A gentle breeze drifted through the quiet temple grounds, accompanied only by the faint ringing of a wind chime swaying in the night air. Then the door to a guest room on one side of the temple slid open, and a man stepped outside.
The man wearing a modified purple hanbok was Choi Wonjoon.
Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Wonjoon frowned deeply. He slipped on a pair of slippers without much care and headed toward the temple entrance. Outside, a black sedan was parked in the darkness. Before he even reached it, the driver’s side door opened, and a bespectacled man hurried out and bowed.
Wonjoon placed a cigarette between his lips. The man approached immediately and lit it for him. Firelight flickered briefly across Wonjoon’s face. His eyes were dark and sharply defined; he was tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing even while standing still.
“Where is he?”
At Wonjoon’s question, Manager Lee pressed a button, and the trunk popped open.
Inside lay a middle-aged man bound hand and foot, his face swollen and bruised beyond recognition. He was a managing director at Sehwa Construction and, until recently, one of the men who carried out Wonjoon’s orders.
The moment he saw Wonjoon, the man began making desperate muffled noises through the tape over his mouth, writhing frantically as though trying to explain himself.
Wonjoon crouched down and ripped away the strip of blue tape. It peeled off with dried blood attached, hanging crookedly from the man’s cheek. Trembling violently, the man looked up at him.
“Mr. Choi—no, Wonjoon! I-I was wrong! I didn’t do it on purpose—”
“Shh. Keep your voice down.”
Wonjoon smiled gently. Clinging to the hope of survival, the man forced himself to keep talking.
“I’m sorry. Really, truly sorry. It was a mistake. You remember, don’t you? I used to visit your house all the time when you were little. I even played Go with the chairman.”
“I remember. You used to give me piggyback rides too, Mister. I had fun.”
“Yes, exactly! So you do remember. I cared about you so much. More than my own children, even. I treasured you. How could I possibly have ulterior motives? You’ve misunderstood. No matter what anyone says, it absolutely wasn’t me. That bastard President Kim, mf—”
The tape was slapped back over his mouth.
Still smoking, Wonjoon lowered himself into a squat until they were eye level. His gaze glittered with the detached curiosity of a child watching an insect struggle across the ground. He exhaled smoke directly into the man’s face.
“Our Managing Director Park has gotten old. Your hair’s gone white.”
“…”
“Don’t look so frightened. I’m letting you go.”
Relief flooded the man’s face so suddenly that he began sobbing. A desperate smile spread across his swollen features.
“Well then,” Wonjoon said lightly, “take care on your way out.”
Smiling brightly, Choi Wonjoon crushed the cigarette against the bumper, flicked the butt into the trunk, and rose to his feet.
As though waiting for the cue, Manager Lee stepped forward and shut the trunk.
Leaning casually against it, Wonjoon stared blankly toward the dark forest beyond the temple grounds.
“Fuck. He looked so happy I almost felt bad.”
He gave a short laugh.
“I never said I was letting him leave alive.”
There wasn’t a trace of guilt on his face.
As Wonjoon pulled out another cigarette, Manager Lee walked to the back seat and returned carrying a dark blue cloth bundle.
“Madam asked me to give you this.”
Wonjoon narrowed his eyes at it.
“What is it?”
“She said you must be tired of temple food and told you to eat this instead.”
Wonjoon made no move to take his hands out of his pockets.
“You want it?”
Manager Lee neither accepted nor withdrew the bundle.
He knew too well how disastrous Wonjoon’s mother’s cooking could be. It wasn’t simply too salty or too bland. It was the kind of food that made a person wonder what on earth had been added to make it taste that awful.
With visible reluctance, Wonjoon finally accepted the side dishes.
“Are you sleeping at all?”
“Same as always. I thought coming here might help.”
“If it gets too difficult, I can send a doctor tomorrow.”
“I’m going back this weekend anyway, so what’s the point? You should go. It’s late.”
“Please take care of yourself.”
At the words of concern, Wonjoon let out a quiet laugh.
How dull. You should be the one taking care of yourself.
He waved lazily over his shoulder and headed back toward the temple.
Settling onto the wooden veranda, he placed the side dishes beside him and stared out at the dark forest. Spring had arrived, but the mountain air at night still carried a lingering chill.
