"Study hard. You want to make your mom proud, don’t you?"
Bringing up his mother always worked like a charm. There was something about it that felt like a threat, and Sejin’s face twisted as he swatted Sejoo’s hand away and stormed off. Only after watching Sejin disappear into the school building did Sejoo finally leave.
With a loud vroom of the exhaust, Sejoo sped out of the alley and headed straight to the studio. While he’d been lazing around at home for the past two days, his team had been tearing into the courier’s finances. Every bank account, cash receipt, even card transactions from over a year ago had been thoroughly scoured. And yet—they found nothing.
It was common in this line of work to receive money under someone else’s name. Hacker Yoon Cheoljoo even investigated the bank accounts set up in the name of the courier’s beloved niece—one created when she was a year old for housing subscriptions, and another for New Year’s gift savings. But again, nothing. No funds had ever been deposited into any account linked to the courier or his circle. Nothing had been passed along.
That’s when Sejoo finally realized his mistake. On the day he’d gone to retrieve the missing goods, he’d heard that Kwon Sejin was supposedly sleeping on the street. That weird and urgent piece of news had distracted him, and in that haste, he’d handed over the courier to Dalma without confirming the facts properly. He should’ve verified things more thoroughly.
But it was too late now. When Sunhyuk had called that morning, it was already over. He’d gone in person and confirmed the body himself—there was nothing more to extract. All that was left was to piece together the fragmented clues and hope they pointed to an answer.
Sejoo slowly rolled his tongue in his mouth as he revisited each piece of the puzzle. The courier had insisted on his innocence all the way to the end. Even as his skin melted and he cried blood, he never once admitted to causing his own pain.
"He said… he was just following orders from above."
Sejoo muttered quietly. Across from him, in the direction of his vacant gaze, sat Yoon Cheoljoo—still combing through the courier’s pitifully clean and empty accounts at Sejoo’s instruction.
"Yes."
The reply didn’t come from Cheoljoo—it was from Moon Sunhyuk, who had also been present when the courier coughed up blood. At his curt answer, Sejoo exhaled a short breath and tapped his foot. One leg stretched out across the table swayed gently as he sank back into thought.
Since he’d taken charge of the disposal team, something like this had happened maybe three times. But not once had anyone stolen drugs without a reason. The first guy had gambling debts. The second had a daughter with a rare disease and couldn’t afford the treatment. The third was a junkie who, after running out of money, stole the product he was transporting to get his next fix. They all had their reasons. Maybe they seemed small to others, but to each of them, it was life or death.
But this one… didn’t.
The courier had no debts. No dependents. He wasn’t a junkie. His messenger logs were unremarkable—complaining about his boss, chatting about games and women with his friends. He had no motive to steal.
Which meant Sejoo had missed something.
If someone diverted the drugs, the person most screwed would be the courier himself. So who would be next in line to suffer?
The recipient of the shipment had been one of Shin Jihan’s men. But even if the delivery was late, neither that subordinate nor Shin Jihan would be seriously inconvenienced. No—the real pressure would fall on the person held responsible for the distribution. The middleman.
"Dalma…"
There were many types of drugs funneled through clubs, but the crystal in question was Dalma’s responsibility. As the broker, Dalma coordinated directly with the maker—only he knew the contact—and handled the distribution in Korea.
If the delivery was late, Shin Jihan would have reached out to Dalma, no doubt chewing him out. So the ones hit hardest by this incident were the courier—and Dalma.
Sejoo got up and checked Haewoong’s laptop. He skimmed the messenger logs where the courier had vented to a friend about his “boss.” It was obvious he’d called Dalma that because he couldn’t use the word broker. A thought flashed through Sejoo’s mind: mutually assured destruction. Maybe the courier had been targeting Dalma all along.
That idea sparked a migraine. Sejoo winced and dropped back onto the sofa, propping one knee up. Still thinking, he reached for his phone on the table.
This case was spiraling downward. No matter how he looked at it, it had nothing to do with Shin Goyeon or Shin Jihan. Sejoo’s job was to clean up the messes made by people who threatened the organization. The product had been recovered—so technically, his job was done. There was nothing more for them to gain by digging further.
And if the courier really had orchestrated this just to screw over Dalma, then Sejoo had even less reason to care. Dalma wasn’t part of the organization.
He hovered his finger over the call button as if about to dial. But after a long pause, he didn’t press it. Instead, he brought his hand to his temple and pressed firmly, massaging the pulsing pain.
