Chapter 4. Trigger (4)
“Heh.”
On Haru… she’s really simple.
What is she, a scratch-off lottery ticket? Why does she reveal everything so easily?
The moment he stepped out of the hospital room, Shinrok clutched his stomach and laughed silently.
“Anyone could tell just by looking in a mirror—why be so shocked over it?”
Cute.
And yet, not entirely.
Her swollen eyelids from crying, the shadows under her eyes, and her chapped lips all made it obvious to anyone that she desperately needed rest. The tension of being in a hospital had kept her from even realizing how exhausted she was—but the moment she got home and lay down, she’d fall asleep instantly.
And yet, unaware of all that, Haru only gritted her teeth and tried to endure.
It made him feel sorry for her.
“Were you raised too preciously…?”
She’s high-maintenance.
Bzzz—bzzz.
The vibration of his phone echoed through the hallway. Slipping a hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he twisted his lips at the caller ID he had already anticipated. As expected, it was Chairman Lee Jaepil.
He let out a sigh at the name on the screen and answered. An impatient voice burst through immediately.
—Cha Hyowon. What happened?
“The test results…”
Shinrok trailed off mid-sentence, hesitating. Depending on how he answered, Haru could easily be treated as bad news.
“It was not a match.”
—Again?
“I’m sorry.”
—You said this one seemed like Cha Hyowon. You’ve been pouring effort into this for three whole years—there should be results by now. And it’s not her again? Then what exactly have you been doing?
In every other matter, his son was frighteningly meticulous—but when it came to finding Cha Hyowon, he kept missing the mark. Lee Jaepil’s patience had reached its limit.
—Are you trying to slowly kill me with false hope?
“That would never be the case. I’m doing my best not to disappoint you, Chairman. Please wait just a little longer. I’ll report back soon with news that will satisfy you.”
Shinrok lowered himself as if speaking to a strict superior. It was hard to believe this was a conversation between father and son—it was entirely businesslike. Lee Jaepil, for his part, spoke as if addressing not his child, but a troublesome subordinate.
—Don’t forget that I have another son besides you.
“Yes, sir.”
—And don’t forget that you can be replaced at any time.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
It was a threat he heard often. His father, who had no affection for him, excelled at exploiting weaknesses and tormenting others.
—And don’t you dare take your mother off life support.
It was an old threat, one that had long since lost its edge, repeated in a set order. Yet his father still believed Shinrok remained in the palm of his hand.
A man now fully grown at thirty.
A young executive who had started at the very bottom of Sangil Group, proven his abilities to everyone, and, with exceptional strategic acumen, expanded into global markets—achieving the best performance since the company’s founding.
The very bloodstream surrounding Sangil Group.
Though his father refused to acknowledge it, Shinrok’s influence ran throughout the entire organization—so deeply entrenched that nothing could sever it.
And yet, like a toothless tiger, the man still believed himself king.
—If you can’t find Cha Hyowon, then bring me Bareun Group. You’re good at that kind of thing, aren’t you?
“Yes, I’ll do that.”
—This is your last chance. Don’t test my patience any further.
“I understand.”
With the usual closing of “I’m sorry” and “I understand,” Lee Jaepil ended the call. As always, it was one-sided.
“…Hah.”
Shinrok exhaled briefly and ran a hand through his hair. Compared to everything else that had happened, this short phone call drained him the most. Loosening his tie to ease his breathing, he glanced at his reflection in the elevator doors.
Fortunately, his expression was perfect.
Cold enough that not a single drop of warmth could be found. The expression, behavior, gaze, and tone befitting Executive Director Lee Shinrok of Sangil Group—all quietly mocked the labels that followed him.
The capable eldest son of Chairman Lee Jaepil.
And yet, dispensable.
A ruthless corporate hunter.
An unreadable man.
Many titles had been attached to him, but the definition he gave himself was only one.
A stray dog.
“We cannot disclose any information about the donor. Since the procedure is being handled by our VIP Center, there will be no cause for concern.”
Professor Hong shut down Haru’s request as though it wasn’t even worth considering.
