Chapter 4

—Sa-heon, there’s something you need to know. Father and my mother loved each other. The family was against it, that’s the only reason they never married properly!

“Now that’s a love story to bring tears to your eyes.”

—Accident-prone zone ahead. Please drive with care.

The navigation system chimed its warning, and on the other end of the line Lee Jae-gwon laughed hysterically.

—Honestly, Sa-heon, you of all people ought to understand how Jae-seong and I felt, being pointed at as bastards. We were the ones born first…

“Vice President.”

Sa-heon cut him off with a low sigh, and smiled.

“Let’s drop the trivial old stories. It’s not as if there’s anything touching about them.”

—So what I’m saying is—!

Lee Jae-gwon pressed on, urgent now.

—Stop there and let it go. We may only share half our blood, but brothers are brothers. Dragging me down won’t do you any good either, will it?

This time Sa-heon couldn’t hold the laughter back.

“Ahh. Brothers.”

The rain came down harder still. On the radio a classical piece had been playing, and now Verdi’s Requiem climbed to a terrifying height and turned over into the ‘Day of Wrath’.

“Yes, of course. Hyung.”

Boom, boom. The great timpani and the violent blare of the brass drove down like thunder, and Sa-heon’s voice sank, ice-cold.

“You still don’t get the situation, do you? I’m only thinking of the company’s future. There’s a rat gnawing at the grain, so I’m setting a trap to catch it. That’s all.”

Dies Irae! (Day of Wrath!)

The chorus cried out as if it were shrieking.

“Brothers or whatever the fuck. We were born with blades at each other’s throats. Competing for the Chairman’s seat, ready to trample each other if that’s what it takes to reach the top. Well? Are you going to get your head on straight? Or are you going to make this boring?”

Dies illa! (That very day!)

“I’ll be putting it on the board’s agenda formally before long. I’m looking forward to seeing the look on your face when they throw you out, Vice President.”

Something broke on the other end of the speakerphone. Lee Jae-gwon couldn’t contain his fury any longer, and he shrieked as though he were thrashing.

—Some mutt whelped by a bitch who rolled in out of nowhere, and he doesn’t know his place!

Sparks flew in Sa-heon’s eyes.

“You and that brother of yours are the sons of bitches here.”

—What?

Solvet saeclum in favilla! (The world dissolves into flame!)

“I let you bark to see how far you’d go, and you don’t know when to stop.”

—Accident-prone zone ahead. Please drive with care.

Sa-heon’s eyes flicked to the dashboard. The speedometer was pointing at a dangerous number.

—Sharp curve ahead. Please mind your speed.

He turned the wheel, and the tires skimmed over the rainwater as if they were sliding.

But the moment he set his foot on the brake, Sa-heon knew. The pedal under it was strangely light, nothing like it had been a moment before.

…The brake had gone slack.

So the rat didn’t just eat into the grain — he’s been playing tricks too.

His eyes turned sharp, and the tendons stood out on the hand gripping the wheel.

A spiteful laugh came through the receiver.

—A few brains and you think the whole world’s under your feet, Lee Sa-heon? You keep working that skull of yours, and I’ll tie up your hands and feet.

Dies Irae! (Day of Wrath!)

The chorus inside the Requiem drove on like a storm, and the navigation system’s warning chime rang without pause.

Dies illa! (That very day!)

Ahead, the headlights caught a black shape he couldn’t make out. For an instant he thought it might be a person, but it wasn’t.

—I don’t mean that figuratively. I mean your actual hands and feet.

Solvet saeclum in favilla (The world dissolves into flame!)

Sa-heon wrenched the wheel. The tires shrieked as they slid, and the world spun in front of him.

There was no slowing the car like this, so he moved fast and drove the right side of the car into the guardrail.

— CRASH! BANG!

The impact was violent. The body of the car smashed into the right-hand guardrail, and POP! — the airbags all blew at once. Even after the hit the car kept sliding a good way, and it only came to a stop once it had tipped halfway onto its side.

Cough. Every time he coughed on the talc powder the airbags had thrown out, his chest throbbed so hard he wondered whether a rib had torn loose, but the headache stabbing at his temples was worse. Blood ran down his head and soaked into his suit.

Hahahaha. Lee Jae-gwon’s delighted laughter rang out like a nightmare.

Then, click. The call cut off, the navigation warnings fell silent, and all that reached his muffled ears was the sound of rain, falling and falling.

“…”

An outer road with hardly a soul on it, and on top of that a downpour heavy enough to blur his sight.

So this is how I die.

Sa-heon leaned his bleeding head against the airbag, swollen and already gone slack, and watched the raindrops run down past the shattered windshield. A thin laugh slipped out of him.

The days he had lived flashed before his eyes.

Not one happy memory among them.

And then, out of nowhere, a woman’s face…

Pfft. A hollow laugh broke from between his teeth, and his eyes slowly closed and opened again.

So in the end, even with her kept at my side, I never worked that stubborn curiosity out of me.

When all I ever was, was a hypocrite who held out a hand of sympathy for the sake of my own self-interest.

Just then the phone gave a long buzz, and its cracked screen lit up.

[Han Ji-an]

The timing was unbelievable. Sa-heon stared blankly at the buzzing phone for a moment, then slowly reached out and pressed the call button.