Throughout the entire interrogation, the courier had stuck to one story: that he was following orders from “above.” The person who gave him the order—was Dalma. The courier had pushed the blame onto him. That part, at least, was beyond dispute.
So it came down to two options: either the courier was lying to drag Dalma down with him, or Dalma really had used the courier to cover his own ass. The former seemed more likely. If the drugs went missing, the one who stood to lose the most was Dalma. Why would he put himself in that kind of danger?
Besides, only Dalma knew the maker’s identity. If someone else had wanted more product, they could’ve simply started a new deal. The maker could just increase production. There was no reason for Dalma to siphon off Shin Jihan’s share.
Everything pointed to the courier acting alone. And yet…
"Fuck."
Still unsettled, Sejoo cursed and got to his feet. Ignoring the glances from his team, he pulled a cigarette and lighter from the jacket he’d tossed aside. He needed fresh air. The studio building had no windows. He stepped outside and headed for the stairs.
Despite its shabby exterior, the studio building was locked down tight. After passing through two reinforced doors and an iris scanner, he stepped out, circled to the alley beside the building, and parked himself next to a metal can used as an ashtray.
As he tousled his hair and lit up, he heard slow footsteps echoing past the alley. Glancing over, Sejoo’s expression darkened, and he snapped the lighter shut with a metallic click. At the sound, the person walking with a newspaper under their arm turned toward him.
"……."
Their eyes met. Sejoo let out a dry laugh and rubbed his forehead. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
"Hey."
"……."
Sejin stared stiffly at him. Under that gaze, Sejoo crushed his cigarette and shoved it into the can. He took a step forward, and Sejin flinched. The neatly folded newspaper filled with job ads was hastily tucked behind his back as he lowered his head.
"I told you to go study."
Unbelievable. He’d dragged him back to school just this morning—now here he was again, wandering around the neighborhood like some stray mutt.
Sejoo stared at him, speechless. His face practically screamed Are you out of your damn mind? Sejin, looking guilty, opened and closed his mouth, then averted his eyes and stayed silent.
"When did you leave the house?"
"……."
"I asked you when. Don’t bullshit me—answer properly."
At Sejoo’s cold voice, Sejin winced slightly and looked up at him—only to see a face even colder than his own. He froze. The kid was so transparent, it was almost laughable. Sejoo could see every thought running through his head.
Who the hell are you to butt in? You’re the one hiding in alleys smoking. What do you care if I go to school or not…
Even though he said nothing, Sejin’s tone rang loud in Sejoo’s ears. With one eyebrow raised, Sejoo stared silently at him. Sejin tried to ignore the gaze, but in the end, couldn’t withstand the silent pressure and opened his mouth.
“After lunch…”
“Oh wow, so you did manage to stay at school till lunchtime?”
That’s just amazing. Sejoo replied with a snide tone and snatched the newspaper from Sejin’s hand. He didn’t even carry textbooks, but the job ads were meticulously marked with circles and Xs. But if he really left after lunch, that would’ve been around 1 p.m. It was barely 2 now. Something in Sejoo’s mental timeline didn’t add up. He threw the paper to the ground and reached toward Sejin.
“Wh-What are you doing!”
He bent down and shoved his hand into Sejin’s pants pocket. Startled, Sejin twisted his body to get away, but there was no beating Sejoo’s strength.
His large hand swept along the inside of Sejin’s thigh. After confirming the pocket was empty, Sejoo reached into the hoodie’s front pocket next. He pulled out the prepaid phone he’d given Sejin and powered it on, going straight to the call log.
There were calls made to numbers that weren’t his. The timestamps read 9:58 a.m. and 10:29 a.m.
“Give it back!”
Sejin reached out, but Sejoo lifted the phone out of reach and pulled out his own. He opened his browser, punched in the numbers he’d just seen, and hit search. Results came up for a nearby restaurant and some ambiguous business listing. Probably places from the job ads.
But Sejin had had nothing in his hands when he left for school that morning. No way the school handed out the Flea Market paper. Which meant after Sejoo left, Sejin had snuck back out of school and picked it up somewhere. Absolutely shameless.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
The words burst out of him.
He could now see Sejin’s day playing out in full: dragged into school, waited until Sejoo left, went out to grab the paper, then spent the day browsing job ads instead of attending class. Had lunch, and then slipped out.
