Chapter 3

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: In the Middle of Summer (1)
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While he was buried in an avalanche of work, the model in An Yuna’s commercial had been replaced.

He was the only one who didn't know.

An Yuna had been particularly fond of that cosmetics ad. The moment that thought crossed his mind, his resolve not to contact her evaporated, and Taeseo found his phone in his hand.

On the first day the commercial aired, Taeseo had pulled her onto his lap and made her repeat the lines from the ad.

‘Say it, just like in the commercial: ‘I won’t let you go.’’

‘Why are you making me do that?’

‘Just do it.’

The memory of teasing An Yuna was vivid.

-The customer's phone is currently turned off…

He called again and again, but the same message played from the other end of the line.

-The customer's phone is currently turned off…

Finally hitting the end call button, Taeseo mentally reviewed Yuna's menstrual cycle.

The two of them always contacted each other the day her period ended to make plans to meet. Checking the texts they'd exchanged last month, he figured her period would be over in two days.

In the meantime, another commercial came on TV. Just like the cosmetics ad, another commercial that had featured Yuna now had a new model.

Seeing the ads, which looked as if Yuna had been specifically singled out and removed, he let out a dry laugh.

“What the hell is this?”

Taeseo called his secretary, not Yuna. Unlike Yuna, his secretary answered within seconds.

-Yes, Managing Director. This is Woo Hyunwoo.

Taeseo ordered his secretary to find out An Yuna's whereabouts.

Until then, Taeseo had assumed An Yuna was sulking somewhere by herself, but it took less than a week for him to realize he was wrong.

Time passed. At the peak of summer, the heat advisory was upgraded to a heat warning.

-The number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and…

In that time, An Yuna's number had been disconnected. Even the last of Yuna's commercials, which had aired intermittently, vanished from TV.

Director Woo Hyunwoo reported that as soon as An Yuna's management contract ended, she had cleared out her place and vanished without a trace.

It was the height of summer, the day the news reported that ginseng chicken soup restaurants were packed to the brim.

“Let's go to Seongwu Township.”

Taeseo got into the car heading for Yuna's hometown.

It was a summer day where heat shimmered over the asphalt under the scorching sun, and the acacia trees planted along the highway had lost their vitality, their leaves drooping listlessly.

Watching the summer scenery flash by, Taeseo slowly drifted back to an old memory.

The memory of when he first met An Yuna, four years ago.

* * *

In a skyscraper overlooking the Seoul nightscape, a secret gathering was held every Friday.

No one knew for sure who had started it or how many years it had been going on. Some said the gathering dated back to the Fifth Republic, while others claimed it began after the real-name financial system was implemented.

What was once a social club for businessmen had degenerated over time, eventually becoming a secret playground for third-generation chaebol heirs known for causing trouble.

The room was a chaotic mix: in one corner, men schemed to get their hands on the female guests; in another, a high-stakes gambling table was in full swing, forcing men to use brains they rarely bothered with; and in yet another, guys were pouring booze down their throats like madmen.

Amidst the acrid smoke, Kwon Taeseo wore an expression of utter boredom.

Thanks to the real estate boom, the assets he'd inherited at three or four had grown to an unimaginable value, so gambling for pocket change in a battle of egos was tedious, and mingling with women whose eyes went wide at the sight of him was pathetic.

He'd already drunk enough to see the men in front of him as double or triple images, so he had no desire to drink any more.

Thoroughly drunk, he lay on a long sofa that could easily seat five, puffing out cigarette smoke.

His half-closed eyes and languidly sprawled body radiated an air of extreme ennui, and in truth, the thoughts filling his head were much the same.

Life is boring.

And yet, despite being sick of life, he dutifully showed his face at this disgusting gathering because watching these bastards party like madmen was the only thing that made him feel like the world was still turning.

Without even bothering to sit up, Taeseo tapped his cigarette ash onto the marble floor. An ember sparked from his long, pale fingertips.

“This fucking bastard is at it again.”

As he flicked the last burning ember from the tip of his cigarette onto the floor, someone with a blurry face from across the room came over, cursing, and ground out the ash with his foot.

“You'll start a fire, you son of a bitch.”

The woman on his arm looked down at Taeseo.

“That's Kwon Taeseo, right? From Namgyeong?”

“Don't even think about it. A rabid dog is more sane than that bastard.”

“I'm just looking. He's handsome. A face like that puts most actors to shame.”

