You little shit. You don’t even know how to greet the father you haven’t seen in years? Your mother. What kind of upbringing did she give you. Tsk tsk. Look at those eyes. The older he gets, the more he looks like someone.
One day, his father — Kang Gilsu — had simply vanished. And now, out of nowhere, he was back. When he’d left, he’d taken every piece of gold and anything else worth taking in the house. He returned with nothing to his name. Well — not entirely nothing. He’d brought along a young half-sibling no one had ever seen before.
Kang Gilsu had the nerve to head straight for the master bedroom, and Heesin grabbed his arm.
“What do you think you’re doing here?! Get out, right now!”
Startled by the defiance of the son who had grown up in his absence, Kang Gilsu bellowed.
“You little bastard! Let go of me! Oh? Putting up a fight? Are you actually putting up a fight with me right now?!”
“Get out! What right do you have to be here! What right do you have!”
Heesin tried to drag him out by force — and their mother threw herself between them, begging him to stop. In the chaos, Kang Gilsu wrenched free from his son’s grip and backhanded him across the face instead.
The crack of the slap rang out, and Heesin staggered. A sharp, metallic taste bloomed in his mouth. His mother screamed and threw herself in front of him. Why are you hitting him! What gives you the right to come back now and act like this! Even as she said it, she turned and shoved Heesin away instead.
“Heesin. Go inside. Go on, now. Don’t engage with your father.”
“Look at the state of this family. Mother and son, both the same. Eyes down, you little shit! He’s going to eat his own father alive one day.”
Heesin didn’t look at his father. He looked at the small child standing beside him. Eight years ago, his father had disappeared with every coin in the house. And now he’d returned — with a child no one had ever met. From the age of the kid, it had to be the daughter of the woman he’d been with back then.
Overgrown, unkempt fingernails. Hair so filthy it was hard to say when it had last been washed. Eyes cast down like someone guilty of something. Small hands clasped together, trembling slightly. A child anyone could see had been neglected.
He walked past the terrified child and went into his room, slamming the door behind him. Goddammit. He dragged his desk chair out, sat down, and buried his face in his hands. His father’s voice carried through the walls from outside. How could a person have so little shame? Someone who couldn’t have cared less whether his family lived or died — what right did he have to show up?
He sat slumped over the desk for a long time. The noise outside gradually died. When he finally came out, the living room was empty. Instead, from the master bedroom, a loud, rumbling snore drifted out. He went in to look — a drinking tray sat beside his father, who lay sprawled on his back, dead asleep.
Heesin stared at him for a long moment, then turned to leave. A voice came from behind him.
“…Hit him.”
“……”
“Kang Heesin! You little — mmm — hyung, hit him, smack smack….”
His steps froze at the sound of his father’s sleep-talking. The man went right on snoring, undisturbed, as if nothing in the world was wrong. Without warning, buried memories from childhood surfaced.
His father’s idea of punishment: when he or hyung made a mistake, they had to stand facing each other and slap one another across the face.
And the mistakes were never anything significant. Spilling water. Fumbling an errand. Not understanding something the first time he said it. Giving a vague answer instead of a clear one. Small, trivial things.
At first, he’d fought back. Even as a child, he’d known that hitting people like that was wrong. But fighting back only meant getting beaten twice as hard. Eventually, he learned to hit hyung instead — just to be hit less himself. Except it was never really mutual. Hyung always only pretended to hit him.
Hyung, who was softer at heart, had slowly deteriorated. He started spending more and more days locked in his room. By the time their father finally left, he’d stopped coming out entirely. Even after, it was the same. He stayed behind a locked door and withered away in there, day by day. The face that used to smile so openly — Heesin could barely picture it anymore.
Is he in there right now, listening? What is he thinking? Is he crying?
The memories came flooding back, and with them, a rage he couldn’t contain. He crossed the room in a few long strides, grabbed the nearest pillow, and pressed it down over his father’s face.
“Ugh—!”
Caught off guard, Kang Gilsu thrashed his arms wildly in front of him. He clawed at Heesin’s forearms, fighting with everything he had to tear the pillow away. When I was small, I couldn’t fight back. But not now. I could kill you right now if I wanted to.
The rage turned into something more — something colder. Go on, then. Just die. You should never have come back. You’re no father. You never were.
Kang Gilsu’s body heaved. Then from behind him, a scream tore through the air.
“Kang Heesin!”
His mother seized his arms and wrenched them apart. In the gap she’d opened, Kang Gilsu gasped for air and shoved Heesin away. Heesin hit the floor. Kang Gilsu staggered upright and came at him like something rabid.
You crazy bastard! You little murderer! You were actually trying to kill me!
Heesin didn’t back down. He knocked his father to the ground and went straight for his throat.
Die. Just die and disappear. Get out of my life. Please, just get out of my life.
His mother screamed, and eventually she hit Heesin across the face.
That one blow hurt more than every beating his father had ever given him. And still he didn’t stop — because this felt like the only way to end the suffering. Fury and resentment and a kind of desperate wretchedness burned behind his eyes, turning them red.
