SS - 20

As the alarm rang, Sena jolted awake as usual, but immediately regretted it. 

She slowly turned her head, wondering why waking up together in the same house felt so awkward again and how she should face Joo-hyuk. 

“Did you sleep well?” 

Much to her dismay, he was already awake. He had put on his pajamas and was lying on his side, looking at her. 

“When did you wake up?” 

“About 30 minutes ago?” 

“You didn’t just sit there staring at me this whole time, did you?” 

Realizing her body was bare under the blanket, Sena quickly pulled the blanket up to her neck as she tried to get up. 

“I lost track of time watching you snore.” 

“I don’t snore!” 

“Well, you do. Very cutely, actually.” 

She scrunched up her nose at his teasing. 

“I’ll wash up. I’ll make breakfast.” 

Still wrapped in the blanket, Sena sat up and spoke. 

“The housekeeper won’t be here for a while.” 

“I’ll handle it. It’s our first breakfast in this house.” 

“Alright, I’ll leave it to you then.” 

Joo-hyuk grinned widely and got up, disappearing into the bathroom. After hearing the sound of running water from the bathroom, Sena quickly got dressed in her underwear and loungewear. She tied her messy hair up into a loose bun. 

She made a simple omelet and toast, adding orange juice, and arranged everything neatly on the dining table. 

“Not bad, huh?” 

Joo-hyuk looked back and forth between Sena and the dishes, clearly surprised. 

“I can’t guarantee it’ll taste good.” 

“It’ll be delicious because you made it.” 

He picked up his fork as if brushing off any worry and enthusiastically devoured the food on his plate. 

“It was really good. Just as I expected.” 

“It’s nowhere near as good as the housekeeper’s cooking, but I’ll cook for you sometimes.” 

“Should I look forward to it?” 

“No, don’t get your hopes up.” 

Sena smirked at him. 

Was it really okay to be this happy? What if she suddenly woke up from this dream? 

They were doing everything a married couple would do, but neither of them had said anything about how they truly felt toward each other. 

Maybe… maybe neither of them even had feelings to begin with. 

A tiny flicker of fear crept into a corner of her mind, but Sena forced herself to ignore it. 

While the housekeeper cleaned up the dishes after arriving, Sena helped Joo-hyuk get ready for work. 

“I’m heading out.” 

Joo-hyuk put on his shoes and turned to say goodbye to Sena. 

“Have a safe trip.” 

She smiled brightly as she saw him off. 

The scent of newlyweds lingered throughout the house. 

* * *

That day, as he watched the rain pour down heavily, Joo-hyuk’s face remained calm. The painful memory he had mulled over countless times now lingered only as a scar without pain.

I never imagined I would meet Kang-un at my wedding venue. 

It was a stormy night, with wind and rain lashing against the world. Joo-hyuk vividly remembered that night—the night when two lives tragically slipped away. How could he ever forget? 

Joo-hyuk also hadn’t forgotten the trembling voice of Kang-un as he tried to deliver the news over the phone. 

[My parents… both of them…] 

Kang-un’s voice had quivered uncontrollably, and in the end, he couldn’t finish his sentence before abruptly hanging up. 

Holding the disconnected phone, Joo-hyuk stared blankly out the window. It wasn’t until a blinding flash of lightning illuminated the sky that he finally snapped out of his daze. Grabbing his coat, he rushed out of the house. 

The rain poured down mercilessly, soaking him as he stood frozen for a moment, unsure of where to go. But then he forced himself to move, heading toward Kang-un’s house. 

Though not as wealthy as Joo-hyuk’s father, Kang-un’s father had also been a successful businessman who ran a large company. At the time, Kang-un’s family lived in a newly built apartment complex. Joo-hyuk had visited their home countless times—it felt like his second home. Navigating the narrow alleyways, he took shortcuts and arrived within minutes. 

By then, the dark night was already pierced by the flashing lights of ambulances and police cars. The commotion of the crowd gathered around was louder than the rain and thunder. Pushing through the throng of people, Joo-hyuk approached the apartment entrance, only to be stopped by a police officer. 

“This area is off-limits.” 

“I need to get inside. My friend lives here.” 

“Not right now.” 

As Joo-hyuk stared at the grim-faced officer blocking his way, he caught sight of Kang-un emerging from the building, escorted by another officer. 

“Kang-un! Kang-un!” 

At the sound of Joo-hyuk’s call, Kang-un turned his head. The moment their eyes met, Joo-hyuk froze mid-wave. 

Kang-un’s face was deathly pale, his eyes vacant, his lips slightly parted. There was no trace of life in his expression. 

“Kang-un! What happened?” 

Summoning all his strength, Joo-hyuk shouted, but Kang-un’s eyes suddenly hardened with cold fury. Without responding, he turned away and got into a police car, disappearing into the night. 

Shortly after, the ambulance silently left the apartment complex, and the crowd began to disperse. 

Joo-hyuk saw Kang-un again a few days later at the funeral. As the chief mourner, Kang-un still looked weak, his shoulders slumped, but his eyes burned with an intense, piercing light. 