Ignoring their words, Taeseo nonchalantly dropped his cigarette butt into a glass of liquor.

“Look at that. I'm telling you, he puts his butts out in there so someone will drink it. His face is the only decent thing about him, his mind is… Oh, right. That face is why Seo Jiae from S Financial cried her eyes out.”

“Ah, the princess of Cheongdam-dong?”

“Yeah. The princess of Cheongdam-dong.”

“But, honey. I'm better looking than her, right?”

“Give it up. You'll get sick if you covet something you can't have.”

The man must have touched the woman somewhere, because she let out a coquettish shriek before the two of them headed off together. It was obvious what they were going to do.

Predictable, pathetic people. Taeseo let out a short laugh and closed his eyes.

Why did I come to this tedious place again? A wave of regret washed over him, but his pride wouldn't allow him to stumble out of here and become a laughingstock.

He'd had his eyes closed for maybe a minute, trying to chase away the drunkenness, when a sound like something shattering made him open them.

His eyes opened, revealing light-colored pupils. His gaze fell upon the entrance to the residence.

Through the hidden door of this secret place—so secret that even the building's blueprints had been filed incorrectly to conceal it—a group of men in black suits poured in.

The well-built men were saying something about arrests and cooperation, but it seemed the words didn't register with the drunken crowd. Instead, the half-gone revelers shouted with excitement.

“Wow! Police!”

“Happy Halloween!”

They prattled on about an early Halloween as they climbed onto the tables and danced like lunatics.

Brown liquor streamed down their partners' bodies, and with some men burying their faces in cleavage to greedily suck up the alcohol, the central table of the residence descended into chaos.

The DJ's fingertips quickened the beat, and as psychedelic lights joined in, the residence grew even more tumultuous.

The police shouted something more, but to the wasted partiers, it was all just part of the show.

“How chaotic.”

Taeseo closed his eyes again. Whether the men who'd stormed the place were police or not was none of Taeseo's concern.

Police or the police commissioner himself, no one would dare lay a finger on him.

It wasn't just him; most of the people here were the children of families with the power to deftly evade the judgment of the law.

Of course, there were a few wannabes and hangers-on mixed in, but that, too, was none of his business.

A moment later, a jumble of frantic footsteps, screams, and the sound of something shattering flooded his ears.

“You bastard, what's your rank? What precinct are you from? Don't you know who I am? I'm the fucking nephew of the cousin of the chairman of Samjeong Group!”

“What the hell, you bastards. Are you crazy?”

Words like 'arrest' and 'Miranda rights' were exchanged. It seemed the law had decided to be stern for once, as a few of the wannabes were hauled away.

And so, that Friday's gathering came to an end. Taeseo, who had managed to fall asleep amidst the commotion, opened his eyes a couple of hours later.

Inside the residence, a few people were passed out in a tangled heap, and the air was a foul mix of stale liquor, cigarette smoke, and some other unidentifiable, unpleasant odor.

Pushing himself up from the sofa, he scanned his surroundings, ran a hand roughly through his hair, and headed for the exit.

Outside the thick door, indistinguishable from the wall, the early morning summer sun was already brightly illuminating the empty hallway.

“My head is splitting.”

He crossed the hall and got on the elevator.

[Managing Director, please answer your phone.]

[Managing Director, you can't come out right now.]

The phone in his pocket was lighting up, but Taeseo didn't notice. All he could think about was his pounding headache and his desire to rest.

With a chime announcing the lobby, the elevator doors opened. He stepped out of the elevator, his eyes bleary.

“He's out!”

Unexpectedly, what greeted Taeseo was a blinding barrage of camera flashes.

“Get the shot! Take his picture!”

Taeseo instinctively threw a hand up to cover his face.

“Identify him! Find out which family he's from!”

The white light of the flashes burst through the gaps between his fingers.

He could swear he hadn't committed any crime like those who'd been hauled away at dawn; he didn't even know why they had been arrested.

If he was guilty of anything, it was of downing an entire bottle of Glenfiddich and getting riotously drunk, and in modern society, drinking itself wasn't a crime.

“I think it's the second son of Namgyeong!”

“It's Kwon Taeseo of Namgyeong Group.”

Nevertheless, the reporters fired their flashes as if they'd landed a major scoop.

As the light poured indiscriminately through the cracks of his fingers, Taeseo spat out a curse.

“Fucking hell.”

At that moment, his secretary broke through the crowd of reporters and draped a suit jacket over Taeseo's head.