RB - 73

Chapter 73: Welcome to This Kind of Revenge (2)

The video unfolded rapidly, as if compressing the structure of a mystery documentary into a tight narrative. On the screen, a young couple appeared, and their interview began.

“Hello. My name is Oh Mi-yeon. My daughter was subjected to gaslighting by Professor Sung for an entire year. For that year, I blindly trusted his treatment methods and unknowingly pushed my daughter into hell.”

A beastly, sinister gleam flashed in Professor Sung Ho-yeon’s eyes, followed by an ominous chill. But soon, fear consumed him. A low curse escaped his lips.

“What kind of damn situation is this? This isn’t a charity gala—it’s a trap.”

Just when he thought he was nearing his goal, karma struck like lightning. Sung instinctively realized that his trusted partner, Park Yeo-wan, had betrayed him. He felt his spine tingle but forced himself to remain composed, clenching his jaw tightly to preserve what little pride he had left.

Camera flashes erupted chaotically. The sharp, staccato bursts of shutters filled the hall like a barrage of bullets.

“Hello. My name is Lee Moon-ho. My son suffered psychological abuse at the hands of Professor Sung Ho-yeon. Over time, I meticulously gathered evidence, and through a class-action lawsuit, I will bring him to justice.”

Interviews with parents whose children had been abused by Professor Sung continued. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Chairman Shin Tae-myung retreated to one corner of the hall, observing the scene with a heavy heart. Jung Hyuk, standing at the center of the stage, delivered a thunderous rebuke.

“Professor Sung Ho-yeon, did you really think you could get away with the perfect crime?”

Jung Hyuk’s eyes sparkled like lightning. He burned with the heat of molten lava on the verge of eruption, yet remained as cold as a frozen glacier. The boy who had once suffered mental abuse under Professor Sung had grown taller, stronger, and angrier—his rage now uncontrollable.

Sung clenched his mouth shut, offering no response. He fully understood that he was cornered. At moments like this, a clumsy excuse could only make things worse. His only option was silence.

Despite the spotlight glaring down on him, Sung feigned composure, clinging to the last shreds of his dignity. But it was clear that the stern judgment of the law awaited him in the near future.

Jung Hyuk addressed the frenzied reporters.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please look behind you. Victims have mustered the courage to confront and hold Professor Sung Ho-yeon accountable.”

All eyes turned to the opposite side of the stage. The people wearing black hats rose simultaneously from their seats. The person at the front slowly removed his hat.

“Wait—isn’t that Shin Jin-hyuk, the second son of Taesung Group? Yes, it’s him!”

A reporter shouted loudly upon recognizing Jin-hyuk. Jin-hyuk then personally removed the hat of the man next to him, revealing his face to the world. A gasp of shock rippled through the crowd. It was Shin Joon-hyuk.

The reporters were overwhelmed, mistaking Joon-hyuk for Jung Hyuk.

“Isn’t that Vice President Shin Jung-hyuk?”

Not just the reporters but also politicians, businesspeople, and Taesung executives stared in disbelief, alternating their gaze between Jung Hyuk on the podium and Joon-hyuk on the other side. One by one, more people removed their hats, revealing themselves as the parents who had appeared in the video. Some were already crying.

“B-Brother, I’m a little scared.”

Joon-hyuk’s trembling voice came out as he tightly closed his eyes. Jin-hyuk grasped his brother’s hand firmly and whispered.

“Brother, you promised to protect your siblings. Just hang on a little longer. We’re almost done. Professor Sung can never hurt you again. He’ll pay for what he’s done.”

Reporters swarmed toward Joon-hyuk, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Jung Hyuk. At Jin-hyuk’s signal, pre-positioned bodyguards surrounded Joon-hyuk protectively.

The charity gala descended into chaos. Among the victims, one person screamed at Sung Ho-yeon.

“Aaaah, Sung Ho-yeon, you devil… Give me back my daughter! Hhhh…”

The cacophony of reporters shouting questions, camera shutters clicking incessantly, victims wailing for justice, and bodyguards threatening force created a bizarre symphony of disorder. It was absolute pandemonium.

