A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive - Chapter 31

“Executive Director.”

Kim’s familiar voice snapped Taejoon back to reality.

“Are you feeling very tired?”

Still gasping for breath, Taejoon turned to look at him with vacant eyes. For a brief moment, he was confused was this Do Hyuntae’s manager, Kim, or the real Kim?

“What time is it?”

“A little past eleven.”

Taejoon rubbed his stiff eyelids a few times and scanned his surroundings. Like circuits slowly reconnecting, his memory pieced together where he was and why he had come here.

It was Chairman Kang’s reception room.

“Should I try reaching out again to ask when he’ll be arriving?”

“No, leave it.”

If the old man was going to show up, he should just do it already. Why did he always make people wait like this?

Leaning back against the sofa, Taejoon pressed his fingers to his forehead. The pounding headache made it feel like his skull was splitting apart.

“Kim, did you look into what I asked about last time?”

“Which request are you referring to?”

“The script.”

Taejoon was growing increasingly desperate to find the screenwriter. If anyone knew how he had ended up in this mess, it had to be the writer.

“Ah, about that… I’m sorry, but I haven’t found anything yet.”

“…Keep looking.”

“Understood.”

There was another reason he needed to find the writer. The script didn’t mention the cause of Hyun Wookyung’s death. How did he die? Why did he die? It only vaguely stated that he suffered from an incurable disease.

If he could figure out exactly what illness led to Wookyung’s death… maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to prevent it.

“Taejoon, you’re here.”

At that moment, the door to the reception room opened, and Chairman Kang appeared, seated in his motorized wheelchair.

Taejoon and Kim immediately stood up, bowing politely in greeting at the chairman’s unexpected arrival.

“You young people have no respect, keeping an old man like me up at this hour.”

The chairman’s cloudy gaze drifted to Taejoon’s cast.

“How have you been, sir?”

“Tch, looking at you, I wonder what business could be so urgent at this hour.”

Chairman Kang had barely left his house, not even attending Gil Sanghoon’s funeral.

Taejoon had requested meetings multiple times before, but the chairman had always found excuses to refuse.

“I heard your accident was serious. How’s your recovery?”

For some reason, the chairman, who had been relying on Kang Jae Wook to act in his stead, now appeared before Taejoon.

“I’m managing.”

“And what’s wrong with your face? You’re as pale as a ghost—such an eyesore.”

“Chairman…”

“Enough talking. Just do as you’re told.”

It was unsettling how much the chairman resembled Kang Jae Wook—almost identical, even down to his voice. If Taejoon closed his eyes, he would have a hard time telling them apart.

“When have I ever disobeyed your orders?”

Taejoon got straight to the point.

“Then?”

“What’s going to happen with the other businesses?”

He wasn’t saying he wouldn’t do entertainment business—he was saying he would do that along with everything else.

After listening to Taejoon’s calm yet firm explanation, the chairman lowered his voice.

“Take it easy. A man who only chases after his own greed won’t even realize when he’s knocking on death’s door.”

“I’ve already been there once.”

Taejoon raised his casted arm.

“Didn’t find it to be a big deal.”

The chairman’s gaze flickered with brief disappointment, but soon, he let out a chuckle as if he found it ridiculous.

“You arrogant brat… Do you think you got this far all on your own?”

“I owe it all to you, sir. I’m always grateful.”

“Taejoon, I’m saying this out of genuine concern for you.”

Sure. Like hell you are.

Suppressing his irritation, Taejoon forced a smile.

The chairman maneuvered his wheelchair closer, narrowing the distance between them. Then, in a low, deliberate tone, he spoke.

“Seonho, step outside for a moment. I need to talk to Taejoon alone.”

He dismissed his personal secretary, and Taejoon, understanding the cue, gestured for Kim to step out as well.

What on earth was he about to say?

That sly old man’s thoughts were always impossible to predict.

“What is it?”

“Wait.”

Chairman Kang simply glanced at the entrance as if expecting someone, remaining silent.

Taejoon also waited quietly.

About five minutes passed.

“May I come in?”

A light knock accompanied the voice of a woman stepping into the room.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

It was Song Seohee, a former child actress who had been famous in her early years but had no notable achievements since.

“It’s fine. That’s just how business is,” the chairman said nonchalantly before turning to Taejoon. “You recognize her, don’t you? Go ahead and introduce yourself. She’s my lover.”

Taejoon was momentarily speechless at the unexpected revelation.

“And this is Executive Director Choi Taejoon.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Executive Director Choi. I’m Song Seohee, CEO of ST Entertainment.”

With graceful poise, she extended her hand for a handshake.

At that moment, Taejoon started to piece things together.

