MHD - 72

Chapter 72: That Year, We...

As soon as the video conference with the overseas branch ended, Director Oh came to find Jae-hyuk.

“Vice President, please review the summary of the mid-to-long-term strategy meeting for the semiconductor division. If there’s nothing further to add from the department, we’ll proceed as discussed.”

“Alright. Let me see.”

Jae-hyuk opened the file uploaded to the company intranet and read through it, jotting down a few notes on specific items.

“Please have them double-check these points.”

“Understood.”

Director Oh, holding the memo from Jae-hyuk, placed an envelope on Jae-hyuk’s desk.

“This was sent for you, so I’ll leave it here.”

“Who sent it?”

Jae-hyuk picked up the envelope sitting in front of him. Upon tearing it open, he found another smaller letter envelope inside.

The outer surface of the handmade paper envelope, pressed with dried flower petals, bore no writing—except for a single character tucked into one corner.

“희.”

It was a familiar handwriting he hadn’t seen in years.

“Park Yoon-seok, Seo Hee-soo’s manager, sent it.”

“Is that so?”

Even before Director Oh finished speaking, Jae-hyuk already knew who had sent it.

During the time Hee-soo lived under the same roof as Jae-hyuk, she would often hide letters under a stone at their secret meeting spot on nights when it was difficult to meet without being seen by others.

“희.”

Before dawn, while the staff were still asleep.

Pretending to go out for morning exercise, Jae-hyuk would slip out of his room early and rush to retrieve Hee-soo’s letters hidden under the stone. And always, in the corner of those letters, there was that single character:

“희,” written by Hee-soo instead of her full name.

“Did the lawyer we sent to assist Seo Hee-soo say anything?”

Jae-hyuk placed the envelope back on the desk and asked in a dry tone. Having anticipated this since Kwon Chaewon’s scandal broke, Jae-hyuk had already arranged for a trusted lawyer familiar with police matters to stand by for Hee-soo’s protection.

He knew Hee-soo was innocent of any wrongdoing, but just in case any trouble came her way, he wanted to ensure her safety.

“The matter will be resolved quietly without any leaks to the outside.”

Director Oh’s report was expected.

“That’s good.”

Jae-hyuk lowered his gaze from Director Oh to the envelope on his desk.

“It seems she wanted to express some gratitude.”

The letter, reminiscent of their childhood, felt like a signal that Hee-soo was finally beginning to open up the tightly closed doors of her heart.

Jae-hyuk’s eyes softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as memories flooded back.

“Alright, get back to work.”

Jae-hyuk dismissed Director Oh and turned his attention back to the monitor.

“Yes. I’ll come to fetch you before the next meeting.”

After Director Oh bowed and left the office, Jae-hyuk retrieved a cutter from his desk and carefully sliced open the envelope.

Inside, instead of a letter, something wrapped in white paper awaited him.

“What is this?”

Muttering to himself, Jae-hyuk carefully unwrapped the contents. Layer by layer, he peeled back the paper until a black-and-white ultrasound image emerged.

Staring at the shape in the photo, Jae-hyuk couldn’t immediately make sense of it. Squinting, he scrutinized the image closely.

Against a dark background, a rounded sac-like form was outlined in white, and within it, something resembling a jellybean shape could be seen.

Flipping the photo over absentmindedly, Jae-hyuk discovered a familiar handwritten note on the back.

“To my baby. Hello. This feels awkward. My name is Seo Hee-soo. I’m going to be your mom.”

The moment Jae-hyuk read the single line written by Hee-soo, his hand began trembling violently. A shiver ran through his body, and his breath caught in his throat.

“...What?”

Swallowing his startled exclamation, he quickly flipped the photo back over. Only then did he realize what he’d been looking at: an ultrasound image of a fetus.

“Hah.”

A chill ran down his spine, raising goosebumps. The fog surrounding his memories suddenly lifted, connecting disparate pieces into a chaotic jumble in his mind.

What did it mean for her to send this to him? What was Hee-soo’s intention?

Jae-hyuk tried to think rationally, gripping something tightly to steady himself, but his mind was blank.

His bewildered eyes scanned the ultrasound image until they landed on the date printed in the corner.

The numbers looked strangely familiar.

The date and year indicating eight weeks of pregnancy matched the year Hee-soo had moved out, declaring her independence, and the year Jae-hyuk had enlisted.

