Into The Thrill

Woojin pulled out the internal investigation files. As the Chief of Staff opened the folder and began leafing through the documents, his face rapidly turned cold. He bit the inside of his cheek. The upright expression vanished, revealing a naked face warped by urgency and an obsessive lust for power.
“Sir, the media will be flooded with your scandals from your time as a lawyer—not tales of virtue. You’ll have to give up the general election, obviously, and this position will soon be vacant as well. Your wife will be attacked too. I know you had no ill intentions, but for a lawyer’s wife, she really doesn’t know the law. It’s not serious enough for prison time, but your current image will be impossible to restore.”
“What’s your reason for doing this? CEO Kim treats you like a son.”

He rubbed his furrowed brow and tossed the file of his own corruption onto the table.
“If the special prosecutor is discussed, you’ll need to persuade the VIP and push it through right away.”
Woojin handed over half of the documents he brought, keeping the other half for himself. The Chief of Staff’s eyes trembled, twitching as he watched the records of his own corruption disappear back into Woojin’s briefcase.

“This isn’t all. HanKyung has material on you too.”
“What?”
“CEO Kim Jung-geun is a businessman. He doesn’t give out money to anyone for nothing.”

“That bastard…”
He clenched his fists, grinding his teeth—not at Woojin, but at the thought of Kim Jung-geun. Woojin had never found it, but he assumed HanKyung’s secret ledgers contained slush fund records tied to political and bureaucratic figures, the Chief of Staff among them.
“If the special prosecutor’s case proceeds, we’ll execute a search and seizure to find that ledger. That’s reason enough to push forward.”

Woojin needed it too. It was what Kim Hayeong had failed to bring him.
“Why are you doing this? CEO Kim going to jail won’t benefit you in the slightest.”
“He must never find out.”

“…Then, you mean…”
“You’ve never seen me. Depending on how you handle this, I’ll decide whether to leak this file to the media or not.”
“How am I supposed to believe that? I don’t even know why you’re doing this—I can’t just cooperate.”

As Woojin stood, the Chief of Staff looked up at him with understandable suspicion. Take 2 wasn’t as threatening as anticipated. Letting it go would work in his favor. Woojin scrapped his plan to eliminate both Take 2 and Take 3 at once—he decided to align himself with Take 2 instead.
“You’re asking because you don’t already know? I’m a prosecutor. I’m just doing my job.”
Woojin looked at him as if that was the strange part of this conversation. As if it were the most natural thing in the world to betray the man who nearly became his father-in-law and drive a knife into his back without hesitation or remorse.
“I’m not virtuous. I just pick the lesser evil when choosing between the worst and something slightly better. Whether you’re the worst or the lesser, sir, I’ll figure that out in due time.”

“…”
“I’ll take my leave now.”
Woojin had been ignoring Kim Soyoung’s calls, but after more than ten missed ones, he finally answered. The special prosecution against CEO Kim Jung-geun and HanKyung Group was approaching a vote in the National Assembly.

HanKyung itself would survive, but Kim Jung-geun, his close aides, and all his loyalists would be cut off. Woojin already held the material to destroy him. Some of it had come from Kim Hayeong. Some from Kim Soyoung. Once the special prosecutor was appointed and search warrants were executed, the hidden ledgers containing slush fund usage would end up in Woojin’s hands.
He was obsessed with figuring out how far his control could reach—who exactly he could leash, name by name. Calming his excitement, Woojin answered Soyoung’s call.
“Yeah, Soyoung.”

―Did you see the news? They’re saying Dad might be arrested.
“I’m looking into it as thoroughly as I can. I’m pushing for him to be included in the special prosecutor’s case. Tell your father to remain calm. This is the time to stay cool-headed.”
―Mom’s been crying all day. The house is chaos. Can’t you stop by for a bit?

