Chapter – 24
The next day, I deliberately arrived quite early and carefully opened the office door.
The basement archive room on B1. If no one was around to pay attention, it wouldn’t be difficult to go back there.
As long as that broken door didn’t trap me again.
When I turned on the lights in the dark office, a human silhouette appeared—contrary to my expectations.
“Assistant Manager Kim…?”
“Why are you here? No—why are you here so early?”
Though slightly softened, his attitude was still prickly.
“Why aren’t the lights on…? Don’t tell me you’re already working?”
“I’ve got a lot on my plate. Why did you come in so early?”
“You have to come early if you want to adapt.”
I answered while busily scanning the wall with my eyes for the key to the basement storage.
“By any chance, have you seen the storage key that used to hang there?”
“I got rid of it. They’re closing that storage room since it’s not being used.”
What kind of nonsense was that? The words who decided that? rose to my throat. I tried to hide my agitation, but it wasn’t easy.
“There seem to be a lot of old documents down there. Wouldn’t it be a waste to close it?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
The key. I had to find the key. I tried to gather clues, but Assistant Manager Kim cut off our conversation with rapid keyboard strokes.
How much time had passed? The relentless clacking of keys and the occasional sigh laced with curses wrapped around my ears.
“Is something wrong?”
“There’s always work.”
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“Ha.”
His laugh was sharp, as if incredulous.
“How is someone who just started supposed to help? Unless you’re going to take some of this work off my hands, don’t talk to me.”
Was one of the qualifications for becoming a member of Seongjin Capital having to hold a knife in your mouth?
His sharp words should have stung, yet somehow I felt nothing. Perhaps thanks to someone, I’d been thoroughly trained.
“Give it to me.”
“What?”
“That work. Give it to me. I’ll do it. I can.”
Seongjin Capital had invested in an eco-friendly chemical materials startup called EcoBlue.
It had likely been part of a respectable-looking plan to boost corporate image.
The CEO had died. Cause of death: deterioration of a preexisting heart condition.
The bereaved family filed a claim for emotional damages against Seongjin Capital.
They argued that Seongjin’s excessive lawsuit demanding the return of investment funds and the pressure that crossed the line had partially contributed to the worsening of her condition.
The family was even prepared to wage a media battle.
If not suppressed quickly, the initial spark would spread out of control.
“Here. Most of what you need is on this USB. Figure it out.”
Assistant Manager Kim tossed the USB onto the desk. I grabbed it.
What made it even more troublesome was that the previous person in charge had abruptly quit.
From organizing the documents to reviewing them, I would have to handle everything alone—a perfect setup to take all the blame if something went wrong.
The same Assistant Manager Kim who had scolded me, saying absolutely not, suddenly changed his mind and called it a good opportunity.
The team leader strongly opposed it, but I didn’t back down either.
Suspicious, yes—but for now, this was a good chance to earn even the flimsiest trust from the people here.
And with that trust as my guide, I intended to get closer to everything I wanted to find within Seongjin Capital.
Even after returning home from work, I was busy reviewing the disorganized pile of documents.
No matter how long it took, I had to see through any task assigned under my name.
More than anything, it weighed heavily on my mind.
Seongjin’s sudden demand for the return of investment funds. Unexpected events happen in anyone’s life.
But unexpected money—that devours a person’s life.
It eats away from the inside out.
And then that person, crushed by suffocating pressure, twists in agony, retches, and lives in hell.
Like my father did back then.
Was it the same for EcoBlue’s CEO? Was her death truly caused by her heart condition worsening, or by the burden of unexpected debt? Regardless of the official truth, I wanted to know personally.
As I flipped through the documents, I found a photo of the late CEO of EcoBlue shaking hands with Chairman Park Jin-ho.
A middle-aged woman smiling broadly.
Under the dim lighting, the deep blue clothes she wore looked almost like black burial garments.
Knock knock—
The sudden sound of knocking froze my body.
I didn’t answer. Who would knock on my door at this hour?
My eyes met the woman’s in the photo.
“It’s me.”
It was Do Ihyun’s voice. I steadied my pounding heart and opened the door.
“Mr. Do Ihyun…?”
“There was no response.”
My stiff body loosened.
“What brings you here at this hour?”
“You told me to come in sometime.”
That was unexpected. I had thought it was just something he said casually. My eyes wandered, unable to find a response.
“I heard you’re handling the EcoBlue case.”
“Yes. I need to at least try something. I’m already walking on thin ice.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. From the beginning, you didn’t even want me stepping a toe into this place. So everyone else knows I’m a nuisance.”
“Do you have some kind of persecution complex?”
What nonsense was that? We clearly weren’t understanding each other.
“Don’t touch things you don’t need to. Believe it or not, I’m saying this for your sake.”
“I’ll handle it myself.”
“I figured. I didn’t expect otherwise.”
“Yes. And if it concerns something I need to worry about, I’ll keep getting involved.”
“Do as you wish. I warned you.”
I expected him to leave, but the distance between us closed again as his eyes busily examined me.
“…You look pretty pale.”
His gaze didn’t stop scanning me.
It felt strange—someone’s eyes moving so restlessly over me.
Oddly enough, it made me self-conscious.
“Why are you suddenly like this?”
“Is there a problem?”
“I told you—it’s awkward when you keep worrying about my condition.”
Do Ihyun lightly bit his lip. It was the first time I’d seen him look troubled.
But my question was reasonable. He was someone who always sharpened his words at me, who mocked me.
For that kind of person to suddenly care about my condition just because he heard I’d been hospitalized—it wasn’t easy to understand.
“I appreciate the concern, but I’m not as badly hurt as you might have heard.”
“There’s something I’m curious about.”
His eyes, meeting mine, kept throwing me off.
The way they moved over me gradually slowed.
Slow enough that an outsider might mistake it—just a little—for sadness.
“Why do you assume I heard about your injury from someone else?”
“Well, the one who took me to the hospital was Mr. Kim Geon, and you would naturally have heard from—”
My words slowed.
Come to think of it, Kim Geon never directly admitted he had taken me to the hospital. As always, he neither confirmed nor denied it.
If he hadn’t taken me, then who did?
“Did you hear directly from Kim Geon that I fainted in that old archive room?”
“He never said it exactly like that…”
“Did he also say that the clothes tied around your head to stop the bleeding were so sloppy they were hard to look at?”
“Wait! Then you were the one who found me, Mr. Do Ihyun?”
The warmth of the arms that had held me began to resurface in my memory.
“Does it matter?”
I had thought it was just a dream. I couldn’t imagine that cold man possessing such warmth.
“You could’ve at least told me.”
“It would’ve been stranger to make a show of it.”
As he turned away again, I wanted to at least say thank you.
But I was certain there wasn’t even the slightest opening in his ears for my words.
So instead of speaking, I reached out and grabbed him.
Just barely—by the edge of his shirt.
“Thank you.”
“That’s enough.”
“I mean it. Thank you, really.”
“I didn’t do it to hear pleasantries.”
He turned away again.
He had given me only that sliver of space.
And I had no justification to hold on to him any longer.