After lighting incense, placing flowers, and bowing in respect, Joo-hyuk stood face-to-face with him. In that moment, Joo-hyuk instinctively knew: 

He blames me for his parents’ deaths. But why? 

When it was time for the mourners to bow to the chief mourner, Joo-hyuk bowed deeply. His classmates, who were already seated and eating, exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of what was happening between the two. 

“Why are you here?” Kang-un asked, his voice low and cold. 

“…I had to come.” 

“What made you think you could show your face here?” 

“Kang-un.” 

“How dare you… how dare someone like you show up!” 

Kang-un clenched his trembling fists and shouted. The surrounding mourners turned their attention to the two of them, but neither broke eye contact. 

“What are you trying to confirm by coming here? To see if they’re really dead?” 

“What kind of nonsense are you spouting?” 

“What else? Did your arrogant father send you here to learn about the fate of weak people like us?” 

“Han Kang-un!” 

Unable to endure any more, Joo-hyuk shouted back. 

For a brief moment, the two glared at each other, then simultaneously turned away. There was no reason to create gossip or drama at a funeral. 

At least, that’s what Joo-hyuk thought.

And that was their final encounter. 

Kang-un, still a second-year high school student, had dropped out of school and disappeared immediately after the funeral. After much effort to track him down, Joo-hyuk finally learned that Kang-un had gone to Busan, where some relatives lived. 

Later, as Joo-hyuk reflected on that fateful day, Kang-un’s last words weighed heavily on his mind. 

Why did he bring up my father? Could it be that Kang-un blames me for his parents’ deaths because of something related to him? 

With those thoughts swirling in his head, Joo-hyuk went to see his father, Chairman Choi. 

Chairman Choi, who had been in a meeting with executives at the company, furrowed his brow upon seeing Joo-hyuk and dismissed everyone from the room. 

“What do you want?” 

“Did you do it, Father?” 

“Do what?” 

“Did you cause the death of Kang-un’s parents?” 

Finally understanding the situation, Chairman Choi shook his head and rose from his chair. He walked over to the display cabinet, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, poured himself half a glass, and returned to sit on the sofa. 

“A few days ago, President Han came to ask for help to prevent bankruptcy.” 

“And?” 

“What do you mean, ‘and’?” 

“You obviously helped him, right?” 

“…Why should I help him?” 

Joo-hyuk was left speechless, staring blankly at Chairman Choi. His father’s emotionless eyes, like those of a shark, stared back at him. 

“What do you mean, ‘why’? The two of you were friends, weren’t you?” 

“Friends? Who’s friends with whom?” 

Chairman Choi sneered dismissively. 

“At the parents’ meetings, President Han was the only one somewhat on the same level as me. Friends? Don’t make me laugh.” 

“But you got along well with him! Kang-un is my best friend. You could have helped them!” 

“There was nothing to gain from it. Pouring water into a bottomless jar—why would I give money to someone like him? Use your head and say something that makes sense.” 

“So you just let them die?” 

“What?” 

“He probably saw you as his last hope, and you coldly turned him away!” 

Joo-hyuk shouted, his voice trembling with anguish. 

This man, who had treated even the death of the woman he loved as insignificant, was incapable of feeling sympathy for anyone else’s suffering. 

But still, shouldn’t a human being have acted differently? 

“If all you’re going to do is spout nonsense, leave.” 

“It’s your fault they’re dead.” 

“Such weak-minded talk. If they didn’t have the courage to take their own lives, they should’ve found a way to survive.” 

“You have their blood on your hands!” 

“So what if I do!” 

Chairman Choi slammed the crystal glass onto the table and roared, his eyes blazing with fury. 

“Fine! Let’s say I killed them! If that’s what it takes to ease your conscience, then think whatever you want!” 

A sudden wave of terror washed over Joo-hyuk, and he swallowed hard. Disgusted by his own shrinking fear in the face of his father’s madness, he forced himself to stay composed and hold his ground. 

“Instead of wasting time sympathizing with such weak people, focus on studying harder. Stop this pathetic whining and figure out how to become stronger!”

With that, Chairman Choi shook his head in disdain, clicked his tongue, and downed the remaining liquor in one gulp. Then, without another word, he stood up and left the chairman’s office. 

As the figure of fear and loathing disappeared from sight, Joo-hyuk collapsed to his knees on the floor, gasping for air. From his lips came a sound akin to an animal’s cry of anguish, and tears streamed uncontrollably from his bloodshot eyes. His entire body trembled with guilt, as if he himself had been responsible for the deaths of his closest friend’s parents—because, in a way, his father was. 

Outside the window, the rain continued to pour down in torrents. 

A knock interrupted his spiraling thoughts, and Park, the secretary, entered the room. 

Seeing Joo-hyuk standing close to the window instead of sitting at the desk or on the sofa, Park hesitated for a moment, clearly taken aback. 

“Here’s the information you requested about SH Corporation.” 

Park extended a thick file toward Joo-hyuk. In bold letters across the middle of the document were the words: “Report on SH Corporation Trends.” 

“Thank you for your hard work.” 

“And…,” Park began, pausing briefly before continuing. 

“What is it?” Joo-hyuk asked, his voice hoarse and strained.