“You’re sharp enough to understand without me spelling it out,” the chairman continued. “Given the circumstances, I can’t hand this to my son. From my perspective, you’re the right person for the job.”

That sentence carried another implication—one that hinted at Taejoon’s sexuality. The chairman believed, at the very least, that Taejoon wouldn’t be interested in Seohee romantically.

“Chairman.”

“Running an entertainment business isn’t something just anyone can do. You need a good instinct for it. And frankly, no one else fits the bill better than you.”

Taejoon stared at the chairman, dumbfounded. He had no idea what led the old man to believe he had ‘instinct’ for the industry. Now, it was becoming clear—when the chairman had insisted months ago that he read the script, it had probably been to prepare him for this absurd proposition.

“ST Entertainment—I’ll be leaving it to Seohee after I die. Until then, I want you to handle it and make sure she has a stable future.”

“…There are easier ways to secure that,” Taejoon countered.

The chairman had plenty of real estate—he could have just gifted her a building or some land instead of handing her an entire business.

Chairman Kang wrapped an arm around Seohee’s waist.

“But this is what Seohee wants—the entertainment industry.”

A true romantic, this one.

“Once everything is set up, I’ll return all your assets to you. Just manage it for now.”

Taejoon steadied his swirling thoughts.

Chairman Kang was clearly trying to pull him into the entertainment sector to secure a lifetime safety net for his mistress.

And as for the businesses Taejoon had built so far—sooner or later, they would be handed over to Kang Jae Wook, piece by piece.

It was easy to see where this was headed. But turning down the offer wouldn’t be simple, either.

If he refused, the aftermath would fall entirely on his shoulders.

There was no such thing as a perfect victory in any battle. The real question was whether the losses he would suffer were acceptable.

No… He thought he had understood his position well enough. But now, an unexpected variable had entered the equation.

“Don’t overthink it, Taejoon,” the chairman said. “If you find any promising talent, debut them. Do things your way.”

At that moment, an image of Hyun Woo Kyung flashed through Taejoon’s mind.

Idol Hyun Woo Kyung.

In Terminal, Woo Kyung had desperately wanted to perform on stage…

If Taejoon took charge of the entertainment business, wouldn’t that give Woo Kyung an opportunity as well?

A simple yet intriguing thought crossed his mind.

Slowly, Taejoon parted his lips.

“Before that, I’ll need you to make me a promise, Chairman.”

“What kind of promise?”

“I need written proof of what we discussed today.”

“What exactly do you want me to include?”

He knew damn well what Taejoon was asking for, but he always played dumb.

“I’ve told you before—I won’t give up what I’ve built. If you guarantee that, I’ll dedicate myself to the entertainment business for the time being.”

A slow, scheming smile spread across the chairman’s wrinkled face. He probably thought that a piece of paper could be discarded at any time. Or maybe, in front of his lover, he just wanted to save face for now.

With a smug grin, he nodded.

“For my beloved Seohee, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

“Thank you, Chairman.”

Why was everyone so obsessed with love all of a sudden?

Suppressing his scoff, Taejoon stepped out of the reception room.

I lay on the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling.

I was bored.

If boredom could kill a person, I wouldn’t need Choi Taejoon’s hands to send me to the afterlife—I could do it myself.

Ever since I was discharged from the hospital, my life had been under strict lockdown. No going to work, no going outside, no contact with the outside world.

At first, I thought, What’s so hard about this?

Eat delicious food, sleep when I’m full, watch TV until I get tired of it, then eat and sleep again. What could be better?

But that ‘happy imprisonment’ didn’t last long.

As time passed, it became unbearable. I started wondering if I might actually suffocate to death.

“I’m so bored…”

I used to envy prisoners, thinking their life seemed pretty good.

Turns out, experiencing it firsthand was not the same.

There was a huge difference between choosing to stay inside and being forced to stay inside.

Even though I had been a washed-up idol, I was still an entertainer at heart. I thrived on being seen, communicating, and standing in front of people.

But now, I was stuck in this house with nothing to do but watch TV all day.

It was like a luxurious form of torture.

The only person who ever entered the house was the housekeeper who came in the mornings. Taejoon himself only showed up when I was asleep and vanished like a ghost before I woke up.

The only proof of his presence was the dampness in the bathroom and the lingering scent of his cologne.

What was Taejoon up to right now?

Were the bodyguards I used to work with still struggling out there?

Had Kim Minsu been released safely that day?

I had asked Taejoon for a favor, but I doubted he would have gone out of his way to personally look after someone like Minsu.

Not that I could check, since I didn’t even have his phone number.

I absentmindedly fiddled with my phone, lost in thought.

Maybe I should send Taejoon a text. I was bored, after all.

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