Taeseong’s expression hardened.
Clench.
The veins in his arms tensed.
…Murder?
Did Sooah just say murder?
So… she was saying that their parents’ deaths weren’t an accident but an intentional killing?
Taeseong was not one to be easily shaken, but anything involving his family was an exception. He had slaughtered the administrators of Tree just to save the rampaging Sooah.
A dark, twisted rage distorted his face like that of a vengeful spirit. The murderous aura that emanated from him made Sooah instinctively flinch before she cautiously called out to him.
“…Oppa?”
Only then did Taeseong realize his state and took a deep breath to calm himself.
“…What do you mean? Murder?”
“Just what I said. Back then, I was too young to understand anything, and everything was so chaotic that I let it go… but the more I think about it, the stranger it seems. There are too many things that don’t make sense.”
“Tell me everything.”
With a serious expression, Sooah began to lay out her thoughts.
“This is what I think.”
After securing a stable position as an administrator of Tree, Sooah decided to reinvestigate her parents’ deaths.
At the time, she had been too young to grasp the situation properly. The only thing she had truly understood was one single fact—she was now alone.
Her only memory from that time was staring blankly at her parents’ funeral portraits.
The disappearance of her older brother, followed by the deaths of both parents—it had been far too heavy a burden for a young girl to bear.
But that was no longer the case. Time had passed, and the child had grown into a young woman. It was time for her to face the truth herself.
Having made her decision, Sooah took immediate action.
Being an administrator of Tree made the investigation much easier. However, the deeper she dug, the more suspicious details emerged.
First of all, there was far less information than she had expected. As if someone had deliberately altered the records.
“…He confessed to everything?”
“Yeah. As soon as the investigation started, the truck driver admitted to all of his crimes without hesitation.”
And with that, the case was closed.
Since the perpetrator had confessed, the police saw no need to investigate further.
Typically, in cases like this, the guilty party tries to downplay their negligence with excuses and lies. But this man had confessed immediately.
Why?
Was it because he couldn’t bear the guilt? Because he was genuinely remorseful? Or perhaps his last shred of humanity compelled him to tell the truth?
No. That wasn’t it.
If the truck driver had even a sliver of conscience, he would have sought out Sooah to apologize at least once. But he never did. Not even once.
That was why Sooah decided to meet him in person.
She found him not in prison, but running a fried chicken restaurant of his own.
Why wasn’t he in prison?
Because he had never gone in the first place.
The perpetrator’s name was Yeo Gilsoo.
His charge: Violation of the Special Traffic Accident Act (Resulting in Death).
The court’s ruling: 1 year in prison, 2 years probation.
It was his first offense, his written apology had appeared sincere, and a settlement had been reached with the victims’ family. Additionally, his lawyer belonged to Myungju, the second most prestigious law firm in South Korea.
But Sooah had no recollection of any settlement.
So who had agreed on her behalf?
Through her investigation, she discovered that a distant relative—someone claiming to be her eighth cousin—had received a massive payout. She had never even met this person before.
—Was it really an accident?
—…Ugh, for fuck’s sake. Why do you keep nagging about something that’s already over? How many times do I have to say it? It was an accident. I’ve got nothing more to say, so get lost. Don’t disrupt my business.
And this was the man who supposedly felt guilt? Who was supposedly burdened by his conscience?
From what Sooah could see, Yeo Gilsoo felt no remorse at all.
Had their conversation continued just a little longer, he might have been reduced to nothing but ashes, with not even a corpse left to find.
A fried chicken restaurant. A massive settlement. A top-tier law firm.
Could all of that really be just a coincidence?
As she pondered these suspicions, a memory surfaced—something from her parents’ funeral.
A conversation she had overheard with a man.
A strong, overbearing cologne.
—What a tragedy. They were such good people.
It had been a short exchange, yet for some reason, this memory remained vivid to this day.
Why?
Ah, now she remembered.
That man had been staring at one of the many funeral flowers lined up in the hall—one that bore the name: “Ilseong Hotel President, Park Ilhwan.”
“He was smiling.”
“…He was smiling?”
“Yes. I’m sure of it. I don’t remember much else, but I remember this clearly. Out of everyone at the funeral, he was the only one smiling.”
It wasn’t the funeral of someone who had passed peacefully from old age.
It was the funeral of two people who had died in an accident.
And yet, someone had stood there, grinning at a funeral wreath.
A madman.
And Ilseong Hotel.
“So, Sooah… You believe that scumbag Yeo Gilsoo intentionally murdered our parents?”
“Yes. But I don’t think it was out of personal hatred. To be honest…”
“……”
“I think someone ordered him to do it.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well… both of them had a lot of enemies, after all…”
Sooah spoke in this way because of their parents’ profession.
Both of Sooah and Lee Taeseong’s parents were prosecutors. Due to the nature of their job, they inevitably came into contact with various types of criminals, so it was entirely plausible that some lowlifes harboured grudges against them.
