The Culprit
“Young master, are you coming to your senses?”
Choi Jong-hoon's words made me open my eyes. I calmly looked around the room. I was lying in a hospital bed, dressed in patient scrubs.
“Did I... collapse or something?”
“You made it only a few steps out of the police station before you collapsed.”
I took a moment to get my bearings, but then a massive headache crashed over me. It felt like my skull was being tightened with screws.
“My head hurts a bit—what did the doctor say?”
“They suspect a concussion from the impact.”
“Makes sense, since I took a blow to the head.”
“We've completed all the necessary tests.”
Choi Jong-hoon acted nonchalant, but his face looked utterly exhausted.
“I'm fine now, so go grab something to eat.”
“No, sir. The nurse said to let her know when you woke up, so if you'll excuse me...”
Living as Kang Min-ho wasn't easy. My first day had already stretched from the police station to the hospital—a hell of a long one.
A short while later, the door opened, and a doctor in a white coat entered with Choi Jong-hoon.
“How are you feeling now, sir?”
“Headache, and my stomach's off. What did the tests show?”
“Mild concussion, just as you described. You might experience vomiting or dizziness.”
Concussion, huh...
I didn't know everything about JK Group in the '90s. But now I had a perfect excuse to ask Choi Jong-hoon.
I directed a very deliberate question at the doctor. “Is feeling a bit foggy or having partial memory loss one of the symptoms too?”
“How much do you remember?”
“Recent events are a blank, like when you black out from drinking.”
“Those symptoms usually clear up within a week. Talking a lot with your guardian here would help too.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Let us know if you need anything.”
The doctor gave a light nod and left the room.
Lying in bed, I sorted through my thoughts. If it was 1990, this was when JK Group was seriously expanding. I knew everything about JK Group. Even the secrets of every royal family member, down to their health conditions. Just using what I knew, I could avenge myself against the Kangs who killed me—and take JK Group for myself.
I was no longer just a hunting dog following its master's orders. Now, I was the master making judgments and decisions.
For someone who'd once longed to be part of the royal family and envied their lives, this was the chance of a lifetime.
I was no longer the hunting dog, Executive Director Kim Ki-hyuk of the Secretarial Office.
I was Kang Min-ho, grandson of JK Chairman Kang Jin-gwang, the man who ruled Korea.
My joy was short-lived. A massive sigh filled the room.
Choi Jong-hoon was clutching his face with both hands, looking tormented.
“Someone walking in might think this was a crematorium.”
“I'm sorry. I should've insisted on bringing you here sooner—my thinking was shortsighted.”
“Don't blame yourself. This isn't on you at all. I'm okay, so could you get me a glass of water?”
“Of course, young master. Here you go.”
Choi Jong-hoon kept stealing glances at me. He had something to say.
“You have something on your mind, don't you?”
“How did you know?”
For someone like me, who could read intentions from the tiniest gestures, this was child's play.
“What's got you hesitating like that?”
“Ah... no, it's nothing.”
“I promise I won't get mad, no matter what you say.”
After a long hesitation, Choi Jong-hoon finally spoke.
“I felt it back at the station too, but... you seem like a completely different person.”
“Is that so?”
“In a positive way, of course. Don't get me wrong.”
“I'll take it as a compliment.”
“I'm not worthy to compliment you, young master.”
He treated me with extreme caution. Even in the small room, he kept a considerable distance. A very defensive stance.
To start my second life cleanly, I needed Choi Jong-hoon's help. First, I had to thaw his frozen heart.
“I've caused you a lot of trouble with all my screw-ups, haven't I?”
In truth, he'd been cleaning up after Kang Min-ho for years. With incidents popping up every other day, he couldn't have good feelings toward me.
“No, young master.”
“If I've messed up in the past, let me apologize.”
“It's my job. No hard feelings.”
“Hearts don't work like that—you can't slice them clean with a knife. I'll never forget the hardship I've put you through.”
“Your words alone are thanks enough.”
Kang Min-ho, the walking nuclear bomb under constant surveillance in the group. Things probably weren't much different now.
I needed an objective read on my current evaluation and position at JK. And conveniently, I had the concussion excuse.
I asked Choi Jong-hoon, “My memory's spotty on a few things—mind if I ask some questions?”
“Of course, young master. Go ahead.”
“When did you join the company?”
“Three years ago, right after finishing training, President Kang offered me a position.”
A man who'd later become head of the legal team—but for now, just the rookie lawyer cleaning up after the young master.
