Two Faces (1)
The man gripped the steering wheel with a rigid expression, sitting in the driver’s seat of the very van that Kim Chul-joong had just lost track of in a burst of fury. Sweat kept pouring from his palms as if to mirror his mounting anxiety, soaking the leather until it grew slick. The more nervous he became, the tighter his fingers clenched, as though he refused to let go of the wheel—or anything else.
His name was Lee Do-hwang. If someone were to rank lives by misfortune, he firmly believed he would sit near the top. It was as if not a single hardship that could befall a man in his fifties in South Korea had passed him by. His life had been anything but smooth, just as he feared.
Back in high school he had been a notorious brawler, so he was expelled before he could graduate. With no diploma, college was out of the question. He had zero interest in the qualification exam most dropouts took, so his final academic record was essentially middle-school level. At the time, plenty of people skipped university, so he told himself it was acceptable.
He found work doing simple tasks at a factory and, faster than his peers, landed a steady job and even got married. Using the same rough charisma he’d shown in school, he dominated the other laborers and caught the owner’s eye, rocketing straight up to factory manager. Then came the unprecedented foreign exchange crisis that no Korean man in his fifties could escape. That was when Lee Do-hwang’s life truly began its plunge into the abyss.
It wasn’t just that he lost his job—the entire factory vanished. The loan he had taken against his house ballooned until he couldn’t even pay the interest. A red eviction notice was slapped on his door, and he was forcibly thrown out of his own home. Once poverty set in, his wife took their only son and walked out. The divorce proceeded without him ever seeing the boy again.
Then came the news that reached him through a chain of high-school acquaintances. It crushed him even further. Han Seung-woo—the same thug who used to swing his fists alongside him—had landed a job at none other than QS Group. From what he heard, Han had started as a contract security guard, caught someone’s attention, and was now a full-time employee in the chairman’s secretariat. The studious kids had always been in another league, so he never bothered comparing himself to them. But hearing that a fellow delinquent like Han Seung-woo had succeeded hit him like a hammer.
He still had Han’s number, yet every time he thought of calling, anger rose before any words of congratulations. In the end he deleted the contact. For over a decade afterward he drifted from one manual-labor site to another, stewing in inferiority. When he finally scraped together enough to buy a single car after clearing his debts, he decided he was done taking orders from others. While pondering what business he could run with one vehicle, his eyes landed on academy shuttle vans.
He learned that smaller academies couldn’t afford their own cars and drivers, so they outsourced student transportation to specialized companies. This was it. Lee Do-hwang immediately bought a van commonly used for school runs. But the work was far from easy. Instead of bowing to a site foreman, he now had to tiptoe around academy directors. Losing even one contract would slash his income by dozens of percent, making the directors absolute tyrants in his eyes.
On top of that, his so-called “business” had recently run into internal trouble. The woman who helped the children on and off the van had suddenly quit. His contract with the academy required both a driver and a boarding assistant, so without her he would soon find himself back on the street. That was when someone came looking for him.
It was the deceptively young-looking woman now sitting in the very back seat of his van.
The woman who introduced herself as a crime specialist had clearly done her homework. She knew every detail of Lee Do-hwang’s current work and even possessed information he himself didn’t have. She told him that Han Seung-woo’s daughter rode in the very van he operated.
At those words, the resolution he had made never to act like a thug again began to crack. The woman offered to disguise herself as the boarding assistant, kidnap Han Seung-woo’s daughter Han A-young, and demand a 1 billion won ransom. All Lee Do-hwang had to do was pretend not to see what happened inside his own van. In return, she would give him thirty percent of the take in cash.
She even slapped down a thick bundle of fifty-thousand-won bills—two hundred of them—bound with a rubber band as an advance. He had always thought retainers were only for fancy lawyers, yet the sight of real money sitting in front of him made his heart sing. Five million won upfront, plus another three hundred million later. That would be enough to clear the rest of his debts and live comfortably. A faint hope even sprouted that he might remarry someday.
And best of all, he could finally get revenge on Han Seung-woo, the man who had done him no direct harm yet had always carved a hollow in his heart. In the end, Lee Do-hwang accepted the woman’s proposal.
“All right. So I just drive like usual, right?”
“Yes. While you’re driving, all you need to do is drop me and Han A-young off at a spot without CCTV that I designate. Once you receive your share, pin everything on me. You can say you really didn’t see anything. After that day the boarding assistant suddenly disappeared and she looked suspicious. You can manage that much, can’t you?”
Lee Do-hwang nodded with a stiff face. “Yes. But… after the job is done, what will you…?”
“Don’t worry about me. I told you, I’m a professional. I will not get caught.”
“Understood. Since we’re working together, we should have proper names to call each other. What should I call you?”
“Call me Face Maker.”
Huh? He had no idea what that meant. Was it English he couldn’t understand, or was she talking about that messenger app kids used instead of “buddy” these days?
