Chapter 9
This week had been packed with English lessons, and next week was French. By now, she had pushed past the advanced level to the point where she could dive into deep discussions on politics, society, and culture with locals living abroad, exchanging knowledge like it was second nature.
Rubbing her gritty eyes, Ha-jin snatched up her phone the moment it buzzed on the table and answered the call.
“...Have you received the materials?”
The voice on the other end dove straight into business without so much as a hello, as if even those few seconds were too precious to waste. It was so quintessentially him. Ha-jin paused in the face of that low timbre, then let out a reluctant sigh as she replied.
“Yes.”
“That’s a pretty half-hearted answer. Something wrong with the files?”
What an ironic question. How could she possibly tell if they were flawed or fine when she had zero prior intel? Still, she couldn’t snap back like that, so Ha-jin kept her cool.
“No issues. I just wrapped up my conversation class and was about to go through them.”
“You can skim the family background stuff. I know it better than anyone anyway.”
As if. No matter how messed up the family dynamics were, not knowing your own kin inside out would make you the real fool. He’d never know, so Ha-jin inwardly sniped at every word as she asked, “So, what should I zero in on?”
“Kim Gi-sa, and Gu Hee-young.”
“Who are they?”
“Family retainers who’ve driven for Wolsongwon for over thirty years—before I was even born. From Kim Gi-sa’s father right up to now.”
“What’s the problem with him?”
“He’s as tight with the chairman as Secretary An, his personal aide. An sticks to the chairman twenty-four-seven, so I’ll handle that. You just keep a sharp eye on Kim Gi-sa for anything off.”
“And Gu Hee-young?”
“The longest-serving housekeeper at Wolsongwon. The other staff follow her lead like she’s the real boss.”
Like a chief palace maid from the Joseon era. Ha-jin had always found it bizarre how the elite kept full-time staffs under their thumbs, but framing it that way sat a lot easier with her.
“Got it.”
No one would know more about their master and his household than the underlings treated like limbs. She’d heard that plenty from Yoo Soo-hee already.
They tended to keep their mouths shut on the big secrets, but a bit of kindness and cash could loosen tongues for the little things. She’d scored plenty of tidbits that way back in the States. Gu Hee-young was someone Ha-jin absolutely had to cozy up to.
Baek Tae-ju called her name softly.
“Yoo Ha-jin.”
His tone was firm yet sank into that uniquely low, resonant timbre. Her heart would lurch whenever he said it like that. The voice was magnetic, but more often than not, it heralded some rotten news or mood-killer.
“Yes.”
“Baek Chairman is more cunning and sly than anyone else in that house. Even more than me.”
“...”
What did she usually think of Baek Tae-ju?
A smug face and jaw-dropping aura that he ruined every time he opened his mouth. Hopelessly devious, appetite-spoiling jerk. That was her image of him, but hearing him casually call himself cunning and sly left her with nothing to say.
Regardless, his heavy lead-in about his father dragged the tension she’d shoved down creeping back, her chest starting to thump.
“I know.”
“Way worse than words can warn. Once you deal with him, you’ll get it—vicious beyond belief.”
For a son sizing up his own father, it was brutally cold. The media painted them as this happy family, close-knit father and sons. But stripping away the glossy layers only revealed the hollow truth inside. All of it just bubbles waiting to burst.
“Yes.”
Still, she’d chosen to infiltrate, to claim what she wanted. She’d have to stomach it. If she lacked the guts and backed out now, she never would’ve started in the first place. Into the silence from Baek Tae-ju, Ha-jin spoke first.
“Don’t worry. I said I’d brace myself for anything when I signed on.”
“You did.”
His clipped reply ended with a simple “Do it right,” then the line went dead. The room plunged into total silence, and her heartbeat kicked up faster, rougher than before.
The Baek clan occupied a stratosphere ordinary folks might brush once in a lifetime, if ever. Ages ago, they’d sorted people by birthright. Now they preached equal democracy, but no modern society drew invisible caste lines quite like this one.
People who seized whatever they craved with raw wealth. Hell, maybe even...
...human lives.
Replaying the call, the same nightmare scene that haunted her flickered through Ha-jin’s mind: torrential rain pouring down, a white umbrella sailing through the air, a house-sized truck barreling past in a blur, blood pooling thick on the ground...
Ha-jin squeezed her eyes shut and covered them, steadying her breath to wrangle her emotions. One deep inhale... exhale. Another. Long in, long out. It eased the tension locking her body, bit by bit.
I have to do this.No freaking out. Fail to push through, and it’s back to square one. No—total ruin.
Chanting the mantra in her head over and over, Ha-jin plugged the USB drive from Yoo Soo-hee into her laptop. A loading message flashed—“Reading files”—then a folder popped open with just one document inside. Wolsongwon. Nothing but those three words for a title.
It wouldn’t hit this hard even cracking open some mystery video or secret box blind.
Ha-jin dithered, twirling the cursor in circles, then finally clicked to reveal the original she’d have to memorize like a machine.
Top of the file, predictably: Baek Chairman. Baek Sang-guk. The pinnacle of it all. The dark heart where every thread converged.
Amusingly, the ones who knew him best were her aunt Yoo Soo-hee and his own son, Baek Tae-ju. Ha-jin already had the basics down. She eyeballed the rest, cherry-picking unfamiliar scraps, dissecting them meticulously before flipping to the next section.
Baek Chairman’s wife, Min Yeong-ju. Current director of Songnim Gallery. Youngest daughter of former Prosecutor General Min Gyu-cheol. Baek Chairman’s political marriage to her had netted him major backing and networks, while her already loaded family rocketed to elite status among non-corporate dynasties through the union.
Chillingly, the file crammed in her daily diet, health status, even petty likes and dislikes. Recalling the source made it less shocking, but it still left a sour taste.
Ha-jin pictured that prim, almost ascetic face and silently cursed her. Perverted bitch.
And the next page.
Baek Tae-ju’s brother, Baek Joo-heon. Ha-jin skimmed the name idly, eyes sliding over the attached photo—then did a double-take, doubting her own vision. A prickling deja vu raced down her spine.
She stared holes through the image until realization hit, drawing a soft sigh.
...This man. Why?