“I’m not trying to make an issue of it—I just wanted to offer some kind of gratitude…”
“If you want to show gratitude, you should direct it elsewhere.”
“To whom…?”
At Haru’s naive question, Professor Hong, who had been looking at the monitor, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stared at her. He seemed irritated from hearing too many foolish remarks in a row.
“To the Executive Director, of course.”
“The Executive Director…?”
“The one who admitted Mr. On Daesik. Executive Director Lee Shinrok.”
“That person… is an executive at Sangil Hospital?”
Professor Hong let out a dry laugh, as if looking at a completely different species.
“He’s an executive of Sangil Group.”
“Ah… Sangil Group… Executive Director.”
Haru flushed red to the tips of her ears in embarrassment, and Professor Hong looked at her in disbelief.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand. You were admitted to our hospital’s VIP Center and didn’t know?”
It sounded like mocking suspicion, but Haru felt no sting. Her heart was like a small bowl—only holding what it could contain—so unexpected criticism felt no more significant than birds chirping outside the window.
“What’s your relationship with the Executive Director?”
“I… don’t really know.”
Again, dissatisfied, Professor Hong inhaled deeply, as if trying to suppress his rising frustration.
“How can that make any sense?”
“I met him for the first time yesterday.”
Professor Hong’s eyes narrowed. The more he asked, the deeper the mystery became, and it clearly irritated him. It made Haru feel like she was somehow lacking, but she was just as frustrated—she truly didn’t know anything beyond that.
“That’s interesting. He’s not the type to help someone he’s just met.”
“What kind of person is he?”
“A very rational one. I’ve never seen him swayed by emotions.”
“Ah…”
Haru nodded outwardly, but inwardly she wondered, Even with his experience, can Professor Hong really not read people?
No matter how she looked at it, that man had been strange. Rational? Unaffected by emotion? Wasn’t that completely off the mark?
“He must have been kind to you, then?”
“No… not really that kind of person.”
“Exactly. He’s not someone who helps strangers, yet he’s taken quite an interest.”
If Professor Hong was right, then that man must be a chameleon—someone who could change his tone and expression depending on the situation.
Dangerously so.
“The Executive Director instructed that his support should remain known only to three people—you, Ms. On Haru, and Mr. On Daesik.”
Professor Hong spoke like a loyal subordinate. It seemed Lee Shinrok’s influence extended far beyond merely being an executive of Sangil Group.
“If you have no further questions, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Checking the time, Professor Hong stood up, clearly needing to attend to another schedule.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
After politely saying goodbye and stepping out of his office, Haru felt her previously numb mind split with a sharp headache. She couldn’t understand why someone as powerful as Lee Shinrok was searching for Cha Hyowon—or why he was arranging her adoptive father’s liver transplant.
If her maternal grandmother was the chairwoman of Bareun Group, there would be countless people she could employ—she wouldn’t need to rely on an executive from Sangil Group to find her granddaughter. And the transplant bothered her too.
Even if Lee Shinrok possessed immense wealth and power, how could he have everything prepared so that a liver transplant could be performed at any time?
Why was he going this far?
“Because there’s something to gain, obviously.”
The world Haru had experienced was ruthless—driven by results and rewards. Especially those who had everything—they never wasted time without reason.
“Dad’s situation has improved, but…”
I’m the problem.
Even after passing the critical point, she couldn’t feel at ease. The anxiety and fear remained.
The cause was Cha Hyowon.
To be honest, she had always suspected her biological parents and grandmother came from powerful families—but to her, it was nothing more than a hollow illusion.
Her parents fought constantly, and the woman who was her mother took out her frustrations on her child.
In her memories, the little girl should never have been born.
Her mother’s mood determined the child’s fate for the day. The beatings were indiscriminate, yet calculated—never leaving marks where others could see.
If only her father had protected her.
But he pretended not to see the child crying from being beaten. Even when she clung to his leg, begging for help, all she received was a push.
Her grandmother, at least, showed some care—but she was rarely around. Always busy, she looked at her granddaughter with affection—but only as one might admire a pretty flower.
If she had truly paid attention, she couldn’t have failed to notice what that small, fragile child was going through.
“They’re worse than strangers.”
