Chapter 43

—“The rumors do not appear to be unfounded. Director Jang Taegeon’s mother did, in fact… take her own life during that period. Then, shortly before the Director’s marriage, his faction within Janghan Construction began to expand.”

He had needed a long shower.

—“I suspect the demand to exclude Yooshin’s assets from the conditions of the marriage was, in essence, an attempt to sever your influence over the company. Since the death of the former chairman, your grandfather, have you not remained the sole authority over Yooshin’s actual management? Once the captain is locked away, even the largest battleship becomes easy to sink.”

Tearing himself free from those thoughts proved difficult.

He must have forgotten to adjust the water temperature while drifting through his haze, because his skin had gone cold beneath the stream. Jaeha clicked his tongue in irritation.

The alarm on the bathroom clock snapped him back to reality. He had installed the device specifically to keep himself from losing track of time whenever he stood motionless beneath the water, staring into nothing.

The moisture-resistant clock emitted a sharp electronic beeping, drawing his gaze once again.

Jaeha stared at it blankly for several seconds before finally silencing the alarm and bringing his shower to an end. Perhaps because it was still early, his injured thumb felt stiff and unresponsive. He knew he should have taken a long, hot shower and followed it with a thorough ice massage, but he abandoned the routine altogether. He ran his fingers over his chin to determine whether he needed to shave, but found nothing that required attention.

In the past, he had followed a strict daily shaving regimen, though the need for it had gradually diminished. Apart from the hair beneath his arms and around his groin, which he had permanently removed for swimming, the hair across the rest of his body had begun to thin.

Is this because of the stress too?

It would make sense.

The issue was hardly critical, and he found an unexpected convenience in it. Skipping the shave spared him a few precious minutes.

He wrapped a bathrobe around his wet body and walked toward the dressing room, only to notice that the front was still open. This sight suddenly reminded him of a man from the past. Clad in just a robe, with his body covered in wounds, the man had appeared so stunningly beautiful that Jaeha had felt unworthy of seeing him. The long scar across the man’s abdomen was just beginning to heal. Not long ago, it had left Jaeha breathless, as if he were gazing at a god of war crafted by an ancient, forgotten civilization.

Without speaking, Jaeha buttoned his shirt and chose the rest of his outfit.

He thought about using his Alpha perfume but decided against it. Instead, he picked a watch with a leather strap, one he wore almost daily now, the same piece that had been with him during the most crucial moments of his past. He tied his necktie in a simple Windsor knot, selecting a muted shade slightly darker than his suit jacket. He applied the same quiet precision to his cufflinks, fastening the obsidian pair without even glancing in the mirror, and then picked up his briefcase.

He left the annex, but before leaving the estate, there was one place he needed to visit.

The air had turned crisp enough that frost-like particles clung to his shoes. The grass remained stubbornly green, yet it seemed confused by the sudden chill. Surprised by the early cold snap, the plants retreated silently, much like he had. Jaeha stepped carefully across the garden stones, avoiding the grass, hoping that the suffering inflicted on those small, fragile things would be nothing more than the fleeting cruelty of the weather.

When he opened the front door of the main house and crossed the inner entryway, an old man in a camel-colored cardigan was already there. His back was straight, and when he spoke, it was with the confidence of someone who had been waiting for this exact moment.

“You’re leaving early today.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

Lee Jaeha inclined his head respectfully toward Jang Changsik.

Jang Changsik studied him with the eyes of a greedy, decrepit wolf, a predator desperate to preserve the sharpness of his fangs and the crushing strength of his molars forever.

Two seasons had already passed since Jaeha moved into the house. Half a year had gone by since Lee Jaeha had been torn away by Myeongwon’s grasp.

“…I see. Let us have dinner together tonight.”

“My apologies, Grandfather. I already have an engagement.”

A flash of anger crossed the old man’s face, though he concealed it almost immediately.

Jaeha noticed, but pretended otherwise.

“…It must be an appointment you cannot avoid.”

