Chapter 120
A cold wind poured over my face. Kim Jeongu flinched at my voice, shoulders jerking, and lost his balance for a moment, staggering.
I stepped closer to him.
"Mr. Kim Jeongu! Come down!"
He definitely turned to look at me, but I couldn't make out his expression. Fumbling along the wall, I flipped on the rooftop light. A couple of old bulbs flickered to life, enough to reveal his face. I slipped my hand into my pocket and gripped my phone. Time to call 119.
If he realized I was reporting it, he might hurl himself off right away to beat the interruption, so I kept my fingers busy inside the pocket. Fumbling for the keypad, I punched in 119. Even if I didn't say a word about the situation, as long as the call stayed connected, emergency services would overhear and dispatch a team.
"Don't come any closer!"
"...Mr. Kim Jeongu."
"Lawyer, please... just... pretend you didn't see this. I, I..."
He wasn't looping a noose like Jeong Yeonjun had, so I couldn't just rush and grab him. With him poised to leap at the slightest approach, I couldn't get any nearer.
"Mr. Kim Jeongu. You're in a highly agitated state right now. You know that yourself, don't you?"
"...No. I'm clearer-headed than I've ever been."
He wasn't completely unreachable, so my only option was to keep him talking until the paramedics arrived.
"You were just crying your eyes out. You called your family in that state, too. You haven't had time to calm down. Mr. Kim Jeongu, let's think this through a bit more. There's no reason you have to die right this second."
One way to handle someone on the edge is to persuade them to put it off—just postpone it. Telling them flat-out not to do it rarely works.
But Kim Jeongu reacted from a completely different angle.
"Did... did you eavesdrop on my call?"
"I didn't eavesdrop. Remember? The neighbor complained when you were on the phone. That's how I knew. The sound carried all the way inside."
"..."
Kim Jeongu hadn't even confided his family troubles to his closest colleague, Choi Jonghyeon. And when the call came in, he'd stepped outside, claiming it was personal. Accusing me of spying would only make him push back harder.
"It's the dead of night right now. You know as well as I do—dawn's no time to make life-or-death decisions. So... sleep on it. Wait till sunrise tomorrow and think again. Really think if you have to die."
"Please... Lawyer, just leave me alone!"
Kim Jeongu bellowed. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them. He was still treating my approach like a threat, hunkered in a defensive stance.
"This isn't some impulse. I've... I've been thinking about it for a long time. So don't interfere."
"Mr. Kim Jeongu. Aren't you aware of it yourself? You've been suffering side effects from overdosing on zolpidem for months. Skipping it for one day won't free you from that. Was your decision to end it really... truly made in a logical, rational state?"
Kim Jeongu was trembling all over. His teeth chattered loud enough to hear from here. He steadied himself somehow, staring at me through tear-streaked eyes.
"I can't live like this anymore... I really can't take it!"
"You just opened up to Reporter Choi yesterday, didn't you? Talk it over with him—he'll have ideas. So, come down first... come down and let's figure it out together. You trust Reporter Choi, right?"
"Even Reporter Choi can't fix what doctors couldn't. Please! Just go! You've only seen me for one day, Lawyer. What do you think you know, barging in like this?"
He clearly saw death as an escape. The silver lining—if there was one—was that he hadn't flung himself off without a shred of hesitation. His emotions were ramping up, sure, but if he'd truly burned for death, my words wouldn't have stalled him this long.
A fleeting thought crossed my mind: in my previous life, if someone had talked Kim Jeongu down from this ledge, maybe the tragedy never would've happened.
"I've only seen you for a day, but I've known Reporter Choi far longer. I know him well."
"..."
"If you die like this, what do you think it'll do to the man you leave behind?"
He broke into sobs. It seemed guilt over his brother—left to care for their schizophrenic mother alone—wasn't the tether holding Kim Jeongu back. It was Choi Jonghyeon.
"For Sunbae... it'd be better if I just vanished. I haven't even been able to help him..."
"You think Reporter Choi values you just because you've helped him out?"
"..."
"If you die, Reporter Choi will drown in guilt. You know that. That's why you never told him about your family, right? Didn't want him worrying?"
"If he hadn't found that pill packet, I could've just... And anyway, it's my family mess. So..."
