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She hummed to herself, a cheerful note rising in her chest.
Rare indeed was the customer who handed over cash on the first try, the way she had done today.
Calculating the fee, she had been told, was the representative’s privilege.
Sometimes the anonymous boss of EKR replaced it entirely with information in exchange for the same service.
For the employee, salary and allowances came steadily enough, yet the work never satisfied her.
What kind of man was this extraordinary boss, she wondered? A rich man with plenty of time on his hands, perhaps. But EKR’s information network was no ordinary curiosity born of idle wealth. Judging by the type of clients who sought them out and the manner in which they were handled, the company was clearly something far more calculating.
Yeon-je let her resentment and anger settle on EKR like a heavy cloak.
Though it would take time—after all, it was two against one—only a bottomless, ugly rage would be enough to confront men who had smeared her name and shattered her life.
And if this case involved Sa Hee-eon’s circle… then all the more so.
Descending the creaking stairs, Yeon-je slipped out the rear door instead of the front. Outside, a row of delivery motorcycles waited, each plastered with flyers. She peeled them away with quick, impatient fingers, then twisted the ignition of the nearest bike.
Let me see…
She tapped the destination into the navigation. The place was a Michelin-starred restaurant in Jongno-gu, a destination she would never have sought out if the job had been the only reason.
A construction crew working in a Michelin restaurant… what strange waters these were.
Money was good. The thought slipped out in a sigh. She grinned as she pulled the helmet down over her hair, then swung a strong leg over the seat and twisted the throttle.
***
[Approved. They’ll even help with the design. Let’s draw it up.]
Gwahae-dong, Jongno-gu.
She parked the motorcycle in the narrow alley where cars could not possibly fit, then slipped into the convenience store beside it.
The clerk behind the counter looked up from his phone and stood. Without removing her helmet, Yeon-je bowed slightly and reached for a strawberry milk.
“Are you sure? The amount is large. Why is the approval so fast? Don’t scare me.”
[Scared? You said you’d do it no matter what.]
“Of course I will. I’ve already arrived at the site.”
[Be careful. Check the terrain only. Remember, you’re neither police nor military. Don’t crash. Just observe with your eyes if anything looks off.]
“I know. Chief, you’re especially picky today.”
After paying for the milk at the counter, she stepped back outside. The unexpected chill of an old friend’s welcome made her shiver.
[I attached one of our men to the mistress’s side. He got a call—she’s moving right now. Location is strong.]
“Impossible. She’s coming here? It’s the middle of the day.”
[So it seems. Construction crews are the worst. They notice everything too quickly. Oh, right. Are you joining us for makgeolli tonight?]
Of course. Dong-cheol had asked the same question. He didn’t like makgeolli anyway.
Yeon-je lifted the helmet’s chin strap and slid the straw into her mouth.
“I can’t. I’m going straight home to rest. You two have a date.”
[What date? Just the two of you at a company party? Sure. Got it, see you tomorrow. If anything comes up, text immediately. And don’t get too involved. Today’s just observation. Understand?]
“I will.”
Ending the short call, she stared at the three-story building straight ahead.
The mistress’s favorite restaurant was named . She had never been inside, but she knew exactly what it was: an expensive place that sold exquisite food to true gourmands.
She had no direct experience, yet the files were more than enough.
Still, the client believed illegal activities and shady dealings were happening inside the restaurant.
Even so…
The mistress who lived in this house was meeting at a conspicuous restaurant in the middle of the day—with a host in tow.
Well, she had learned long ago that it was useless to try to understand people who cheated.
There had been the time they met at the mart and parted in the parking lot with a hurried complaint.
Or when investigators hired to dig up a spouse’s dirt for a divorce case wanted to catch the other party in the act and force a confession. She supposed there were those who truly wanted to expose infidelity and make the cheater reflect, but most simply needed leverage.
So this time would be no different. She would simply capture the evidence of the mistress’s affair or whatever private crisis had driven her here.
This job demanded no moral compass or sense of justice. In the world today, money was the only true measure of morality, the only virtue in human relations, the only thing that could be turned into justice or righteousness.
The question was, who would offer the more attractive sum? EKR might not care, but Echo Research was a company that stayed true to the essence of private investigation and loan sharks.
