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Chapter 25
“A prosecutor’s case… I’ve decided to leave it to you.”
“You said you’d handle it, so do whatever it takes and catch that bastard.”
“If this case isn’t solved properly, both you and I will have to take responsibility and resign.”
“If you want Prosecutor Han’s death not to weigh so heavily on her path forward, then give it everything you’ve got.”
For the first time since that day, rage showed clearly on his senior’s face.
Watching him glare fiercely with reddened eyes as he spoke, Won lowered his head and left the office.
As the door shut behind him and he walked down the empty hallway, the news report he had just seen surfaced again in his mind, throwing his thoughts into chaos.
His tightly clenched fists trembled with fury.
It wasn’t enough that the culprit had killed Yeoreum—he was now openly mocking the prosecution as well.
Everyone in the Prosecutors’ Office seemed to feel the same. All morning, the building buzzed with talk about Yeoreum’s case.
A life had been ended. Another had been completely destroyed.
The person most precious to him had been taken away.
And to the culprit, all of it had merely been a game.
The thought made his teeth grind.
Won pulled the phone from his pocket and made a call.
“Team Leader, it’s me. I’m heading over to Seo-ro right now.”
* * *
“What the hell are you doing, Han Gyeoul?!”
Taewook barked the moment he saw me.
He strode over in seconds and grabbed my arm, pulling me along helplessly while my head remained blank.
Happy birthday?
Did he just say happy birthday?
A present…?
What the hell did that mean…?
My thoughts tried to catch up with the realization that flashed through my mind, but the TV had already been turned off by Taewook.
I stared at him blankly, and with a hardened expression he said,
“Treat your injuries first.”
“…Mr. Taewook.”
“I had no intention of hiding it, and I never thought it could stay hidden forever.”
“……”
“So deal with the wounds first.”
Only then did I notice my legs—splattered with hot coffee and cut by shattered glass.
The pain came flooding in the moment I became aware of them.
Everything had been wrong from the start.
The target the culprit wanted…
was never Han Yeoreum.
“Han Gyeoul.”
Right.
It had been Han Gyeoul all along.
* * *
I sat in a dining chair while he crouched in front of me, tending to my wounds.
He brought out the first-aid kit and treated my injuries with surprisingly practiced hands.
“This might sting a little.”
Even though he was the one speaking, his face twisted up more painfully than mine.
Watching him carefully dab disinfectant onto my cuts with a deeply furrowed brow, I let out a small laugh.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
At the sound of my laughter, he frowned before picking up a bandage.
He finished dressing the wound neatly, clearly accustomed to this sort of thing, yet he still remained crouched in front of me as if dissatisfied.
“I’ll ask Dr. Min to come by tomorrow morning. Get properly treated.”
“It’s not that serious.”
“Han Gyeoul.”
“It’s not deep enough to scar. There’s no need to call him.”
“……”
“There are reporters swarming downstairs right now, aren’t there? Don’t make this into a bigger issue. If weird articles start spreading again, it’ll be annoying for both you and me.”
Apparently unhappy with my response, his tense expression didn’t soften.
I quietly watched him before naturally changing the subject.
“By the way, you called me a lot.”
“……”
“I thought a war had broken out. There were over thirty missed calls from last night until now.”
“……”
“Did you call to tell me not to watch TV?”
He still didn’t answer.
His lips stayed tightly shut as he avoided my gaze.
Seeing how terrible he was at lying, I burst into laughter.
“You can’t hide something like this forever anyway.”
“I know.”
Again, his answer was short.
Letting out a shallow sigh, he stood and slowly organized the first-aid kit as he continued speaking.
“But I still hoped you’d find out a little later.”
“……”
“I can’t deny that part of me wished you’d never find out at all.”
“Because it’s my birthday?”
At my quiet question, he twitched a brow.
After holding my gaze for a moment, he snapped the first-aid kit shut with a sharp click.
There was neither pity nor sympathy in his eyes as he looked at me.
Was that why this felt so unfamiliar?
“No.”
“Joo Taewook.”
“I just hated the idea of your entire day being ruined because of a bastard like him.”
“……”
“It’s not because today’s special. It wouldn’t matter if it were an ordinary day either.”
“……”
“I just wanted you to spend your days like everyone else.”
“……”
“I thought if enough ordinary days piled up together, maybe someday you’d be able to enjoy life normally like everyone else.”
“You want me to forget what happened?”
It was an impulsive question.
Did he want me—
No, did he want my sister—
to forget Han Yeoreum?
Did he want Han Gyeoul to forget Han Yeoreum and live happily?
At my question, his brow twitched again.
As if trying to read my true thoughts, he held my gaze before gently brushing the strands of hair stuck to my cheek aside.
“Then who’s going to remember your sister?”
“……”
“Don’t forget her. And I know memories like that don’t disappear just because you want them to.”
“……”
“I know your sister wasn’t some small part of your life.”