Seok Hwa was bound to end up visiting someone in prison—might as well cry now and get it over with.
“Tell them I can’t contact them. If I’m excluded from the process, I won’t be able to help. We need this to go through the special prosecutor. That’s the only way.”
―So the special prosecutor’s going to happen?

“Looks like it.”
―Oh no. Is Dad really going to be arrested?
“Don’t worry about that. Just bring your study abroad plans forward.”

―How can I leave right now, with all this going on?
“You might get caught up in it too. A lot of the assets under your name could be a problem. Leave this to me. Just get out of the country as soon as possible.”
―But I didn’t do anything wrong.

No, she hadn’t. But Woojin had used a hastily made-up lie about Soyoung to pacify Haewon. He couldn’t leave the two of them under the same Seoul sky. He had to eliminate even the slightest chance Haewon might learn the truth. Moon Haewon was a minefield of complications.
He spooked her with a warning to leave quickly. After ending the call, Woojin slipped the phone into his jacket and opened the door to the chief’s office.
Lee Seung-min, mid-call with someone, held up a hand as if to say, wait a moment.

Woojin didn’t sit. He walked slowly along the wall of the office, stopping in front of a framed photo.
It was Lee Seung-min smiling brightly after hitting a hole-in-one at the Central Prosecutors’ Office golf tournament. Beside it were other framed photos—one from a ceremony receiving a plaque of appreciation, another of a group shot at the summit of Bukhansan during a Special Investigations hiking trip.
When he finished his call, Lee Seung-min put on his jacket and buttoned it up as ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) he approached. Together, they looked at the group photo from Bukhansan.

“It’s already been two years. We should do another climbing trip. How about Hallasan this time?”
“It’s only been two years, but you’ve aged a lot, Chief.”
“It’s your fault. Because of you, my organs are all shriveled up. The Prosecutor General wants to see you for a moment. Come with me. Looks like they’ll be discussing the special prosecutor with the National Assembly Speaker, the floor leaders, and probably the Legislation and Judiciary Committee too. They’re trying to set the guidelines.”

“Please leave me out of it. I don’t know anything.”
Woojin couldn’t be tied to the special prosecution against CEO Kim Jung-geun.
“How can you say you don’t know anything?”

“The special prosecutor will pass within a week. Make sure Kim Hanse is appointed as the dispatched prosecutor.”
“What are you talking about? Why would I recommend Kim Hanse when I’ve got you? Are you nuts? And don’t you know what’ll happen if we put Kim Hanse on this? Are you even thinking?”
Lee Seung-min had no reason to recommend Kim Hanse, a guy from a different team entirely. He didn’t even like the man. Most senior prosecutors didn’t. Even if it was just political theater, Woojin had no reason to go after Kim Jung-geun. They hadn’t become family through marriage, but their families had been close for ages. If Woojin got in on the special prosecutor’s team, he could protect Kim.

Kim Jung-geun had the wealth and influence to promote Woojin to chief prosecutor—maybe even Prosecutor General in the future. Lee Seung-min looked at him, incredulous.
“So who’s the special prosecutor, then?”
“Attorney Lee Jae-hoon.”

“…Are you serious?”
Given how well he knew the relationship between Woojin and Kim Jung-geun, it was incomprehensible. Already stressed to the breaking point, every word out of Woojin’s mouth now was a live grenade. Lee Seung-min looked like he’d just taken several body blows. What Woojin said next was almost theatrical.
“If you commit a crime, you face the consequences. No exceptions. Even CEO Kim. You think prosecutors are that sloppy?”

“I thought you were inflating this thing on purpose so you could clear him later with no charges. If it’s Lee Jae-hoon… Kim Jung-geun’s finished. You know who he is, right? He went after the VIP back in the day—you think he’ll go easy on Kim?”
Completely unable to make sense of this, Lee Seung-min furrowed his brow deeply and grabbed Woojin by the arm, dragging him to the couch. He wanted them to sit and talk properly.
“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? Did you eat something bad?”