Could it be?

Suddenly, a flood of overlapping realizations rushed over him. Like dust stirred by the wind, they swirled chaotically in his mind, refusing to settle.

“Which agency spreads rumors to tarnish their own actors?”

“I know all about your past relationship with Seo Hee-soo.”

Memories of conversations with Cha Joo-won about rumors surrounding Hee-soo floated back. Then, vividly, he recalled her anguished face on-screen.

“My baby died. My child.”

The moment he remembered her tearful cries in Paradise Lost, Jae-hyuk rose abruptly, as if possessed, and approached the safe.

Inside the safe lay the envelope he had received from Attorney Kang.

Jae-hyuk dumped its contents onto the desk. His trembling hand reached for one of the scattered documents.

The same year.

Cross-referencing the list of Jung Hoon’s offenses confirmed it. The year Hee-soo had been pregnant was the same year Jung Hoon had fled abroad—and the same year Jae-hyuk had enlisted.

That year, we...

Jae-hyuk froze mid-thought.

The dates on the documents from Attorney Kang and the ultrasound photo Hee-soo had sent were only weeks apart. As he pieced together what this meant, a chilling realization gripped him.

No, it couldn’t be.

His shaking hand moved toward the USB mixed among the documents.

“Considering the hit-and-run drunk driving incident just before departure...”

“On the way, he kept rambling... saying he hit someone.”

“He said he hit a young woman, then later claimed it was a child...”

Attorney Kang’s words echoed hauntingly in his ears. Overcome by nausea, Jae-hyuk clamped a hand over his mouth.

His breathing grew ragged, audible even to himself. It felt as though his heart had dropped to his feet, and something heavy had collapsed inside him.

Swallowing hard, Jae-hyuk inserted the USB he had received from Attorney Kang into his laptop.

Hundreds of folders appeared on the screen. After checking the dates, he clicked on the most recent folder. Inside was the dashcam footage from the night Jung Hoon had driven drunk.

Click.

As the video file began playing, the screen showed the slow-moving view from the front of a car. For a while, the footage consisted of repetitive scenes, but near the end, it reached the critical moment.

A car idling in an alley suddenly came to life, as if it had spotted something, and began moving slowly. Like a predator sneaking up on its prey, the car moved a few meters with its headlights off. Then, upon spotting a dark silhouette ahead, it abruptly accelerated with a loud roar.

“Sh─it.”

The engine roared as the car sped up suddenly. Low curses from Jung Hoon’s voice could be heard amidst the blaring music inside the car.

Though Jung Hoon barely spoke more than a word or two in the video, his heavily intoxicated state was unmistakable—his slurred speech and labored breathing made that clear.

Not long after, the screeching sound of sudden braking tore through the air.

Screeeech. Thud.

The car collided with something, and faint screams seemed to echo in the background.

“Did it die?”

Jung Hoon’s voice dropped low in the recording, laced with menace. A sinister chuckle followed, mixed with the sound of the car door opening.

Shortly afterward, Jung Hoon exited the car, glanced down at something for a moment, then returned to the vehicle. The car reversed violently before speeding forward again like a mad beast.

The video ended there.

But Jae-hyuk, entranced, rewound the footage to just before Jung Hoon stepped out of the car. He was certain he had heard something—a name that should never have been uttered—right at that point.

To confirm what Jung Hoon had muttered before exiting the car, Jae-hyuk replayed the segment.

[Seo Hee-soo. Just die already.]

The moment Jae-hyuk confirmed Jung Hoon’s words, his body froze completely, unable to move even slightly.

His gaze, fixed on the black box footage of Jung Hoon filling the monitor, shifted back to the ultrasound photo lying on his desk.

With trembling hands, he picked up the ultrasound image.

“My baby died. My child.”

Hee-soo’s anguished face from the movie overlapped with the image in the photo.

Could it be? No, it couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be.

Jae-hyuk couldn’t decide whether to be angry or sad. Part of him wanted to rage at her for telling him now, while another part felt the urge to apologize for leaving her alone.

Ah, no matter what he thought, he couldn’t make sense of it. He knew he couldn’t come to any conclusions on his own.

Without hesitation, Jae-hyuk dialed Cha Joo-won.

[Hello?]

As soon as Cha Joo-won answered, Jae-hyuk asked in a panicked voice:

“Where is Seo Hee-soo right now?”