* * *

Soohyuk knew exactly what Wonbeom was struggling with.

“The moment Jingyeom steps out of the hospital, countless eyes will be on him. People will be targeting him left and right. His personal information will be exposed, and being followed will become a regular thing. But once you’re the chairman, you can take care of everything without any loose ends.”

“…How does someone who lived abroad even know what ‘taking care of things’ means?”

“I got curious about what exactly you do, so I watched a few movies. Turns out it’s different from the mob—it was pretty interesting.”

Even in this tense situation, the two of them exchanged a faint smile.

“Don’t you want to see Jingyeom? Not just through photos.”

At those words, a flicker of emotion crossed Wonbeom’s eyes.

Soohyuk had visited Jingyeom’s hospital room every day before starting work, but Wonbeom couldn’t.

There were far more eyes on him, and the situation was too dangerous.

‘I do want to see him…’

For now, he had to settle for the occasional contact. But no, that was hardly enough.

He wanted to go to Jingyeom’s hospital room this very moment and take in his bright, smiling face.

Just seeing that pure, radiant expression might quench this thirst inside him.

‘They said he’s fully recovered from his cold…’

This was the first time Wonbeom realized that not being able to see someone could completely eat away at a person.

‘Looking at his picture just makes me want to see him more…’

But going to Jingyeom like this would be the same as screaming, “Here’s my weak spot!”

He didn’t want to put someone who was already in danger into even more peril.

Honestly, it was already too late.

Back then, he hadn’t realized how deeply his feelings would grow, so even though he knew Jingyeom was at risk, he didn’t think much of it.

It was the same with Jinwoo.

Wonbeom stayed silent for a moment, slowly rubbing his chin with his rough hand.

The foundation of Daejeong was a loan shark business.

In any regular company, when management rights are on the line, all sorts of dirty dealings happen behind the scenes.

So what about Daejeong, where the executives are former gangsters who used to fight turf wars?

Of course, they’ve got skeletons in their closets.

And that includes Wonbeom.

Those who had watched Daejeong grow into a legitimate company fought tooth and nail for a piece of the pie.

And with the aging chairman, many started eyeing the position of the next chairman.

There were plenty who wanted control of the company, but only a few were actually qualified.

Among them, Wonbeom was mentioned as a candidate for the next chairman simply because he was the current chairman’s grandson.

Naturally, this caused resentment, but Wonbeom silenced those voices by proving himself through his leadership of Daejeong.

There was only one reason why Wonbeom wanted Daejeong.

His father.

No, he didn’t even want to call that man his father—he wanted revenge.

He wanted to take Daejeong, the company his father had wanted so badly, and destroy it right in front of his eyes.

But when that man died in a senseless incident, taking control of Daejeong became an automatic goal.

Wonbeom slowly spoke.

“…Call Secretary Baek.”

At the answer he had been waiting for, Soohyuk smiled with satisfaction.

But that smile quickly faded as it collided with Secretary Baek’s objection.

“No, I’ve explained the situation, so why can’t we?”

“Because I can’t see him.”

“…That’s your reason?”

“Of course it is. These days, I barely see his face except when I come home late at night and he’s already asleep. And now you’re suggesting I take him to a villa? You can’t seriously think I’d agree to that.”

Soohyuk hadn’t expected an easy approval. He had anticipated the reason for the rejection.

But the truth was, Soohyuk also wanted to drop everything and go see Jingyeom.

He was suffering from Jingyeom withdrawal just as badly and wasn’t about to give up easily.

He had finally confessed, but it just had to coincide with the moment they got their hands on the corruption ledgers, so he hadn’t even had the chance to properly express his feelings.

“I didn’t want to say this…”

Soohyuk lowered his voice, filling the air with tension.

“What are you going to do if something happens to him while he’s still in the hospital? Do you know how many drugs are in that place? That means he’s constantly exposed to danger.”

“Director Sun!”

Jinwoo raised his voice, telling Soohyuk to stop saying such terrible things. But instead of backing off, Soohyuk pressed even further.

“It’s easy to bribe people. We live in a world where money can solve everything—you know that. Even good people kneel before money. Do you really think no one would be tempted if they were offered a few hundred or even a few thousand to just give him a shot?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“The one making threats here is Secretary Baek. You’re the one who can decide where Baek Jingyeom stays.”

Soohyuk didn’t hold back.

“Secretary Baek only gets a say because he’s family. If he wasn’t, Jingyeom would’ve been taken away a long time ago.”

---

The idea that Jingyeom could be in danger wasn’t an exaggeration.

The corruption ledgers were that powerful.

In the original plan, the ledgers weren’t supposed to fall into their hands until much later.

But they had acquired them earlier than expected, and now everything had been pushed forward.

