Late into the night.
The two of them returned to the firm in silence, speaking not a word to each other. As if by some tacit agreement, they both headed for Lawyer Song’s office at the same time. The moment she stepped inside, Mihee snapped the blinds shut and planted both hands on the desk. *Smack!* Her handprint remained starkly on the table mat she had struck in irritation.
Seheon sat down on the reception sofa, legs crossed, entirely unbothered. As she stared at his leisurely posture, she suddenly burst into a hollow laugh.
“Seheon, you already knew everything, didn’t you? Your reaction said as much.”
He felt no need to lie.
“It just happened that way.”
Because he had answered so nonchalantly, Mihee’s voice shot up.
“And you hid it from me too! Since when? Is this why you refused what Director Do gave you?”
“I didn’t know the exact situation when I refused. I only found out recently.”
“Oh my God. I’d hoped against hope, but the discord rumors were true. Damn it, no wonder it nagged at me when I heard CEO Yoo said outright that he couldn’t handle his own wife. I was played for a fool by Director Do without knowing a thing. My fault.”
Chewing her lips, she eventually approached Seheon and sat down facing him. The calmness that usually filled Mihee’s voice had all but vanished.
“Kang Partner, we cannot leave this be. This is a law firm—a place that deals with the law. Director Do Yi-kyung filing for divorce? This isn’t just some chaebol family lawsuit. That couple boasted about their happy marriage before the entire nation every chance they got. Naturally, if they go to court, the whole country will erupt. Legal battles, mutual slander through the press—and in the middle of all that, we keep Director Do’s brother here as if we’re protecting him?”
“Whether we take the case or not, Doguk will at least appear to be taking Soohan’s side from the front lines.”
She signaled with her eyes that this was precisely the point, then continued in a quite decisive tone.
“In the worst case, it won’t end at merely *appearing* to take Soohan’s side. Every company, big and small, that does business with Soohan will gradually sever its retainer relationship with Doguk. It could very well happen. Soohan Holdings CEO Yoo—once you get on his bad side, he tramples you to the end, petty and cruel. Don’t I know that? Don’t you?”
“Thanks for stating the obvious.”
“More than anything, Yi-kyung now has no refuge besides her younger brother. We’ll become the targets. It’s terrifying to think how much CEO Yoo will torment us unjustly every time he takes a beating in the public eye.”
As if he had expected this very outcome, Seheon fell silent for a moment. It all sounded plausible. There were people in the world who actually did every single thing one might dismiss with an *Oh, surely they wouldn’t go that far*—and Director Do’s husband was exactly that sort of colorful individual.
Even so, rather than agreeing immediately, Seheon leaned back comfortably and rested his weight against the sofa. He then pressed his forehead with his hand, no longer bothering to hide his exhaustion.
In fact, after hearing the situation directly from Do Yi-kyung, his mind felt remarkably clearer. And this was a sensation he preferred. Like a single ray of light seeping into darkness, or a foggy view lifting to become clean. The situation had grown more complicated, but his head felt neatly swept.
“Hello? Seheon, say something.”
“You said it was fine when we took him in—why are you panicking now?”
“Because back then, I thought Do Partner would remain Soohan’s in-law indefinitely.”
“And you’ve conveniently forgotten how you used Professor Do as an excuse to persuade me?”
She had a desired answer in mind, yet he kept subtly pushing back despite knowing full well. Unable to compose herself, the agitated Mihee raised her voice again.
“Kang Seheon! Doguk is my life. Did you forget how I built this firm? Treading carefully around Father’s moods, humoring the other partners, enduring your damned temper! I’ve protected it tooth and nail. I’m on the verge of taking over as managing partner, and the scandal is too big.”
“You did. Hard work. Congratulations in advance.”
“Kang Seheon!”
“What do you want?”
“Let’s cut Lawyer Do loose.”
This, too, diverged not an inch from the picture Seheon had anticipated. This was precisely why he loathed developing weaknesses. For Mihee, Doguk was that weak point. Because he simply remained sunken in thought without giving a proper response, even Mihee—ordinarily quite patient—reached the point of pestering him.
“Let’s wash our hands of this before it gets noisy. I’m sorry to the Professor, but this is for the best. I don’t want to dip so much as a fingernail into that couple’s fight. He’s under you, so work out a framework yourself. It’s your specialty.”
“Wait for now.”
“We don’t have time. First, I’ll have Secretary Tak informed, and I’ll hint to Lawyer Do to stop passing along internal firm intelligence effective immediately… You bench him from that M&A starting now.”
