Small and Fragile Things - Chapter 40

She was in much better shape now than when she’d first arrived. Just looking at the soft pink flush on her cheeks made his mouth twitch.

Even those lips that used to always be covered in cuts—smooth now, without a single crack.

It wasn’t hard to picture her sitting at the living room table early in the morning, sipping a glass of milk. He’d seen that exact scene on repeat for days.

“So, you thinking about college?”

“Gi-seon says college would be a waste of money.”

“How would he know? It’s not like he’s ever gone.”

“What about you, hyung? Did you waste your money?”

Sh1t. Why’d he even bring it up?

“…Did you eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

She’d been eating well for a while, but the last few days, she kept trying to get by on just milk or something light. If he asked, she’d say she wasn’t hungry. If he pushed her to eat anyway, she’d just poke at it with her spoon and give up halfway through.

‘Didn’t she say she’d eat properly?’

Right after that night when he’d nearly pushed her past her limit, she’d said she’d start eating well again. And yet now… had she changed her mind again?

Beep—the soft chime of the coffee machine finishing snapped the silence.

“Go on. Keep studying.”

He carried his coffee to the couch and sat. Irang settled cross-legged on the floor with her back to him and picked up her pencil.

She focused on her writing. He stared at the back of her round head.

For once, the house wasn’t filled with emptiness, but with the quiet warmth of two people breathing, and the smell of coffee floating thick in the air.

“……”

He was used to silence. But having someone else in his space—that was unfamiliar. Strange, but not in a bad way. Kind of… comforting.

What did people call this feeling?

A moment when there’s no need to be on edge. When you can let your guard down a little. When nothing awful seems like it could sneak in.

Peaceful?

Muk-hyun let out a soft scoff at the word he came up with. More like the calm before a storm. “Peace” didn’t suit him at all. Still, the past few days had been oddly calm, a rare stretch of quiet.

Most of the work he’d been handling was wrapped up. After Kim Deok-gyu sent someone after him, Muk-hyun couldn’t afford to leave the house, so he’d spent the past few days like a bored babysitter. Or more accurately—a full-time nanny.

It had been ages since he let time pass like this.

Maybe he could call it “half-peace.” But to truly let his guard down and enjoy it? That wasn’t the kind of life he’d lived. Every time he tried to relax, something went sideways. He’d try to breathe for a second, and a knife would land in his ribs.

Even now, he was staring at her back while she wrote—but mentally? Already preparing for the worst. He could easily imagine at least three disasters starting with a phone call—

“Oh…? What’s that sound?”

As if on cue, Muk-hyun’s phone vibrated violently in his pocket. The message that lit up was enough to make his temples throb.

[Please attend Hoan’s farewell exhibition for artist Lee Seon-jae, 7PM tonight. Chief Prosecutor and his wife will be present. Bring a female companion.]

***

So this was how it all happened.

Kim Deok-gyu had given Chairman Choi Jung-do an ultimatum: return what you stole by midnight tonight, or prepare for a visit—with a warrant.

The chairman scoffed and found out where Kim would be tonight: the farewell exhibition of artist Lee Seonjae. Coincidentally, the chairman also had a connection to the artist and managed to get on the guest list—along with Muk-hyun and a plus one.

An eye for an eye, a threat for a threat. That was the game now.

“This one’ll do.”

Muk-hyun barely spared a glance at his reflection in the mirror.

If a designer heard that, they’d probably cry—but to him, a suit was just a work uniform. As long as it was black and not flashy, it was fine.

“You’ve lost a bit of weight since last time. I’ll adjust the top. Please wait a moment.”

“What about her?”

“She’ll take a bit longer. Two senior stylists from ‘Orsay’ are handling hair and makeup.”

The chief designer from the luxury brand MacCullin took the suit jacket and disappeared inside.

Muk-hyun leaned back on the sofa, reaching for a cigarette out of habit, then changed his mind. He rolled his neck instead. Tried some bitter tea. Chewed a few cashews. Nothing calmed his nerves.

Ever since he got that message from Gu Sil-jung, his nerves had been stretched tight. After shoving a confused Irang into the other room, the tension had ballooned into a full-on headache.

“Chief Prosecutor and his wife will be there.”

Whether it was Kim pushing or Choi holding out—they both pissed him off.

But what really gnawed at him… was Irang. What would she do if she came face-to-face with Kim Deok-gyu, completely in the dark? Maybe tonight was the perfect chance to figure out their connection—but for some reason, he really didn’t want to find out.

“All done, sir.”

Muk-hyun, now in a sleek two-button suit with a subtle sheen, stepped out looking effortlessly sharp—expressionless as ever.

Gone was the skittish stray who didn’t know how to wear a suit. Gone was the kid who used to shrink in corners, thinking about the tiny house he’d left with his mom. Gone was the bastard son people whispered about.

Now, even if someone insulted him to his face, he could laugh it off. Pride, shame, revenge—they were all hollow now.

He could probably crush his aging father’s throat with one hand… but it wasn’t worth the effort. Didn’t mean anything. He was going to walk away, and leave it all behind.

That was the man Choi Muk-hyun had become. Outside the store, he finally lit a cigarette, rubbing the stiff back of his neck as he inhaled.

Jung Yoon approached.

“Vice Chairman Choi Il-hyun is also attending. Kim Deok-gyu will be there with his wife, but he doesn’t seem to know we’re coming. Just brought his driver.”

“The kids?”

“Spread out across your properties. But… I have a bad feeling about this.”

“What’s Kim Deok-gyu going to do on his own? Cause a scene at a public event?”

Muk-hyun tossed the cigarette and unfastened his watch, straightened his sleeve, then strapped it back on. Jung Yoon still looked uneasy.

Through the store window, the MacCullin stylist gave a signal—Irang was ready. Muk-hyun nodded for her to come out and turned back to Jung Yoon.

“Say it.”

Jung Yoon scratched his forehead—his tell when unsure.

“What if… what if all of this is part of Kim Deok-gyu’s plan?”

“All of this?”

Muk-hyun narrowed his eyes.

“He’s not just some lucky guy with in-laws. The people who matter know the prosecutor general trusts him because he’s cunning. And it’s weird, right? That he’s just been dragging things out after we exposed his weakness.”

“He’s waiting it out because if he acts too fast, he could lose his job.”

“But what if… he already knew the chairman would try to corner him? What if he let us take the girl, on purpose?”

“And what would he gain from that?”

“Time. If you want to take down a conglomerate’s chairman, you need to weave a tight net. That takes time. And perfect timing. Maybe he’s just been waiting for us to let our guard down.”

The theory was chilling.

The chairman thought he held all the cards. That he had Kim cornered. That’s why he didn’t bother putting up defenses. He figured Kim would give in, so he waited.

And now, a final warning had arrived. If Kim had orchestrated all this… if he crashed in tonight with a warrant… If the supposed “dirt” wasn’t actually dirt…

And if Irang had nothing to do with him…

Then they’d basically kidnapped and held an innocent woman. The chairman would be in serious trouble.

And if that were the case, Muk-hyun showing up with her in public? That would be a catastrophic mistake.

“I’m ready.”

Irang stepped out just then.

She looked completely different—soft, elegant, almost unrecognizable.

Both men stared, unable to hide their surprise, but in their minds, the same question echoed. Is she working with Kim Deok-gyu… or not?

What if she’d known everything from the beginning? What if she’d fooled them both?

“…Why do I have to wear something like this?”

Irang’s cheeks turned pink as she nervously avoided even touching the hem of her dress.