—Managing Director, I’m sorry to call so late.

A clear, limpid voice rang at his ear.

“…”

If this really was his last moment, he thought, then at least he was glad the last voice he heard was this one.

Sa-heon smiled bitterly. The world lay overturned in his sight, and his heavy eyelids slowly closed.

— Beep. Beep.

The hospital room was quiet. Only the sound of the heart monitor filled the stillness.

The night before, Ji-an had found an error in a report. She’d hesitated over it, then called Sa-heon even though it was late.

Click. The call connected, but no answer came from the other end, and she knew by instinct that something had gone wrong.

She told Chief Choi, and when she heard the emergency crew had found Sa-heon, her heart seemed to drop out from under her. For a moment her chest clamped down so hard she couldn’t even breathe.

She’d run to the hospital half out of her mind and sat up the whole night waiting by the unconscious Sa-heon.

On top of that she’d had to calm Chairman Lee, who raised an uproar when he heard the news, and fend off the reporters who came rushing in after catching the scent from somewhere. It had drained her completely.

She’d been pacing restlessly, but at last she sank into the chair as if she’d collapsed, and bit at her lip.

“…He’ll be all right, won’t he?”

Chief of Staff Choi Kang-hoon had been standing silently beside the bed with his arms folded. He nodded.

“He’s not a man who goes down easily over something like this. He’ll wake soon.”

His voice was even, but his own face, gone rough with stubble over the night, was haggard.

“I contacted General Manager Kim in the legal team, just as you instructed, Chief.”

Ji-an went on weakly.

“We’ve had everyone involved at the hospital sign nondisclosure agreements, and I’ve also contacted the PR team and told them to prepare a media response strategy in case the news leaks.”

While Sa-heon lay unconscious, she and Chief Choi had done everything they could to keep the situation under control.

Sa-heon was locked in a fierce fight with his brothers over the successor’s seat. If word of his accident got out, it could hit the share price, never mind the contract they’d just won.

“Secretary Han.”

Chief Choi’s voice was hoarse, and unusually serious.

“This accident — I’m sure you felt it too, Secretary Han…”

He trailed off and closed his mouth, but the look in his eyes was enough. Ji-an understood what he’d meant to say.

The day before yesterday, a technician had come by to service Sa-heon’s private car.

And then there was Vice President Lee Jae-gwon, who’d asked relentlessly how the unconscious Sa-heon was doing and been strangely fixated on where the dashcam had gone.

When they heard about the accident, Ji-an and Chief Choi had talked on the phone and quickly decided to split up: Chief Choi to the scene, Ji-an to the hospital.

Chief Choi had recovered the dashcam, and judging by the conversation recorded on it, the two of them felt the same way.

“I should have noticed something was wrong the moment the repair technician came. It was my oversight.”

“No one would have noticed. You did everything you could, Secretary Han.”

Haa. Ji-an let out a low sigh and looked at the man lying on the bed.

“…Managing Director Lee Sa-heon.”

He was unconscious, yet his face was perfectly composed.

If not for the pallor and the scrapes here and there, she could have taken him for a man who’d just dozed off for a light nap.

The smooth ridge of his nose, the delicate lips pressed firmly shut, the sharp line of his jaw: all of it gave off an air far from ordinary.

Even now, asleep amid the noise of the machines, his very body still proved the authority and sheer weight of Hyeongang’s Managing Director, its most likely next head.

It struck her all over again. Even like this, he was exactly himself.

Please, just open your eyes, Managing Director.

Ji-an pressed her hands together and recited it silently, like a prayer, and then—

“Oh—!”

Sa-heon’s fingertips moved, only barely, and Ji-an shot up out of her seat in surprise.

“Ch-Chief! Did you see that?”

“I think he’s waking up.”

Chief Choi Kang-hoon stepped quickly to the bedside.

The man’s eyelids trembled faintly, then lifted, heavy. His eyes, faintly unfocused, wandered across the ceiling and slowly began to take in the room.

“Ngh…”

The sound that left his mouth was a raw rasp. Sa-heon went to press a hand to his forehead, but the IV line caught and stopped him short.

“Managing Director, are you all right?”

Chief Choi’s question was urgent. Sa-heon frowned deeply as his gaze swept the room, and when he seemed to realize he was in a hospital, he let out a breath laced with irritation.

“What is this…”

Only then did his eyes land on Ji-an, who was trembling. When their gazes met, she clutched the hem of her blouse and drew in a breath.

“Managing Director, are you awake? Are you all right?”

She came closer, her face full of worry, and Sa-heon’s head turned to follow her, almost without his meaning to.

A silhouette that seemed soaked through with light, lips caught between her teeth, a trembling breath. As his eyes moved over her face, an unreadable gleam stirred in them.

“Honey…”

“Pardon?”

His gaze seemed to bore straight through her, and the word was so far from ordinary that Ji-an could only ask back, dumbfounded.

“Pardon? M-Managing Director, I’m Secretary Han Ji-an.”

What did I just hear? Ji-an froze solid, and Chief of Staff Choi Kang-hoon swallowed dryly.

“…Honey, my head hurts.”

Sa-heon dropped another bomb with a perfectly untroubled face, then let his heavy eyelids fall shut.

The people left behind in the hospital room stood frozen, at a loss for words.