“So you still haven’t found him?”
“No, sir. We’ve even deployed helicopters.”
The elderly man crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and let out a low groan.
Chairman Choi of Sehwa Group had once been one of the most infamous gangsters in the country. Then he met a clever, warmhearted woman, married her, and started a family. When their first child was born, he made up his mind. He couldn’t keep living like that—not if he wanted his children to grow up properly.
So he turned his organization into a company.
After that, he worked himself to the bone expanding the business.
Their second child was born not long after, and ten years later came their youngest. A child born late in life, cherished like a treasure. The boy looked exactly like both him and his wife.
And now that son had vanished in the mountains.
Wonjoon was sharp, capable, and strong-willed. Not the kind of person who could easily fall victim to anyone.
“Don’t involve the police. If this gets into the media, nothing good will come of it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Find him no matter what it takes. Tear the whole mountain apart if you have to.”
A knock sounded at the door just as he finished speaking.
Chairman Choi’s wife entered carrying a tray of tea.
Even in her seventies, Lee Miran carried herself with impeccable posture, dignity radiating from every movement. She smiled gently as she offered a teacup to Manager Lee.
“Please, have some tea, Mr. Lee.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Our Wonjoon is doing well, isn’t he? I called after dinner, but he didn’t pick up.”
Chairman Choi quickly schooled his expression and shot Manager Lee a warning glance.
“He went there to rest, so leave him be for a while.”
“I know. I’m already restraining myself from calling him every day.”
Madam Lee sighed softly.
Their youngest son, Choi Wonjoon, had been frail since birth and spent time in an incubator as a newborn. Even as a child, he had been small and timid. Watching him grow up like that, she had never once stopped worrying.
“Stop babying him,” Chairman Choi grumbled. “That’s why he turned out so stubborn. Look at him—walking away from the company in the middle of a busy season just to hide out at a temple. He’s practically rebelling.”
Madam Lee shot him a look tinged with annoyance.
The reason Wonjoon had gone to the temple in the first place was because of his father. The two of them had fought over marriage and blind dates, and with their matching tempers, neither side had been willing to back down.
“Then why keep pushing when he said he didn’t want to?” she snapped. “What’s wrong with living alone these days? Did you really have to pressure a child who already can’t sleep because of insomnia?”
“You don’t understand,” Chairman Choi muttered. “If he meets the right person, the insomnia might disappear too.”
“And how exactly is an ordinary person supposed to cure something even doctors can’t fix?”
While the couple continued bickering, Manager Lee quietly sipped his tea as though he heard nothing at all.
Inside, however, his thoughts were in turmoil.
Director Choi’s disappearance was anything but minor. Search teams had combed through the mountain for days, even bringing in helicopters, yet they had found nothing.
He swallowed back a heavy sigh.
…Director, where exactly did you go?
“Mister. How do I look?”
Yieum barely stopped himself from laughing when the man emerged in fresh clothes.
It felt like seeing one of those intimidating movie tough guys in real life—the huge, scary-looking kind who turned out to be oddly simple and harmless.
Yieum had lent him the biggest clothes he owned, but the pants still stopped well above his ankles, and the teddy bear printed on the T-shirt stretched awkwardly across his broad chest.
“Come here for a second.”
Yieum gestured toward the sofa.
The man immediately sat right beside him—far too close—so Yieum subtly shifted away before asking for his hand.
He examined the man’s fingerprints spread across his palm.
Some violent criminals deliberately destroyed their fingerprints, but this man’s were intact.
Yieum studied his face closely.
Deep-set eyes. High nose bridge. A strong jawline that gave him a distinctly masculine appearance. His build looked almost Western rather than Korean.
Mixed-race? An illegal immigrant?
But his Korean was too fluent for that.
“Do you remember anything?”
The man shook his head.
“Try harder. I don’t know why you collapsed out there, but there had to be a reason. Don’t you want to go home to your family?”
“…Is my name ‘you’?”
“Hm?”
“You keep calling me ‘you,’ Mister…”
Yieum bit the inside of his lip.