Then he noticed a small point of light drifting through the darkness.
A firefly.
He remembered coming here with his grandfather as a child and seeing them among the trees.
Hands in his pockets, Wonjoon rose and followed the light into the forest.
The closer he got, the farther away it seemed to drift, luring him deeper. As though entranced, he continued after it.
Turning on his phone flashlight, he illuminated the uneven ground beneath his feet. A narrow stream trickled nearby, reminding him there was a valley somewhere close.
And with it came the memory of swimming there naked as a child.
The water had been cold enough to make his head spin, yet somehow it had washed every worry from his mind.
Maybe I should go in again. It’s been a while.
Pushing through the thick undergrowth, he climbed uphill.
It should’ve been around here.
But where the valley ought to have been, there was only a shallow puddle left behind.
Had it dried up because of the drought?
Disappointed, Wonjoon turned to leave—then suddenly sensed something watching him from the darkness ahead.
The light from his phone illuminated his face as his expression slowly twisted.
“Ah…”
Two small glints flashed in the dark.
A wild boar emerged from the brush, tusks bared as it stared him down warily, guarding its territory from an intruder.
Watching it snort and inch closer, Wonjoon slowly raised both hands to shoulder level and smiled.
“Sorry. Didn’t realize this was your territory.”
The boar continued approaching.
Wonjoon glanced sideways.
Going back the way he came was too risky now.
Only then did he regret wearing slippers instead of sneakers. If it had been smaller, he might’ve tried to overpower it, but dealing with a full-grown wild boar barehanded was another matter entirely.
“Hey. Don’t come any closer. This won’t end well for either of us.”
The instant he finished speaking, the bushes rustled again.
A tiny wild boar poked its head out.
A piglet.
Before he could properly react, the mother boar charged.
“Fuck—”
Wonjoon hurled his phone at it with all his strength. The device struck with a sharp crack, but the animal barely reacted as it barreled forward.
Wonjoon spun around and ran.
Heavy pounding shook the ground behind him as the beast thundered after him through the darkness. Branches whipped past him, and he could barely see where he was going.
And absurdly enough, Wonjoon started laughing.
Buddha.
Is this how you plan to punish me?
Frantically searching for somewhere to hide, he spotted a dense patch of undergrowth illuminated by moonlight.
Ha. Guess I’m not fated to die after all.
Without hesitation, he threw himself toward it.
It was a terrible decision.
Because beyond the brush waited a sheer cliff.
“Oh, Namsu. Yeah, about thirty minutes away. How’s Mansik’s mother? She is? Got it. I’ll be there soon.”
After ending the call, Yieum eased off the accelerator.
The mountain road was pitch-dark, with not a single streetlight in sight. Other people claimed roads like this made them afraid ghosts might appear.
But to Kim Yieum, a second-year violent crimes detective, people were far scarier than ghosts.
He lowered the radio volume, focusing on the road ahead.
Then suddenly—
Something leapt into the headlights.
Screech.
Yieum slammed on the brakes and scowled.
A water deer stood frozen in front of the car, staring straight at him. Even after he honked several times, it refused to move.
Clicking his tongue, Yieum got out.
“Hey. Move it. Go on, shoo.”
Waving his arms as he approached, he finally startled it into running off into the woods.
Letting out a sigh, Yieum turned back toward the car—
Then froze.
Far ahead, barely within the reach of the headlights, something dark was lying motionless on the ground.
What the hell is that? An animal?
Approaching cautiously, he realized it was a person.
Yieum immediately crouched down and checked for a pulse and breathing. There was a gash above the man’s forehead, blood running down from it, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell whether there were any other injuries.
“Hey. Wake up! Sir!”
Getting no response, Yieum immediately pulled out his phone. After calling an ambulance and giving the location, he leaned in to examine the man more carefully—
Just then, the man’s eyes slowly opened.
“Can you hear me? Can you see this?”
Yieum held up his fingers, and thankfully, the man’s gaze tracked the movement.
“Hang in there a little longer. The ambulance is on the way, so don’t worry.”
The man blinked several times before losing consciousness again.
Was it a hit-and-run?
Or had he fallen from somewhere above?
Looking around the area, Yieum searched through the man’s pockets for anything that might identify him or provide a contact for family.
But he found nothing.