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“Of course, I’m well aware of that. My statement isn’t due to ignorance—it’s to emphasize that KMS and my father have absolutely no connection.”
He couldn’t outright say there was nothing for him to gain from currying favor with the Prosecutor General, nor vice versa.
He simply wanted to stress that he owed this man nothing.
“Prosecutor General, my foolish son here… That’s why I’ve arranged this private meeting with you, isn’t it?”
“Hmm.”
Chairman Choi bowed his head even lower, his tone more obsequious than before.
“Is our bond really so shallow? If I fall, it won’t just affect this administration—it’ll shake up every regime before it. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“I’ll make sure my son understands properly, so don’t worry too much.”
“Hmm.”
Though still visibly displeased, the Prosecutor General accepted another drink poured by Chairman Choi and downed it in one gulp.
“What are you doing? Hurry up and empty your glass!”
Despite Chairman Choi’s sharp reprimand, Joo-hyuk merely stared blankly at his cup.
A soft tsk sound escaped someone’s lips, but Chairman Choi quickly refocused all his attention on the Prosecutor General.
As the drinks flowed—one glass after another—a smile gradually returned to the Prosecutor General’s face. By the time the gathering ended, he and Chairman Choi were exchanging jokes like old friends.
Meanwhile, Joo-hyuk quietly emptied his own glass at his own pace.
“Take care on your way home.”
“Mm, yes, yes.”
With slurred speech, unsteady legs, and glazed eyes, the Prosecutor General finally took his leave.
“Sigh—”
Left alone with Chairman Choi, Joo-hyuk leaned back into the seat previously occupied by the Prosecutor General. Exhausted, he loosened his tie roughly.
“You! That’s exactly the problem!”
Chairman Choi suddenly shot up from leaning over the table and shouted at Joo-hyuk.
“When it’s time to bow your head, you bow! Being so stubborn will only get you broken, you fool.”
“I’ve already told you clearly: KMS won’t dance to your tune, Father.”
“Pretend if you must! Pretend! Or would you rather we all die right now?”
Joo-hyuk stared at Chairman Choi in disbelief, momentarily speechless.
“Don’t you know the saying, ‘You reap what you sow’? If you’d lived properly, you wouldn’t have to grovel like this.”
“Don’t act so high and mighty. I have no regrets about my life.”
“Yes, I know. That’s just who you are.”
“No, tell me—what did I do so wrong? Selling raw materials for weapons during wartime? I simply seized an opportunity.”
“Countless people died because of that.”
“If I hadn’t sold them, someone else would have.”
“Did it have to be you?”
Chairman Choi waved his hands dismissively and leaned back in his chair, unwilling to continue the discussion.
“If you want to talk about morality in business, go ahead. But your purity won’t cleanse this tainted world.”
Joo-hyuk fell silent. Arguing further would only escalate tensions with his father, whose values were irreconcilable with his own.
“Fine, let’s drop it. Don’t provoke me like you did earlier. Just let things flow naturally. I’ll handle the cleanup myself.”
“You’re telling me to stay silent no matter what is said?”
“What’s the issue? Your job is to keep your mouth shut.”
“So you’re saying I should remain a cowardly journalist in people’s minds? That I should let KMS’s reputation crumble?”
“People don’t care about the truth.”
Chairman Choi smirked bitterly.
“From the moment those filthy articles started circulating, the image plastered onto you has been etched into their minds. Nothing you say now will reach them.”
“So you’re telling me to sit idly by?”
“What other choice do you have?”
What other choice?
Joo-hyuk clenched his fists tightly under the table. Yet, he couldn’t respond to his father.
What could he possibly say or do?
Perhaps everything Chairman Choi said was true. People didn’t care about the truth—they only wanted sensational stories to satisfy their fleeting curiosity.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. At least, the readers who had faithfully followed KMS until now weren’t like that.
But clinging to such hope felt futile when he had so little to hold onto. He gritted his teeth.
Was it the alcohol? For the first time, the values he had always believed in seemed so pathetically insignificant.
“I should get going as well,” Chairman Choi muttered, staggering to his feet.
“Anything new from Kang Dae-pyo?”
“...What do you mean?”
“He cowered when the prosecution investigation began. A man without backbone like that—no wonder his business is in shambles.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He wants to annul your marriage.”
“What?”
It was a shocking statement.
Marriage wasn’t child’s play—how could anyone suggest undoing it? The ceremony had already taken place, and they’d registered as a married couple. What nonsense was this?
“He doesn’t want anything to do with our family. I told him to stop spouting nonsense and go home. Since he’s family, I pretended I didn’t hear it.”
“Surprising. I expected you to immediately demand a divorce the moment he brought it up.”
