Into The Thrill-Chapter 11.9

The chief of staff kept calling, but Woojin didn’t answer. If he could verify this material, he could take down half of the senior officials in the Blue House. The same went for members of the National Assembly. The list included names that absolutely deserved to be stripped of their seats and permanently barred from running for office again.

Woojin sighed at the list, which was longer than he had expected. He rubbed his forehead with one hand, his elbow propped on a bent knee. It was obvious that some people, believing the special prosecutor now had this list from the raid, would do whatever they could to save Kim Jung-geun. Before that, Woojin needed to sever the final rope that could save him. He contacted a journalist he was friendly with who covered the prosecutors’ office.

"Hello, Reporter Eun."

—Well, this is a surprise, sir. Calling so late at night.

"I was wondering if you’ve heard anything about the special prosecutor’s team."

—Haven’t heard much yet. I heard there was a raid today? Didn’t anything come out?

"I’m not too sure myself, but I heard they didn’t find anything about the slush fund usage."

—What?

The tone of the journalist’s voice shifted. Woojin could hear him adjusting his posture.

"I heard the special prosecutor didn’t find the slush fund ledger. That’s what one anonymous source from the prosecution told me."

Woojin, the anonymous source, said.

—You’re sure?

"It’s good news for the people who’ve been sweating bullets. The special prosecutor is apparently in a foul mood."

—If that ledger’s missing, it’s like a bun without filling. Hah... the slush fund records are gone...

"I’m sure a lot of people are relieved."

—Yeah, no doubt. A lot of people must be breathing easier right now.

The journalist responded with a loaded tone. Woojin continued in a casual voice, as if making small talk.

"I was just curious if you might’ve heard something."

—What would I know? Especially if even you don’t know.

"Let’s grab a drink sometime."

—Sure. It’ll be our treat.

Woojin ended the call. Before the night was over, word would spread among all the people who couldn’t sleep because of the raid: the slush fund records hadn’t been found.

As long as those documents remained in his hands, Woojin had nothing to fear anymore. Every time someone tried to act out, he planned to leak a page or two to the press.

Noticing his laptop’s battery was low, Woojin turned his eyes toward Haewon, who was lying on the bed reading a book.

Haewon liked mystery novels. Woojin stared at Haewon’s face as he read with a serious expression, clearly trying to deduce the culprit. Even though Woojin was gazing at him intently, Haewon didn’t seem to notice at all. Woojin eventually spoke up.

"Do you have a power strip at home?"

"...Huh?"

It took Haewon a moment to raise his head and meet his eyes.

"Do you have a spare power strip? If not, I’ll go buy one."

There wasn’t a single plug available to connect his laptop charger. Woojin thought that mess of tangled cords along the wall needed to be cleaned up.

It wasn’t that Haewon was sloppy, but to Woojin—who was often called borderline obsessive about cleanliness—Haewon’s organization was clearly lacking. Since he was going to have more free time soon, he figured he might as well clean Haewon’s officetel too.

"Oh, that? Should be in the utility room."

At Haewon’s words, Woojin got up and went into the utility room. Inside were various odds and ends they rarely used, all stuffed into a large box.

Woojin rummaged through the box and found the power strip. It looked like this area would need to be cleaned up eventually. Out of sight, it was in even worse shape. As he pulled out the power strip, other items came tumbling out with the long, coiled cord. As he coiled it up around his arm and tried to toss the fallen items back into the box, he froze.

It was a photo of Lee Taeshin.

Taeshin stood beside a bust Woojin had once laundered through K-One Group’s second son for a billion won, smiling gently. Woojin picked up the photo and looked deeper into the box.

He dumped the box upside down. As he stirred through the dusty items, he found another photo of Taeshin—this time in front of a sculpture Woojin had sold to the grandson of a wealthy Myeongdong family for two billion won. Digging through the scattered objects, Woojin found a notebook. He suddenly felt a wave of loathing for the investigators who had illegally searched Haewon’s officetel.

As he flipped through the notebook, the door to the utility room clicked open and Woojin turned his head.

"Couldn’t find it? It’s not in there?"

Haewon had cracked open the door and peeked his head in. Woojin picked up the power strip he had dropped on the floor and subtly slid the notebook to the side so Haewon wouldn’t see it.

"Clean this up. What is all this?"

"I dunno. Some crazy guy trashed the place before and I just shoved it in there. I’m gonna throw it all out anyway."

"I’ll clean it before I leave."

"Just leave it. I was going to toss it all. I already threw some out back then—just left the heavy stuff."

"You want me to leave it like this?"

Woojin showed him the soles of his feet, one clean and the other black from the dust he’d stepped in. Haewon averted his eyes and closed the door without a word. Woojin remained standing in the dust, flipping through the notebook.

[Today, he said he wanted to try being serious with me. I thought I was dreaming and pinched the back of my hand. It hurt. It wasn’t a dream. He said he’d like me to break things off with anyone else I might be seeing. I thought I was dreaming again and pinched my cheek. It wasn’t a dream.]

