Chapter 122
With a knock, the section chief stepped inside. Editor-in-Chief Park Hyosung, seated at his desk, glanced back and asked in a low voice,
"Kim Jeongu committed suicide?"
"Yes."
The section chief explained to Park Hyosung everything he knew about Kim Jeongu's death. He mentioned that the police hadn't conducted a detailed investigation yet, so they couldn't confirm if a suicide note existed. As he laid out the situation, the section chief's anxiety was painfully obvious. Park Hyosung even snapped at him to calm down and speak slowly.
But the section chief couldn't help it. If a note turned up—and if it revealed he'd been blackmailed by the section chief—that would spell disaster.
"What the hell's got you squirming like a puppy that needs to shit? Worried Kim Jeongu mentioned you in a note?"
"Exactly. Even a timid little shit like him wouldn't hold back on his deathbed!"
"Heh, come on. Even if a note surfaces, we can bury it. He's no celebrity—just a probationary reporter at a newspaper."
Park Hyosung waved it off like it was nothing.
"Got some fine tea in. Have a cup before you go."
He picked up the teapot from the table. But unlike Park Hyosung, who saw it as no big deal, the section chief couldn't shake his unease.
"The problem is Choi Jonghyeon. If he gets to Kim Jeongu's note before the police do, we might not be able to shut it down."
Choi Jonghyeon wasn't a household name, but in journalism circles, he was well-known. Last year, he'd won an influential media award as the youngest recipient and even gave a one-off lecture at a university. With his pitbull tenacity for chasing stories, he'd earned that nickname. If he decided to break it, plenty of outlets would bite. Even if not, he could leak it to politicians or prosecutors opposed to Iljungilbo, blowing it up. They could block major media coverage, but total cover-up? Impossible. Once whispers spread, who knew how big it could snowball.
"......We block Choi Jonghyeon from finding it."
Park Hyosung grunted, pouring steaming water into two cups.
"Any way to do that?"
"Forge the note, obviously. Once it's 'found,' police focus there first. And Choi Jonghyeon can't reach the family, so he's scouting funeral homes himself, right?"
"......Yes."
"Perfect. Might as well handle him too while we're at it."
He leisurely scooped tea leaves from the jar into each cup.
"I get forging the note. But Choi Jonghyeon too...? Ah, you mean...?"
The section chief's eyes widened as realization dawned. Park Hyosung nodded.
"I've always figured he'd jump ship from Iljungilbo eventually to some outlet that suits his taste. If he dumps all our dirt then, we're screwed. Better to ruin his credibility outright."
The section chief sipped his tea, face finally relaxing.
"What about the note?"
"Do it yourself. Using underlings just creates accomplices and paranoia. You've pressured Kim Jeongu personally so far. I'll handle the CCTV. Tonight, leave a short one on his laptop. Nothing too long—no loose ends."
"Understood."
Plenty of time till night. Reporters pulling overtime would head to the funeral home anyway. He drained the cup Park Hyosung offered.
"Great tea."
"Right? Haha."
Knock knock.
The section chief, waiting for Kim Jeongu's obituary notice, looked up at the sound.
"Come in."
It was already 5:30 p.m. Right when he expected news, the social affairs manager entered.
"Section Chief, call just came in for Reporter Choi. He reached Jeongu's family."
"Good...... They must be devastated. Where's the funeral?"
"Seongjin Hospital, I think?"
"No, no. Family's short on cash, so city hall funeral home. But halls are full—won't get in till dawn."
"I see...... Tell him we're checking company support. Ask him to wait."
"Yes, sir. Obituary tomorrow morning, condolences from then. Choi's taking leave till the burial."
"Got it. Out you go."
The section chief watched the manager leave. Door shut, he turned to his monitor. He'd been drafting a suicide note that looked perfectly like Kim Jeongu's work—flawless, no slip-ups.
He'd planned to slip it in after reporters left early for condolences, around nightfall.
This means waiting till dawn.
* * *
3 a.m.
A political reporter staying late stretched. Grabbing his bag and coat, he glanced around. The dark office had only his desk lamp on.
"Time flies."
Muttering to himself, he switched off the heater and left.
Moments later, movement from the section chief's inner office.
Blinds parted by two fingers revealed bloodshot eyes scanning left and right. Surveying the empty office.
Satisfied, he eased the door open and headed to social affairs.
"......"
He perched at Kim Jeongu's spot. Cautious, despite no eyes on him.
Kim's laptop glowed. He found a folder packed with docs. Cursor over dense icons, checking save dates.
Three days ago. Last Friday, just before clock-out. Perfect. Content? Just contacts—nothing.
He deleted it all, then typed rapidly from his prepared text.
He hadn't even finished the final vowel.
"What are you doing here?"
"Gah!"
The sudden voice made the section chief jump, whipping around.
"......Reporter Choi."
"What're you typing so furiously at Jeongu's desk?"
Caught off-guard by Choi Jonghyeon's appearance, the section chief gaped like he'd seen a ghost.
He slyly shifted his chair to block the monitor, then fired back.
"Choi, didn't you say you were at the funeral home? Taking leave till the burial."
"Yes. Forgot something in the office."
Choi answered smoothly. The air had chilled with the heater off, but cold sweat trickled down the section chief's back.
"So what were you doing?"
Without asking, Choi shoved him aside and peered at Kim Jeongu's screen.
"What's this?"
Choi's eyes raced, reading. His expression darkened.
"Heard Kim killed himself—thought he might've left a note, so I checked the desk."
"At 3 a.m.? Weren't you typing? I heard the keys clacking."
"Staffer dies, mood's shit, so I drank at a street tent, forgot something, came back."
"Grab it and go. Why Jeongu's desk?"
"Choi. You accusing me?"
The section chief bristled. But Choi parried coolly.
"You're acting weird, so I'm checking. You never cared about Jeongu, now using his laptop."
"Ha....... Saw it on heading out—light on. Thought, maybe a note? Cops'll check anyway; better find something early!"
Flustered like a kid caught misbehaving, he stammered excuses, then shot up.
"Wait. You—why're you here at this hour, even if you forgot something? You're the suspicious one, Choi!"
"Me?"
"Yeah. You read the note. Answer: is it true? That shit he wrote—true?!"
The section chief bellowed. Choi let out a hollow laugh.
"Note? What note? That bullshit fake doc claiming I bullied Jeongu?"
"Fake? How do you know? I'm the witness. I found it, read it clear. Pretend to be nice, but treat him like trash behind closed doors? You're insane!"
The section chief shoved Choi's shoulder, roaring. Choi yielded, stumbling back step by step.
"This'll be a real problem. What era do you think this is—"
His bellow echoed through the office.
"Section Chief."
A voice from behind cut him short. He froze mid-rant, slowly turning.
"......Kim Jeongu?"