The Wicked Woman's True Colors (1)
The next day, Bishop urgently relayed new information.
"Yang Do-hwa contacted a Murim TV PD to meet."
Thanks to the wiretapping by Phone and the four-man team, they had caught her call.
"A broadcasting station PD? What program?"
"Yes, it's the PD for That Day in the Jianghu, a Murim current affairs talk show."
It's a program that invites guests and has them revisit various Murim incidents with panels. It covers a lot of intriguing cases, so for a Murim-related show, it has pretty high ratings.
"They're planning to air the old Gwang-sa-mun incident."
"Seems like it."
Her goal was probably to complain that Dae Jeong San Jang wasn't avenging her.
Of course, the destruction of the Jang Sword Clan wouldn't be mentioned at all on air. Officially, there was no connection whatsoever.
"Is it okay if the broadcast goes out?"
"I don't care. But the lord of Dae Jeong San Jang will take a lot of heat."
Not only had she dragged in his beloved disciple Seo Mal-cheong, but now she was going on TV to blab about it. There was no way he wouldn't be furious.
"They might even try to eliminate her from Dae Jeong San Jang."
"Perhaps."
Even if they made that decision and acted on it, Jang Cheon had no intention of helping her. It was all her own doing, after all.
What he'd told Night applied here too. Killing or saving wasn't the hard part. The key was making the judgment.
Right now, those words applied to U Myeong-hwan of Dae Jeong San Jang as well. Depending on his choice, many things would change.
Jang Cheon intended to let things follow their natural course. He'd act in the direction that seemed most reasonable upon rational thought.
He wouldn't rush, nor would he delay. That was Jang Cheon's idea of the natural way.
"Keep monitoring."
"Yes, understood. Oh, and the Real Championship has started. You know, right?"
Jang Cheon feigned ignorance.
"It has?"
"You haven't watched yet?"
"Not yet."
"You're busy, I get it, but watch it. Queen is in the round of 32 today."
"She'll do fine without me watching."
After hanging up, Jang Cheon turned his head.
The laptop screen on the bed was already playing the tournament footage.
With upbeat BGM and an eye-catching title sequence, Murim TV's That Day in the Jianghu began.
She answered with a smile, then let out a sigh.
"No, honestly, I haven't been well. I've wandered, gone through really tough times."
Yang Do-hwa's eyes welled up with tears right from the start.
"Sorry."
"No need. I can imagine the heartache you've endured. Wipe those tears and take your time."
The host handed her a tissue.
Yang Do-hwa dabbed at the moisture around her eyes. It was acting that didn't look like acting. She knew full well how crucial this appearance was, so she was giving it her all.
"The reason I decided to come on this show is..."
Click.
Bulldog turned off the TV with the remote.
"Alright, we've eaten. Let's get started."
Empty fried rice bowls sat in front of the two men.
Bulldog was ramping up the investigation. Actor was no pushover.
Anyone else would have slipped up with a gaffe by now or snapped in frustration and admitted their mistake.
But Actor didn't crack easily. No matter how much Bulldog prodded, he endured.
Actor stood up.
"Let's smoke one and continue."
Bulldog nodded.
After setting the delivery containers outside the door, Actor headed to the rooftop.
Leaning on the railing, he lit a cigarette. It had been 10 years since he quit, but he'd started again recently.
He knew exactly why Yang Do-hwa was going on TV. He'd been the one to tip her off about Jang Cheon's return.
'This foolish woman, what the hell?'
Going public like this would force Dae Jeong San Jang's hand.
'She can't die yet.'
At this critical juncture, he was tied up with Bulldog's probe.
Even if he came out innocent, this mess in Korea was his responsibility.
Bulldog could wrap up and leave, but Actor would be the one blowing a golden opportunity.
The bigger issue was that innocence seemed unlikely.
"Aren't you overrating this Jang Cheon guy?"
The voice from behind belonged to Bulldog, whose tone was now utterly grating.
"You probably think I'm making excuses with Jang Cheon, but I'm not. A sharp mind like yours must already know, even if you don't say it."
"No, I really don't."
"Fine, I'll be frank. Even if you don't know, your superiors do."
"Do they now?"
Actor stared silently at Bulldog, then turned back to the distant city skyline.
'Yeah, maybe this bastard really knows nothing, like he says.'
The organization was too vast. Branches worldwide, members in Murim, politics, economy, culture, arts—every field.
To the whole outfit, this was just a minor issue in Asia, in little Korea.
The one who'd sent Bulldog was Asia head Sing.
He might just wait for this damn Bulldog's report and base his reprimand on it.
Actor turned to Bulldog.