[He keeps asking about Gyeongwon Industrial, about my father.]

[It was hard to refuse his offer. He said to contact him if I ever decided I was ready to undress in front of him. I knew exactly what he meant. I wanted to pretend I was conflicted, but after hearing that, I stayed up all night. As soon as the sun came up, I contacted him. I told him I’d wanted to undress in front of him since the moment we met. He said he wanted to see me tonight. Told me to come to L Hotel.]

[Will I ever forget tonight? Have I ever had a moment in life that made my heart race like this? I love him so much. I cried and cried because I loved him too much.]

"What are you doing?"

The utility room door opened again. Woojin turned his head. Haewon was holding a rag, clearly ready to start cleaning. Woojin put the notebook away.

"I’ll clean it. Go wait outside."

"It’s fine. You’ll just nag me again later."

"I said go."

"I’m throwing all of it out anyway. Just leave it in there. I’ll take it out tomorrow."

"Okay. I’ll put it all back. I’m hungry. Got anything to eat?"

"Hungry? Should I go buy something? What do you want?"

"Get me a burger."

"..."

Haewon looked at him strangely. Woojin, noticing the look, asked,

"What?"

When he asked why he was being stared at like that, Haewon furrowed his brow.

"You said that stuff was garbage."

"Ah. I did."

"Don’t eat it just because of me. I’ll get you something else."

"Alright. Thanks."

He heard Haewon putting on his clothes and leaving the officetel.

Maintaining his blank expression, Woojin pulled the notebook back out of the box. He left the utility room, grabbed his cigarette pack and lighter, and left the officetel as well. He headed up to the rooftop.

The rooftop was chilly. Leaning against a wall tucked away from any interference, Woojin flipped through the notebook. He held it toward the faint light bleeding from a neon sign on the opposite building.

[I don’t know what’s what anymore. He was just «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» watching me while smoking a cigarette. I had to become something less than human, like an animal, tied to a steel pole. A dog came running. I ran, chased like prey by a wild beast through a black forest, into the hills. It was a miracle I came back alive. When he brought me home, he looked at me with eyes that said, “You can’t even handle this?” He said I almost looked like I enjoyed it. He didn’t understand me at all. Something inside me shattered. I’m breathing, but I’m not alive. I’m not dead, but I’m not alive either. What do I do? What do I do...? I keep feeling like I can’t breathe. Like something’s tightening around me.]

As Woojin feared, Lee Taeshin had recorded everything about the bunker. A sculpture major, Taeshin had used his skills to sketch the interior of the bunker in disturbing detail, including violent pen drawings of himself tied to a pole and humiliated. The notebook was etched with lines so deeply gouged into the pages that they nearly tore, revealing how badly his mind had been damaged.

Woojin’s brow twitched. Despite the invasive search through Haewon’s officetel, the thing they hadn’t been able to find was now in his hand. If it had been there, there was no way the investigators would’ve missed it. And if they somehow had, heads would’ve rolled. But Woojin soon realized the truth: it was simply not possible they had missed it. The notebook and the photos must’ve been handed over to Haewon after the illegal search.

[He is a snake. A butcher who devours human flesh. A snake who corrupts the soul and then consumes it. I heard he once had a fiancée who committed suicide. He killed her. He’s killing me too.

The worst part isn’t that he didn’t love me. The truly unbearable thing—the thing that’s agonizing to the point of madness—is that he cannot love anyone at all.

He has no emotions. He doesn’t feel pain or grief or sadness—nothing. To a man who could sell even his own parents for a goal, I’m nothing—less than an insect.

It’s loving someone like that that drives me insane. That’s why the people who loved him left. People like me... and like his fiancée...]

The thought that Haewon might’ve seen this crossed Woojin’s mind. Haewon was the one who had put this notebook and those photos into the box. Woojin scowled at the possibility. If Haewon had read it, things would become complicated. He remembered what Haewon had done after discovering his connection with Soyoung. Haewon had tried to discard him, saying it was wrong, treating him like trash. That same cold, unforgiving Haewon had clung to him like a lie once Woojin explained himself.

No. He hadn’t read it. That detached nature of his had just led him to toss it aside like garbage and forget about it.

"So much effort for that ridiculous bullshit."

Now it was his fault that Hayeong had died, and also his fault that Taeshin had jumped to his death. Woojin had never pushed anyone. He had simply done what he was supposed to do, diligently and efficiently.

The last entry wasn’t a diary but a letter—a warning Taeshin had written to his friend, Moon Haewon.

Haewon, he might come looking for you. If you ever meet him, you have to stay away. No—Haewon, you have to run. Run if you see him. Hyun Woojin doesn’t love anyone. He’s going to devour you. Run. Please run.

