Small and Fragile Things - Chapter 11

“Oh— there you are.”

As if he’d only just noticed her standing there, Kim Deok-gyu gave her a gentle smile. She bowed again, deeper this time.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I had trouble finding a spot to park out front.”

“Ah, well. That happens. Will you sit?”

“I’m fine. I’ll stand and listen.”

“As you wish.”

Kim Deok-gyu shut the gibo in front of him with a soft smile that looked, to anyone else, like he was in a good mood. But she didn’t buy it for a second. She stayed standing, her back straight, head lowered, waiting for him to speak first.

“Your report.”

Her head dipped even lower, voice dry with dread.

“I’m sorry, sir. I… still haven’t found her.”

“…I see.”

She could feel the sweat pooling in her clenched fists. She rushed to add something—anything.

“But I’m pursuing every possible lead. I’ll have good news for you very soon.”

“Every possible lead, huh?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve sent her profile to hospitals, blacklisted her under every alias. All security teams are combing through every property owned by the Samun family—starting with the areas closest to Mujin—”

She couldn’t finish. With no warning at all, the baduk board in front of her flipped over.

“—!”

The stones he’d been handling so delicately moments ago scattered everywhere with a loud clatter. Silence fell, but it was a tense, suffocating silence, broken only by the flickering buzz of the old yellow light overhead.

Standing frozen, her face drained of all color.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Chief Park.”

Kim Deok-gyu dropped the gibo he’d held so carefully just a moment ago, like it was trash, letting it hit the floor with a dull thud.

“You’re sweeping through Choi Jungdo’s properties? What are you planning to do—sneak in and ransack the place? Under what authority, exactly? Did someone issue you a warrant behind my back?”

“I— I just… I was trying my best—”

“If I wanted this handled illegally, do you think I’d have hired someone like you? You think I don’t know people who can make this disappear far faster and cleaner?”

His voice cut into her like a blade. His stare was colder than a winter gale—sharp enough to freeze her on the spot and shatter her into pieces. Her knees buckled.

“…I was careless. If you’d just tell me what to do, I’ll carry it out exactly.”

“Hmm. I’m starting to wonder if keeping you around is worth it anymore.”

“P-Please, just one more chance. I can find her—no, I will find her. I swear.”

Kim Deok-gyu looked down at her with a sneer so thin it was practically contempt. He nudged a few stray baduk stones away with the tip of his shoe, as if buying himself a moment to decide her fate.

“Choi Jungdo,” he said at last, the name rolling off his tongue like he’d just tasted something rotten. “You know what makes that fox so clever? He never dirties his own hands. He doesn’t have to—he’s got hunting dogs to crawl through the mud and snake pits for him. You’ve met one of them, haven’t you? I heard he’s quite the looker, too.”

Park Eun-young swallowed hard. Just the thought of that man tightening his hands around her throat sent a chill down her spine. But she couldn’t let it show. Not now. The man standing before her was just as merciless, if not worse.

“You have two days.”

“Sir? Ah— but Choi Hyun is… he’s impossible to pin down. He never stays in one place for long—”

“So? Are you saying you can’t do it?”

She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes—and found the same mild, pleasant smile. But both of them knew exactly what would happen if she dared say no. That smile was sharper than any blade.

“No, sir. I’ll find him. I promise.”

“And if, by any chance, that girl’s mouth has opened… Chief Park, you’ll take full responsibility for that, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir. You have nothing to worry about.”

Park Eun-young forced the words out through the cold sweat trickling down her back. She knew exactly what would happen if she failed to clean up this mess. Getting fired would be the least of her worries.

“You made promises last time, too. And look where we are now.”

The disdain dripping from his voice stung more than any slap. She curled her trembling fingers into fists, her nails biting into her palms.

Prosecutor Kim Deok-gyu looked like a man carved out of ice. The easy smile he wore was nothing but a mask—just a tool to hide the reptile beneath. He was the coldest man she’d ever known. To him, only his family counted as people. Everyone else was just a tool to use up and toss away. If you were too useless to even exploit, you were nothing but an insect under his shoe.

If she couldn’t fix this, she’d be that insect. She’d end up just another pebble underfoot. Except… maybe a pebble would only get kicked aside. She knew too much. That meant her ending would be far worse than that.

“Remember. Two days.”

Her mouth felt like sandpaper. She forced herself to swallow—dry, dry, so dry.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Seoul, a completely different world was unfolding.

It was Friday night, and the top-floor lounge of the Samun Hotel was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people dressed up like peacocks. The moment you stepped through the entrance, you could practically smell the money—thick and cloying, like cheap perfume worn too heavily.

The sealed-off air was rich and heavy, filled with the arrogant glances of people sizing each other up, lazy gestures dripping with power and wealth. It was the kind of place where all of that blended together naturally, like it had always been that way.

But Muk-hyun ignored every pair of eyes that clung to him. Attention from these types meant nothing—people who, if you stripped away the money and family name, were just hollow shells dressed in fancy clothes. They lived in a world entirely separate from his, and no matter how life twisted, he’d never have to mix with them. So he didn’t bother.

He just walked straight toward where he needed to be.

Past the stage in the center, down the corridor at the very back, behind a door that wouldn’t open for just anyone. The entrance to a world filthy and rotten enough to finally brush up against his own.

Curious eyes trailed him as he walked, but none of them dared make a move. That was human instinct—no matter how tempting something was, if it felt dangerous enough, instinct kept you from reaching for it.

Thanks to that, Muk-hyun made it all the way to the red door without a single interruption.

“Director.”

The guard at the door recognized him instantly, bowing low before opening the door without hesitation.

“Good work.”

The first thing that hit him was the sharp bite of smoke. Then, just as the stale, fishy smell clogged his nose, he heard someone call out to him from inside.

“Over here!”

It was Choi Jihyun, her shoulders bare, her hair piled up high, smiling brightly at him.

“Here, here—!”

She sat there draped in a ridiculous pink dress covered in feathers, like a flamingo with two men hanging off her arms.

“Ugh. Why so late?”

Unlike the people outside, everyone in this room knew exactly who Mukhyun was. You could tell by the way the crowd split in two for him, parting like the Red Sea wherever he stepped. The two men hanging off Jihyun’s arms scattered in a hurry the moment they saw him. The eyes that darted around him buzzed with a mix of fear and disgust—it was obvious no one here dared meet his gaze for long.

This hidden room, full of forbidden things, was the kind of place where no one should feel safe. And yet, Choi Jihyun was the only one here who wasn’t afraid of him.

“You said you were busy. Didn’t think you’d actually show—what an honor.”

Her eyes were loose, her words sluggish. The way the ash of her half-burnt cigarette dropped to the floor in clumps told him exactly what kind of state she was in.

“I’m not coming next time. Remember that.”

The second he opened his mouth, people around them whispered.

—Did you hear that?

—First time I’ve heard him talk.

—Gives me chills.

Muk-hyun’s presence alone sucked the air out of the room. The dangerous calm on that smooth, carved-from-ivory face, those pitch-black eyes with no clear line between the iris and pupil—he looked like someone who wouldn’t flinch if the whole world crumbled around him. He always showed up if you called for him, but there was never a shred of warmth in his eyes when he did. He was her half-brother—Choi Jihyun’s terrifying little brother.

Most days, he felt like a monster she couldn’t stand to look at. But on nights like this, for reasons even she didn’t know, she wanted him close by. Maybe it was just her mood swings—she liked to think of it that way.

“Your business.”

“My business? Mmm, what was it again…”

Muk-hyun’s eyes drifted from her dazed face to the half-burned cigarette in her hand.