Sejoo had briefly worried that maybe Sejin was avoiding school because of bullies. Clearly not. If that were the case, he would’ve bolted the moment Sejoo left. He wouldn’t have waited around like some idiot waiting for his favorite restaurant to open.
As someone who had ranked number one in nationwide mock exams like it was nothing, Sejoo couldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior. If Sejin were his actual younger brother, he’d have beaten the shit out of him by now.
How the hell does someone live this aimlessly?
Sure, there were plenty of losers around him—especially at Shinsa Capital—people who tanked their lives by just winging it. But Sejoo wasn’t going to stand by and let Kwon Sejin become one of them. No matter how it started, Sejin was someone he was protecting now. And watching him throw away this opportunity, treating school like some free cafeteria, was not something Sejoo could ignore.
“Why’d you rip that! It’s mine!”
Rip—rip— Sejoo shredded the newspaper, and Sejin shouted furiously. His pale skin was so delicate that the slightest agitation made the skin around his eyes flush red. His eyes now were tinged with crimson, like he might burst into tears any second. But it didn’t faze Sejoo in the least. Meeting his eyes head-on, Sejoo asked in a threatening tone,
“You don’t want to see your mom again?”
“…….”
“I told you—you have to attend school properly while you’re here if you want me to take you back to her. Is this your idea of attending school properly?”
“…Ha.”
To Sejin, it probably just sounded like more nagging. He sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair in frustration. The longer strands, poorly managed, fell messily over his face, and his cat-like eyes narrowed even further. Finally, he spoke.
“What the hell does attending school properly even mean? As long as I show up, doesn’t that count?”
“You wake up early, show up on time, stay for all your classes, and don’t skip after-school study. You don’t just show up, stuff your face, and leave to dick around.”
“After-school study? What decade are you living in…”
Sejin muttered like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, then added, clearly exasperated,
“You don’t get it because you’ve never been to my school. Nobody studies during class. The teachers don’t even try to teach. Sitting there all day is a waste of time. I’d rather just hit the attendance quota and go work a part-time job. As long as I get my diploma, that’s what matters to me. That’s what attending school properly means from my side.”
“Cut the bullshit.”
Sejoo shut down his excuse with a single line.
“No, I’m serious. It’s not the kind of place you think it is—”
Sejin tried to defend himself, but to Sejoo, it was all just one big excuse. There were lazy kids in every school. Claiming he couldn’t study because of the school environment was just a cop-out. Unless he was one of the lazy ones, studying was a matter of personal will.
It was an old-school way of thinking—but Sejoo meant every word. He’d been number one in the country while studying in a noisy orphanage full of twenty kids yelling all weekend.
Thump—he shoved the shredded newspaper into the metal trash can with a scowl.
“Every school’s like that, for fuck’s sake. You gonna keep making excuses?”
“But there really are schools like—!”
It was hopeless. Sejin was raising his voice when—
“Chief.”
A massive shadow fell over Sejin’s back. The low voice from behind startled him into spinning around. A man in a thug’s suit, like Sejoo, was standing there. It was Moon Sunhyuk—who had clearly come looking for Sejoo.
Sunhyuk stared down at Sejin, who’d dared to raise his voice at Sejoo, with cold eyes. Standing there expressionless, he radiated the kind of intensity that made it seem like he was about to kill someone. But Sejin didn’t back down. What are you looking at? His expression seemed to say, as he glared up at Sunhyuk.
Sejoo rubbed his temples. Great. Just what I needed.
“Yeah? You got something to say?”
Sejoo spoke first—before either of them could make things worse. At his voice, Sunhyuk looked away from Sejin and turned back to Sejoo, as if nothing had happened.
“I just came to find you since you didn’t come back in.”
“Yeah. Anything new on the case?”
He asked, glancing at Sejin out of the corner of his eye. Sunhyuk shook his head.
Sejoo let out a sigh and waved a hand.
“Alright. I’m heading out first. Tell the others to wrap it up once they finish what they’re doing. I’ll report to the boss myself.”
“Understood. Shall I give you a ride?”
“No need.”
At Sejoo’s short reply, Sunhyuk nodded. Then he bowed deeply, politely sending Sejoo off, and turned to leave.
As soon as Sunhyuk vanished, Sejoo reached out and laid a hand on top of Sejin’s head as he tried to sneak away.
Fine, delicate hair coiled between his fingers.
“Get this hand off me.”