Reaching for the intercom as she spoke, she tried to press the button. In that instant, Seheon—who had been half-observing—moved. He blocked her arm, took the receiver from her, and placed it back. Her gaze seemed to ask if he had any better move; he answered cordially.
“I told you to wait.”
“Do you have a decent idea?”
“Not yet. I’m figuring out how to retain him.”
Though this reply was hardly earth-shattering, Mihee’s expression looked as though the sky had collapsed. No matter that she knew he held some positive feelings toward Yoonshin, she clearly had never expected Seheon to insist on keeping him. At least from what she knew, the very concept of protecting someone had never existed in his life.
“Are you crazy? This isn’t something to decide on impulse!”
“Who said it’s impulsive? I’ve thought about it for quite a while.”
From the day Yoonshin joined the firm until now, across several months, Seheon had been in constant turmoil. At first, he had debated whether to chase him out or keep him; afterward, whether to let himself be used or pretend to know nothing. Viewed from a broad perspective, all of these conflicts amounted to a single question: retain Yoonshin, or not.
Because he had analyzed Yoonshin’s position and his own stance at every spare moment, he was nearly sick of it. Only today had his head finally cleared. He thought it was rather fortunate.
“I don’t know what will happen going forward. Soohan may not make any particular move. Director Do seemed to be hoping for that, too.”
“Don’t tell me you intend to keep Lawyer Do? That’s like jumping off a cliff together. You’re not someone who bets on an uncertain future. Eliminating risk factors is the right move.”
“Then let’s do this. If unfair pressure starts coming from Soohan, I’ll take Do Yoonshin and leave Doguk. So don’t inform the other partners about this situation. Those old fogeys will obviously throw a fit.”
Because she naturally believed she and Seheon stood in the same trench, Mihee’s reaction was pure disbelief. Beyond absurd, she was bewildered. The sharply edged end of her voice softened ever so slightly.
“Are you in your right mind? Have you gone crazy? I’m scheduling a psychiatric consultation for you.”
“Sorry, but I’ll eat and live just as well at any firm, even if it isn’t the top-ranked one. The only reason it *had* to be here is because Senior Song Mi-hee supported me from middle school through law school—tuition, living expenses, meals—and asked me to come. By now, I’d say I’ve paid off that debt. So from today, Senior Song and I are separate. If Doguk needs me, then from now on, the firm adjusts to *me*.”
She seemed utterly incapable of processing the situation. Moreover, she could not accept his proposal. Seheon was Doguk’s largest source of revenue. At times, he wielded influence by his mere presence. He was the firm’s greatest asset; there was no reason under the sun to let him go.
“You’re a capital-contributing member lawyer. This reputation, this position—don’t you regret it? Why are you doing this? What’s the reason to protect him so badly? Are the two of you dating?”
“As you said, Senior, I have interest, curiosity, and ulterior motives toward Do Yoonshin. So I dislike the idea of casting him aside like useless trash.”
“Lawyer Do was an outsider from the start!”
“If no one protects him, he’ll be left completely alone. I hate the thought of making him suffer in solitude with no one by his side. I know better than anyone how shitty that feeling is.”
She flinched and fell silent for a moment. Staring at her firmly pressed pink lips, Seheon’s mouth was set in a hard line.
He was not so foolish as to equate the two of them. He knew well that Yoonshin was no child. But their fundamental default settings for shock and loneliness were vastly different. Had the same thing happened to him, Seheon might have shaken it off with ease and found another path. But Yoonshin would not be able to. And so, his heart moved of its own accord.
That Do Yi-kyung had reached out to Seheon directly meant the situation on her end was far from favorable. The person who had been the greatest pillar of support in Yoonshin’s life would soon be unable to spare a single glance for her brother, preoccupied with her own battle. Seheon had already sensed, vaguely, that the anxious Yoonshin kept leaning on him.
He did not want to see Yoonshin driven out of the firm like a severed kite string, left to endure his brother-in-law’s offensive all alone in that impossible situation. The very imagination of it was rather terrible.
“Stop punching the calculator, and show some compassion for your teacher’s son and daughter.”
“Cover the sky with your palm. I never thought I’d hear that from Kang Seheon. May I laugh?”
“Haven’t you already? Laugh all you like.”
As if to say he had finished the conversation he needed, Seheon rose first. Mihee’s expression was hollow as her gaze trailed his tall, slender frame from bottom to top. He tilted his chin lightly, as if telling her to speak if she had more to say. She did not refuse.
“What must be protected soon becomes a weakness, and weaknesses inevitably devour that person someday.”
This was something Seheon himself often said. He closed his mouth and merely looked down at her. Mihee met that unwavering gaze head-on and continued.
