Chapter 90
"Wouldn't it be better if I went myself?"
We still hadn't pinned down the culprit. With no trump card prepared on our end, we couldn't even devise a strategy for dealing with Ko Jin-ah's side.
Having Jeong Yeongjun go in person to check the personnel records was the surest way.
"Your face is too well-known, sir. No good."
Kang Minjae jumped in quickly. "If reporters are there, they'll spot you the second you show up. That Jeong Yeongjun hired you for his divorce."
"What about you, then, Kang?"
"I'm way less recognizable than you, and I'll wear sunglasses."
I let out a sigh. "It's 2 p.m. now... We've got some time. First, Mr. Jeong, contact the security team and get yourself cleaned up. Shave, fix your hair neatly. Just in case you run into reporters—dress sharp too. Where's the dressing room?"
Jeong Yeongjun pointed to the room across the hall.
I stepped into the dressing room and checked the racks of suits. I picked out one suit, a shirt, and a tie, laying them out. Nothing flashy—nothing the press could spin into a story. Reporters loved guessing moods from suit colors or tie patterns, claiming hidden messages in the choices.
"Skip the cologne. If they catch a whiff, they might slam you for fussing over perfume in a situation like this."
"Got it."
Jeong Yeongjun called security, informing them of his visit. They said they'd check with upper management and call back, then hung up. He hurried off for a shower, while Kang Minjae cleaned up traces of the suicide attempt. He bagged the hose from the curtain rod and returned the dining chair to the kitchen.
Listening to the water running in the bathroom, Kang Minjae surveyed the messy apartment.
"Kitchen's a disaster. No wonder anyone's mind would break in a place like this."
"He's moving back to his parents' anyway. Leave it empty, hire cleaners."
Soon, Jeong Yeongjun emerged in a bathrobe, shaking water from his damp hair. He gave us an awkward smile, a bit embarrassed.
"Uh, Mr. Jeong. Phone's ringing."
His cell on the living room table buzzed. Probably security calling back.
"I-it's... Jin-ah."
Jeong Yeongjun held up the phone, voice trembling.
He went to flip it open, but I grabbed his hand.
"Mr. Jeong. Stay calm. No agitation—answer evenly. Speakerphone. Whatever Ko Jin-ah says, no crying. No fighting. Nothing about the divorce. Only talk about visiting headquarters today. And record it."
He stared at me with shaky eyes as I rattled off instructions, then nodded heavily and opened the phone.
"...Hello?"
Kang Minjae snatched scrap paper and a pen from the table.
He showed the note to Jeong Yeongjun, who bit his lip hard after reading it.
"Why no answer?"
"...We'll talk about that later."
"Later? My lawyer contacted you ages ago about prepping the divorce. How long do I have to wait?"
Ko Jin-ah's voice turned irritated. Jeong Yeongjun glanced at us helplessly, and I scribbled a note like Minjae had, showing it to him.
He read it with trembling eyes and replied. "Jin-ah. I'll give you an answer soon. Drop it for now. Make sure security gets the message. I have to clear out the executive office anyway. If I get nabbed by reporters at headquarters, it'll be trouble for you too."
"Ha, drop it? How long are you gonna drag this out? I don't want to keep stressing over a done deal. Make up your mind already. So I can decide whether to file or not."
"...Weren't you already prepping the suit?"
Jeong Yeongjun's voice rose, agitated. Kang Minjae flashed a frantic "no fighting" note, but he couldn't hold back.
"You ignored all my calls after I left your place, but now that I'm heading to HQ for my stuff, you call? Makes sense. You've already made up your mind, but don't want to go to court through lawyers, so you're pressuring me for an amicable divorce. Isn't that cruel? I said I'd find evidence. Just wait a bit!"
"I told you, I'm firm. Wasting time chasing nonexistent evidence is exhausting. That video makes my skin crawl thinking I lived seven years with someone like you!"
"Jin-ah. After seven years, you know me. Do I seem like that guy? Was I really like that to you?"
"...Enough, really. I offered divorce with no strings before. Worried you'll get nothing since it's your fault? Fine. Pay me ten million in damages, and I'll give you 15 billion in asset split. Done."
"What? You think I'm doing this for money?"
"Then what? You don't love me—you're just popping pills and fucking like a pervert with other women. If not money, what's holding up the divorce? Need more?"
"Ko Jin-ah!"
The argument escalated.
"I said no. It's only you. That video's someone slandering me—"
"I'm sick of that too. Drop it. I told security—go to the underground lot. They'll be waiting. Follow their lead. Keep it clean, no damage to me. Don't get stupid and let reporters catch you."
The call ended. Jeong Yeongjun called her name into the dead line a few times, but nothing changed. Kang Minjae stopped him from redialing, snatching the phone. Jeong Yeongjun heaved sobs, tears welling in his reddened eyes.
"Sorry, sir. You said no fighting..."
"I get it. First direct talk in ages."
Kang Minjae patted his shoulder. Jeong Yeongjun went to dry his hair in the bedroom.
"Ko Jin-ah won't budge without solid proof," Kang Minjae sighed. Her voice had been ironclad. Ten million damages and 15 billion split—lawyer-vetted numbers. Jeong Yeongjun yelled she was suing anyway, but she seemed desperate for amicable divorce. Maybe her image was trashed by the video, and a drawn-out trial would waste at least a year if it went beyond first instance. Or perhaps...
"Ko Jin-ah might know her parents did it."
"Huh? Why?"
"She's avoiding court hard. We'll know for sure with asset details, but before she took over Yangjin Retail, joint assets wouldn't hit that. Stocks are inheritance or gifts—not splittable. Yet she offers 15 billion, even more if needed? Weird, right?"
"Yeah..."
"If she truly doesn't believe his innocence, she's the pure victim. No way she'd offer a dime. Even coldly assuming split's mandatory, she wouldn't say 'more if short' on 15 billion."
Kang Minjae nodded. "Rushing the divorce bugs me too. Taegwang lawyers probably see Jeong Yeongjun as commoner son-in-law. They'd push for court to squeeze more split or drag it out refusing divorce. Warned her it'd take forever."
"Exactly. She knows, but still offers extra cash for amicable? Maybe fears a long trial lets him trace the video—to her parents. Damage there."
Pure speculation, but plausible.
"Don't tell Jeong Yeongjun yet."
"Yep. When it's solid."
An hour later, Jeong Yeongjun emerged in a crisp suit, hair neat, expression calm—he'd reined in his emotions.
"Ready to head out?" He checked his watch: 5:30 p.m.
Kang Minjae nodded, standing. "Take my car. Yours might be exposed—reporters could spot it."
"Got it." Jeong Yeongjun opened the door. In the elevator, Kang hit B1.
"Don't go to the office, sir—head home. You're beat. I'll update you."
"Was gonna anyway."
"Drop you on the way."
Not even 6 p.m., but exhaustion weighed like an all-nighter. My officetel was en route to HQ—no big detour.
"Beer at home?" I cracked my neck entering.
Fatigue crushed my shoulders. I stripped, showered in hot water. 6:20 p.m. Dusk fell, darkness settling outside. Toweling my wet hair, I flicked on the TV, landing on news.
News as background, I cracked the last beer from the fridge. Dry snacks in a drawer somewhere? Set it on the table, rummaged.
Nothing. All gone.
"...193?"
I glanced at the screen. Jo Hyun-seok filled it—posing at the prosecutor's photo line. My eyes went to his hand. On his fourth finger gleamed a lettering ring embedded with a blue gem.