Chapter 38

Yet Seo Mu-yeong had shown curiosity toward the very specifics Choi Yook had dismissed. Perhaps because Mu-yeong shared a similar wavelength with the fanatics of this family, he had even offered plausible deductions. To Choi Yook’s ears, those words carried a profoundly different resonance.

It was an unspoken revelation that he might have been overlooking someone who rightfully deserved to be the target of his absolute vengeance.

To Choi Yook, Choi Sijin had never been a figure of great consequence. Compared to Choi Hak-gyun, Kim Jeong-seon, and Yang Ui-ju, a celebrity burdened with an unstable psyche was easy enough to tear down. Furthermore, fourteen years ago Sijin had been a mere boy undergoing surgery, leading Yook to assume he had no connection to the crime.

Yet Seo Mu-yeong’s deductions had fundamentally shifted Choi Yook’s perspective. Suddenly, a disjointed sense of discord—scattered like erratic wine splatters—coalesced into a single pool, taking on an unmistakable hue.

Choi Sijin’s sudden recovery of health. His uncharacteristic hedging over details that normally would have provoked him to throw a tantrum over Choi Yook’s poor memory. The extreme accusations hurled specifically to solicit reassuring denials, and the frantic, furtive glances gauging Yook’s reactions.

Choi Yook arrived at a conclusion. While confirming his medical records was necessary to be certain, Choi Sijin had almost certainly never undergone surgery.

Instead, he had taken part in the shamanic ritual in question, firmly convinced that the ceremony had restored his health and good fortune. In reality, it was undoubtedly nothing more than sheer coincidence or a placebo effect. Yet the rest of the household believed in it just as zealously, fiercely guarding the secret from Choi Yook.

Why had they done so? Most likely out of terror that the moment Choi Yook uncovered the secret, the ritual’s efficacy might dissolve. And the tangible proof that its power remained intact, apparently, was the affection he displayed toward Choi Sijin.

Because he was the least likely person on earth to love Choi Sijin, Yook had been designated as the gauge that would register any waning in the spell’s potency with the sharpest sensitivity. Much like a canary in a coal mine. Just as a miner senses lethal danger from the death of a bird, Choi Sijin believed that the moment Choi Yook’s affection ebbed away, his own fortune would run out.

Even though no such affection had ever existed in the first place.

“I’ve been run ragged lately because our search for someone has really picked up momentum,” Choi Yook remarked smoothly.

He took several generous swallows of wine in succession. Choi Sijin reacted instantly to a topic that had never once been broached before; the moment the words fell from Yook’s lips, a feverish gleam ignited in his brother’s eyes.

“What kind of person?” Sijin pressed eagerly.

“Who knows. Father told me to look for them six years ago, so I’ve been tracking them down ever since,” Choi Yook answered. “I doubt Father has any other children besides you and me.”

Choi Yook deliberately prodded in an absurd direction. Downing his wine, Choi Sijin twisted his lips into a smirk, his expression practically begging to flaunt his insider knowledge.

“I think I know who that is,” Sijin boasted smugly.

“Who?” Choi Yook asked with feigned indifference.

“Someone,” Sijin spat, his voice laced with venom. “A fucking bitch.”

Each syllable of the profanity dragged out with sneering relish. Choi Sijin swirled his half-full wine glass, letting out snickering titters.

“Wow, it’s already been six years? Seeing as you still haven’t found her, she’s probably dropped dead for real by now. She was already a puny, defective piece of trash back then. Still, if by some chance you do find her alive…”

“…” Choi Yook remained quietly impassive.

“Don’t believe a single word she says,” Sijin warned, leaning forward. “She’s completely out of her fucking mind. When I was doing the survival audition show, she even barged into my waiting room during the final shoot.”

Hearing this for the very first time, Choi Yook ceased breathing for an instant. Every syllable tumbling from Choi Sijin’s mouth struck his skull like a merciless sledgehammer.