“That’s why you earn money diligently but must never be ruled by material things. That’s why, even if you date, you must never spend real emotion. Your heart must always remain yours alone, you said. If it’s taken from you, every crack begins there. This is all what *you* said, Kang Seheon. Have you forgotten?”
A look of utter boredom, as if he could not listen to another word, settled over Seheon’s face. He replied coldly.
“You do know I have the highest IQ in this firm? I remember perfectly. Then let me ask you something in return. Did you forget the deal you and I made when we accepted Do Yoonshin? Are you really going to bring up that contract over something like this? Is that it?”
*〈Don’t interfere with everything I do within the firm from now on.〉*
Recalling that day’s memory, her shoulders flinched and her mouth abruptly clamped shut. Yet knowing full well that if she tried to block Seheon from the outset she’d be pushed around mercilessly to the end, she quickly reopened her mouth with a hardline attitude.
“Kang Seheon. Do you know how much that is worth? You’d throw it away just to keep one associate?”
“I have more than enough. I’ll live just fine even without that trifle.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to this, but if Soohan makes a move, I may have to abandon you. I might rather tear up that contract and pay the penalty. Can you handle that, too?”
She knew Seheon’s cold temperament. She harbored no expectation of sharing human empathy with him—so much so that she felt slightly slighted when, without a moment’s hesitation, he answered flatly.
“Senior, you focus on protecting Doguk, which you love so dearly. I’ll do my job.”
“Seheon.”
“Consider this conversation over. I’m leaving first.”
Cutting the conversation short, he gave a parting glance. Mihee frowned as if the sight of him, so utterly beyond persuasion, was unbearable, then waved her hand as if telling him to get out.
Like a bowstring pulled taut, the fundamental rift between the two could not be narrowed. However, Mihee—who knew better than anyone that Seheon’s absence would prove fatal to Doguk—seemed inclined to wait a while longer, watch how Soohan Group moved, and judge her next course accordingly.
*Click.* Closing the door and stepping fully out of the office, he headed to his own room. It was late evening, and empty seats dotted the secretarial suite along the way. Secretary Tak, who had been watching Seheon’s mood, gathered something from nearby as he passed the desk partition, then quietly stood and followed him.
Entering his room and sitting at his desk, Seheon glanced toward Yoonshin’s room directly ahead. The lights were off; he seemed to have left for the day. Blocking that view, Secretary Tak stood before him, curiosity brimming in his face.
“Chief?”
“What are you curious about?”
“A friend at the financial team’s secretariat told me. Apparently, your raised voices with Chief Song were audible even outside. They asked if something bad had happened.”
“Me picking fights—is that a day or two? Tell them we have an exceedingly kind and affectionate relationship, and if they have time for useless gossip, they should do their jobs properly.”
“Then that’s a relief. Ah, as I reported before, the Daeyoung Group affiliate newspaper, *Daeyoung Ilbo*, is holding its seventieth anniversary party this Friday evening. The formal invitation has arrived. You must attend.”
Secretary Tak produced a card from inside his jacket and placed it on the desk. Seheon looked at it with clear annoyance.
“Are none of the other partners suitable to go in my stead? Search around. Everyone will be clamoring to attend.”
“Not attending at all might work, but sending a substitute is absolutely out of the question. It seems to be a small-scale event for VIPs only. Remember when you handled Captain Han Tae-ju of Daeyoung Korea Aviation’s case? They said this invitation came to you specifically through that connection. Even Chief Song didn’t receive one.”
On any other occasion, he would have gladly attended; but with a throbbing headache staring him in the face, an external event held no appeal. These affairs were almost purely networking events—constantly moving between clusters of people, making conversation, exchanging the latest political and business gossip.
Holing up in the office and burying himself in work was far better for his mental health. While Seheon hesitated, Secretary Tak waited. Eventually finding the optimal solution, Seheon pushed the card back toward Secretary Tak in the direction the latter stood.
“Give this to Do Yoonshin when he comes in tomorrow. Tell him to clear his schedule for that date.”
“Send him? I said you cannot—”
“I’ll accompany him. If I’m going anyway, I ought to gain something from it. What’s the dress code?”
The reason he gave for going with Yoonshin was so vague that a flicker of puzzlement crossed Secretary Tak’s face. But the veteran devoted himself solely to his secretarial duties.
“Blue. Just an accent point. Shall I prepare a tie? Or a handkerchief?”
“That’s enough. I’ll handle it. Leave. If you’ve finished your work, go home.”
“Understood.”
