Into the Tiger's Den (2)
I gasped for air, my chest heaving like a diver who had just breached the surface after being buried in the deepest abyss.
Beep—
Panting with my eyes shut, I slowly opened them as a distant, faint ringing echoed in my ears. In the quiet stillness, the only sound was the ragged, irregular rhythm of my own breathing. Scanning my surroundings, it seemed someone had moved me to a bedroom after I lost consciousness.
I retraced my memories. The moment I tried to think about my grandfather, a splitting headache had knocked me out cold. And then, a tsunami of unfamiliar memories belonging to 'another me' had come crashing in.
A childhood spent as the cherished, pampered darling of the family; the blood-curdling power struggles of a chaebol clan; the highly suspicious deaths of his parents; and the subsequent, catastrophic collapse of his family relationships.
A dry chuckle escaped my lips.
My own past—one of abuse and abandonment by my parents—had vanished without a trace, replaced entirely by the loved and nurtured upbringing of this 'other me.'
Well, this feels incredibly unfair.
"...Ha."
I clenched my fists. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with all this now. Was I supposed to uncover the truth behind his parents' deaths? Find the mastermind and hold them accountable? Or maybe throw myself into this godforsaken battle for succession?
Why the hell should I? For what?
Ha! I laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity of it.
My life might have been turned completely upside down, but I had no intention of burying my own pain and scars in the past like some time capsule. That was the bare minimum of respect I could show to the old me.
I felt a bit sorry for the 'other me,' but I didn't have a single shred of desire to waste my emotions on this pointless family drama. My life was going to be far too busy spending my massive wealth and living in absolute luxury.
Finally, my head felt clear. I steadied my breathing and stood up.
"Are you sure you should be moving already? You should rest a bit longer."
"I'm not so dense that I can't read the room."
My original plan of slipping out quietly was officially canceled. What a clueless old man. Did he honestly think I could relax in a place like this?
I stared coldly at my grandfather, who stood before me with a face full of worry.
"I've called the family doctor. At least lie down and get examined before you leave."
"I'm perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with me."
"You stubborn child, I'm only saying this because your grandfather's heart is heavy."
"Haha, what a joke. Since when did you care?"
I had no interest in playing word games, so I drove the nail in with a mocking sneer. To hell with gathering information; I wanted to get out of this suffocating space this very instant.
This should be enough.
As I turned to leave without a shred of regret, a sharp, hysterical voice pierced the air.
"What a dramatic fake illness. Do you only feel satisfied when you ruin the mood with a pathetic show like this?"
My aunt, glaring at me with utter disapproval, spat the words out in a low, venomous tone.
"Pathetic wretch."
My uncle, standing beside her with his arms crossed, chimed in.
Seeing how well they played off each other, they certainly seemed to have great family chemistry. Feeling every eye in the room locked onto me, I felt like an actor on a stage.
"Quiet, you—!"
"Ah, so I'm the one who ruined the mood."
I cut off my grandfather, whose eyes were bloodshot as he prepared to roar in anger. This entire situation was just hilarious. It was so nauseating I wanted to gag.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that."
I let out a cold, twisted smirk, pulling the corners of my lips upward as if my face were broken.
"I'll take my leave now."
Ah, I'm exhausted. It was time to return to where I truly belonged. I should just go home and play games.
Once a month, the family gathered at the private estate in Hannam-dong. That day was supposed to be just like any other. At least, until he saw his grandson bow a perfect ninety degrees the moment their eyes met.
"..."
His mouth felt glued shut, unable to utter a single word. The memories of that fateful day flashed before his eyes.
The day his youngest son and daughter-in-law—whom he loved more than life itself—returned as cold, lifeless corpses. And the day he discovered that his eldest son, Ki-yong, and his daughter, Ye-won, were the masterminds behind their deaths.
And he had realized then that this entire tragedy had started with him—with his decision to stoke the fires of competition for the group's succession.
They called it danjangjiae—the sorrow of a parent losing a child, a pain so agonizing it felt as if one's intestines were tearing apart. For a man who had lived his entire life with the sole purpose of expanding his empire, it was an unfamiliar, yet brutally vivid agony.
