“H-Heesin, what is this?”
His mother’s mouth fell open and she stumbled over her words, and Minhye’s eyes had gone wide with shock.
While opening the condolence envelope box to sort through the funeral contributions, they had found an envelope with no name on it — and inside it was a check for one hundred million won. At first he thought someone must be playing a prank. That was, until the face of a certain man flashed through his mind.
“Give it to me. I think it was put in by mistake.”
He took the envelope from his mother’s hands, and her eyes wavered. Her gaze wouldn’t leave the envelope. Minhye, who had caught on, moved to soothe her.
“Mom. If oppa accepts something like that, it’ll cause serious trouble. You know that, right?”
His mother didn’t answer — she just bowed her head — and Heesin rose from his seat. His mother, who had collapsed sobbing at his hyung’s encoffinment ceremony, now wore an expression that said she wanted to cry for an entirely different reason. If only I had that money… just that money…. That seemed to be what she was trying to say, and so he made a swift exit.
He stepped outside and called Im Gyeong.
After several rings, a languid voice came through the receiver.
— Hello.
“This is Kang Heesin. Did you by any chance put a check in the condolence box?”
— Yes.
“Why would you give an amount this large—”
— Are you angry? Did I do something wrong?
The guileless tone of it drew a quiet sigh from him.
“Let’s meet when I’m back in Seoul. I’ll return the money.”
— Don’t do that. Just keep it. This isn’t the time to be proud.
“What did you just say?”
— Your father’s hospital bills must have been no small sum. Or am I wrong?
He felt a sudden swell of emotion rise up, and his voice came out sharper than intended.
“Did you look into my background?”
— Looking into someone’s background is done in secret. What I did was look into your foreground.
“……”
— I ran into someone you know at the funeral home. A friend of your father’s? He grabbed me and started venting. About how pitiful Kang Heesin’s situation was, how rough a life he’d been living. Listening to it was honestly irritating. I couldn’t stand how sorry I felt for you. If I’d known sooner, I wouldn’t have teased you about the necktie. It’s late, but I’m sorry.
Heesin squeezed his eyes shut. He had already thought something was off when Mr. Kim had cornered him that morning asking question after question — who the man was who’d stopped by in the early hours of yesterday, whether he might be a work superior, whether he seemed wealthy and how they knew each other. A deep sigh slipped out between his lips.
“I’ll contact you when I’m back in Seoul….”
— Use the money. That’s what I gave it for.
“Is this pity?”
— Why. Is that not allowed?
He was at a loss for words. In a situation like this, most people would at least deny it or make excuses.
— Listen, Kang Heesin. That’s dirty money. You know I’m not the kind of person who does good things out of the goodness of his heart.
“……”
— So don’t feel any guilt about it and use it. You can even think of it as generosity extended toward your future family.
Heesin answered without a moment’s deliberation.
“…No.”
Damn, stubborn as hell. He clearly heard the quiet curse muttered under his breath.
Heesin was staring down at the ground when Im Gyeong added one more thing.
— Do as you like, then.
Click — the call ended, and Heesin rubbed his face with a weary expression. He took a cigarette from his pocket, walked to the smoking area, and lit it. He noticed at some point that the white envelope in his hand had gotten crumpled. One hundred million won was inside this. An amount most people would never touch in their lifetime. He couldn’t wrap his head around the spending habits of a man who threw that around like buying gum at a convenience store.
At the same time, he couldn’t deny that something in him was wavering. With this money, he could be free from financial pressure for a while. But it might also come back to shackle him later. No one could guarantee how long Im Gyeong’s goodwill would last.
On a hunch, he checked with the funeral home — and was told the funeral expenses had already been settled too. He felt hollow. Was it really that easy a problem to sort out? It was almost laughable that he’d lain awake agonizing over the funeral costs until the small hours of the morning. A wave of defeat washed over him, followed by relief, and then a faint, quiet ache.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter — the sound of raindrops needled at his ears. Watching his hyung go into the crematory, his mother wept bitterly, and Minhye too broke into wrenching sobs. Only Kang Heesin remained composed. The same was true when his hyung was reduced to a handful of ash and placed into the funeral urn. He no longer existed in this world. On the urn, the date he was born and the date he died were written side by side.
After the funeral, his mother coaxed him, saying to at least go in and see his father’s face before leaving.
— I’ll see him when I’m dead.
He said something cruel to his mother, who had just lost her eldest son. He meant it. He had no desire to see him before he died. He had no desire to hold a funeral for him after either. The very hours he would have to spend receiving mourners and keeping vigil through the night — even that time felt like a waste. Why should I do any of that for someone like him.
