A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive - Chapter 30

 

And then, he met him.

Hyun Woo Kyung called him “Senior Do Hyun-tae.”

It was on the drama set. Woo Kyung had been hovering for a while, sneaking glances before cautiously approaching with something in his hands.

“Do you remember this by any chance?”

He held it up for Taejoon to see.

Taejoon took the small plush toy from him. It was just the right size to fit snugly in his palm, and strangely enough, it resembled him.

“I don’t.”

At his indifferent response, Woo Kyung’s expression fell in disappointment.

“I skipped school in high school to attend your fan signing event and got this signed. Look, here!”

He pointed to the back of the plush toy.

Sure enough, there was Do Hyun-tae’s signature, along with a short message: To Woo Kyung.

“Hyun Woo Kyung! The assistant director is looking for you! Get to the set, now!”

“Ah! Yes, I’m coming!”

“Hey, take this with you—”

Before Taejoon could return it, Woo Kyung was already running off.

He glanced between the plush toy in his hand and the young man hurrying away, feeling inexplicably irritated.

“What the hell is this? Annoying.”

He had half a mind to toss it aside, but something made him hesitate.

The memory surfaced immediately.

This wasn’t just any plush toy—it was the keepsake that had been left behind after Woo Kyung’s death in Terminal.

A memento.

He told himself he’d return it.

But then the opportunity slipped away.

Filming wrapped up, and after that, he never ran into Woo Kyung again—not even by accident.

Something about Terminal had shifted. His very presence had altered the course of events, twisting the relationships between the characters.

And when they finally met again after a long time—

Woo Kyung treated him with the admiration of a fan.

No lingering emotions.

No desperate love, no heart-wrenching longing.

Unlike the Terminal he had read—where Woo Kyung’s love had been agonizingly raw—here, he was just another fan admiring an actor.

For some reason, that realization infuriated him.

The suffocating emotions were gone.

But the absence of them was even more suffocating.

He didn’t understand why it pissed him off so much—just that it did.

Living as Do Hyun-tae was unbearable.

Pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Dealing with fans, attention, cameras constantly pointed in his face.

Why the hell did he have to keep up this act?

So, he left.

He disappeared—hid away somewhere no one would find him.

There was no way back to his original world.

And he sure as hell wasn’t about to live as an actor.

So, he waited.

That was the only option.

Days passed.

He asked himself the same questions over and over, knowing no one could answer them.

He breathed.

He ate.

He slept.

An empty, unproductive existence.

Some days slipped away in the blink of an eye.

Other days stretched on endlessly, the night refusing to fall no matter how long he waited.

Characters who strayed from the story’s path had no purpose but to wait.

Then, one day—

A tremor.

A subtle shift.

A crack in the surface of reality.

Like the faintest fracture in a mirror.

And the day he thought would never come—finally arrived.

He couldn’t explain what was happening.

But something was.

A strange sensation spread through him—like staring at a blank cinema screen after the credits had rolled.

The story had ended.

Hyun Woo Kyung had died.

And with that—the tale of Terminal was complete.

Taejoon’s eyes snapped open.

“Hah… haaa…”

He was back.

Lying on the couch in his dark office.

Lightning split the sky outside, thunder roaring as if announcing the end of a performance.

The storm hadn’t let up—the rain still poured, the wind slipping through the open window.

His face felt damp.

His body was heavy, stiff—as though it had been carved from stone. Even breathing felt difficult.

He clutched his chest, his gaze darting around.

“Where am I…?”

It looked like his office.

No—it was his office.

He was Choi Taejoon, Executive Director of Taeseong Industries.

Which meant—

It had been a dream?

His eyes flickered to the script for Terminal, lying exactly where he had thrown it earlier.

Its pages rustled slightly in the breeze, completely undisturbed.

“Did I… really get trapped in that story? And now I’m back?”

His fingers clenched around the armrest.

“No. That’s insane. It was just a dream. Just a dream.”

He grabbed his phone, checking the date and time.

Everything was exactly the same.

Only a single minute had passed.

His entire body sagged against the couch.

“What a goddamn nightmare.”

Even for a dream, it had been too vivid—too real.

The memories weren’t fading like dreams usually did. Every word, every scene—Hyun Woo Kyung’s voice—it was all still sharp, still present.

And then—

A thought surfaced, unbidden.

What happened to Hyun Woo Kyung?

Taejoon sat in silence.

The question lingered.

If the story had followed the script, then Hyun Woo Kyung would have died in the end.

Taejoon looked down at his hands—scarred, calloused, and worn from years of brawls and bloodshed. They were nothing like Do Hyun-tae’s hands, which had been smooth and unblemished, untouched by violence.

The gap was unbridgeable.

This was reality.

He had merely experienced a disorienting dream—nothing more.

After all, he had been overworked and exhausted. Wasn’t it possible that this was just an elaborate hallucination, a product of extreme fatigue?

He staggered as he got to his feet.

