TE 23

 Prosecutor General Na Sang-Hoon’s pushes his razor-thin glasses upward. Beneath his mask was a cunning and corrupt man. He was precisely the type of person Moon Seok-ho favored.

Not unnecessarily upright or incorruptible, Prosecutor General Na was a man whose hand could be grasped when needed, yet who could also be manipulated through his weaknesses if he didn’t comply. It was largely due to his influence that an unremarkable rural prosecutor had risen to the esteemed position of Prosecutor General.

Throughout his career in the shadows of the business world, Moon had fed information to this man about troublesome individuals or those with whom relationships needed severing. In turn, Na Sang-hoon had built his reputation on the leads Moon provided.

“I’ve heard the news,” Na began, his tone measured. “You got caught cultivating opium poppies on Bihwa Island, right?

“As expected, Prosecutor General. Your intelligence network is impressively swift,” Moon replied, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Despite having nurtured Na’s career, Moon knew that public officials, regardless of their origins, required a semblance of respect.

“Pastor, I’m sure you have smoothed things over with the relevant officials,” Na continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So it’s unlikely to become a legal issue, but…”

Na Sang-hoon trailed off, downing the contents of his celadon cup in one swift motion and wiping his mouth, his expression clouded with concern.

“You’ve made a grave error in provoking Kwon Joo-hyuk,” he stated bluntly.

Moon’s response was swift and defensive. “I didn’t provoke Kwon Joo-hyuk. If we’re being precise, that upstart provoked me first. Does he own the entirety of Bihwa Island? Planting poppies in a remote, uninhabited mountain area hardly warrants such a vehement reaction from him.”

“Legally speaking, Bihwa Island isn’t entirely Kwon Joo-hyuk’s property,” Na conceded.

“Exactly my point!” Moon exclaimed, his frustration evident. “Yet that impudent brat…”

“Legally speaking, I said,” Na interjected, his tone carrying a weight that made Moon’s triumphant expression falter.

“But you see, the world is a complex place,” Na continued, his voice softening. “Your business, Pastor, may be illegal on paper, but don’t I, as a guardian of the law, turn a blind eye for the sake of our nation’s economy? The same applies to that young man.”

Moon fell silent, the implications of Na’s words sinking in ominously.

“Legally, that vast land of Bihwa Island doesn’t belong to Chairman Kwon, but unofficially, it might as well be his kingdom.”

Na Sang-hoon’s words continued for a while longer. He spoke of the annual tourism revenue from Bihwa Island, Kwon Joo-hyuk’s central role in it, and the stark contrast between businessmen like Moon Seok-ho, who operated in the shadows, and Kwon Joo-hyuk, who worked in the spotlight.

Sitting cross-legged, his hands resting on his slightly raised calves, he felt tension building involuntarily.

This bastard, he thought. How many cases had he handed over when he was just a lowly prosecutor? And now he was talking about backing down just because they were facing someone more powerful.

“I’m not asking you to take down a chaebol family for my sake, Prosecutor General. But surely you must have heard some rumors… about Kwon Joo-hyuk?”

“I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me, Pastor.”

Until now, their relationship had been mutually beneficial. Most of Moon Seok-ho’s requests were within his power to resolve. Moreover, these requests often helped bolster his own performance records and cultivated his image as a righteous prosecutor fighting against criminal organizations.

However, this case offered him no personal benefit and was far beyond his ability to resolve easily.

“Instead of stirring up further, you’d be better off apologizing or negotiating. That would be a more straightforward way to resolve the issue.”

” Prosecutor General Na.”

“I can assure you, Pastor, no matter who you ask, no one will be willing to go up against Chairman Kwon.”

Moon Seok-ho’s face was flushed with humiliation, unable to maintain his composure.

Still, they had known each other for years.

Despite the years they had known each other, it wasn’t about expecting the warmth of a shared history. It was about basic decency. After all they had been through, the way he was now being cast aside so callously was unacceptable.

Challenging a chaebol who ran a major corporation was no small feat; he understood that. He wasn’t asking for an all-out assault on their operations. All he wanted was a morsel of information, something to gain leverage. Even that modest request was denied.

Apologize? Negotiate? The very thought was absurd.

Moon Seok-ho hadn’t recklessly decided to take on Kwon Joo-hyuk without consideration.

When he heard about the opium poppy fields burning down, he was furious. Yet, recognizing the delicate nature of his opponent, he first attempted to resolve the matter amicably over the phone. The lost poppies were regrettable, but as long as the land remained, new fields could always be cultivated.

