Gangnam, Seoul. In a spacious office on the top floor of the HG Construction headquarters, where the city's night view pours in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Taehyuk was buried deep in his leather chair, staring at his phone. It was the first contact in a week. He forced down the corners of his mouth that were trying to curl up and typed a reply with his thick thumb.

It's not hard.

But that...

He hesitated for a moment, then sent the following message.

That's not something I can control.

Guest

Do you think I got stabbed
on purpose?

Just pick up the phone.

Let's talk face to face.

As if knowing he would be left on read even after sending the messages, Taehyuk set his phone down on the desk with a thud. He loosened his tie and tilted his head back. His dark eyes, looking up at the ceiling, were a mix of fatigue, irritation, and the desperation lying beneath it all.

Taehyuk's jaw tightened as he checked the text. 10 billion. He had sent an amount that an ordinary person wouldn't see in a lifetime, but what came back was a single cold line.

His temple twitched at the words 'don't need it.'

...You don't need it?

He muttered to himself as he picked up the phone from the desk. Buried deep in his black leather chair, he pulled at his tie to loosen it. He felt suffocated. Not because of the money, but because he hadn't heard that voice once in a week.

He placed a call. The ringtone sounded, and sounded again.

Click.

It was cut off.

Taehyuk's finger tapped against the phone case. Tap, tap. The rhythmic tapping gradually sped up, then stopped.