A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive - Chapter 88

Taejoon ignored the silent murmurs behind him as he stepped into his office.

It had been a while.

Everything was just as he had left it, except for the small, green plant in the corner, which was now wilting from neglect. If Director Kim had been around, that wouldn’t have happened. His meticulousness had extended to even the smallest details.

Taejoon cast a fleeting glance at the cabinet where he had stored the Terminal Illness scenario before turning to Woo Kyung, who was hesitating near the door.

His cheeks were faintly flushed, and he was rubbing them absentmindedly, avoiding eye contact.

“Why do you look so timid? That’s not like you.”

Taejoon’s tone was uncharacteristically gentle.

“Do you want something to drink?”

Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he had called Woo Kyung into his office.

Perhaps that was why the air felt strangely warm.

He was just reaching for the window when the massive banner outside flapped against the glass, making its presence known once more.

At the sight of it, Woo Kyung let out a small gasp.

“…Director Choi, no matter how you look, you’re always impressive.”

The comment was completely out of the blue.

“What?”

Woo Kyung clasped his hands together as if in prayer and spoke carefully.

“That’s just how I see it. No matter what you do, you look cool. Even that—just now—it looked like a piece of art. A reflection of modern despair, the struggles of the working class… something like that.”

“…Are you feeling unwell again? What nonsense are you spouting?”

“No, I’m perfectly healthy. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks this….”

Only then did Taejoon realize why he was saying such ridiculous things, and he pressed a hand to his forehead.

Modern despair?

Now he was actually getting a headache.

“Don’t bother. It’s nothing.”

“I’m not just saying it. Besides, it’s only around 7:30 in the morning, right? No one saw it.”

Woo Kyung started counting off the potential witnesses.

“Chief Yoon, Manager Kim, you, me, the building security, the bodyguards, a few pedestrians, the police officers who passed by, the security guard from the building next door who came over earlier….”

When he ran out of fingers to count, his face twisted into a look of despair. Then, suddenly, he stopped talking and looked at Taejoon.

His round eyes welled up with tears.

“…I’m sorry.”

Taejoon, who had been idly listening with his arms crossed, stiffened in surprise.

“Hic. It’s all because of me….”

What the hell was this now?

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have gone there that night. This wouldn’t have happened. And you—Director Choi—you live off your reputation… and now it’s all ruined because of me. Waaaah!”

“…Live off my what? Ruined? What?”

“I’m really sorry.”

Woo Kyung collapsed onto the sofa, sniffling.

Taejoon was too stunned to be angry.

This was ridiculous.

He pressed his fingers to his temple, sighing, before perching on the edge of the table across from Woo Kyung.

“Kang Jae-wook, that bastard… Maybe I should’ve let you kill him that night. I’m so pissed off I could die. Is there any way we can get revenge?”

Tears dripped down Woo Kyung’s pale cheeks, his lips trembling with frustration.

Seeing him like that sent a strange, tingling sensation through Taejoon’s chest.

At first, he had assumed Woo Kyung was just nervous about the other men in the organization.

But now, he realized—he had been restless because he felt guilty.

“Wipe your tears.”

Taejoon pulled out a handkerchief and placed it in front of Woo Kyung.

Then, forcing all emotion from his voice, he spoke as if none of this was a big deal.

“If you feel that bad, then just be more careful from now on. Don’t do anything reckless.”

“…Okay.”

“And as for that bastard—don’t worry. I’ll pay him back properly.”

“How?”

“I have plenty of pictures of him. Worse ones, too.”

He had boxes full of evidence exposing Kang Jae-wook’s depraved tastes.

When he visited the hospital later, he was planning to scatter them all over the place.

The Choi Taejoon from Alcohol Swab had been a man whose pride towered above all else, a perfectionist who refused to show even the slightest weakness to his enemies.

And Kang Jae-wook?

He was a complete lunatic, a bloodthirsty killer whose unpredictability made him all the more terrifying.

The two of them were the ultimate nemeses.

They had been locked in a tense battle for control, each trying to outmaneuver the other to seize Taeseong Industries.

Taejoon had the upper hand in terms of reputation and power within the organization, but Kang Jae-wook was a direct descendant of the chairman.

It was impossible to predict who would win.

And yet, despite all of that—

Choi Taejoon had kneeled before him.

For me.

Between the chaos of everything that had happened afterward, I had briefly forgotten—no, suppressed—the mix of emotions I had felt that night.

But when I saw that damn banner this morning, it all came rushing back.

The guilt, the gratitude, the sheer frustration.