“We didn’t think things would move this fast either. Do you know how much we had to go through just to get those ledgers?”

“Do you really think I’ve been going abroad for no reason? We’ve been so busy because of all this, and you know that. You’ve seen the ledgers too.”

Just as Soohyuk said, Jinwoo had seen the ledgers, and the more he looked into them, the more he realized how dangerous they were.

And Jinwoo only had part of the documents; the rest were still being sorted by Secretary Yang and Cheongoh.

“Even if we try to hide it now, it’s useless. Baek Jingyeom is already exposed. So are you. Hasn’t Secretary Baek noticed? That there are people following him lately?”

“…Yes.”

He was aware of that, as well as the fact that it wasn’t just one or two people.

He also knew that Wonbeom had assigned guards to him, probably because he was in danger too.

He had even heard that there were guards stationed around the hospital.

“Do you really think those are all our people? I doubt it.”

“Jingyeom’s been going out for walks a lot lately. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? If something happens…”

Soohyuk closed his eyes tightly.

In trying to convince Jinwoo, he had spoken so freely that his own worries and anxieties had come spilling out.

The more he talked, the more convinced he became that leaving Jingyeom in the hospital was no longer an option.

“If something happens, it’ll be too late. He’s already frail—what if he collapses? And now that the weather’s getting colder, things could get really serious. I don’t want to see anything like that happen.”

“…Is the villa far?”

“Two hours from here.”

“That’s far… Really far.”

Jinwoo’s gaze, which had been fixed on Soohyuk, slowly dropped.

If Jingyeom could be in danger, he couldn’t keep being stubborn.

It would be impossible to see Jingyeom every day like now, but it was better than letting him fall into harm’s way.

“If he’s taken somewhere else, my brother will think it’s strange.”

“Yeah, he probably will. We’ll figure out what to tell him later. Oh, and there’s one more thing bothering me.”

“What is it?”

“Jeong Sanho. I don’t mind you keeping in touch, but don’t give him the location. We don’t want to expose where Jingyeom’s hiding.”

At the mention of Jeong Sanho, Jinwoo’s face twisted with a different kind of frustration.

Even hearing his name made him sick.

The fact that Jeong Sanho was still hanging around Jingyeom was unbearable.

He had heard a few times that they had gone to a café together and had even seen a few of his messages.

As Wonbeom was reviewing the documents, keeping an ear on Soohyuk trying to persuade Jinwoo, he offered an alternative suggestion.

“Just break the phone and buy him a new one.”

“…He’s clueless when it comes to tech. We’ll come up with an excuse among ourselves,” Soohyuk replied, his tone dismissive, causing Wonbeom’s eyebrow to twitch slightly.

“If the phone is destroyed, the numbers saved on it will be lost. Baek Jingyeom wouldn’t have memorized them, so it would naturally cut off communication, right?”

“Sigh, Director Tak. These days… let me put it simply—there’s something called synchronization. People save their phone data to their account, so they can retrieve it on another device.”

Besides, even if they can’t restore other things, most people at least save their contacts to their account, so the numbers get backed up automatically.

Speaking gently, as if explaining to a child, Soohyuk spelled it out for Wonbeom, who then turned his eyes back to the documents.

After a moment of deliberation, Jinwoo finally spoke slowly.

“…I need a little more time to think.”

Although he knew that doing as Soohyuk suggested would be best for Jingyeom, his own desires made him hesitate, buying himself some extra time.

Sensing that Jinwoo was on the verge of agreeing, Soohyuk drove the final nail in.

“We can’t wait too long. The situation is getting serious.”

---

Meanwhile, Jingyeom, unaware that the three were discussing his living situation, lay on the sofa, glaring intensely at a photograph.

The more he thought about it, the more confused he became about whether he should talk to Jinwoo about the person who was supposedly his father.

“But he’s still my dad, right? He’s family…”

Sanho had told him not to show it, but Jingyeom wanted to confirm if Jinwoo had really said he would kill him if he contacted their father again.

Jinwoo hated their father that much, yet when he spoke about family, he never revealed any signs of such hatred. It only made Jingyeom more curious.

“Ah… my head hurts.”

He let his arm fall limply to his side and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Then, as the phone on the table kept ringing persistently, he reached out for it.

“Ah!”

The phone slipped out of his grasp and fell, so Jingyeom quickly sat up to pick it up.

Luckily, it didn’t seem broken, as it was still ringing.

Squinting at the unfamiliar number displayed on the screen, Jingyeom felt it was vaguely familiar.

Normally, he wouldn’t answer calls from unknown numbers, but for some reason, his finger hovered over the green call button.

“Hello?”

—Why’d you take so long to answer?

“…Who’s this?”

—You’ve forgotten your dad’s voice just because you hurt your head?

“…Dad?”

* * *