘You said you would!’
‘I said what.’
‘…You said you’d deal with anyone who gives me trouble.’
Throwing back a promise he probably didn’t even remember making, the kid’s voice cracked slightly. Moon Heesung gave a short, casual ‘oh—’ of recollection.
‘So that’s it. You’ve just been waiting for me to deal with them?’
‘……’
Heesung asked again, just as unhurriedly, and the kid jutted out his lip and bit down on the cut there.
‘Are you really a boy, just waiting around for someone else to deal with your problems?’
‘…That’s not what this is—!’
‘Hold your ground.’
‘What…?’
‘Take three hits, take ten hits — hold your ground like you’re still going to land one.’
‘……’
‘And that one hit — throw it even if it kills you. Every dirty trick in the book if you have to.’
It wasn’t the kind of thing to say to a small child, but Heesung said it without ceremony. The kid seemed caught off guard for a moment — then his face crumpled with something welling up and he shot back:
‘…Maybe you’re just too scared to deal with them yourself.’
‘I can’t deal with them for you your whole life.’
‘……’
‘I’ll deal with them.’
‘……’
‘Even if that someone is your parents.’
Heesung said it plainly, without any particular weight, his expression unchanged. The kid stared at him for a moment with unsteady eyes. Then the small hand holding his began to tremble.
‘……Really?’
‘Yeah.’
‘…You’re really that tough?’
‘Yeah.’
More certain than any hero in any film. The kid’s voice wavered as he threw it back at him — as if testing whether Heesung would really hold to it.
‘……It’s my mom.’
‘……’
‘The one who… gives me trouble. It’s my mom.’
The sharp, always-fearless voice trembled. Heesung didn’t look surprised — as though he’d more or less expected it. He didn’t say anything either. He simply stopped walking, and with his other arm he swept the quietly shaking child up off the ground. At that, the kid’s eyes went wide — and then his face crumpled further, lip caught hard between his teeth.