He needed to go home and rest.

Dragging a rough hand over his face as if washing away his exhaustion, he finally noticed the dampness at the corners of his eyes.

A bitter laugh almost escaped him.

How utterly ridiculous.

Choi Taejoon, unable to distinguish between dreams and reality, shedding tears over a fantasy?

And the worst part—he didn’t even know why he was crying.

Shaking off the lingering discomfort, he grabbed his phone and car keys.

Just as he was about to open the office door, he felt something inside his jacket pocket.

It was odd—he never carried anything bulky enough to make his pocket bulge like this.

“…….”

Slowly, he reached inside.

Soft. Plush. Warm.

The Do Hyun-tae plush toy.

A cold chill crawled down his spine, his entire body breaking out in goosebumps.

It wasn’t just a dream.

Taejoon turned the toy over, his breath caught in his throat.

If this was truly the same plush from that world—if it wasn’t just some cruel, elaborate prank—then it should have one distinct mark.

“…Ha.”

His own signature, scrawled across its back.

Along with a message.

“To Woo Kyung.”

It was real.

There was no denying it now.

Even if accepting it didn’t mean he could fully understand it.

Taejoon’s gruesome, bloodstained routine resumed once more.

“Kang Jae-wook is clearly making a move. We should strike first.”

“Please review these documents.”

“President Choi of Hanyoung Industries wishes to meet with you.”

“Executive Director.”

“Director Choi!”

There were still endless problems that could only be solved with force and violence.

Allies today could become enemies tomorrow.

That hadn’t changed.

And yet—

“My favorite sandwich is pork cutlet. How did you know?”

Hyun Woo Kyung was alive.

Warm. Soft. Still breathtakingly beautiful.

Still right in front of him.

Every time Taejoon saw him, it felt like waking up from a nightmare—like returning to reality after being trapped in an illusion.

But what was this feeling?

Even he couldn’t explain it.

It wasn’t just attraction—that would be too shallow.

It wasn’t mere amusement—that would be too dismissive.

At first, he had been curious—just curious about this strange, bold, and oddly beautiful man.

But as time passed, that curiosity shifted—became something heavier, something deeper.

And yet, he still didn’t understand why his mind kept drifting toward Woo Kyung.

Why his thoughts always circled back to him.

Why he kept breaking his own rules just to keep him close.

If this was all just curiosity, then surely, once he uncovered the truth, the confusion would fade.

So, he decided.

He would hear everything from Woo Kyung’s own lips.

That evening, he would unravel the mystery completely.

“Tonight. See you at home.”

But that night—Hyun Woo Kyung was kidnapped.

For a split second, Taejoon’s mind went completely blank.

He couldn’t even remember how he got to Kang Jae-wook.

By the time he reached him, all he could think about was tearing him apart.

Only one thing kept him from snapping—

He didn’t want Woo Kyung to see that side of him.

“I really thought I was going to die.”

Woo Kyung, who had once begged for death, was now trembling.

He had been terrified.

He said he would rest for now and die later—as if death were merely something to be postponed.

Taejoon brought him home, his mind a tangled mess.

There were too many unanswered questions.

And the more he tried to piece things together, the more it felt like he was wandering through a dense fog.

The Woo Kyung from Terminal had desperately fought to live.

So why did this Woo Kyung desperately wish to die?

“You said you weren’t terminally ill.”

“R-right.”

“It’s not an incurable disease?”

“No.”

He tried asking in different ways, hoping Woo Kyung would finally answer.

But he never did.

“Then why do you want to die?”

“I told you—I can’t say.”

Woo Kyung could have been anything—a cop, a con artist, a failed idol dreaming of a life in the underworld.

It didn’t matter.

As long as he was still Hyun Woo Kyung.

A bitter, almost resentful confession slipped from Taejoon’s lips before he could stop it—half a truth, half a lie.

Woo Kyung didn’t respond.

Taejoon never even turned to see his expression.

Because if he looked—he might have given himself away, too.

And then—

The accident happened.

He didn’t think.

His body simply moved.

Turning the wheel. Reaching for Woo Kyung’s hand. Shielding him from the impact.

He hadn’t even had time to process the decision.

All he knew—

Was that he couldn’t bear to see Hyun Woo Kyung die.

Not in front of him.

Not like that.

Not at all.

The realization hit him hard.

For so long, he had tried to rationalize his emotions—categorize them into curiosity, obligation, amusement.

But in the moment that mattered most—

He had instinctively protected him.

Before his mind could catch up, his body had already made the choice.

“Fuck. It doesn’t matter which Hyun Woo Kyung he is.”

Everything that had been tangled and messy inside him suddenly became clear.

His arrogant pride.

His stubborn refusal to acknowledge what he felt.

His desperate attempts to deny what had always been there.

All of it—gone.

Leaving behind only one undeniable truth.

The person he wanted to protect.

The person he had to protect.

Was Hyun Woo Kyung.

And that,

That was all that mattered.