ITSN 17

Chapter 17

Ju-hong rested both elbows on the table and fired the question in earnest.

“Let me ask again. Who managed my money?”

Yoo Dong-hyuk, his smile wiped away, stayed silent.

After a long pause, he jerked his chin toward Chief Lee, who was standing behind him.

“I did…”

Only then did Chief Lee finally answer.

“I’ve been the one managing it.”

“You, Chief Lee?”

“Yes.”

Chief Lee gave a nod, then glanced nervously at Yoo Dong-hyuk before continuing.

“Since Madam passed away, I’ve been looking after the young miss until now.”

“Looking after?”

“Yes. Bank accounts, cards, real estate, meal plans, even down to personal schedules like massages—I managed it all.”

Even her personal schedule?

That was it.

Ju-hong beamed, and bit into a morning roll slathered thick with strawberry jam.

The same Monday morning.

Unlike Ju-hong, who was happily enjoying breakfast, Tae-jo scowled and hurled his tablet PC onto the sofa.

All this fuss over a single photo—annoying as hell.

And all thanks to Yoo Dong-hyuk.

The man had actually called him yesterday, demanding to know where he had taken his sister, and now he’d turned it into an article. Disgusting bastard.

“So you’re broken off the engagement?”

It was Director Yeom.

“And yet your face is plastered all over the news as Yoo Hae-in’s fiancé?”

Barging into his house first thing in the morning, grinning and tossing out those words—it was infuriating.

“Spare me the games. Say what you came to say and leave.”

Director Yeom’s smile widened.

“Can’t I stay and hang out with you instead?”

“No.”

“Then at least work with me.”

“No.”

“Come on. I need someone to infiltrate your fiancée’s side. You’re already in place—perfect. Saves us time and manpower.”

Relentless. Who on earth had thought of throwing a retired agent into an operation?

“Director.”

Tae-jo lifted his left wrist slightly and checked the time.

“I’m retired. These days, I’m the vice president of <SH Motive>. You know my worth was high before—I’m even more expensive now.”

“Even if it’s about Hong?”

At that, Tae-jo’s brows furrowed, one eyebrow lifting askew.

Watching him quietly, Director Yeom went on.

“Two days before the explosion, the deputy chief received a tip.”

“A tip?”

“Someone broke through the NIS firewall and, using the director’s IP address, sent it directly to the deputy chief.”

“That’s not a tip—that’s hacking.”

“Exactly.”

Yeom nodded and continued.

“Anyway, the tip said this: there are traces of the NIS and <InoSystem> sending information regularly to a pirate site overseas.”

“…You’re saying there’s another insider in the NIS?”

“Looks that way.”

Then Yeom showed him the email in full.

“And look here, at the watermark attached to the email. This is Hong’s.”

Tae-jo clenched his jaw when his eyes landed where Yeom pointed.

A rough circle, with a crudely drawn face inside—eyes, nose, mouth.

It was nothing more than a simple smiley face, but the drawing style was unmistakably Ju-hong’s.

Her personal mark. One Tae-jo had seen many times before.

Almost unconsciously, he pressed his finger against the watermark and spoke.

“…And this is supposed to be a problem?”

“The deputy chief presented the tip during a full meeting of directors and managers. Because of the watermark, everyone knew Hong had sent it. And two days later, the training center exploded.”

“You’re saying… Hong was the target?”

“Yeah. Most likely.”

“Why?”

“The pirate site she attached in that email—Hong actually broke in. But none of the NIS’s top hackers could manage it. At best, they only reached the main page.”

“…”

“And even that disappeared quickly. According to experts, it was a firewall that changed in real time. Unless you read the flow, you couldn’t get inside.”

Usually, that meant the site was a den of serious crime, hiding massive secrets.

“I believe this terror attack was to eliminate the one and only hacker who could breach it—Hong.”

Tae-jo’s face hardened further.

“You know how badly she was torn apart. They deliberately leaked the remote device’s signal, luring her to the bomb. The moment she discovered it, they detonated it.”

“And?”

“I’m going to solve this case, no matter what. That bastard… killed our Hong.”

His chest tightened again.

“They targeted her. Killed her. Shredded that good, kind kid into pieces…”

Tae-jo shut his eyes tightly.

Since Ju-hong’s death, he hadn’t slept properly.

Every time he closed his eyes, the bomb went off and blood splattered.

If he reached out, maybe he could save her—he thrashed in his sleep, but all he grasped was torn flesh.

Again and again, he relived her last moments.

Again and again, he drowned in guilt for failing to save her.

And now?

Not just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time—she was the target all along?

Deliberately slaughtered?

That sweet, tangy, bright girl?

Suddenly, a memory from 15 years ago surfaced.

Early March, outside Rock’s house before cram school.

A long corridor-style apartment. A girl stepped right up to him where he leaned on the railing.

“Who are you? My brother’s friend?”

A frail, thin body, a pale face—she left a strong impression.

Especially her light brown eyes, sharply outlined. They radiated a clear, firm personality.

“Why are you waiting here instead of coming inside?”

That was when he realized she was Rock’s younger sister, Hong.

“Your brother told me to wait here.”

“Leaving a guest outside? Typical of him.”

She was two years younger, yet wrinkled her nose and scolded her brother with a maturity beyond her age.

“Come in. I was taught to treat guests properly.”

She opened the front door and gestured inside.

Her steady gaze was bold and endearing. That simple gesture sent ripples through his chest.

After seating him on the sofa, Hong poured orange juice into a glass and set it on the table before disappearing into her room with a blank face.

Just before closing the door, she glanced back.

“Drink while you wait.”

From the crack in the door, tilting her head sideways, she smiled with her eyes for the first time.

“I tried it this morning. It’s good.”

In that instant, it felt like he had swallowed a whole orange rather than juice.

The sensation was so sharp his jaw ached.

By the time he swallowed the flood of saliva under his tongue, she had vanished into her room.

That was his first meeting with her.

Rock’s little sister, Hong.

The girl who taught him that love needed no conditions.

His first love.

And that girl—Ju-hong—had been killed.

Damn it. He had kept it bottled down, and now his throat was tightening again.

Tae-jo tugged at his shirt collar with his fingers.

“So help me with this. You’re the best fit for the case. The culprit is close to your fiancée, and he’ll move again. We have to use that chance.”

He knew. He was the right person. The culprit would strike again.

And the bastard had butchered Ju-hong—more than enough reason to fight.

But none of that gave him a reason to get tangled up with Yoo Hae-in again.

No matter how much she seemed different now.

No matter how much she felt like another person.

No matter how much Ju-hong’s image overlapped with hers.

Even if he stepped in, Ju-hong would never come back.

“As I said, I’m already broken off the engagement.”

Tae-jo grabbed his Boston bag, picked up the car keys from the table, and walked toward the door.

“Please lock up when you leave.”

He forced himself to flip the switch in his heart.

The rising grief slowly ebbed away behind it.

He told himself again:

Ju-hong is dead.

She might have been his first love, but she wouldn’t even remember him. And even if she did, she’d remember a different version of him.

So he would go south, to Namhae. Forget everything. Lie in the sun.

That was the only way to crawl out of this hellish feeling.

Then Yeom raised his voice:

“So what, you’re fine with another guy climbing into your fiancée’s bed?”

“…?”

Tae-jo froze mid-step and turned back.