As soon as Secretary Tak exited with a bow, Seheon finally settled into a more relaxed posture. Like coming out of general anesthesia, his vision blurred abruptly. He felt as if his consciousness might blank out entirely. He had concealed his agitation as much as possible before Mihee, but inwardly, this version of himself felt foreign. To wager something he possessed in order to protect another was a first in his life.
*Senior, stop punching the calculator, and have some compassion for your teacher’s son and daughter.*
He could not believe he had said such a thing.
Had he finally gone mad from overwork?
His face burned with an emotion he could not identify as shame or self-loathing.
*Making me do all sorts of things.*
Bemused by his own bewitched state, he lost his composure and repeatedly scrubbed his face dry.
* * *
The banquet hall at the hotel was quite bustling. Since his sister’s wedding, it had been nearly ten years since Yoonshin had found himself in a place packed with prominent figures from all walks of life.
Still bewildered, he continued inwardly cringing even after two hours had passed. Seheon, on the other hand, appeared thoroughly at home in such settings. Watching him converse deftly with industry seniors and powerful figures from the business, political, and media worlds, Yoonshin was struck by the realization that they had lived in entirely different worlds.
While following Seheon and greeting others together, some people showed interest in Yoonshin. At first, they seemed intensely curious about being the junior accompanying *that* Kang Seheon; but upon learning he was the younger brother of Soohan Group’s second daughter-in-law and the son of the late Professor Do, their demeanor turned cordial.
Every time someone spoke to him about his sister, he forced a smile so hard his face threatened to twitch. His body still had energy, but hearing talk of family here constantly wearied his heart. Unable to endure any longer, Yoonshin caught Seheon’s sleeve. He tried from a blind corner away from prying eyes, but just in case, his gesture was exceedingly careful.
“Chief, may I have a moment?”
While exchanging eye-greetings with an acquaintance and drinking champagne, Seheon turned to look at him. For a brief moment, he seemed to examine Yoonshin’s complexion with unusual focus; then, as if grasping the gist, he cut to the chase.
“Tired?”
“This is honestly no joke. I’m completely drained.”
Scanning the party venue as if taking measure, Seheon nodded as if this much was sufficient.
“We’ve more or less finished the greetings, gotten useful intel, and it’s about time we left.”
“Is that all right?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? If it’s too much, shall we rest upstairs for a bit?”
His voice was unusually tender. Though Yoonshin had felt such a sentiment obscurely of late, here especially, Seheon’s attitude was different today. He had kept Yoonshin glued to his side the entire time, making sure he heard every conversation. Whenever the other party showed interest, Seheon introduced him directly.
When he had first heard the suggestion to accompany him, he had wondered if Seheon meant to have him run trivial errands. It turned out to be nothing of the sort. Rather, Seheon never took his eyes off Yoonshin, constantly watchful. How to describe it—a feeling of being cared for. He carried himself not as if he had brought a colleague, but as if he had brought a lover to the party. So when asked if they should rest upstairs, his thoughts naturally flowed in that direction.
“If the two of us go up to a room, won’t it look strange?”
Speaking at a consistently average volume, Yoonshin blushed, tilted his head to the side, and whispered very lowly. Staring at his flushed face, Seheon slowly bit his lower lip. In that moment, Yoonshin realized. Once again, he had jumped ahead somehow.
“That’s not what this is?”
Embarrassed for no reason, he fidgeted unnecessarily with the hand holding Seheon’s sleeve. Feeling the movement, Seheon tapped his own forehead very briefly. Yoonshin had expected to be teased about what he was thinking, but Seheon simply corrected the facts.
“I meant rest in the lounge briefly and have tea. If you’re really tired, catch your breath before we go.”
“Ah, no. My spirit is depleted, but I still have stamina left. Besides, Secretary Tak said he must see you home today. You need to organize and review all the information we gathered. Let’s save the rest of the date for next time.”
Judging from the quiet blinking that he was sincere, Seheon gestured toward the exit. Then, as they made their way out, he exchanged eye contact and bade farewell to each person he had spoken with earlier, one by one. That he did this without betraying a single sign of fatigue or irritation, despite not seeming constitutionally suited to such matters, was a skill in itself.
Silently following him, Yoonshin looked around at the elevator to confirm no one else was there. Thankfully, they were alone. Reassured, he leaned his upper body slightly against Seheon. Whether accepting this uncharacteristic display of neediness, Seheon reached over and pressed a kiss to the end of Yoonshin’s blue tie. Remembering something from some time ago, both broke into small, simultaneous smiles.
Right at that moment, he sensed movement behind them. Yoonshin quickly straightened his posture and stared straight ahead. Seheon then tilted his face with an oddly sulky expression, like someone who had lost a petty game, and whispered.
“Should we just get a room.”
