Small and Fragile Things - Chapter 52

Muk-hyun was going to make him talk. In the process, there was no way that tattooed bastard was going to walk away unscathed. It was only a matter of how long he could last. The moment Muk-hyun decided, the outcome was already set in stone.

What made Jung Yoon uneasy, even knowing this, was that Muk-hyun wasn’t acting like his usual self. And that unease didn’t even last an hour before it turned into something far worse.

“Ghhk—! Ughhhk…!”

Yook Jung-pal, who had dragged the guy in, and Gi-seon, who’d kicked him straight in the groin earlier, didn’t even dare ask to “leave him a piece” for themselves after seeing what Muk-hyun was doing now.

The man was already a wreck—barely hanging onto life by a thread.

From the very moment they’d first come face-to-face, Muk-hyun hadn’t said a single word. He didn’t question him. Didn’t demand answers. Just kept his mouth shut tight and beat him to pieces like he had no intention of hearing anything at all.

“You crazy—! Ghhhaaagh!”

This wasn’t interrogation anymore—it was slaughter. He struck with unerring precision at the points that would cause the most pain, avoiding vital spots just enough to keep the guy alive. It was ruthless.

Even people who had worked with Muk-hyun for years had never seen him like this. Sure, he’d shown a chillingly cold side during jobs before, but this was different.

Jung Yoon figured it was because there were personal feelings involved this time. They’d never seen Choi Muk-hyun personally and truly angry before.

“F-fvck, just k-kill—AGHHHH!”

Muk-hyun crushed the man’s wrist under his boot without hesitation, prying it off his pants leg. His eyes flicked briefly to a small, barely recognizable tattoo.

“…Filthy insect.”

The last thing the man saw before losing consciousness was the cold, venomous hatred in Muk-hyun’s eyes.

“Get rid of him.”

Muk-hyun tore off his bl00d-splattered shirt and threw it aside before sinking into the sofa. He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling upward in long streams. Even after all that carnage, his anger hadn’t cooled in the slightest—you could see it in the razor-sharp focus of his eyes.

No one dared speak to him carelessly.

Jung Yoon, watching with a heavy heart, approached cautiously.

“Director. The Vice President is calling.”

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“President Choi Jihyun called earlier too. She said she was worried something might’ve happened.”

Normally, he would’ve found such calls annoying. But not this time. Right now, he almost hoped there was some family matter—anything that could distract him from this.

“What is it?”

Muk-hyun answered the phone, his voice slightly hoarse—like someone on the verge of falling asleep, if you didn’t know better.

But then… something was said on the other end. His lips twisted suddenly.

The half-burned cigarette slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud before being crushed under his shoe.

Click.

He hung up without a word.

Jung Yoon thought that his eyes looked red. But before he could be sure, Muk-hyun covered them with his hand.

A moment later, he sat up slowly, like stretching after a long nap.

“…Bring me a change of clothes.”

His voice was low, but it carried a dangerous edge.

***

It was arrogance.

What’s the big deal about showing a little kindness to some poor girl? What’s the harm in doing something out of character once in a while? It’s not like pity turns into something else overnight, right?

Every moment he’d brushed off as trivial actually had sharp edges he’d failed to see—until it was already too late to turn back.

I’m not broken.

The words his mother had once left him had long since become a curse.

That’s why he’d never been able to truly hold onto a woman. Whether it was a person or a feeling, it was always too fragile. Push a little, and it would shatter—or run away.

At some point, he realized his encounters weren’t about pleasure—they were about testing. Would they endure? Could they last to the end? He’d scare them, burden them with pain, just to see if they’d stay. He’d twisted himself so much that he even felt a thrill from watching them endure it. By then, he knew he wasn’t normal anymore.

And the result was always the same. Like moths to honey, they’d come willingly—until they saw his true self. Then they’d curse him, fear him, and finally leave, horrified.

But Irang was different.

She didn’t break. The more he pushed her, the closer she came. Even when he dragged her through the mud, she’d look at him with that clear, unclouded face—like she could never be dirtied.

The moment he thought he’d finally broken her, she only shone brighter, blinding him.

Watching her suffer from her mother’s rejection, he realized he couldn’t ignore the selfish desire growing inside him anymore. He didn’t want to send her back. He didn’t want anyone else to have her.

If he was being honest—it hadn’t been pity from the start. There’d been an instinctive pull, moments that shook him to his core, times when he’d fallen without a shred of defense.

It wasn’t that he’d watched over her, cared for her, and held her because she was pitiful. He’d done it because he couldn’t help himself. Somewhere along the way, he was already watching her, already touching her.

And more than anything—because of her, he was changing.

“Don’t you want to go outside?”
“For me, even here feels like outside.”
“The world out there is bigger.”
“Later. I’m… a little scared.”

He’d wanted to let go of life. But now, he wanted to hold on a little longer. He’d thought there was nothing left to hope for, no reason to keep going—but now, the will to live was creeping back. All because of her.

How could something like that come from pity alone?

“Have you ever been to the sea, Hyung?”
“When I can read all the letters, I want to go to a library. I think it’d be fun to read all day.”
“Gi-seon says in Jeju Island there’s a castle made of chocolate. That’s a lie, right?”

Her cheerful chatter kept giving him ideas of things he wanted to give her, places he wanted to show her, things he wanted to teach her. It made him want to keep her close—tied to his side.

It made him wonder. What if he just took her somewhere they could never find her?

Let their deals fall apart, let the future of the Samun family burn—none of that mattered to him anymore. What did it matter whose bl00d she had?

Was there really nowhere in the world he could take her? Was there really no way he could feed her, protect her, himself?

He entertained the thought so casually—until reality hit. He knew exactly what kind of man Choi Jung-do was. And Kim Deok-gyu wasn’t much better.

If he disappeared just to keep her for himself, the people who trusted and followed him would be the first ones they’d take revenge on.

And he knew exactly what kind of man he was, too. A man who could turn someone into a pile of meat in a moment of lost control. A man who could die any day by the knife meant for him.

What kind of world would she learn about first, living beside someone like that?

He thought about it differently. Choi Jung-do wasn’t the type to settle for just getting the ledger back. He’d use Prosecutor Kim Deok-gyu’s position over and over. And Kim Deok-gyu wasn’t stupid—he’d see it coming.

If they took Irang back, they wouldn’t just hide her away. No, they’d probably register her as a legitimate daughter and erase every weakness Choi Jung-do could use.

She might still get some side-eye for being an illegitimate child at first, but as the daughter of a chief prosecutor, she’d be safe. Moon Heesook cared a lot about appearances—she’d turn Irang into a respectable young lady. In the end, she’d probably live an ordinary life like everyone else.

It seemed the answer for her was obvious. But it wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“Jung Yoon. From now on, you manage this place. Rotate the guards and make sure it’s airtight.”

He needed time. Time to weigh what he wanted against what was best for her—and see which way his heart would finally tip.