“There certainly are some suspicious aspects.”
They had suspicions but no definitive evidence.
“Get up, Lee Sooah . Time’s up.”
“Oh… It’s already that time? Understood.”
With a look of reluctance, Sooah rose from her seat and spoke to Taeseong.
“Oppa, I think I have to go now. Let’s continue this conversation next time.”
“Alright. Once I get out of here, we’ll talk again then.”
Sooah left the isolation room first, followed by Yukina. But just before stepping out, Yukina suddenly stopped and turned back.
“Lee Taeseong.”
“You still have something to say?”
“There won’t be a next time. You won’t be leaving this place.”
“What are you talk—”
Bang!
Before Taeseong could finish his sentence, the door to the isolation room slammed shut. Left alone, he stared at the closed door and let out a curse.
“…They weren’t wrong when they called her a crazy bitch.”
He was grateful that she had looked after Sooah in his absence, but Taeseong was not a man known for his patience. If she crossed the line any further, he would deal with it in his own way.
‘I won’t be leaving this place? Has the disciplinary committee already reached a decision?’
Judging by Yukina’s past actions, she seemed to wield considerable influence within the Japan branch. It was highly possible that she already knew the outcome of his disciplinary review.
If what she said was true…
Then the most likely results would be either his execution or permanent confinement. Either way, it meant stripping him of his status as a manager and treating him as just another entity.
At least he was relieved that Sooah was safe, but beyond that, his list of concerns kept growing.
How much time had passed?
About ten minutes later, the isolation room door opened again. A figure entered, clad in a black suit and wearing a white mask.
An enforcer.
The man stepped inside with measured steps and took a seat.
“……”
Taeseong tensed as he looked at him. If an enforcer was here at this timing, it meant the disciplinary results had been decided.
“Delta-ranked manager, Lee Taeseong.”
“Yes.”
“A visitation request has been made from the Korean branch of ‘Tree.’”
Taeseong frowned at the unexpected words. A visitation request? Here, in Japan?
“A visitation?”
The enforcer simply nodded in response. Then, pressing a button on the watch strapped to his wrist, he activated a holographic display.
A familiar face appeared.
Choi Harin, team leader of Information Team 2.
Perhaps due to an increased workload, dark circles loomed under her eyes. She attempted to put on a bright front, but the exhaustion on her face was undeniable.
“It’s been a while, Taeseong.”
“…Team Leader Choi Harin?”
“How have you been? Judging by how you look, I’d say not too well. Well, after causing that much trouble, I suppose you shouldn’t be doing well. You look like you can’t quite believe I managed to get this access, huh?”
“To be honest, yes.”
With the ease of a seasoned smoker, she held a cigarette between her lips and exhaled a stream of smoke like a sigh. Watching her, Taeseong felt a strong urge to smoke as well.
“I’ve been in this line of work long enough to have some strings to pull. You were a manager I was keeping an eye on, so I figured I should at least have a final conversation before you die.”
“……”
Her tone suddenly became sharper.
“Delta-ranked manager Lee Taeseong.”
“Yes.”
“Do you really understand what you’ve done?”
“I do.”
Hearing that, Choi Harin ran a frustrated hand through her hair before lighting up another cigarette.
“Whew… We sent you there for work, and you ended up causing a massive incident instead. I knew you had a fiery temper, but I still thought you had some sense. Did you completely lose your mind?”
“……”
“Twenty-seven Epsilon-ranked managers, severely injured. Twenty-five Delta-ranked managers, severely injured. Seven Gamma-ranked managers, severely injured. You really went on a rampage, huh? This is insubordination, Taeseong. You were a soldier once, so you must know how severe this crime is. Sure, there were no fatalities, but still…”
“……”
“You’re as good as dead.”
Taeseong stared at the holographic image of Choi Harin.
“As good as dead?”
“Yeah. No way around it. Just because you’ve gained some strength, do you think ‘Tree’ is something you can take lightly? Listen, Taeseong. I know you’re capable. Anyone who can single-handedly take down that many managers must have serious skills. Your confidence? Fine. Your abilities? Sure, I acknowledge them. But.”
Her gaze turned sharp, her tone chilling.
“Don’t get cocky. No matter how strong you think you are, ‘Tree’ is full of monsters that make the managers you’ve faced look like nothing. We’re talking about people who could destroy an entire city or country alone. The ones you’ve encountered so far? They were just playing house. Do you really think you can handle it?”
…The tip of the iceberg, then?
It made sense. The Beta-ranked managers had already displayed overwhelming skill, and he knew that they were hiding most of their true power.
Xiao Yun, Yukina, that old bastard—every one of them was holding back.
But Taeseong was a man who understood his own limits better than anyone.
“Team Leader Choi Harin.”
And that’s exactly why—
“Do you really think I can’t?”
He asked with unwavering certainty.
Do you truly think I can’t handle it?