He didn’t know the man’s name, so he hadn’t known what else to call him.
At that moment, a dating show happened to be playing on the television. The contestants all used fake names, and one of them caught Yieum’s attention.
“Then… until your memory comes back, how about Yeongsik?”
The man nodded obediently.
Despite his cold, imposing appearance, he was surprisingly gentle. Never stubborn. Never difficult.
Yieum found himself thinking that maybe this was exactly what the man had been like as a child too.
“Alright. Let’s get some sleep now, Mr. Yeongsik. I already contacted the local authorities around where I found you, so if your family is looking for you, they’ll reach out.”
Yeongsik nodded so earnestly that Yieum instinctively lifted a hand toward his head.
He froze midway and quickly pulled back.
He had almost patted him like a child.
The bandage on Yeongsik’s forehead had started peeling off, so Yieum went to retrieve the first-aid kit from his bedroom. Yeongsik followed close behind like a shadow.
“Why are you following me?”
“I’m scared if I’m alone in the living room…”
Separation anxiety too?
Realizing there was no point arguing, Yieum simply ignored him and opened the first-aid kit.
“Sit.”
Yeongsik obediently sat down.
Yieum peeled off the old bandage and applied ointment to the wound. The man flinched violently, his entire massive frame tensing.
“Hng…”
A low whimper escaped him.
With a sigh, Yieum leaned closer and gently blew across the wound.
Only then did Yeongsik visibly relax, his shoulders lowering again.
After replacing the bandage, Yieum put away the first-aid kit and led him to the guest room across the hall.
The room was simple. Just a bed beneath the warm overhead light.
“You can sleep here.”
“Okay…”
Yeongsik sat carefully on the bed.
The wooden frame creaked ominously beneath his weight.
Then he lay down stiffly on his back and stared at the ceiling. The single bed was far too short for him, his feet hanging over the edge, but he didn’t seem to care.
Yieum wished him good night and reached for the light switch.
“Mister!”
Yeongsik abruptly sat up.
“Where are you going?”
“To sleep.”
Yeongsik climbed out of bed clutching the blanket tightly to his chest.
“…Aren’t we sleeping together?”
“What?”
“I’m scared. Let’s sleep together…”
Yieum squeezed his eyes shut.
Because of his work, he often spent nights cramped inside his car during stakeouts. Home was the one place where he wanted proper rest. It was also why he never invited people over.
But Yeongsik stood there clutching the blanket with such desperate eyes that Yieum found himself unable to refuse.
Right.
He’s basically just a kid trapped in a giant body.
A gigantic little kid.
“…Fine.”
The moment permission was granted, Yeongsik hurried after him and climbed straight onto the master bed.
“Wow! The bed’s huge!”
“Hey—Mr. Yeongsik!”
Yieum hurriedly stopped him before he could start bouncing on it.
“No jumping on the bed. Lie down properly.”
Yeongsik immediately froze, then obediently stretched out flat beneath the covers.
“Mister, come here too.”
Even though sleepiness dragged at his eyes, he stubbornly fought it off, waiting for Yieum to lie down.
With no other choice, Yieum climbed into bed and turned his back toward him.
“Good night.”
“Mister…”
The sleepy rumble of Yeongsik’s voice was absurdly deep.
When Yieum turned around, the man took his hand and placed it against his chest.
Solid.
Exactly like Namsu had said. Like touching a slab of stone.
How much training did it take to build a body like this?
“…Pat me.”
This is insane.
“I’m scared. Please?”
Scared of what? Ghosts?
Yieum glanced uneasily around the dark bedroom.
Still, he knew perfectly well that people were far scarier than ghosts. Honestly, letting a complete stranger into his house was terrifying enough already.
Who knew what this man might actually be capable of?
Even as thoughts tangled endlessly inside his head, Yeongsik’s eyes slowly drooped shut.
Fine. Just go to sleep already.
With a defeated sigh, Yieum patted his chest slowly.
“Mister…”
“What now?”
“Sing me a song too…”
…This little bastard.