Instead of responding, Jaeha chose the comfort of silence. Although he resided in the annex connected to the main house where Jang Changsik lived, there was little incentive for him to extend their conversations. He ate all his meals in the annex. Nevertheless, the reason for the dinner invitation was clear. Jang Changsik’s situation had become critical, with adversaries approaching from all sides.

Director Jang has begun restructuring the organization.

When the news reached him, Jaeha felt a flicker of relief. He had hoped the man would no longer concern himself with what had happened back then. The maneuver came later than expected. Jaeha had assumed he would act much sooner, but he had finally begun to move. For one brief moment that day, Jaeha allowed himself a solitary spark of happiness. The following morning, he awoke once more in a cold bed, his expression rigid and frozen. It did not matter. Without a dedicated assistant, he had no choice but to drive himself. As he approached the stairs leading down to the garage, nearby voices drifted toward him.

“Good morning, Myeongsun hyung-nim.”

“Hm. Has the Executive Director come out yet?”

“No. He should be down shortly.”

Since Jaeha moved into Jang Taegeon’s residence, the estate had been swarming with Taegeon’s men. Even the cleaning staff in the annex were his informants.

It was clear they were keeping an eye on him, a situation Lee Jaeha found extremely unpleasant.

He still had a lot of work to manage, and the operation he had initiated was advancing at a careful and deliberate pace. Although his social circle was not large, certain appointments, including today’s, could not be delayed.

Jaeha had to meet one of his grandfather’s wards, a man who had previously served as the District Chief Prosecutor before spending three terms in the National Assembly. Regardless of their identities, these wards typically had a tense relationship with Lee Ik-hyeong. His grandfather always acted as if Jaeha were his only genuine heir, and the wards, even though they were raised at his expense, seemed to harbor resentment towards him for this.

Jaeha had never expected that resentment to work in his favor.

Hidden behind a wall, he let out a quiet sigh and waited for Myeongsun to finish the morning report and leave the garage.

The man who had called Myeongsun “hyung-nim” was one of the organization’s foot soldiers. Jaeha didn’t even know his name because no one had ever introduced them. The man had never spoken a word to him. He wasn’t Jaeha’s personal chauffeur or the manager of the annex household, like the old Myeongsun had been.

Despite this, he seemed to know almost everything Jaeha did. From this alone, Jaeha could reasonably conclude that surveillance cameras were installed throughout the residence, with the bedroom being the only exception.

Jang Taegeon apparently saw no reason to hide their presence. Similarly, although Jaeha was fully aware that he was being watched, he saw little point in questioning the cameras or complaining.

Through the open garage doors, he watched Myeongsun’s black sedan disappear from view. He silently counted to three, then resumed his descent down the stairs at a slow, measured pace.

“Good morning, Executive Director.”

“Yes. Good morning.”

Jaeha greeted with perfect formality and nothing beyond that.

He walked toward the row of vehicles in the garage and opened the door of the most extravagant car among them—a two-seat convertible. This was a recent acquisition, bought after the kidnapping specifically so he could drive something both high-performance and impossible to ignore.

Naturally, Jaeha had little interest in luxury cars and usually preferred models with quiet, unobtrusive engines. However, his security firm had advised him that being conspicuous could, in this situation, offer better protection. Following their recommendation, he had purchased a bright red convertible from an Italian luxury manufacturer. For someone who detested noise and had no fondness for open-top cars, the vehicle made his brow tighten every time he got inside.

Still, it was a necessary inconvenience.

The kidnapping had never been made public, but those in the right circles knew exactly what had occurred. To prevent another attempt, staying visible and drawing attention to himself was the safer option.

There was often a period after a kidnapping when vigilance weakened almost unconsciously, a dangerous lull that tended to appear shortly before stricter security measures were fully in place. The confusion of building a new protective system after such an incident inevitably left gaps in the defenses.

Human attention was fallible, and moments of distraction could never be completely eliminated.

To ensure that no opportunistic piece of filth dared exploit one of those lapses, Jaeha had decided to follow the security firm’s advice. He settled into the driver’s seat, already suffocated by frustration before he had even left for work.

The day was starting in an exceptionally wretched and tedious manner.

***