The moment I saw that enormous photograph flapping in the wind, I had wanted to bite my own tongue and die.

And now, on top of everything, I had ended up crying in front of Choi Taejoon.

Groaning, I buried my face in my hands.

That had been days ago, and yet, just thinking about it made my face burn with embarrassment.

“Ughhh. Why did I do that?”

I thrashed around in agony, making a mess of my blanket.

Beside me, Madam Kim, who had been silently watching my meltdown, finally spoke up, concern evident in her voice.

“Are you okay, dear? Do you feel unwell?”

Madam Kim and I had been dividing food into airtight containers, storing them in the refrigerator and freezer.

For the first time in a while, Choi Taejoon’s house smelled like an actual home—filled with the warm aroma of cooked food.

“Your face is pale. You don’t look well.”

“Ugh… Yes, ma’am. My heart hurts.”

“……”

Her eyes, initially wide with concern, narrowed slightly before she suddenly burst into laughter.

“…Why are you laughing?”

“You sound just like my son.”

“Your son?”

Her soft eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Yes, my youngest.”

Madam Kim closed the refrigerator door after placing the last container inside. Then, she turned to the sink, where a pile of dishes awaited.

Before she could roll up her sleeves, I beat her to it, slipping on a pair of rubber gloves.

“I’ll do the dishes.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll finish quickly. Besides, if the boss finds out I made you do chores, I’ll be in trouble.”

I glanced toward the room where Choi Taejoon was sleeping.

He had come home at dawn, which meant he wouldn’t be waking up for a while.

And even if he did, he wasn’t the type to care whether or not I did a few dishes.

“So, your son is dating? You have to finish the story now.”

“Oh, it’s nothing special. I just assumed he was living his life normally, not seeing anyone. But then, all of a sudden, he started dating.”

She chuckled, rolling up her sleeves.

This was the most we had ever spoken to each other.

Despite seeing her almost daily, we had never really had a proper conversation before.

I squeezed a bit of dish soap onto a sponge and watched the bubbles form as I absentmindedly lathered my hands together.

Maybe it was her calm demeanor, or maybe it was the clinking sound of dishes—a quiet reminder of something normal.

Or maybe it was just the simple, domestic warmth of the moment that made me blurt out a question I normally wouldn’t have asked.

“So… what did you say to your son?”

Madam Kim shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“I didn’t say much. I just told him, If it hurts because you love them, then love them even more.”

She paused briefly before adding,

“Love them fully, so you don’t leave any regrets behind.”

“…And what if it doesn’t hurt because of love?”

“Then it’s something else.”

“……”

“Maybe he just hasn’t realized his feelings yet. Either way, don’t overthink things. Sometimes, you just have to live the way you want. Life is short, after all.”

Her words struck me unexpectedly, resonating in a place deep within me.

Was that really true…?

I stood there, momentarily at a loss for words.

“Oh dear, look at me rambling. I need to run to the laundry room—I completely forgot to add the fabric softener.”

“Go ahead. I’ll finish up here.”

I rinsed the soap off a dish, my mind still tangled in thoughts.

I had a vague understanding of what Choi Taejoon felt for me.

I couldn’t define it, but I could tell it was deeper and more sincere than I had expected.

And it was only growing stronger.

The way he acted, the things he said—he wasn’t behaving like Alcohol Swab’s version of Choi Taejoon.

He made choices that the character I had known would never have made.

His actions and the consideration he showed me were undeniable proof.

But… should I really be letting this happen?

It wasn’t about feeling like I didn’t belong here.

I didn’t want to be that self-pitying.

But if I ended up leaving this world, I didn’t want him to be hurt because of me.

And—more selfishly—I didn’t want to be the one hurting, either.

It wasn’t just guilt. It was avoidance.

A messy, intangible mix of emotions I couldn’t quite define.

This whole world, this entire reality—it was just an illusion, wasn’t it?

Like the fragile soap bubbles dissolving in my hands.

Could I really pour my heart into something that wasn’t real?

Because no matter how tempting it was—

No matter how much I might want to stay—

The truth was, my real life wasn’t here.

It was back in the world I had come from.

No matter how attractive Choi Taejoon was… he was still just a character in a book.

A man made of ink and words.

“What are you doing?”

“……!”

A warm hand suddenly settled on my shoulder, making me jolt in surprise.

A familiar scent—subtle but clean, like freshly applied aftershave—tickled my nose.

His voice, still laced with sleep, was lower than usual.

His body radiated heat as he leaned in close behind me.

“You’re awake?”

It was Choi Taejoon.

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