Taeshin must have known that after his suicide, in one way or another, Woojin and Haewon would come to meet. He must have known that once Woojin saw Haewon, he would want to drag him into the bunker.

Staring down at the notebook for a long while, Woojin finally placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it. He slipped the two photographs Taeshin had left between the pages like pieces of evidence and flicked his lighter. The flame rose red. He brought it to the edge of the notebook.

A gust of wind fed oxygen to the fire, and the flame flared up. As the paper began to burn, Woojin’s face briefly became visible in the glow. It was a face devoid of hope, sadness, or regret—a terrifyingly emotionless face.

Woojin held the corner of the burning notebook and silently watched the paper blacken and the sparks scatter. The black plum tree where Hayeong had hung herself had been the same color. Beneath Hayeong’s weight, it had bloomed in a shower of petals.

The thick wick of memory burned down to nothing as Taeshin’s final record—and his letter to his friend—crumbled into ash. Woojin dropped the scorched remains to the ground. He crushed them beneath his foot, grinding the soot and embers into the cement. All that remained was a blackened stain like the charred base of that plum tree.

Smoking the rest of his cigarette, Woojin looked out over the gray city.

A faint glow from a neon sign caught his face in its light.

"...Run away?"

Run. Run from Hyun Woojin, no matter what.

Run, Haewon.

Even Taeshin, who Woojin thought was oblivious, had seen what Kim Hayeong saw. He had realized the truth—that Woojin was a snake, a butcher, a monster with nothing inside but rotting ruin. A creature that couldn’t feel anything.

He dropped the cigarette butt. The final wisp of smoke slipped from his lips. He snuffed out the glowing ember with the tip of his shoe.

With a faint laugh, he murmured to himself.

"Well, that’s a shame. Looks like I won’t be able to deliver that letter to our dear Haewon."

Taeshin’s letter to Haewon had become black soot, beyond recognition, beyond memory.

Back at the officetel, Haewon stood idly inside. When Woojin opened the door, Haewon’s eyes met his.

"You were on the phone?"

"Went for a smoke. What’d you get?"

"Bought ramen."

"You know how to cook ramen, right?"

"Wow. Seriously? Of course I know how to cook ramen."

Haewon had already turned on the induction stove and was heating water in a pot. Woojin walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Haewon’s waist. He rested his chin on Haewon’s shoulder and nuzzled against his cheek.

"That tickles."

Haewon hunched his shoulders.

"Let’s go on another trip."

"Really? Where?"

"Wherever our Haewon wants to go."

"Then let’s go to a ski resort. I wanna snowboard."

"What if you hurt your hands?"

"I’ll wear thick gloves."

"Look at me."

Haewon turned to look at him. Their eyes met. Woojin smiled a picture-perfect smile and kissed Haewon on the cheek.

"Alright. I’ll clean up."

Even though Woojin hadn’t said a word, Haewon responded like he’d already read his mind and was telling him to drop it.

"Clean what, all of a sudden?"

"You were giving me that look. The ‘go clean’ look."

"I wasn’t. I’ll clean it. Your manager will take care of everything. You don’t lift a finger."

"You were the one complaining it was messy."

"From now on, I’ll do it all."

"How’s someone who barely has time to sleep going to clean my place too? I’ve got a conscience, you know."

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"You do nothing, Haewon. I’ll handle everything. All of it."

"...You know if you say that, I really won’t do anything, right?"

Haewon looked at him quietly. Woojin burst into a cool, satisfied laugh. When Haewon reached to put the ramen into the now-boiling pot, Woojin stopped him.

"Let’s eat later."

"But you said you were hungry."

"I want something else now."

"...Again?"

"Again."

"Geez. You’ve really got some stamina. Gotta thank your parents for that."

"And yet you called me impotent."

"When did I ever?"

Haewon turned off the induction stove and turned around. Woojin wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in. Tilting his head, he kissed Haewon’s lips. He let out a low hum of satisfaction, devouring Haewon’s lips and tongue. He sucked in the saliva, rubbing their lips together with increasing ferocity. His hand caressed Haewon’s hair, then slowly gripped it, fingers tightening.

"Mmgh...!"

Haewon winced, grabbing Woojin’s wrist. The pressure was brutal—his bones and tendons bulged beneath the skin.

Run away? On whose say?

You think I’d let him run?

In Woojin’s festering mind, a black forest spread out. That forest was Hyun Woojin. It was where he existed—and where he would continue to live. And now, he had dragged Haewon into it.

The grip on Haewon’s scalp finally loosened. Woojin cupped his cheeks in both hands. He tilted his head, locking their lips together like sealing them with thick glue.

Their flesh met, warm and soft, and their breaths carried a sweet scent. As Haewon wavered under the pressure of Woojin’s force, Woojin wrapped his arms around him. Haewon’s spine shuddered with each desperate breath. Woojin plunged his moist tongue deep, cutting off his air. Consuming Haewon slowly, thoroughly—he tasted something undeniably sweet.