Small and Fragile Things - Chapter 46

The husband she knew was not the kind of man to end up in such a mess.

“I believe you. But I don’t trust Chairman Choi. What do we do? If he says anything reckless, it’s over for all of us. What about Soohwan? What about my father?”

“That won’t happen. I promise. But you—don’t breathe a word of this to your father. Got it?”

“Then what does Chairman Choi want? Whatever it is, just give it to him. Please? You can do that, can’t you?”

“Sook, calm down. Get a hold of yourself first.”

“How can I calm down! I knew this would happen… back then, I should’ve just—! No. No, what am I even thinking…”

Heesook felt herself breaking apart in ways that shocked even her. She had thought caring for her sickly, fragile son all these years had hardened her to just about everything—but she had been wrong.

The shock of having her lifelong secret dragged into the open was indescribable. If it came out, the entire world would point fingers at her. Everything she’d built would crumble in an instant.

And worst of all—the pain and shock her son would suffer was unimaginable.

“You promised me… you promised no one would ever know… What do I do…?”

“Honey. I’ll fix this as soon as I can. I promise.”

Kim Deok-gyu stayed by her side until she cried herself to sleep, then quietly slipped out.

The moment he stepped into the cold air, the look on his face shifted completely. The anger he’d been holding back while comforting his wife finally broke loose.

He stood in the yard, eyes bloodshot, staring into the empty air as he pulled out his phone.

“Yes, Prosecutor General.”

“Why is your report so late?”

“Apologies, sir. I just finished the final checks. We’ll proceed on schedule without a hitch.”

As he spoke, he couldn’t stop replaying the humiliation he’d suffered from Choi Jung-do.

The man had shown up unannounced, shoving that smug, nasty face right in front of him—right in front of his wife—and casually asked about his son.

Was the boy healthy? Was he sick ‘again’? Was he taking care of himself? The intention behind the questions was obvious.

“Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes… mistakes you can never take back. But you, Prosecutor General, are far too meticulous for that, aren’t you?”

Choi Jung-do had known far more than he should have. Still, Deok-gyu had managed to keep his composure— until the man said.

“I wonder… does your son know? That he has such a pretty little sister?”

And when Deok-gyu realized the girl was right there, within arm’s reach—he’d forgotten all about controlling his expression. He had opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, too stunned to speak.

If he’d had a gun in that moment, he would have pulled it without hesitation. Choi had just stared at him, smiling like a cat, saying there were “more important things than a warrant.”

That humiliation—he would never, ever feel it again.

“One more thing,” he said into the phone.

“Yes, sir.”

“There can be absolutely no mistakes. But if—if—it turns out retrieval is impossible… destroy it on the spot. And make sure it’s clear they were the ones behind it.”

A trade had never really been on the table anyway. The ledger was a one-time asset—but Illy wasn’t.

Even if he traded the ledger for her, did he honestly believe Choi Jung-do would keep his mouth shut forever? He might as well hand a fish to a cat and tell it not to eat it.

No—what Choi wanted was to hold the entire prosecution in his hand. And once he did, he’d dangle it whenever he wanted, swinging Prosecutor Kim Deok-gyu’s authority around like it was his own.

That could never be allowed.

If Illy couldn’t be hidden perfectly, then it was better to use her as bait— let Choi fall into his own trap.

“Dad!”

“Oh? Soohwan.”

Deok-gyu quickly hid his phone and turned around at the sound of his son’s voice.

“Why are you outside? Where’s Mom?”

“She’s sleeping. This flu’s really knocked her out.”

Soohwan shrugged.

“That’s weird. Mom’s usually as healthy as they come.”

“She’s getting older. Be nicer to her, okay?”

“Hard to get the chance. You love her so much, I can’t even get between you two.”

Every time Deok-gyu looked at his grown son, pride welled up inside him. From a baby who could barely wrap a hand around his finger, to the man standing before him—it had been no easy journey.

Even if his current crisis was because of something he had done for his son’s sake, he had no regrets. If he could go back, he would make the same choice again.

“You look like you’ve lost weight. Work stressing you out? Business not going well?”

“Dad, these days you have to be a little lean to wear clothes well. I run a fashion brand, remember? Gotta look the part. Business is fine, so don’t worry.”

“Even so, don’t skip meals. Keep your strength up, and—”

“Don’t miss my checkups, don’t ignore symptoms, take my supplements? Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Deok-gyu smiled and patted his son’s shoulder warmly—then suddenly thought of Illy.
The way she had turned ghost-white and bolted the moment she saw him at that event…

Do they… look alike?

Not in a “bl00d calls to bl00d” kind of way—just that her face hadn’t felt entirely unfamiliar.

Still… even if she’d been artificially conceived, they were technically related. Resemblance was possible. But too much resemblance would be dangerous.

“Dad, how about a drink? Just the two of us.”

“Sounds good. Don’t tell your mom. Ramyeon too?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Yes—better to deal with this cleanly now, for his one and only precious son.

***

Muk-hyun had moved to a new place. Normally, he relocated regularly, so that wasn’t unusual—but leaving Irang behind raised some eyebrows.

“Hey, Chief Jung! Perfect timing. Come sit.”

Yook Jung-pal and Gi-seon, in the middle of gossiping in the office, waved Jung Yoon over as he came in from field work.

“Where’s the boss?”

“You mean the Director?”

“Still can’t get used to calling him that… Anyway, where is he?”

“Went off alone. Said he had someplace to be.”

Yook Jung-pal slid a carbonated drink across the desk to the tired-looking Jung Yoon, who had tossed his glasses aside the moment he sat down.

“Here. Drink this, and spill.”

“No zero sugar?”

The can popped open, and Jung Yoon downed half in one go. The two chatterboxes stayed uncharacteristically quiet.

He knew exactly what they wanted—but pretended not to.

“We’re packing up the office soon. Want me to start clearing out some of the stuff now? Would save the kids some work later.”

“Hey, hey. You drank the cola, so pay up—quit dodging. What’s going on with the boss?”

“What about him? He’s the same as always.”

“No, he’s not! Things were fine, and then suddenly—bam, cold as ice. Leaves the girl behind, tells us not to go near her. You telling me that’s normal?”

Jung Yoon looked at their unusually serious faces. They only got like this maybe once or twice a year—which meant they genuinely cared about that woman.

They hadn’t even known her that long. How had she managed to charm them all so quickly?

“You’ve all seen it—how she looks at the boss.”

Of course Jung-pal and Gi-seon had noticed. You’d have to be blind not to.
She lit up like a sunflower every time she saw him, desperate for his attention.

“So what? She’s not the only woman in the world who’d act like that around him. Right, Gi-seon?”

“That doesn’t make it okay. She’s not like other women.”

Jung-pal grimaced but didn’t argue.

Gi-seon, however, remembered the marks that had been on Irang’s body. And how Muk-hyun sometimes ruffled her hair, teased her, or wiped something off the corner of her mouth.

He’d seen it more than once, and it left him unsettled. But Jung Yoon was blunt.

“The boss was just doing his job.”

“Job?”

“Our job was to keep her close until the deal went through. He did that without breaking a sweat. That’s it.”

Gi-seon bristled.

“So you’re saying the boss used Irang’s feelings to make the job easier?”

Jung Yoon didn’t back down.

“Why not? Thanks to that, she hasn’t run, hasn’t caused trouble, and is still here. What’s the problem?”

“I—!”

Gi-seon jumped up, then slowly sat back down, unable to come up with a real counterargument.

“Fine, but then why the sudden change? Tell me—something happened that day at that art hall, didn’t it?”