“My Take 3 is Kim Jung-geun. Not Take 2.”
“You numbered him just to rattle him, right? You weren’t seriously trying to take him down? That list—you ranked the people you considered most important, didn’t you?”
Remembering that his name wasn’t on that list, Lee Seung-min asked in a suddenly tense voice.

"Numbering things properly keeps you from forgetting. The numbers don’t mean anything else. I assign them so I don’t forget."
Woojin said it like it was nothing. If it was important, he assigned it a priority. Using numbers made everything easier to process. If it were letters that made calculations faster, he would’ve used letters.
Lee Seung-min’s face, already grim from what he assumed to be Woojin’s elaborate scheme to push Kim Jung-geun to the edge only to swoop in as his savior, turned pale.

“I don’t understand you, Chief. I’m just doing my job. Or should I stop working and just slack off instead?”
Woojin found it more bizarre that Seung-min was asking such a thing. He looked at him with confusion, as if it was Seung-min who was being irrational. Watching injustice and crime unfold in front of him and doing nothing—that was the real absurdity. They’d known each other for years, almost become family. But that didn’t mean Woojin could just look away from corruption. That was exactly why he’d become a prosecutor—to correct what was wrong.
“If Kim Jung-geun finds out, he won’t let this go.”

“That’s why we make sure he doesn’t. Leave HanKyung alone. We’re just switching out the owner. Imagine if the right person took the reins and actually kept the chaebol in check. What if the person who holds records of all Kim Jung-geun’s bribes and slush funds had him on a leash? Wouldn’t the world become a much brighter place?”
It was an overly idealistic statement. Not something the typically cold and cynical Woojin would say. But Seung-min, who knew it was Woojin who had brought things this far by taking down Park Hyung-soo, couldn’t dismiss it as naïve talk. He meant it.
Seung-min clenched his fists, his face tense. Sweat soaked his palms.

“So who’s the new owner?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
“…Is it you?”

“Appoint Attorney Lee Jae-hoon as the special prosecutor, and make sure Kim Hanse is brought on. If you tell the Chief Prosecutor, the VIP will name Lee Jae-hoon. That’s all. You can go now. The Chief is waiting.”
Woojin didn’t answer his question. He simply stood.
The day the special prosecution passed the National Assembly with bipartisan support, Woojin stood in front of Haewon’s officetel door holding a bottle of champagne. He entered the door code three times—three times it was wrong. A warning beep blared.

Woojin sighed in irritation. He didn’t have time to check the CCTV or call a specialist. He called Haewon instead.
“Where are you?”
―I’m at the officetel.

“Open the door. Or give me the code.”
―Guess it.
At that absurd reply, Woojin tilted his head back. He was tired, annoyed, and now just dumbfounded. He let out a short, exasperated laugh.

“You only changed the last digit?”
―Nope. It’s really complicated this time.
“Can’t you just open the damn door? It’s freezing out here.”

He made his voice deliberately heavy. That kind of tone usually made others freeze up and fall in line. But not Haewon. Haewon didn’t even flinch. If anything, he doubled down.
―You’re good at breaking in anyway. Just figure it out.
“Give me a hint.”

He said it with the desperate sincerity of someone begging not to lose it and do something drastic.
―It’s my birthdate plus yours. I know it’s hard to do in your head, so I’ll give you the last digit as a bonus. It’s three.
The call ended. Woojin let out a long breath, trying to suppress the heat boiling in his gut, and called Jung Ho-myung.

―Yes, sir?
“Moon Haewon, male. Terra Tower, Building S, Unit 2205. Pull up his personal record.”
―One moment.

Only the sound of keys clacking came through. Jung Ho-myung said nothing. Woojin stood staring at the door, feeling like an idiot.
―Moon Haewon, male, age 29. No warrants, no criminal record, no unpaid fines. Clean civilian.
“Birthdate.”