Time to circle the building.
She dropped the empty milk carton into the trash, then turned the motorcycle’s key. Slowly she rode past, scanning the area. No one looked suspicious. A delivery rider was nothing unusual.
If the mistress’s target was here, perhaps she would even see the host’s face.
A strange smile touched her lips. For some reason, things were about to become much easier.
From the files, the man seemed experienced in investments. How extraordinary must the host be for him to abandon everything and plant himself in the mistress’s life like an eyesore?
These things usually happened among mediocre rich men or those of low social standing.
People who had much to lose refused to show cracks. Instead they pretended ignorance and accepted light affairs while keeping their public partnerships intact. They called it a window-marriage couple.
Yeon-je felt a sudden envy for the man who had fallen for the mistress. No iron mask, no conscience—only that selective, twisted love.
Then a luxury sedan turned into the parking lot behind the building.
The interior lot was already crowded with expensive cars, but something about this one drew her eye.
It was a sign. The owner of that car was different from the people here.
She guided the motorcycle closer, matching the timing as the vehicle slowed. A valet stepped out and greeted them politely.
The driver in the front seat got out and opened the rear door. Yeon-je quietly killed her engine.
From the storage box behind her, she pulled out a delivery shopping bag, then turned to watch the person emerging from the car.
The man who stepped out was strikingly young and handsome, wearing a bright beige suit beneath a long, dark coat. He slid his hands into his pockets and walked with the careless stride of someone being led.
Yeon-je watched his back with strange fascination.
He carried an aura that felt off. She did not think this was the host she sought. No sharp edge, no casual wealth lingered around him.
His face was cool, as if a needle could not draw blood. Yet something twisted lay hidden beneath it.
Where had she seen that face before…
Her straight eyebrows twitched.
She searched her memory, but no one came to mind.
Then the recent acquaintance she had just met…
Lost in thought, she narrowed her eyes and looked up at the five-story building beside the restaurant.
That was the direction the man in the car had been heading.
A car rushed past her at high speed and slammed on the brakes.
The man waiting for her stepped out of the stopped vehicle.
It was the mistress herself, discreetly feeding coins to the host, and the young man beside her who could not hide his pretty face.
“Oh, the writer!”
The mistress in her elegant tweed suit waved cheerfully at the strange man.
The strange thing was who she had called.
The man paused, turned, and bowed to the bright-faced woman. A faint smile lingered on his lips.
The bodyguard standing between the mistress and the strikingly handsome young man with the long hair covering his neck looked as if he were guarding an invisible line.
The mistress’s presence was so powerful that the host clinging behind her barely registered.
Yeon-je stepped forward boldly, shopping bag in hand. After all, every second of video would be recorded, so she tried to pass naturally.
As the distance between them shrank, an unpleasant premonition crawled up her spine.
A sense of overwhelming gravity pressed down on her. Even though their eyes did not meet, the back of her neck prickled as if a cold wind had brushed it.
She pretended to be confused, scanning the fake address on her bag as if she had just encountered a wild animal in the mountains. A strange chill ran down her spine.
“Long time no see. I hope you’ve been well?”
The man’s eyes curved into crescents at the woman’s words. Indeed, the smile was strange—dry and unsettling, with a wild undertone.
“Yes.”
“You used to be so casual about these things, but now that I see you more often, it must be wonderful.”
“This is necessary sometimes. Your colleagues seem to be waiting. Shall we go up?”
The “colleagues” the man referred to were the frozen-faced host. The woman laughed brightly and linked arms with the young man.
“Then I’ll see you later. This is our son. The eldest. I brought him along because I wanted him to see something good.”
Son? They only had daughters.
The woman called the mistress reached out as if to shake hands, but the bodyguard stepped forward smoothly, blocking her.
The mistress’s gaze sharpened instantly.
Yeon-je walked past them. As she passed the pillar-style parking-lot pillars and turned into the left alley, a bone-deep tension lingered in the air, as if someone might snatch her from behind.
This was the first evidence that the mistress had moved with the host.
It was when she turned into the sunlit alley that she realized she had secured proof.
“Delivery.”