The Loyal Dog's Betrayal
After cleanly wrapping up the targeted investigation into Director Kang Min-ho's incident, he returned to the company. Vice Chairman Kang Du-seong had summoned him.
"I'm back, Vice Chairman."
"Results?"
It was classic Kang Du-seong speak. Short questions demanded precise answers with full context.
"All media coverage is blocked. The SNS videos are buried under celebrity scandal news."
"One issue buries another ... Good. Stock price?"
Vice Chairman Kang Du-seong had a trauma. A few years back, at Chairman Kang Jin-gwang's orders, Kang Min-ho had been appointed director. The market saw it as bad news, and JK Group's market cap evaporated by a trillion won. Stock price mattered more than his son's condition. That was the man Vice Chairman Kang Du-seong was.
"No fluctuation in the stock price."
Only then did Kang Du-seong nod, a satisfied expression crossing his face.
"As expected from our Manager Kim. Good work."
"No, sir. As I reported, Director Kang has been admitted to a mental hospital for a month."
"Boil him, roast him—handle that bastard however you see fit. He's the son I disowned anyway."
"Understood."
Kang Du-seong exhaled cigarette smoke like a sigh. It meant something was bothering him. What now?
He tossed a newspaper in front of me. One pointed finger, and I grasped his intent completely.
"You know the election's two months away, right?"
"Yes, Vice Chairman."
"If the opposition takes power this time, it'll be a real headache."
"As reported last time, we're continuing funding to the ruling party's candidate."
Kang Du-seong shifted his gaze to the TV blaring news and spoke gravely.
"Yeouido's getting noisy with all this special prosecutor talk."
"We'll cover committee secretaries in every ministry, even supreme council members."
"Stuff money down their throats so deep no other words come out."
"Got it."
"I'm counting on you. Go."
***
Yeouido had drawn the sword of a special prosecutor. On the surface, it aimed at the Blue House, but the blade's sharp tip pointed straight at JK Group.
A congressman's term was five years. Money's power, on the other hand, was infinite. No matter how cunning the gold badge, if they didn't want to be jobless after the next general election, they'd accept my offer.
I had cards to hold and shake them with in abundance.
As I sat by the window sorting my thoughts, six vans pulled up to the lobby simultaneously. Moments later, suited employees disembarked in perfect sync, carrying blue boxes.
A frantic knock flew open the door to my office.
"Manager, we have a search and seizure warrant."
"What the hell is this all of a sudden?"
"Sorry, we haven't pieced it together yet."
"Who's the lead prosecutor?"
"Prosecutor Park Joo-hyung."
"Park, huh ... They can't come empty-handed, so mix in some backroom deals and hand it over."
"Understood."
Every move in Seocho-dong reported back to me. A JK search? No question.
I stepped out, locking eyes with Prosecutor Park Joo-hyung right then.
"Search and seizure warrant for JK Group."
He shoved it in my face without preamble. I couldn't hide my irritation.
"You think you can just waltz in here waving a warrant? Get Chief Prosecutor Han Yong-heon on the line now."
"Apologies. As you know, Yeouido's in an uproar over election funds. Orders came down to make a show of it."
"Give a heads-up next time. Keep it low-key, no noise."
"Yes, Manager. And ... sorry, but you'll have to come with us."
"What did you just say? Say it again."
My college junior, the one who knew me best. He stammered, flustered.
"Uh ... if you don't come now, we'll issue a summons. Then ..."
Dragging me out of Seocho-dong meant war.
"Barking for scraps when you're hungry, and now you bite the hand that feeds?"
"I'm truly sorry to say this."
"Tell the chief prosecutor if he has business with me, come himself."
Park shook his head, blinking rapidly. Something was up. He glanced around, then pulled me into my office.
"What's going on?"
"Senior, too many eyes here—I can't explain. Sorry, but please come along for now."
Even walls and ceilings had ears in bathrooms with no one around. Park's face was tense, unlike usual. Definitely something.
"I've arranged the back door so you skip the photo line, like last time."
"Wrap it in an hour."
"I promise."
We took the elevator to the lobby. I called Vice Chairman Kang Du-seong—no answer. No matter how I racked my brain, no clear reason emerged.
I boarded the van heading to Seocho-dong.
"We're heading out."
Park glanced around warily before giving the order.
"Crank the volume max."
"Got it."
Meant he had secrets to share.
"Senior, something's off here."
"Off how?"
"Vice Chairman Kang Du-seong's flying out this afternoon, right?"
"So what?"
"It doesn't feel right ..."
Park carefully pulled documents from his bag.
"Couldn't show you upstairs—CCTV. This is internal investigation material. Classic targeted prosecution, using you as the scapegoat."
I checked the papers myself. Just as Park said—blatant targeting. Every start and end of the slush funds pointed to me.
"Yeouido's ramping up pressure on the special prosecutor."
"We knew they'd go after the BH before their term ends."
"The issue's the funds from five years ago. Everyone knows JK backed them—it's no secret."
"Exactly. They all know, but no one dares say it."
"Trace the money back, and it leads to the slush funds you handled—dragging in Chairman Kang too."
"Shove me in the shit before it splashes ..."
"That's the most likely scenario right now."