“……”
“I just hope that instead of remembering only the final moments replayed over and over on TV, you’ll remember more of the happy moments you shared with her.”
“……”
“Because that’s probably what your sister would want too— Han Gyeo—!”
Bang!
I fled from him and slammed the bedroom door shut.
Leaning against the closed door, I slid helplessly to the floor.
My heart was definitely in my chest, so why did it sound like it was pounding inside my ears?
Thump. Thump.
The unfamiliar heartbeat rang loudly as I covered my ears.
Taewook’s words kept echoing in my head.
Don’t forget Han Yeoreum.
Contrary to what he hoped, I didn’t believe I would ever become normal like everyone else, no matter how much time passed.
As long as one corner of my heart remained with Han Yeoreum, I could never truly be ordinary.
How could someone like me—someone who was neither fully Han Gyeoul nor Han Yeoreum—ever become normal?
But still.
Even so.
Tears spilled from my eyes for reasons I couldn’t understand.
Relief? Happiness? Sorrow?
I couldn’t even tell myself.
Listening to him made me wonder if someday I, too, might finally be able to set down the crushing weight of guilt and smile without pain.
Selfish.
Pathetic.
Even in moments like this, I was still someone who only thought of myself.
Remembering the careful touch of his hand brushing my hair aside, I hurriedly rubbed my cheek.
At the same time, my sister’s face rose in my mind alongside his.
Thirty-one years.
The face of my sister, whose short life had revolved entirely around me.
And the tears kept falling.
Maybe the worst person of all…
was me.
* * *
“There’s someone I want to meet.”
“Who?”
“Actor Choi Jihoon. Do you know him?”
At my slow question, his gaze lifted from the documents and turned toward me.
He removed his glasses and stared, making me wrinkle my face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just… annoyed.”
“Huh?”
“You want me to get that bas— …that guy’s number for you?”
“Well, I’d appreciate it if you did.”
“That bastard” might have become “that guy,” but neither was exactly a flattering term.
Apparently he didn’t even realize it himself.
I stared openly at him.
Meeting my gaze, he asked stiffly,
“Why?”
“There’s something I want to ask him.”
“That guy?”
“We’ve known each other for over twenty years.”
“That damn twenty years.”
Taewook’s low voice carried unmistakable irritation again.
I stared at him blankly, bewildered by his reaction, when he suddenly got out of the car without another word.
“Ha.”
A laugh escaped me at the sight of him walking away mid-conversation.
Seriously, he’s so self-centered.
I shook my head, only to notice Sangwoo glancing at me through the rearview mirror from the driver’s seat.
“Sangwoo, is there something you want to say to me?”
“Sometimes you seem perceptive, and other times not at all. I can’t figure you out.”
“Are you talking about me right now?”
“Maybe you know everything already and just pretend not to.”
“Sangwoo.”
“I’m sorry about that day.”
His sudden apology made me blink in confusion.
I stammered awkwardly before smiling faintly as our eyes met in the mirror.
“You really have a talent for leaving people speechless.”
“Still not as much as you do, Han Gyeoul.”
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Maybe.”
“It’s weirdly hard to say thank you even if it is.”
I joked lightly as I reached for the door handle, but Sangwoo spoke again.
“The CEO probably already knows.”
“……”
“That you didn’t insist on going to the main house—that I was the one who brought you there.”
“…Well, maybe.”
“Then why did you still lie to cover for me?”
His lowered voice revealed the real question he’d wanted to ask all along.
I let go of the door handle and looked at him.
“Because having you owe me might benefit me later.”
“…What?”
“That’s the only reason. Sorry if you expected something else.”
“……”
“And I don’t know if I’m in any position to give advice, but you should decide clearly where your loyalties lie.”
“Han Gyeoul.”
“If Lee Sangwoo really is Mr. Taewook’s secretary.”
After offering that brief advice, Gyeoul got out of the car and walked toward the elevator.
Watching her retreating figure from the driver’s seat, a hollow laugh escaped Sangwoo.
“Haha…”
“If Lee Sangwoo really is Mr. Taewook’s secretary.”
The words she left him with were exactly like the ones he himself had once said to her.
“If Han Gyeoul really is CEO Joo’s wife.”
The realization made his earlier advice to her seem laughable.
Only now did he realize that the person who had failed to truly stand by Taewook all this time… was himself.
What the hell had I been doing all this time?
With just one sentence from Gyeoul, it felt as though the blockage in his chest had burst open.
The suffocating heaviness inside him finally loosened, and strangely enough, even his heart felt lighter.
Lifting his head from the steering wheel, Sangwoo pulled out his phone.
Bring that woman back to me as soon as possible.
Remembering the text Youngjin had sent him days ago, Sangwoo finally felt ready to reply.
With a much lighter heart, he tapped away at the screen.
Nothing had actually been resolved.
And yet, a crooked grin kept tugging at the corners of his mouth.