The child had spoken. The child had sought them out, six years ago. Both Choi Sijin and Choi Hak-gyun knew of it, yet they had deliberately withheld it from him alone.

Because there was never any need to inform him. To them, Choi Yook was merely a servant tasked with executing orders, never a family member entitled to share in their secrets. Furthermore, back then he had not yet deliberately surrendered to self-ruin, so they would have viewed him with suspicion and taken even greater care to bury their wickedness.

It had been a long time since a reality so obvious he hardly felt alienated by it dealt him such a brutal blow to the back of the head. His throat constricting, Choi Yook barely managed to speak.

“…What did she say?” Choi Yook asked hoarsely. “Did she try to harm you?”

Sijin scoffed with a dismissive smirk. “Yeah, she had some delusional complex and came at me babbling nonsense. But whatever, she was just a girl with her bare hands—an absolute piece of cake for me. I beat the shit out of her and tossed her in the trash.”

His steady pulse surged into a violent, erratic gallop. Beneath the tough armor of his skin, it felt as though his internal organs and ribs were writhing in a tempest.

“It would help if you remembered what she looked like,” Choi Yook probed, forcing his voice into an even tone. “Like whether she had a mole, or double eyelids…”

Listing potential features, Choi Yook forced out the question trapped tight in his throat.

“…Or whether she had burn scars.”

Choi Sijin waved an indifferent hand. “Ha, who knows? I really don’t recall. I was completely zonked out on meds after surgery, and everything felt like a dream. Even my parents wouldn’t tell me a thing.” He knitted his brows in annoyance, the dark red liquid inside his glass surging like a tide each time he flicked his wrist.

“I do remember she was ridiculously skinny, though,” Sijin muttered. “The moment I struck her, I figured something definitely broke.”

“Show me again how you hit her back then,” Choi Yook requested in a low voice.

“How I hit her? Ah, that I remember for sure.”

Springing to his feet, Choi Sijin threw a punch into the empty air.

“I hit her face first, and then with my foot… punched a kick right into her gut like this, and after she collapsed, I just kept stomping. Since she couldn’t get her head straight, I just kept going…”

An unmistakable gleam of amusement played across his features as he brought his foot crashing down against the floor. Choi Yook felt his throat constrict with suffocating pressure.

Could the breastbone have stayed intact under stomps driven by such full body weight? That child had possessed bones so frail and tiny they seemed liable to shatter from a careless embrace. In the midst of such a one-sided beating, that child wouldn’t have even known how to shield their own body.

Even as fury churned within, Choi Yook envisioned a translucent figure standing beside Choi Sijin. Then, alongside grim comprehension, a faint thread of perplexity and confusion unraveled in his mind.

She is taller than I thought.

If Sijin had swung his fist at that trajectory and raised his leg that high, the opponent’s height must have exceeded at least one hundred and seventy centimeters. Choi Yook studied Choi Sijin with razor-sharp intensity.

“It seems they were slightly shorter than you,” Choi Yook remarked casually.

“Yeah, probably,” Sijin replied with a grin. “Now that you mention it, I remember. Their head came up to… about this high, maybe? Still, they were so puny that I punished them on the spot.”

Choi Sijin threw another jab into the empty air. Choi Yook gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“You did well,” Choi Yook praised flatly.

“Just because I don’t live my life doing violent shit like you doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself,” Sijin scoffed with smug satisfaction.

Choi Sijin sank back into his chair, snickering. He seemed desperate to draw a sharp line between himself and Choi Yook, while refusing to relinquish his bloated narcissism.

“My moves were pretty solid, right? Maybe I should do an action film next. I just hope a top-tier director sends over a decent script. Romance scripts make me want to puke just looking at them. It’s only bearable to shoot if the actress has a halfway decent face, but lately…”

Choi Sijin’s petty grievances and lewd banter escalated in earnest from that point on. Sordid, rambling chatter dragged on for as long as it took to drain the entire bottle of wine. When Bach’s reverent music completed its cycling variations and concluded with the identical opening aria, Choi Yook stepped out of Choi Sijin’s apartment.