However, when Kwon Joo-hyuk answered Moon Seok-ho’s call, he didn’t even allow him to clear his throat before speaking. He cut him off with a curt and vulgar dismissal:

“Go fuck yourself.”

That was the first and last sentence he said. Needless to say, he flew into a rage when he saw the phone screen go blank, a stark contrast to the difficult connection he had struggled to establish.

How dare they demand he grovel even further, after suffering such humiliation at the hands of a rich brat who had never known hardship?

For him, admired as a god by 100,000 followers across the nation, the notion of bowing to a man young enough to be his son was an unbearable reality.

“And Pastor, let me add one more thing, since you seem to be missing the point…”

Na Sang-hoon rose from his seat, clicking his tongue at Moon Seok-ho, who couldn’t hide his wounded pride.

“It’s unwise to pit yourself against an opponent in a completely different league.”

Moon Seok-ho found himself speechless before Na Sang-hoon. But as soon as Na left and his footsteps faded, Moon Seok-ho violently hurled the jade-tinted wine glass before him.

The glass shattered against the corner of an ornate mother-of-pearl cabinet, splitting in two.

Moon Seok-ho’s chest heaved as he exhaled forcefully, his breath ragged with fury.

“Those bastards, how dare they, how dare they…”

After all the money he had poured into this.

No matter how much money he threw around, no matter how powerful he became.

He was no match for those privileged bastards who had never known hardships.

No amount of donations, no matter how lucrative his drug trade became.

A man who had crawled from the gutters could never see eye-to-eye with those born in paradise.

***

It was a tranquil morning, the kind of leisurely day that Seo-ha rarely experienced.

The reason for this unexpected respite was simple: she no longer had to attend church.

Not long after resuming her involvement in drug manufacturing, Pastor Moon had instructed Seo-ha to stay away from the church for a while. He vaguely cited having “many things to deal with” as the reason, but it was clear he was being evasive.

While there were drug labs in other locations, the signature product, Janus, was exclusively produced in the hidden workshop beneath the church.

Although others could manufacture Janus, the premium version for VIP clients required Seo-ha’s personal touch. Moreover, some workers still confused the ingredients for the hard and soft versions, necessitating her occasional oversight.

Seo-ha found herself conflicted. On one hand, she appreciated the break, but on the other, the uncertainty of the situation left her uneasy.

“I just don’t know,” she muttered to herself.

Even if she could grasp the full picture, there was little she could do. Her role was simply to follow orders.

Deciding to make the most of this unexpected free time, Seo-ha retrieved the tablet she had secretly stashed under her pillow.

It was a gift from Tae-beom, given to her just yesterday.

“Here, take it,” he had said, handing her the device.

“What’s this for?” she had asked, puzzled.

“Surely you’ve seen a tablet before?” he’d replied with a hint of amusement.

“Of course, but… why are you giving it to me?”

Tae-beom had not only given her his old tablet but had also taken the time to show her how to use it.

He’d even registered it to his own card for streaming services, since Seo-ha didn’t have a credit card of her own. As he explained everything, he’d patted her head gently, as if she were a child needing guidance.

“Just don’t let your dad find out,” he’d warned with a conspiratorial wink.

Though his words felt somewhat provocative, she must admit… she was more touched than anything else.

Last night, having returned home late, Seo-ha had secretly indulged in various content. Overcome by drowsiness, she had fallen asleep mid-drama. Now, she found herself clicking on that very same show.

The streaming site, a treasure trove of dramas and videos, had opened up a new world to Seo-ha, imparting diverse knowledge.

Ki Tae-beom would surely tease her if he knew, but since last night and throughout today, Seo-ha had been consistently searching for and watching mature romance content.

It wasn’t that she had become overly lustful or was particularly “thirsty.” However, recalling their recent encounter at the hotel and other instances…

She couldn’t shake the feeling of always being led by Ki Tae-beom, and it left her with an odd sensation.

Not that she disliked it. True, their first time had been painful, but every moment since had been genuinely pleasurable.

Tae-beom had even apologized, attributing his initial roughness to overwhelming excitement.

Still, Seoha felt that having some knowledge would be better than remaining completely naive.

So, she found herself studying the most popular R-rated work from the TOP100 list.

It was a foreign drama where the two protagonists’ relationship began with a one-night stand. Nearly every episode was a parade of nudity, and while Seo-ha was taken aback by the seemingly endless variety of intimate scenarios, she couldn’t tear her eyes away

Once again, she glanced around her empty room, reaching for her earphones.

Knock knock-

Just as her finger hovered over the play button, a soft knock at the door halted her actions.