He memorized the numbers as Jung Ho-myung read them off. Then hung up.
He did the math in his head—but it wasn’t easy. For all his intelligence, Woojin wasn’t a calculator. He could’ve used his phone, but he didn’t even think to. Haewon had him wrapped so tight around his finger, he stood there like a fool, tracing numbers into the wall with his finger to calculate.
He punched in the code and the door clicked open. Haewon, lying belly-down on the bed reading a book, looked back in surprise.

“How’d you get in? Did you actually do the math already?”
“Of course. What do you take me for?”
What was a little math?

Haewon gave him the brightest smile he’d ever seen and ran to throw his arms around him. Woojin nearly dropped the champagne, barely managing to shift his grip and lift Haewon by the ass. Haewon peppered him with kisses—on the cheek, forehead, earlobes, neck—trying to charm him before he could scold him. Haewon was very good at charming.
Still holding him, Woojin kicked off his shoes and walked inside. He set the champagne down on the table and his briefcase beside it. Supporting Haewon steadily with both arms, he tried to calm the whirlwind of affection—Haewon kissing him nonstop—while making his way toward the bed.
He was going to toss him down, but paused.

Tomorrow was Haewon’s birthday. That’s when Woojin realized—it all made sense. Haewon had changed the code to give him a hint, a way of showing it was his birthday.
“I thought you’d forget. I thought you didn’t care.”
“How could I not know our Haewon’s birthday?”

“I really thought you didn’t. You didn’t say anything this morning.”
Woojin knelt on the bed, still holding Haewon. The weight of him pulled against Woojin’s neck. He collapsed onto the bed with Haewon in his arms. Haewon wrapped his arms around Woojin’s neck and kissed him deeply, like a confession. Woojin opened his mouth, sucked in Haewon’s hot, coiling tongue. They kissed like they were starving, breathless.
Haewon looked up at him, panting, dazed.

“It would’ve been weirder not to know your birthday.”
“Of all my fingers and toes, Hyun Woojin, you’re the very best one.”
“Haewon.”

Woojin’s brow creased in distaste as he remembered Haewon’s old lovers—too many to count on all his fingers and toes.
“I’m sorry. I won’t say that again.”
Haewon played innocent and apologized, turning on the charm again.

“I love you, Hyun Woojin.”
What was a birthday, really? Just another day that came every year. And yet—his eyes, usually unmoved by sweet words or affection, shimmered with genuine emotion over something as simple as a birthday.
“I figured you were busy. I wasn’t going to say anything… but I had to try, just in case.”

“You were testing me?”
“I’m really looking forward to this.”
“…Why?”

Why was he so excited? What exactly was he hoping for?
Woojin looked down at him for a long moment, then rose. He gestured that he was going out to smoke and left the room. His face was tired as he pulled out his phone.
―What now?

“I need to leave the country.”
―Because of the special prosecutor?
“That too. Book two tickets for tomorrow evening. To Bangkok. Coming back next Monday would be good.”

That would be the day the VIP officially appoints the special prosecutor. Best to be out of Korea until then. When he returned, he’d steal the ledgers during the raids. He had already told Kim Jung-geun not to worry about search and seizure—it was all just theater for the public.
―Tomorrow’s Friday night and next week’s a holiday. There’s no way there’ll be seats.
“If it were impossible, why would I bother calling you? Book first class. It’s for me and Moon Haewon—the one you looked up earlier.”

―Wait, are you extracting a key witness from a special investigation? I need his passport to book anything.
“Do I sound like I’m asking?”
Woojin’s voice turned icy, and the grumbling on the other end went dead quiet.

―…Understood.
“We’ll go straight to the airport, so email me the confirmed tickets.”
―Yes, sir.

“Tell the Chief I’m on a business trip. Make something up.”
―And I shouldn’t ask for details, right?
Woojin chuckled faintly. It was something he often said himself. When he told Seung-min not to ask questions, Seung-min never did.

“Right. The more you know, the more exhausting it gets.”
―I’ll be in touch.