The Kang family's choice to erase slush fund traces cleanly. Hunt over, time to eat the hounds. Of course, I'd prepared separate evidence on the slush funds, anticipating this.
"Poking a beehive for a handful of honey makes no sense."
"I thought so too, but if they slap you in prison blues and cut off visits, it changes everything."
"Buy time while I'm locked up to wipe evidence clean. Expected sentence?"
"Hard to say for sure, but at least eight years. If the Min-guk Party candidate wins, no chance of pardon."
"Rabbit caught—now pluck it and boil the water ..."
I was JK's dog. Bark on command, bite till they begged for mercy. Loyal as a dog, and this was my end.
Then the van screeched to a halt. Park snapped irritably at the driver.
"Manager's in here—drive straight!"
"Sorry. Front car braked suddenly—minor collision."
"Swap contacts and get back quick. No time."
"Yes, Prosecutor."
I pondered the royal family's hand. The more I thought, the flimsier it seemed. Jailing me alone wouldn't solve everything cleanly. The slush funds were my handiwork. No one else could erase the traces if I didn't.
They forced my hand—I'd draw my blade too. Initiative still mine.
Time dragged, van still stalled. A chill foreboding gripped me. Sudden fender-bender. Front driver's delaying tactics. Déjà vu hit hard.
I turned, scanning. A dump truck barreling at insane speed.
Then I saw the Kang family's full plan. Simple calculus: Pin all crimes on me, kill me off—what happens? No one to prosecute. No bill of indictment. Investigation auto-closes. Erase every trace—that was the royal family's goal.
The truck closed in. 500m ... 400m ... 300m ... Exuding murderous intent, accelerating faster.
"Th-that guy's insane ..."
Park caught on, scrambling to the driver's seat, throwing it in reverse—but too late. Way too late.
In that split second, my life flashed like a montage. My verdict was simple: I accepted death. Only way my remaining family survived.
Thrashing here might save me now, but they'd kill me again somehow.
To die like this after all my struggles ...
Hunting dog, hunted. My life's report card.
[This afternoon on Olympic Boulevard, the vehicle carrying JK Group's Manager Kim Ki-hyuk and Prosecutor Park Joo-hyung was struck by a drunk driver ...]
***
I lost my entire family in a childhood accident. I bounced between relatives, eating cold scraps. Childhood wasn't happy. Grateful just for meals.
No good shoes or clothes like friends, no hand-holding parents at amusement parks.
But God was somewhat fair. Gave me a brain fit for a golden spoon.
Studied to survive. My only breakout.
Top of the class all through school. Got into Korea University, graduated with honors.
"Number 196, Kim Ki-hyuk. If selected, I'll give my all."
Landed a job at JK Group, every job seeker's dream.
My同期s saw entry as the goal. Not me.
Head of the almighty Future Strategy Office. That was my target.
Years later, when I made manager, Chairman Kang's four kids fought like mudskippers for vice chairman. Media swarmed. Employees bet.
'I'm putting 100,000 won on Second Sis.'
'Nah, Third Bro has the most shares.'
Execs rolled eyes to extend terms, picking sides. I sensed it instinctively: the chance to bet my life.
While all chased safe favorites, I staked everything on the overlooked eldest, Kang Du-seong. Low shares, total underdog.
Reverse odds. Low chance, but if he won with my help, my position would skyrocket. I was sure.
From then, I mobilized every connection, dug dirt on siblings, analyzed shares ruthlessly. I built the decisive stepping stone for Kang Du-seong's rise.
He climbed the stairs I made to vice chairman. I could've been founding merit.
"Our Ki-hyuk deserves a real seat. Management Support Manager doesn't suit you. Where to?"
"Head of Future Strategy, assisting you, Vice Chairman."
"As expected, you've got the vessel. Look up from down there and lift me higher."
"I promise. I'll carve that one letter off your title myself."
From manager to Future Strategy chief—vertical leap. My nameplate alone swelled the chest: Future Strategy Office Manager.
Wealth followed: three Gangnam apartments, Gangwon villa, unlimited black card, 200 million monthly salary. Power as bonus.
JK ran uniquely. Chairman Kang Jin-gwang ruled unseen as emperor dowager, delegating all but crises to eldest son Vice Chairman Kang Du-seong.
His influence grew. Strike iron while hot—pour concrete on vice chairmanship.
Worked day and night solely for him. Gave everything.
Royal family even said: 'Snag Kim Ki-hyuk Manager, or no chairman seat.'
I grasped their desires. Earned trust. Dipped hands in filth. Waded shit fields, smiling, covered head to toe.
Art galleries, antiques, private loans, paper companies—every trick for slush funds. Laundered through Virgin Islands, Caymans, St. Martin tax havens.
Drunk on booze and cash from Kang Du-seong. Yeah, I was drunk.
Maybe a bit more effort, I'd join the royal family. Chasing that unattainable dream.
Seemed within reach—but illusion. No royal blood in me.
Craved their level, but never could stand there. Oasis mirage, vanishing at touch.
At 50m from the truck, I knew bone-deep: impossible dream.
Gave all, ended in discard the pawn.
Do I die?
I chased the pure white light endlessly. No clue how long.
Eyes opened to familiar iron bars blocking my view.