Chapter 48

In the early dawn, Seo Mu-yeong checked Han Seo-yoon’s overnight movements on his monitoring app. Around 10:00 p.m., Han had escorted Choi Yook to a lounge, taken him to a hotel in Gangnam around 3:00 a.m., and then returned home to walk his dog, Seolgi, around the neighborhood before going to sleep. There had been no further word from Choi Yook since.

Meanwhile, Choi Sijin had checked into a hotel in Dongdaemun the previous evening. If he stuck to his habits, he would order room service between 8:00 and 9:00 a.m., then sprawl lazily across the bed for several more hours before finally emerging.

In short, right now was the prime opportunity to retrieve the audio recorder planted on Choi Sijin’s Porsche.

Tugging his ball cap down low, Seo Mu-yeong started the van while sipping an energy drink. The drive to the hotel took no time at all.

Stepping into the lobby, Seo Mu-yeong seized the moment the front desk clerk stepped away to verify Choi Sijin’s room number. Next, he swiftly slipped into an elevator someone else had called, rode it up several floors, and covered the remaining distance via the emergency stairwell. Dimly lit only by green emergency exit lamps, the stairwell smelled of cold concrete.

From here on, he needed to be far more discreet. Seo Mu-yeong pushed the heavy fire door slightly ajar to survey the hall; confirming the coast was clear, he slipped out into the corridor. Choi Sijin’s suite was easy to locate.

Crouching beside the door, Seo Mu-yeong waited for room service to arrive. The hotel was comfortable right through the hallways, and the plush carpeting quickly made his limbs feel heavy. Even so, he kept his eyes peeled and vigilantly surveyed his surroundings.

Around 8:10 a.m., a hotel staff member appeared at the far end of the hallway, wheeling a silver trolley. Atop the cart were plates covered by domed stainless-steel cloches and small yogurt containers.

Seo Mu-yeong rose to his feet. Halting outside the suite, the hotelier pressed the chime.

“Room service,” the employee announced politely.

The door did not budge. Clearing his throat, the young man raised his volume to try once more.

“Room service…!”

“Ah, so damn noisy first thing in the morning,” a petulant voice snapped from within.

Yanking the door open with an irritated snort, Choi Sijin stood in a white bathrobe, tied so loosely that his bare chest was completely exposed. His hair was ruffled in disarray and his face puffy from sleep. With eyes swollen over his faint double eyelids, Choi Sijin glared at the worker.

“If you rang once, learn to wait a damn minute. Did this place get its five-star rating as a decoration? Why the hell is your service like this, huh?” Choi Sijin barked.

Even while taking insults directly to his face, the hotelier stared at Choi Sijin as if spellbound—as though a celestial halo radiated behind that puffy face, bloated like overcooked ramyeon noodles. Snapping to his senses, he bowed frantically.

The employee stammered in frantic apology, “I am truly sorry, sir. Please excuse the intrusion. I will set up your meal right away.”

“Just hurry it up, will you?” Choi Sijin grumbled.

Spinning on his heel, Choi Sijin strode inside. Slipping on a pair of nitrile gloves behind the hotelier’s back, Seo Mu-yeong made his entrance into the suite.

Now, where would the car keys be? Looking around the room, Seo Mu-yeong spotted a white cardigan discarded beside the wardrobe. Reaching into the pocket on a hunch, his fingers brushed against the car key fob.

Pocketing his prize, Seo Mu-yeong glanced back toward Choi Sijin. Perched on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed and arms folded over his chest, the actor kept a cold watch over the worker. Having set down the plate with the omelet, the employee bowed respectfully.

“Sir, please enjoy your meal…”

“Hold on a second,” Choi Sijin interjected.

Approaching the table, Choi Sijin plunged a knife straight into the omelet. A vicious slicing motion followed, as if gutting a fish and ripping through its entrails. His brow knit into a faint scowl as he scooped out a portion of the filling.

Without warning, Choi Sijin hurled the knife toward the hotelier. Fortunately, the blade missed the worker; unfortunately, it flew straight toward Seo Mu-yeong.