"This isn't the time to grill me—we need to catch Jang Cheon. You'll regret it later.
Then some other investigator will probe what went wrong. They'll probably pin it on this investigation."
Bulldog smirked. There was no empathy or goodwill in that smile.
'Damn it!'
Actor prided himself on handling people. He trusted his instincts about them too.
So he was certain.
Bulldog would pin Death's death on him.
'This guy's been after that from the start.'
Sending Bulldog of all people meant they were hunting for a scapegoat. The outcome was inevitable.
"I mostly performed in small theaters."
Bulldog looked puzzled as Actor suddenly brought up theater.
Actor continued undeterred.
"Not sure if you've been, but in a small theater, the audience sits so close you could shake hands if you reached out.
First show, you're too nervous to see their faces. But after a few days, when lines and blocking feel natural, you see every face.
Every expression. Even them holding hands with the person next to them. Haha."
Actor turned with a laugh; Bulldog forced a chuckle.
"If they stoneface when you cue a laugh, or smirk instead of tearing up when it's sad, it drives you mad.
But if they laugh like friends, cry like family, those faces and expressions stick with you long after curtain call, lying in bed.
You're so thrilled you can't sleep. That's the charm of small theater."
Actor exhaled deeply, nostalgia in the smoke.
"Sometimes I miss the big stages. Hundreds of actors whose names you can't memorize, complex blocking.
A flub that gets laughs in a small house becomes a disaster there.
But after it's all done, receiving thunderous applause and cheers from hundreds—that joy's different from small theater."
As Bulldog's face soured like he couldn't take more, Actor stubbed out his cigarette.
"Let's go. Time for the interrogation."
Bulldog didn't know.
In the time it took that cigarette to burn down, Actor had rewritten his life's script.
Bang!
A burst of palm force shattered the TV.
The one who'd unleashed it was none other than Dae Jeong San Jang's lord, U Myeong-hwan.
The moment Yang Do-hwa on That Day in the Jianghu claimed not only had Dae Jeong San Jang mistreated her and her son over the years but had even forgotten revenge,
he could endure no longer and smashed the TV.
His wrinkled eyes twitched. He rarely showed emotion, but now he was seething.
From behind the screen, An Bae-su spoke.
"It's not too late."
"It is."
Who suicides after pleading so desperately on TV? Accidental death? Absurd.
"I never thought Yang would go this far."
"What now, my lord?"
"What else? Issue a rebuttal article, meet her again and soothe her. She's on TV now—no other way. Or just ignore it."
U Myeong-hwan sighed, gazing out the window. The problem wouldn't end here.
Yang Do-hwa only cared about her own feelings. She'd charge ahead blindly.
Until he killed Jang Cheon, she'd cling, insulting him and his clan. It was her venting her failed life.
A low voice drifted from behind the screen.
"There's always a way."
After a long pause, U Myeong-hwan blurted,
"Well, now the TV's smashed, so I won't see Yang anymore."
An Bae-su quietly exited from behind the screen.
This was how U Myeong-hwan issued his dark commands—with just this nuance. He'd never given an unethical order outright.
An Bae-su judged and handled it all. If exposed later, he'd take the blame.
But An Bae-su felt no resentment or regret. It made him U Myeong-hwan's closest confidant.
In a quiet spot, An Bae-su made a call.
"Execute."
That night, a van pulled up near Yang Do-hwa's house.
Two men got out and vaulted the fence.
The gate soon opened. Two more from the van slipped inside.
Jang Cheon watched from the rooftop of a distant building.
He'd anticipated Dae Jeong San Jang might move the moment she appeared on TV. And it had played out exactly.
"Are you recording the house CCTV?"
"Yes. When Phone installed the bugs earlier, we swapped all the cameras to ours.
Live feeds upload to me in real time. Even if intruders block them, they look off but keep recording and sending."
"Okay."
The intruders from Dae Jeong San Jang would kill Yang Do-hwa. Jang Cheon planned to secure CCTV footage and audio as evidence.
Running it through behavioral recognition would ID the perps.
That video would prove Dae Jeong San Jang's murder plot against her.
How to use it would depend on future developments.
Then Jang Cheon's gaze sharpened on one spot.
Far off, two sedans stopped. Eight men emerged.
They silently scaled the wall. Their movements alone screamed elite martial artists—clearly different intent from the first intruders.
More numbers, superior skill.
With the second wave, Jang Cheon's eyes grew keen. An unexpected twist.
"Bishop, situation's changed. Sending car models and plates—trace where they came from."
"Got it."
"Yang Do-hwa's house CCTV still recording?"
"First intruders blocked it, but yes, still going."
"Send me the uploaded footage live."
"Yes, sir."