With parched, cracked lips and bloodshot eyes, he had stayed awake for countless nights. His wife, who had spat curses at him, eventually left for her maiden family, declaring she couldn't bear it anymore. And then, his grandson began to unravel day by day.
Having caught wind of the truth from somewhere, the boy had wept tears of blood, screaming that his parents had been murdered by his uncle and aunt.
It was all his fault. Yet, he could not bring himself to punish Ki-yong and Ye-won, even though they had driven his youngest son to his grave. They were all his children. Even if the entire world pointed fingers at them, he could not bear to lose his remaining children as well.
Surely, if I embrace them with trust and love from now on, everything will fall back into place. Surely, they can still grow into leaders worthy of inheriting the company.
And so, he buried the truth deep within his heart. He turned a deaf ear to the desperate, agonizing cries of his grandson.
Instead, he poured his efforts into ensuring that hundreds of billions of won in assets would be safely inherited by his grandson down to the last penny. To ease his own crushing guilt, he dipped into his personal wealth to gift the boy prime, lucrative real estate.
Yes, by now, he must understand his grandfather's heart. He was always such a warm, considerate, and sweet child, after all.
But from a certain point onward, his grandson stopped showing his face. Anxious to know what he was doing, he had hired investigators, only to receive reports that the boy refused to take a single step outside his house.
Yes, the boy simply needs time to process his emotions. Surely, as time passes... he will return to being the sweet Kim Sung-woo who used to call out to his grandfather with a bright smile.
He had waited endlessly, clinging to that single hope. He held family gatherings every month, keeping the door open for his grandson to return to his embrace at any time. To make it seem casual, he had Ki-yong send the time and location to the boy every month.
"It's been a while, Grandfather."
And finally, after several years, Sung-woo attended the gathering. It should have been a deeply moving reunion. But the moment he looked into those hollow, empty eyes, he knew, instinctively, that something was terribly wrong.
Those eyes, devoid of even a shred of expectation, joy, anger, or sorrow, looked like the eyes of a corpse.
"Yes... have you managed to find some peace of mind now?"
"Yes. I can't cling to the past forever."
It was exactly what he had always wanted to hear. He had wanted the boy to bury all the mistakes in the past and look toward the future. But where had it gone wrong? Had his approach been flawed?
"Aaargh!!"
Thud. Ah, the heavens have truly abandoned me.
Fortunately, the boy quickly regained consciousness and stepped out of the room with his usual indifferent expression. The more he tried to ask how he was feeling, the colder the atmosphere grew. The boy was clearly avoiding him. In his anxiety, he had simply spoken from the heart.
"You stubborn child, I'm only saying this because your grandfather's heart is heavy."
"Haha, what a joke. Since when did you care?"
The boy sneered as if amused. In the eyes that stared back at him, there was neither hostility nor goodwill. Only a vast, hollow emptiness remained. As if he simply didn't care at all.
Ah, my sins have returned to haunt me as karma.
The guilt he had desperately tried to ignore had materialized, suffocating him. But what else was I supposed to do in that situation? Was I supposed to drag the ugly truth into the light, even if it meant throwing my remaining children into prison?
As if he had absolutely nothing left to say, the boy turned his back without hesitation. I must stop him. I have to untangle this knotted mess, even if it's late.
"What a dramatic fake illness. Do you only feel satisfied when you ruin the mood with a pathetic show like this?"
"Pathetic wretch."
He could hardly believe his ears. Fury surged to the crown of his head. How could they say such things to a nephew who had just collapsed unconscious moments ago? He opened his mouth to roar a fierce reprimand.
"Quiet, you—!"
"Ah, so I'm the one who ruined the mood."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that."
He fell silent, his intended scolding dying in his throat. The boy's face was twisted in a grimace so profound its depths could not be measured. His voice carried a deep, unbearable disgust for the entire situation. And his own children, who still looked down on the boy with nothing but contempt and disdain.
What kind of face am I making right now?
His stomach churned violently, threatening to reject everything inside. Suddenly, the last conversation he had ever had with Sung-woo flashed through his mind. What was it he had said back then?
His heart sank like a stone. What do you mean you have no one left? Your grandfather is right here, my child.
Please. Please stop. I was wrong... I was so wrong...
Ah. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
On that day, the sweet, loving grandson he cherished had died by his own hands.