Stories I Hadn't Even Imagined
They were stories I hadn't even imagined. Yoo Minhyuk's younger brother had been the public health officer here—and he'd died here, too. Stunned by the shocking revelation, we sat speechless until the old woman spoke first.
"That's why that pharmacist feller came all the way down here, weren't it? His brother was such a fine, kind young man..."
"Do you happen to know how his younger brother passed away?" Kang Minjae scooted closer on his butt and asked.
The grandma sliced the watermelon with heavy thuds of her big knife, responding stoically.
"I don't know the details myself. But he had some chronic condition... always takin' his meds, they said."
Always taking meds. That reeks.
"One day, the young feller was gettin' treated at the health center when he suddenly clutched his chest and collapsed. Heart attack. They rushed him to the hospital and did that chest-compressin' thing."
"CPR?"
"Dunno the name, but somethin' like that anyway. Didn't do a lick of good. He just up and passed... Family was heartbroken, poor souls. Can't even imagine."
"Was the cause of the sudden heart attack ever figured out?"
"They said it was the meds he took regular-like... side effect. But the exacts? No idea."
If this was what she'd heard straight-up, I could guess why Yoo Minhyuk quit Myungwha Pharmaceuticals and dragged himself to this godforsaken spot. He'd already lost his brother to drug side effects. When the drug he developed might cause the same, he'd fight tooth and nail to stop it. But when they stonewalled him, he had nothing left—exiled himself here like self-imposed penance, right where his brother died.
"Studied his butt off, parents raised fine boys they were mighty proud of. Makes you ache for 'em. How tragic. Tsk tsk."
The grandma clicked her tongue and tossed a chunk of watermelon to Baekgu. The dog wagged over and chowed down.
Sad story. And it made Yoo Minhyuk's reluctance to get involved hit home, at least somewhat. As the lead researcher, guilt drove his efforts—but nothing panned out, so he bailed to this remote hole. Facing it all again now? No guts.
But understanding didn't mean we could drop it. Personal baggage aside, if Antrozol Alpha hit the market, countless lives would be lost.
"Thanks for the story, Grandma."
"Sure thing. Want me to lay out blankets?"
"That'd be great."
"Got change of clothes, lads? I can grab my son's?"
"Whoa, yes please!"
She pulled stretched tees and sweatpants from the wardrobe in our room. Her son must've been shorter; they pinched on us.
"Pfft, you look like some lawyer's nephew who stole his clothes." Kang Minjae couldn't stop laughing at me after changing.
"You're one to talk." He looked just as ridiculous. Still, better than sleeping in suits.
We crawled under the blankets side by side. Had to crash early for the dawn run to the pharmacy tomorrow, but...
"Lawyer-nim."
Kang Minjae had no plans to shut up.
"What."
"Just curious."
"About?"
"Why'd you leave the prosecution?"
He'd never asked before. And it cut straight to the goal I kept from him.
"Kinda out of left field, no?"
"Nah, this is prime time for it—far from the usual grind, bedtime confessions. Or whatever. If it's uncomfortable, skip it."
Felt like he'd been dying to ask but timing sucked till now.
"...Felt like I couldn't do what I wanted there."
"What do you want?"
I turned to face him. He'd rolled fully toward me, eyes wide and gleaming even in the dark. Uncomfortably bright whites.
"Fold when they say fold, do when they say do, shit when they say shit."
"...Yeah, fair. Honestly, I always thought you suited being a prosecutor."
"Me too."
Three years as a lawyer by calendar, fifteen as a prosecutor. Still felt off sometimes. Being called "Cha Lawyer" grated more than the familiar "Cha Prosecutor."
"I just want to help folks crushed by injustice. And smash the roots of it. That's my thing."
"...Like Wooshin?"
Nailed it. I pulled the blanket higher and shut my eyes.
"Wooshin could be one of 'em."
Next morning, after washing up, rice aroma filled the air. She stirred a massive cauldron—rare sight these days—over a low table laden with fried fish and stew.
"Lawyer gents stayin' another night?" She set down heaping rice bowls.
"We'll meet the pharmacist today, then decide."
"That so?" She nodded slow, pouring water into the pot.
"Gonna boil some scorched rice?"
"Hell yes! Haha."
While we ate, she muttered about extras, bustling between kitchen and table.
"Grandma, enough—sit and eat!"
"No way! Chow down! Saved all this for my boy, but that rotten bastard never shows. Gotta wait till his ma kicks it? Good thing you gents came. No one to eat it otherwise. Damn whelp. Shoulda told him not to bother with my funeral."
She piled food till the table groaned. Kang Minjae polished off two bowls plus scorched rice before setting down his spoon.
"Thanks for everything, Grandma. We'll call if we stay another day!"
"Yup! Do that!"
With her send-off, we headed to the pharmacy. Belly too full to drive, so I took the wheel. Kang Minjae patted his gut by the open window.
"Before we talk to Yoo Minhyuk, can we grab digestives first? Urp. Overdid it."
Sigh.
In town, per his rec, we hit a nearby mart for a juice set. Yesterday's rush meant blunt intros, but knowing the context now, a softer start made sense. Detoured a bakery too. Kang eyed cream cake first, then swapped to roll cake—"in case he smashes it in your face."
By the time we'd looped town, the pharmacy was opening.
"Welcome..." Yoo Minhyuk's reflexive greeting froze at the sight of us, face hardening.
"Wasn't yesterday done?" His tone iced over.
Kang Minjae plunked the juice set and roll cake on the counter, charging in.
"Yoo Minhyuk, sorry we jumped straight to the rough stuff yesterday—total rush job."
"..."
"Just hear us out a bit. Please. You know we're not bad guys."
Yoo Minhyuk sighed long. Hung a "briefly away" sign, parted the back curtain.
"Fine, let's talk. Briefly."
The dispensary led to a tiny room at the end. Studio setup—he lived here. Lead researcher at Myungwha, big bucks once, but this? Guilt ran deep.
"You're following the Myungwha mess, right?" I nodded at the scrap article on his desk—printed Myungwha coverage.
Why wouldn't he? He blamed his drug for it all. No escaping the fallout.
"...Yes. Antrozol's mine, after all. And Alpha's components came from its dev phase."
"Right. You knew the combo's side effects, so you researched Haizolam to suppress them."
"...Yes."
"But why not lead it yourself?"
"Higher-ups ordered fast Alpha release—no manpower to spare. Outsourced to a U.S. lab."
He sighed.
"That's what I told you yesterday. I knew that U.S. lab had iffy creds. Pushed to delay Alpha, re-research Haizolam's suppression in-house. Fell on deaf ears. So I said stop Alpha or I quit. Figured they'd budge..."
Veteran researcher, key to their IPO with Antrozol—had pull inside. Yet even his resignation threat? Crickets.
"That's everything I can say."
"You tried every angle to block Alpha's release. But you created the base formula, and now it's going live."
"...Lawyer. You saying it's my fault?"
"To families who lost kin to that drug? They'd have no choice but to think so."
My words widened his eyes.
"They think, 'If that drug never existed, my family wouldn't have died like this.' Natural, right? Least, that's how I see it."