If I get caught, I’m dead. Twisting his body in a flash, Seo Mu-yeong pressed himself flat against the opposite wall. The knife struck the wardrobe with a sharp clatter and rolled across the floor, leaving behind smeared bits of minced onion and strands of melted cheese. Looking at the petrified hotelier, Choi Sijin let out an exasperated sigh.

“It’s undercooked,” Choi Sijin spat out.

The savory, rich aroma made Seo Mu-yeong gulp down his saliva. Even so, he didn’t let the opportunity slip, discreetly switching on the recorder inside his pocket. The employee struggled to offer an explanation to someone clearly impervious to reason.

Wringing his hands in distress, the hotelier stammered, “…I truly apologize for failing to satisfy you, sir. However, this is prepared to our hotel’s standard—”

“No, I’m telling you it’s raw.” Cutting him off with a harsh sneer, Choi Sijin snarled, “You charge thirty thousand won for an omelet and you can’t even cook it through? Does that make any damn sense? I’m starving, but there’s no way in hell I’m putting this garbage in my mouth. Bringing out pig swill like this and calling it food—fuck.”

Spewing foul profanities, Choi Sijin thrust a metal fork toward the hotelier’s face.

“If you’re so confident, why don’t you eat some and say that again?” Choi Sijin challenged.

“…” The hotelier could only swallow hard in stunned silence.

“Don’t just stand there eyeing it—shove it down your gullet and then open your mouth,” Choi Sijin snarled.

Choi Sijin’s glittering pupils roved over the hotelier’s features. His predatory gaze seemed to be searching for something he desperately needed to catch.

The young man shrank back, completely at a loss. Appearing inexperienced in handling such abuse, he was paralyzed by sheer panic and nervous dread, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Choi Sijin. Even when casting his gaze toward the floor, he kept stealing anxious peeks back at the actor.

As though it were an inescapable destiny.

Watching the paralyzed employee, a slow, gratified smirk spread across Choi Sijin’s lips. Tossing the fork onto the table, his posture took on a visibly indulgent ease.

“I told you to eat, but instead of eating, you’re just staring at my face like you want to lick it all over. What, is this your first time seeing a celebrity?”

Startled, the hotelier hastily bowed his head, stammering, “…No, sir. I apologize.”

“No, it’s fine. Appearance matters in my line of work, so it’s understandable you’d want a look. Now let’s see… Mr. Lee Min-gyu.”

Choi Sijin jabbed a finger against the name tag pinned to the hotelier’s chest.

“Clear away this omelet and bring a fresh one,” Choi Sijin commanded with an impatient flick of his hand. “Eat it on your way back or don’t, I couldn’t care less. I’m literally starving to death here, so getting it up here fast is what matters now. Go, right now.”

“Yes, sir. Right away,” the hotelier replied with a hurried nod.

Setting the plate onto the service trolley, the hotelier hurried toward the suite door. Seo Mu-yeong slipped out right behind him. Navigating the service elevator and the emergency stairs down to the underground parking garage, Mu-yeong effortlessly retrieved the audio recorder that had been sitting quietly inside Choi Sijin’s car.

Returning the car keys was just as simple as swiping them. All he had to do was slip back into the suite the moment the hotelier delivered the fresh omelet.

Choi Sijin lay buried beneath the duvet on the king-sized bed. Despite having just thrown a tantrum about starving to death, he was now utterly engrossed in scrolling through his smartphone. Stepping forward gingerly, the hotelier broke the silence with hesitant deference.

“Sir, your room service setup is complete,” the hotelier murmured with a low bow.

“Then get lost.”

Sijin’s sharp retort cut through the room like a whip. Staring blankly at the actor for a stunned beat, the hotelier hurriedly spun the trolley around.

Seo Mu-yeong fixed his eyes on Choi Sijin, who lay cocooned in the bedding. The longer he watched that squirming, pure-white mound, the more a fierce temptation swelled within his mind.

Once the hotelier left, Choi Sijin would be completely alone. If Mu-yeong crept up and pinned him beneath his weight, the young man would suffocate and die in a matter of minutes—cleanly, without leaving behind a single trace of foul play.