Given his father’s personality, it was strange that he hadn’t pushed for a divorce right away.
“Do you think I want my son divorcing in the middle of this mess? Once things settle, you can divorce then—it’s not too late. Damn Kang Dae-pyo. I intended to overlook your marriage if you two got along, but now it looks like he’s handing his company over to me himself.”
“Don’t interfere in my marriage. This union wasn’t decided solely by the two of you, and neither will any divorce be dictated by your whims.”
“So... does Sena feel the same way as you?”
“That... well...”
Suddenly, Joo-hyuk remembered Sena’s unusually frequent calls earlier that day. And her uncharacteristically cold text message.
What could have happened? Had she met with her father? Was she pressured into getting a divorce? Could she really be considering leaving him?
“Sena has no intention of divorcing me.”
Chairman Choi slowly approached Joo-hyuk and gripped his shoulder tightly.
“Don’t be fooled by a woman’s sweet talk of love. A woman’s heart can turn on you in an instant.”
With those words, he left his son’s side, walking away as if nothing had happened.
---
Stumbling drunkenly, Joo-hyuk entered the house.
The darkness enveloping the home didn’t register to him—he was far too intoxicated.
“Don’t turn on the lights.”
Seeing him reach for the light switch, Sena stopped him.
“What? You’re still awake?”
“Yes.”
“I told you to go to bed first.”
He staggered toward the living room where she sat and collapsed onto the carpet with a thud.
The strong smell of alcohol made her furrow her brow deeply. There was no way they could have a proper conversation in this state.
But perhaps this was for the best.
“How did things go? Can it be resolved?”
“…Is this something that can even be resolved?”
He echoed her question with a vacant expression.
“You said it wasn’t true, right? Isn’t your dream to be a journalist who speaks the truth?”
“No matter what I say, people won’t seek the truth. The false image painted of me is already etched into their minds—they won’t listen to my voice.”
His resigned tone revealed a defeatism that the old Joo-hyuk would never have expressed.
“So, in the end, you’re no different from all the other media companies—bowing to power and money, indifferent to the truth.”
At Sena’s words, Joo-hyuk looked up at her.
Under the moonlight, pain slowly seeped into his face. It was an expression that betrayed how deeply her words had wounded him, something she hadn’t anticipated.
Her gaze remained icy as she stared back at him.
“Are you disappointed in me?”
His cracked voice reflected the turmoil in his heart.
“I watched to see how far you’d go to save KMS.”
Ignoring his expression, his tone, she continued speaking.
“You’re no different from your father, whom you despise so much. Well, there is one difference—at least your father is the one pulling the strings.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
Joo-hyuk slowly rose to his feet. By now, the alcohol seemed to have worn off, as his steps were steady as he took a step back.
“But what can I do? This is who I am. No matter how hard you push me, I can’t undo what’s already broken.”
His voice, once tinged with shock, now carried anger.
“Do you want me to abandon my family? My company?”
“Stop making excuses—it’s disgusting.”
“Enough.”
He turned his back to her.
“I thought at least you, out of everyone, would believe in me.”
A faint quiver in his voice caught Sena’s ear.
Are you crying, Joo-hyuk?
She bit down hard on her lip.
The sharp pain from her already split and bruised lips flared, but it was nothing compared to the ache tearing through her chest.
“I almost fell for your sweet talk of love.”
Her words, heavier than air, trembled with emotion as they fell, and Joo-hyuk stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Hic…”
Sena pressed her palm against her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to escape.
Good job, Kang Sena. You did the right thing—for him, for yourself.
She had vowed never to get hurt again, never to let anyone wound her, no matter who it was.
And all of this was for her and Joo-hyuk. At least, if she disappeared, that night wouldn’t repeat itself, and Joo-hyuk wouldn’t lose his life.
Though her heart bled just as much as his, she had no choice.
There was only one path forward.
“I’ve done as you asked. Are you satisfied?”
Sena picked up her phone and sent the message. Not long after, a reply arrived.
“Good girl.”
Damn it.
Anger surged within her, but she swallowed it down. Neither her curses nor her tears could be allowed to reach Joo-hyuk.
Now, there was only one thing left to do: disappear from his life forever.
Hesitation—or perhaps lingering attachment—kept her rooted in place. It wasn’t until the pale light of dawn filtered through the window that she finally rose from the couch.
The wounds inflicted by his words cut deeper than any physical injury. He would never know that she had kept the lights off to hide them, even on his deathbed.
After neatly organizing the divorce papers left on the table, she picked up the bag she had packed in advance and walked out of the house.
This was truly the end for Choi Joo-hyuk and her.
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