“No more personal questions. Let me get to the point.”
“What don't you remember?”
“You know me better than anyone, right?”
“That's true.”
“Tell me about my position. Leave nothing out.”
***
With the perfect concussion excuse, I learned a lot from Choi Jong-hoon.
His answers were consistently cautious. I understood—he worked for my father—but it was frustrating for me.
“You can be more direct.”
“I could, but that might force me to use crude language and profanity. It wouldn't be respectful to you.”
Even without words, his eyes and body language betrayed exactly what he thought of me.
In times like this, coaxing worked better than pressure.
I pointed to the water glass. “How much water's in that cup?”
A clichéd question to gauge optimism versus pessimism, but he thought carefully before answering.
“It's half full.”
“That's exactly what I want. No filters—just relay what my father said about me, word for word. That way, I can recover my memories faster.”
“Understood, young master.”
He swallowed hard, steeling himself, then answered.
“Your situation isn't good.”
“Be precise and objective.”
“You've lost the president's trust.”
“Meaning he has no expectations of me at all?”
He still seemed unadjusted to my sudden change. After another long pause, he spoke.
“I'll relay exactly what the president said. Last month's drunk driving incident—he told me to make it disappear without a trace.”
“And since then, I've been living alone in that other house?”
“Yes, young master. Sorry if that hurts.”
“That's what I want. Keep going just like that.”
The accident-prone Kang Min-ho, whose days never passed quietly. His father, Kang Du-seong, made an inhuman call. He didn't want to see his son's face every day, but he couldn't just abandon him on the street. So he set him up in a separate house and tossed him there.
But Kang Du-seong wasn't the only mountain to climb. The most important was Grandfather Kang Jin-gwang, founder of JK.
“I remember Grandpa doting on me quite a bit.”
“He did when you were little.”
“Sadly past tense now.”
Choi Jong-hoon took a sip of water, looking awkward, then continued.
“He overlooked the minor incidents. But last year, when it hit the news big-time, the chairman flew into a rage.”
“What did he say then?”
“He said he'd strike you from the family registry.”
“Did he actually do it?”
“No specific orders, but he hasn't mentioned you since.”
I still couldn't fathom why Kang Min-ho, grandson of the loan shark king Kang Jin-gwang—the chaebol of chaebols—had lived like such trash.
Eyeing my expression, Choi Jong-hoon ventured, “Are your memories coming back?”
“Yeah, slowly. Tell me about the incident where I got probation.”
“Drunk driving, hit-and-run, assaulting an officer. Three counts.”
“I did all that at once?”
“Multiple times already.”
“Lucky I didn't go to prison.”
“Exactly.”
As Choi Jong-hoon's answer wrapped up, light, hurried footsteps approached, and the door burst open.
“Oh, my baby boy!”
A middle-aged woman swept in, fur coat flapping, oversized earrings dangling. Lee Ha-ran. This body's mother.
“Baby, what happened?!”
Overwhelmingly dramatic, she fussed over my face, touching everywhere. It was intensely unpleasant. I instinctively pulled my head back a bit.
“Son, it's Mom! Don't you recognize me?”
She turned to Choi Jong-hoon. “Lawyer Choi, what's going on? My son's looking at me weird—is something wrong?”
“The young master was struck on the back of the head.”
“Like amnesia from a drama?!”
“No. Mild concussion—headaches, vomiting, temporary blackouts.”
“Blackouts?”
“Temporary, like blacking out from booze.”
Tears welling in her eyes, she grabbed my cheeks with both hands. Burdensome, but I acted as naturally as possible.
“Son, it's Mom! You don't remember?”
“Just a temporary blackout. I remember now.”
“What'd the doctor say? Taken your meds? Hospital food sucks—want dinner?”
“I'm really fine. Rest a few days, no worries.”
Lee Ha-ran rubbed her forehead and slumped onto the bed's edge with a sigh.
“How many times have I told you? No brawling after drinking.”
“No, this time I was the victim.”
“Your dad's furious. How you gonna handle that?”
“I'll talk to him.”
“Apologize to your father, beg forgiveness—don't mouth off like last time, got it?”
“Got it, don't worry.”
As our talk ended, familiar footsteps echoed in my ears. Shoes clicking, filling the hallway, drawing closer.
They stopped right outside my room.
The door blocked my view, but I knew who it was.
The culprit who killed me.
The footsteps I'd heard half my life.
I could never forget them.
At last, the door slowly opened.
The man who entered was Kang Du-seong.