Can you even call something like this a family? Should he have cut ties long ago?
After placing the urn in the columbarium, he dragged his exhausted body home. He collapsed into sleep on the sofa and when he opened his eyes, a full day had passed. He turned onto his side, and on the table he spotted an empty soju bottle and the envelope Im Gyeong had left behind.
He reached out and pulled the check from the envelope. Even looking at it again, the amount was staggering.
He held the check up to the fluorescent light, then sat up. He set the envelope neatly on the table, went to the bathroom, and stripped off all his clothes. He turned on the water to shower — and no hot water came out. It was only then that he recalled the notice in the elevator. Hot water pipes were being inspected; hot water wouldn’t be available until evening.
Damn, nothing ever works out…. He muttered to himself and wet his hair under the cold water. The water felt even colder than usual in the still-chilly weather. The house he’d grown up in had never had a proper hot water supply. They’d used an electric water heater, but it was nowhere near enough for the whole family.
On those occasions, his hyung always gave up his turn. He’d say he preferred cold water over hot. Even as a child, Heesin had been shrewd enough to know his hyung was lying. He knew — and he looked the other way. Maybe that was why his hyung’s hands were always cracked in winter, like a tortoise shell. His face too.
Even with so little, his hyung had always been the one who gave way.
But it seemed death was one thing he couldn’t yield.
He’d gone ahead first, just like that.
The tears that hadn’t come at the wake, nor at the crematory — they broke free at last.
“Damn….”
He stood beneath the stream of water and cried in silence for a long time. He cried until his head was heavy and dull, then barely managed to gather himself and stepped out. Looking in the mirror, his eyes were red raw. He pulled himself together, and for work, took a freshly pressed shirt from the wardrobe.
After that, he put on his wristwatch and stopped by a luxury second-hand shop on the way to work to have it appraised.
The price had dropped more than he’d expected, but it was enough to cover what he needed.
He arrived at the prosecutors’ office with the cash in hand, well past noon. The moment Chief Inspector Oh saw Kang Heesin walk through the door of the prosecutors’ office, he grew visibly anxious. Something’s happened again, he could tell. Whether it was worse than his hyung’s death, he didn’t know.
“Prosecutor. Did things get sorted out alright?”
“…Yes.”
He asked what had happened, and Oh raked a hand through his wavy hair with visible irritation. Aw, hell.
“It’s the Chairman Shim case. Apparently Prosecutor Jang Seonwu is assembling a team to take it over. I only just found out myself.”
“……”
“Someone’s planning to swoop in and take credit for all the groundwork you laid.”
Heesin listened to Chief Inspector Oh in silence, then rose from his seat. He left the prosecutors’ office and headed up to the third floor where the deputy chief prosecutor was. As he stepped into the office, the deputy chief prosecutor and several others were seated inside. They exchanged glances with each other, then filed out. One of them gave Kang Heesin a pat on the shoulder as he passed.
It felt less like comfort and more like a signal to know when to quit.
“You’re here? Heard you went to the provinces for personal matters.”
“What happened?”
“Sit down first. You’ll give yourself a stiff neck standing like that. Want some coffee?”
“Wasn’t I supposed to be handling the Chairman Shim case?”
“That was the plan. It was. But apparently it’s been given to Jang Seonwu.”
“On whose orders?”
Jo Cheolwoong pointed a finger at the ceiling. It meant the order had come from the Chief Prosecutor. And since Prosecutor Jang Seonwu was the Prosecutor General’s son, it also meant: don’t push back any further. He had more than enough evidence for this case. All that was left was to pick up a spoon and sit down at a table that had already been set.
“We’re an organization. Not individuals. It’s better for someone capable to handle it.”
“Are you saying I’m not capable?”
“Once the investigation kicks off, the pressure will be immense. Can you handle it?”
“……”
“You could lose your job if you’re not careful. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen that happen.”
“If I lose my job, that’s my problem. It was my choice — I have no regrets.”
“Kang Heesin. Why are you being like this? You’re smart. I’ve watched countless prosecutors get ground up chasing ambition on my way up. I’m saying this because I value you.”
“Do you mean that?”
“You think it’s just talk?”
Rather than pushing back further, he rose from his seat. Jo glanced over at his wrist.
“By the way, where’s your watch? You were always wearing a nice one.”
Sharp eyes on this man. I sold it because I needed the money. At those words, Jo’s expression shifted slightly. He looked as though he was trying to gauge whether it was defiance or the truth.
“Get going.”
“Yes.”
He gave a polite bow and stepped outside.
The strides carrying him down the corridor gradually picked up pace.
His fists were clenched at his sides, and spreading across his face — in place of anger — was a thin, cold smile.