“What’s that?”
“It’s short for Face Maker.”
He wondered if she meant the person who runs alongside marathon runners, but decided not to ask further. English always gave him a headache, and now he at least had something other than “that woman” to call her. That was enough.
And today was the very day of the crime Face Maker had spoken of. She was currently sitting right beside Han Seung-woo’s daughter in his van, practically glued to the girl’s side. Over the past few days she had won the child over with snacks and treats; now anyone would believe they were real sisters.
Face Maker whispered like a devil into Han A-young’s ear.
“A-young, you said you didn’t want to play piano, right?”
“Yeah. Every time I play I just get scolded. If they’re going to yell at me, why make me do it? Ugh, we’re almost at the academy already.”
“Then, A-young, how about skipping piano class today and playing with big sis instead?”
“What’s skipping?”
“It means not going to the academy.”
The moment the piano academy sign came into view through the window, Han A-young’s face—which had been gloomy the entire ride—brightened instantly.
“Can I really do that?”
“Sure. Just for today.”
“But Dad will probably hate it……”
“We already did attendance check with big sis at the school gate earlier. Dad won’t know.”
Any adult would have snorted at such an obvious lie, and even a nine-year-old should have realized the story didn’t add up. Yet the relief of having an adult justify her little rebellion must have been overwhelming. Han A-young smiled brightly and nodded.
“Then I won’t get off? You said it’s okay, right, sis?”
“That’s right.”
The van door rattled open. After the other children disembarked, Face Maker got back in and the door slid shut again. Once only Lee Do-hwang, Face Maker, and Han A-young remained inside, Face Maker popped the cap off a glass bottle of juice. There was no satisfying pop of an unopened bottle separating from its metal lid. The cap still in her hand had no plastic seal on it either.
“You said you wanted to drink this yesterday, didn’t you, Ha-young?”
Han A-young accepted the drink with both hands. “Yeah!”
“Big sis bought it ahead of time just for you. Let’s drink it quick while the other kids aren’t here.”
“Okay. What should we do after I finish this?”
“Don’t you want anything else? Hamburger? Pork cutlet?”
Even to Face Maker’s gentle questions, Han A-young could no longer answer. The moment she sipped the strawberry drink her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped onto the van seat. Face Maker gave her a couple of light taps to confirm she was unconscious, then fished the girl’s phone from her pocket and switched it off.
The reason I could confidently boast to Kim Chul-joong was the chart currently displayed on my phone screen. As I had instructed beforehand, Yeo Eun-ju had compiled Han A-young’s daily and hourly routes and sent them to me. The chart clearly showed exactly where Han A-young would be at two o’clock on a Monday afternoon.
Beatrice Music Academy.
The yellow van carrying her was obviously heading there as well. Since we already knew the destination of the vehicle with the criminals inside, there was no need to tail them conspicuously. Academy shuttles usually stopped at several schools on the way, so if Kim Chul-joong and I went straight there we would arrive in plenty of time.
It was time to soothe Kim Chul-joong, who was still fuming and puffing angrily because he thought he had lost the culprits.
“Mr. Kim?”
— Yes, Team Leader.
“I’ve identified the destination of the vehicle you want to catch.”
— What? How? No—never mind how. Where is it?
The location data for Han A-young that had been arriving every minute had suddenly stopped. Then another message from Yeo Eun-ju appeared.
A-young’s phone has been turned off.
Perfect. The fact that they had even powered off the phone meant the real crime had begun. It also meant that if we stormed the scene now, we could arrest them in the act.
I released the seal on our righteous combatant, Steel Chung.
“It’s Beatrice Music Academy. Set the navigation and head straight there. It doesn’t matter if they notice we’re tracking them anymore. Catch the criminals no matter what.”
Trust in me returned to Kim Chul-joong’s voice.
— Yes, understood. You’ll be coming too, right, Team Leader?
“Of course.”
The engine roared. Kim Chul-joong’s Carnival, which had been idling in confusion, shot forward. My Porsche’s navigation began giving directions as well, and I followed right behind him toward Beatrice Music Academy.
A short while later, just as Kim Chul-joong and I arrived within sight of the academy sign, we spotted a yellow van pulling back onto the road from the front of the building. The license plate read 6219. It was definitely the one we were after.
— I’m not letting those kidnappers get away this time, so please don’t stop me, Team Leader.
At the burning determination in Kim Chul-joong’s voice, I answered with equal certainty.
“Yes. Be sure to catch them. I have something else to handle quickly, but I’ll follow right after.”
— What? You have something more important than catching the kidnappers?
Well, not exactly more important. It was more that I was confident Kim Chul-joong could handle the kidnappers on his own.
“It won’t take long. Stick to them closely and keep updating me on your location.”
— Yes, sir. Understood!