He had no genuine desire to commit murder. Yet the impulse to kill flared up all the same, just as the urge to die had occasionally seized him even when he had no wish to commit suicide. He had indulged in such fantasies countless times in a myriad of ways.

Yet Seo Mu-yeong’s objective was not to murder Choi Sijin. He had to reclaim his stolen name from him.

And for now, he had no idea how that was supposed to be accomplished. He wondered if mimicking the method Choi Sijin had used would suffice, but if he botched it, a second chance would never come.

Seo Mu-yeong needed a form of blackmail that would truly work on Choi Sijin. Threatening the actor’s life alone would never be enough, since he couldn’t afford to kill him until he took his name back anyway. If Sijin ever caught on to that reality, he would clamp his mouth shut forever.

Before long, the hotelier pushed the trolley all the way to the door. Seo Mu-yeong swiftly trailed behind him. But just as the hotelier opened the door, Mu-yeong’s phone abruptly buzzed with an incoming call.

Seo Mu-yeong praised himself fervently for having kept the device on silent mode. Yet the moment he checked the caller ID, the heart he had barely managed to calm hammered with renewed violence.

‘Section Chief Choi’

It was Choi Yook. Flustered, Seo Mu-yeong checked the time on his screen. There were still twelve full minutes remaining before the nine o’clock reporting window. On top of that, the Section Chief had never once initiated a phone call first.

Did he catch onto something? But how?

Since the ringing refused to die down, it was clearly no misdial. Mu-yeong bit down hard on his innocent lower lip. The agonizing seconds it took for the trolley to squeeze through the narrow doorway felt as long as hours.

The suite door clicked shut at last, yet that alone brought no comfort. He had to wait until the hotelier rounded the corridor corner and vanished from sight.

Lifting onto his tiptoes, Seo Mu-yeong sprinted to the far corner of the opposite corridor. Checking his screen, he saw the missed call already ringing anew.

A cold shudder raked down his spine, and his mouth went bone-dry. Taking a deep breath, Seo Mu-yeong answered the call. The instant he parted his lips to speak, a chillingly low baritone resonated against his ear.

Seo Mu-yeong choked back the reflexive urge to swallow hard. Was Choi Yook asking because he already knew his whereabouts, or was he merely prodding? For now, Mu-yeong decided to hold out as long as possible.

“Section Chief, if you call out of the blue like this, it makes things very difficult for me.”

Seo Mu-yeong adopted an attitude that was equal parts pitiful and brazen.

“I have a living to make too, you know,” Seo Mu-yeong explained in a delicate whisper. “I’m in the middle of a stakeout for a client case. I can’t afford to get caught.”

Of course, such a desperate plea didn’t move Choi Yook in the slightest.

—“I asked where you are.”

Seo Mu-yeong’s thoughts raced at lightning speed. He needed a location as close to his current coordinates as possible, yet sufficiently distinct to avoid overlapping with this hotel.

“The motel alley in Jongno 3-ga.”

—“Ah… A motel.”

Choi Yook let out a low murmur of comprehension. Perhaps because he had only just awakened, his voice sounded deeper and raspier than usual.

—“So Seo Mu-yeong-ssi is waiting with a pounding heart to steal bedsheets stained with some strange man’s semen?”

Perhaps because his morning mood was foul, the man was sarcastic about the most absurd things. Of course, Mu-yeong wasn’t the type to be ruffled by such petty jabs.

“Our agency doesn’t handle that kind of work,” Seo Mu-yeong countered with practiced sweetness. “If you need some, though, should I bring you mine instead?”

Mu-yeong offered the question with the gentle grace of someone presenting a ribbon-wrapped piece of garbage. Choi Yook let out a dry smirk of pure disdain.

—“Yeah, that’ll do.”

“…Excuse me?”

—“I’ll text you the address, so get here within an hour. I need to verify the country of origin properly, so you’re going to do it right in front of my eyes.”

Seo Mu-yeong’s vision went as stark white as a clean bedsheet.

“W-Wait… Section Chief? What did I just hear…?”