The interior of the elevator was as still as a vacuum. Descending toward the basement, Choi Yook struggled to picture how that child looked fully grown.

Yet an image of the child shot up in height proved impossible to conjure. In truth, the mere fact that the child was already an adult of the same age as Choi Sijin felt completely unnatural. To him, that fragile frame would forever flutter like a tender stalk of spring grass.

Did she grow so well because her nickname was Elephant?

Choi Yook indulged in a rare, frivolous thought. Even so, it was an immense relief to learn the child could speak. Having suspected as much since there had been no hearing impairment, it seemed the previous muteness had indeed stemmed from psychological trauma.

He had wanted to help heal that wound. And even failing that, he had hoped that if the child ever became a soccer player or a firefighter, he could treat their injuries and nurse them back to health.

It was wonderful that the child had found their voice even without his meager assistance. The child had loved people and loved chattering, so life was surely far happier now. Furthermore, if they possessed the resolve to confront Choi Sijin out of the blue, perhaps someone was standing by their side, helping them.

That child deserved nothing less. They had to be happy, without question—yet a grim foreboding sprouted like a dark canopy over the good news. Alongside it, a venomous hatred swelled to monstrous proportions.

Striding into the underground parking lot, Choi Yook slid into the passenger seat beside Han Seo-yoon. The moment the car door clicked shut, an icy stillness settled inside the vehicle.

“A hammer would probably be best if I want to shatter ribs one by one,” Choi Yook remarked calmly.

Han Seo-yoon’s jaw went slack at the abrupt, terrifying statement. He blinked in disbelief. “…Pardon?”

“I’m talking about Sijin,” Choi Yook clarified evenly. “You can’t put a cast on ribs, so once he retires from acting, I figure I ought to make sure he gets plenty of rest. Ah, and pull his medical records for me—I need to examine them.”

His demeanor was perfectly serene, yet the substance of his words was anything but. Han Seo-yoon sat dazed for several seconds, completely forgetting to answer. Shaking his head, he scrambled to parse the situation.

“I’ll secure the medical records, Section Chief,” Han Seo-yoon replied cautiously. “Still, weren’t you only planning to end Sijin-ssi’s career as an actor? That was why we gathered evidence regarding his workplace abuse and school violence. Why so suddenly…?”

“Why do you think?” Choi Yook asked coldly.

Choi Yook cut across his words. Han Seo-yoon’s chin dropped once again in dismay.

“Don’t tell me… did Sijin-ssi break that child’s ribs fourteen years ago?”

Choi Yook shook his head coldly. “No. Six years ago.”

To be sure, Choi Sijin had undoubtedly committed horrifying acts against that child fourteen years ago as well. Far beyond merely sitting through a shamanic ritual, he had surely perpetrated something far more gruesome.

Were that not the case, a child so gentle and timid would never have sought out Choi Sijin. This was a child who, even when playing with bugs, handled them with exquisite gentleness lest a single antenna be broken off.

Yet what stoked Choi Yook’s rage to a blistering peak was the incident six years ago.

“When Choi Sijin appeared on that broadcast, the child came looking for him in his waiting room,” Choi Yook disclosed.

“Good heavens…” Han Seo-yoon muttered in shock, letting out a heavy breath laden with regret. “If only we had known back then, we could have tracked them down simply by pulling the security footage.”

“Tell me about it,” Choi Yook scoffed bitterly. “How is my own flesh and blood so utterly useless and profoundly toxic? If we share half the same blood, you’d think there’d be at least one soft corner in my heart toward him, yet I cannot find a single shred.”

“…” Han Seo-yoon maintained a cautious, respectful silence.

“It’s truly effortless to make a fool out of someone,” Choi Yook murmured. “Knowing none of this, I spent all those years wondering why Father abruptly ordered me to search for that child.”