Then, all at once — waaah — a sob cut through everything, and the small child from earlier came stumbling out of somewhere. The child threw both arms around Heesin’s arm and cried in heaving, broken bursts. Please don’t hurt my dad. Please let my dad go.
Looking at that wrecked little face, something in Heesin gave out completely. His arms went slack. The moment he released his grip, his father burst into a coughing fit and rolled to the side to pull free. He lurched to his feet — and Heesin’s vision swam.
It was only then that he noticed hyung’s bedroom door, cracked open a few inches.
Hyung….
Why are you just standing there watching? You want to kill him too. You can’t forgive this man either.
He was walking toward the door in a daze — when a scream ripped through the air from behind him.
Honey!
Heesin turned. And there was his father, coming at him with a fruit knife.
Heesin opened his eyes slowly, and the realization settled in — it had been a dream. He rubbed his face. That goddamn dream. Shows up every time I almost forget. He pushed himself upright, and voices drifted in from outside. He pulled on a robe and went out to find Yun Sena on the sofa, on a call.
He passed behind her and gave her shoulder a brief touch, then went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. He drank, long and slow. His neck was stiff, and a dull ache had settled behind his eyes. It was always like this after a nightmare. How hard must he have been fighting in his sleep.
Sena finished her call and came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Come back to bed. Why are you up so early?”
“You’re up early yourself.”
“Mom called. She wants to go shopping this afternoon. I start at the main office next week, you know.”
“We should celebrate.”
“Later. When there’s actually something worth celebrating.”
To outsiders, Yun Sena might have looked like a carefree rich girl. But she was anything but. She was more driven than almost anyone, with ambitions to match. In some ways, it made perfect sense. She was the child of the third wife, with four older half-siblings above her — her standing had always been precarious. And Chairman Yun was the kind of man who could take a fourth wife at any moment. That too was part of it.
“Want to go wash up together?”
She’d moved from behind him to in front of him, arms looped around his neck, tilting her head up to look at him. Fine, delicate features, and a mouth that curved beautifully when she smiled. For one stupid moment, he thought that mouth looked like Im Gyeong’s.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Heesin smiled and erased Im Gyeong from his mind.
“Because you’re beautiful.”
Yun Sena swept his messy bangs off his forehead. She pressed her lips lightly to his — then her hand slipped inside the robe and moved across his body.
“If you want, we could go another round right here.”
Heesin smiled and gently moved her hand aside.
Don’t tempt me. I have work. Later.
Sena’s brow furrowed slightly.
“Can’t you take today off?”
“You want me to be unemployed?”
“Ugh. I heard other guys go ten rounds a night when their girlfriend is pretty enough.”
“That would make them sex addicts. Excessive sexual drive is a clinical matter.”
She burst out laughing at how seriously he’d said it. The playful, charged atmosphere lingered as Yun Sena, still holding onto his neck, pressed her lips fully to his. Their tongues met — and then Heesin’s phone interrupted them both.
They ignored it. They kissed and shifted around the room until they settled onto the sofa. Yun Sena pushed Heesin halfway down onto it and climbed over him. She was easing the straps of her slip off her shoulders when the phone started up again without pause. He glanced over at it. Yun Sena cupped his face with both hands.
“Focus on me.”
He laughed and slipped her hands away. Calls at this hour were usually something urgent from Chief Inspector Oh — he couldn’t keep ignoring it.
“Sorry.”
He smiled, settled her back on the sofa, and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. I’ll be right back. Then he went into the bedroom. He found the phone, checked the caller — and his expression shifted visibly. He hadn’t saved the number, but he already knew whose it was.
It showed no sign of stopping, so he finally answered.
“Hello?”
— Sorry. Did I wake you?
“What’s going on this early in the morning?”
— Are you alone?
“…Yes.”
— This isn’t about anything else, it’s about the other day—
“Oppa.”
Yun Sena had followed him into the bedroom. He gestured for her to be quiet — and from the other end of the line came a soft laugh.
— Not alone after all.
“Tell me why you called.”
— Right then. I found out who commissioned Kim Jungu’s kidnapping.
Without thinking, he turned around. Yun Sena wasn’t in view. He slipped into the other bedroom and pulled the door shut. Who is it? he asked — and Im Gyeong said nothing. Heesin checked the call to make sure it hadn’t dropped. It was still running. He waited, and finally Im Gyeong’s voice came back.
— Actually, never mind. I’ll tell you later.
A flash of frustration surged up before he could stop it.
“Are you playing games with me?”
— The mood just died, suddenly.
“Excuse me?”
— I’m hanging up. It’s time for breakfast.
The line went dead, one-sided and without warning. Heesin stared at his phone with a look of pure disbelief. He considered calling back and demanding an answer, but when he stepped out of the room, Yun Sena was perched on the sofa with her cheeks puffed out like a blowfish. Furious.
“What is it that keeps you so busy every single day?”
He set his phone aside and turned his attention to soothing her instead. Don’t be upset. Do you want to pick up where we left off? He was shrugging off the robe when a message arrived from Im Gyeong. Heesin looked at it — and every last trace of a smile left his face. Yun Sena asked what was wrong.
This time, he couldn’t answer.