"I know you've been under pressure from the section chief because Reporter Choi's digging into Wooshin and Lee Jeongchan."
Kim Jeongu's eyes went wide.
"I know that's why you've flunked promotion exams over and over. And that you've been getting blackmail texts from the chief nonstop!"
"How the hell do you—"
"If you die like this, Reporter Choi will blame himself. He'll drop everything he's staked his life on and spend years in agony as a pariah. That okay with you?"
"...How do you know all that! Wh-what!"
Kim Jeongu squeezed his eyes shut and yelled. He staggered again, and my heart plummeted. I closed the gap by a few steps; he grabbed the clothesline rack in front of him.
"...How do you know that! Choi Sunbae will bounce back quick. Anyway, I—"
"No. Reporter Choi isn't the type to shake off loss easily. He'll torment himself with guilt. You know it—that's why you hid the blackmail."
"..."
"I heard it from the section chief myself. If Reporter Choi digs any deeper, Wooshin will try to kill him."
Kim Jeongu gulped dry air. I knew the future. I knew exactly what would happen if he jumped.
"The chief will frame your suicide as Reporter Choi's fault. He'll fabricate a suicide note."
"That's ridiculous!"
Kim Jeongu wailed, voice thick with tears, shaking his head furiously like the idea had never crossed his mind.
"You really think it's impossible? Does the chief strike you as someone who wouldn't stoop that low? Mr. Kim Jeongu, have you written a note? No, you haven't. You think Iljungilbo can't forge one?"
Iljungilbo twists the suicide of a note-less Kim Jeongu into Choi Jonghyeon's fault. Right after his death, a memo on his laptop "reveals" how Choi tormented him. Pure fiction—but it tanks Choi's reputation, gets him fired. Legally flimsy, but enough pretext for discipline.
"For Iljungilbo, it's the perfect shot to axe their thorn, Reporter Choi. They've been desperate to sideline him. You never thought they could fake a story about you killing yourself from his bullying?"
"No way..."
Kim Jeongu denied it aloud, but his eyes said he bought it deep down. I was speaking from knowledge of outcomes; based on texts alone, it might not seem plausible. But his quick acceptance showed how brutal the chief's pressure had been.
"If you're dead set on dying, leave a handwritten note. I'll notarize it. That way, at least Reporter Choi won't get dragged down by your death."
Guiding a suicidal man through pre-suicide to-dos—what irony. But first, get him off that railing.
Then, distant sirens wailed. The ambulance I'd called was turning into the alley.
Kim Jeongu glanced back.
"...You called?"
He visibly rattled. Choi Jonghyeon wasn't his only anchor. Maybe guilt over the fallout for those left behind.
"Yeah. I confessed to planning to kill you."
"What?"
"Said I'd push you off this roof. So if you jump now, I'll be a murderer."
"That doesn't even—"
"Your suicide costs Reporter Choi his career in disgrace, and me a murder rap. But if you don't die... nothing happens."
Dawn was breaking far off. The second sunrise I'd witnessed from this spot. Bright rays lit his face. Kim Jeongu's eyes screamed turmoil.
"I'm coming to you now."
"..."
"Mr. Kim Jeongu, give me your hand."
Sirens blared right below the building. My voice might've drowned out, so I shouted again.
"Your hand!"
I edged closer, arm outstretched. His trembling hand reached slowly toward mine. Seizing the moment, I yanked his wrist hard. He lost balance and tumbled into me.
"Hah... hah..."
He rolled beside me, sprawling on the concrete. I stood, brushed off my clothes, and extended my hand again.
"Good choice."
Tears streamed down his upturned face.
"I... I'm at the end of my rope. I don't know how to go on, or how to endure this. Death was the only way. Really, it was..."
Lying there, he covered his eyes and sobbed. I gazed down at him silently. I knew the agony that led to this brink.
I let out a long sigh. I'd thrown countless words to drag him back, but none came now. Just a sudden thought.
"Mr. Kim Jeongu. If the pressure from the section chief stopped... would life be worth living then?"
He stared up blankly.
"I can't fix your family situation, like you said. But the chief's blackmail? That, I can handle."
"How? That'd mean stopping Choi Sunbae's reporting, and I don't want—"
"Want to know? Come down with me."
"..."
"Promise no more attempts, and I'll tell you how."