The bodyguards bellowed at the reporters.

“If you come any closer, we’ll use force! No physical contact allowed! Step back!”

“For the public’s right to know, just one comment, please!”

“How do you feel right now? Is the rumor about the twins true?”

If Sung Ho-yeon’s crimes were a “scoop,” the emergence of Taesung Group’s new heirs was a “bombshell.” Amid the chaos, Professor Sung quietly slipped out of the hall. Jung Hyuk noticed his escape but let him go. Both the main and back entrances of Taesung Hospital were already guarded, leaving no way out except perhaps jumping from a high floor.

Unexpectedly, Chairman Shin Tae-myung followed after Sung. With quiet steps, he trailed behind the professor.

Sung hurried down the corridor and entered his counseling office, shaking his head like a madman. Then, slapping his own cheek hard, he opened a desk drawer in a trance-like state and pulled out a pocketknife—the last vestige of his false bravado.

“No, no, this isn’t the end… I still have something left. Honor was never important to me anyway.”

After slipping the knife into his pocket, Sung steadied himself. Even if a trial were to proceed, medical malpractice cases favored the defendant and would drag on for years.

He still had a vast fortune hidden in offshore accounts. With that money, he could start anew abroad, erasing his identity. Positions like being chairman of Taesung Hospital or his ties with Park Yeo-wan meant nothing to him now.

Bang! The door to the counseling office flew open with a deafening crash. Reflexively gripping the pocketknife, Sung turned toward the sound. Chairman Shin stood there like an immovable stone pillar.

Chairman Shin had no intention of sending Sung Ho-yeon to court gently. Before the law could judge him, Shin had devised his own form of punishment—one that would crush what Sung valued most.

An angry growl escaped Shin’s lips.

“You greedy opportunist, how dare you leech off Taesung. Isn’t money the most important thing to you, Sung Ho-yeon?”

Shin thrust a folded piece of paper into Sung’s trembling hands. It contained details of Sung’s offshore accounts.

“...What is this?”

Sung reluctantly unfolded the paper. Within seconds, a blood-curdling scream erupted from him. Chairman Shin had drained most of the funds from the accounts and frozen them entirely—a feat impossible without Park Yeo-wan’s cooperation.

“Don’t lie to me! How did you find my accounts? And the passwords—how did you…?”

The last flicker of hope extinguished in Sung’s chest. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face. The lifetime of wealth he had amassed, sacrificing his humanity, flickered out like a candle in the wind. Animalistic groans escaped his lips as he clutched the back of his neck, gasping for air. Beyond the suffocating despair, he saw Chairman Shin, infuriatingly calm. Sung wanted to kill him.

Though revenge was said to be sweet, watching this unfold brought Shin no satisfaction. Instead, the crushing realization that he and this devil were accomplices weighed heavily on his conscience.

Summoning the last of his strength, Shin roared like thunder.

“Know this—you’ll pay the rest of your debt in prison. Not a single lawyer in this country will defend you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Gritting his teeth, Shin turned to leave. As much as he wanted to tear Sung’s face off, he restrained himself, remembering Jung Hyuk’s warning not to inflict personal vengeance.

“You think you’re just a bystander, Shin? Do you think only my hands are dirty? Your hands are stained with the blood of three sons.”

Shin froze, his hand on the doorknob. Seizing the moment, Sung lunged at him like a tank. With a forceful shove from behind, Shin cried out—”Ugh!”—and collapsed to the floor. Swiftly mounting Shin’s back, Sung mercilessly twisted his arms behind him. Shin’s agonized scream—”Aaah!”—mingled grotesquely with the sickening crack of his wrist breaking.

“Die, you bastard.”

Sung raised the pocketknife high above his head. Though it had only ever been used to intimidate nurses, its blade now glinted menacingly.

Thud, thud. The nauseating sound of flesh being pierced echoed as Shin groaned—”Ugh!” Blood seeped into his white shirt, pooling around his body in a crimson puddle.