“What would you do with a room?”
“What you imagined just now.”
Reflexively about to retort, Yoonshin promptly pressed his lips together. Because he had, in fact, imagined quite a lot of things. He did not hate the idea. He knew Seheon’s feelings well. But since he had been the one to suggest dating first and to confess first, he honestly wanted to hear Seheon say he liked him before taking that step. Too embarrassed to explain this complicated tangle of thoughts, deflection was the best option.
“Aren’t you acting a bit strange today?”
“How so?”
“You’re treating me like a child left out at the marketplace. It really doesn’t suit you.”
“You do this whenever you’re treated well. Perfect for someone who can’t even find his own rice bowl. Only I would put up with it.”
“That’s my line. Honestly, you admit it too, don’t you?”
As if neither confirming nor denying, he flicked Yoonshin’s forehead with a long fingertip, then boarded the elevator as the doors opened. The people strolling leisurely from behind seemed to be headed to the lounge above rather than down, so they offered Seheon a light bow without boarding.
Once the doors closed and the two were left alone in the enclosed space, Yoonshin—body and mind exhausted—rested his head on Seheon’s shoulder. The hard shoulder could hardly be called comfortable, yet his heart felt strangely at ease.
“Why did you bring me here today? It must have been a bother keeping me glued to your side.”
“Time to let you take your first steps.”
“When did I grow that much?”
“It’s a media event, so I deliberately introduced you mainly to senior desk editors. Don’t forget the faces of the people you met today; reach out to them individually first and open paths for yourself. Of course nothing is free, but someday you may need each other and join forces. Soohan has as many enemies as allies. Learning to utilize that is also your skill.”
“As many enemies as allies—that sounds exactly like Lawyer Kang.”
He felt grateful, yet embarrassed, to be taught and guided like this step by step. Like a small creature being fed by hand. Hiding that feeling and answering as nonchalantly as he could, Yoonshin suddenly pulled away and glanced up at him. Seheon’s gaze was not on him. But Yoonshin was not so dull as to fail to feel the other man’s focus upon him.
Broadly speaking, the enemy of an enemy is an ally. It felt almost like a prophecy—that Soohan’s enemies might someday stand with him. He had never spoken in detail about his sister’s situation. There had been his sister’s request for secrecy, but that was not the only reason. He had feared that if he brought it up unnecessarily, Seheon would grow wary and step back from their relationship.
He worried that rumors might have already spread. That many things could be happening without his knowledge. Was that why Seheon kept telling him to send invoices, drawing lines by saying he was used to being used? But he could not interrogate Seheon based on mere suspicion.
“Lawyer.”
“Let’s go.”
Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—the elevator doors opened the instant Yoonshin parted his lips. It was the underground parking garage. As they emerged, the firm’s chauffeur, who had been waiting in the car, immediately got out and opened the rear door.
Seheon got in first; Yoonshin followed.
He had wanted to say more, but Seheon immersed himself in work, and he did not dare disturb him. Naturally, there was almost no conversation between them on the way back. An unfamiliar silence settled over their shoulders.
* * *
To clear his head, Seheon had gone out for a late-night walk, forgetting even the biting cold against his skin. Long legs clad in black trousers, a sturdy upper body in a thick turtleneck knit, and a coat thrown over it—that was the entirety of what he wore. But he did not care and walked, and walked. After about an hour, he found himself near home again.
Sighing heavily, he suddenly stopped and looked up. The pitch-black sky seemed embedded with a bright moon. After checking the apartment building in front of him once and the commercial building beside it once, he seemed to resolve something and stepped into a convenience store.
After selecting condoms and lubricant, he also pushed forward a bottle of carbonated water.
“Cigarettes, too.”
Pointing to a brand he occasionally smoked, he handed his card to the clerk. Then, as if remembering something, he scanned the lower shelves near the snack corner. He spotted the lemon candy Yoonshin had once placed in his mouth. He paid for that as well and stepped outside.
He had not felt the chill while walking, but suddenly the frigid air seemed to swoop over his head. He knew full well that the temperature had not actually plunged; it was the anticipation of going to the warmest place he could imagine.
A sharp laugh escaped Seheon, and he immediately headed for his destination. Not his own building, but a different one. He stood firm before that door he had once visited. When he pressed the bell, the resident seemed to check his face through the intercom; busy sounds followed from inside. Soon the door burst open.
“Chief Kang? What brings you all the way here at this hour?”
“To see you. May I come in for a moment?”
“I have the time, but… you should contact me in advance. I would have cleaned up. It’s a complete mess right now.”
He appeared to have already washed up, intending to turn in for the night. In bright-colored pajamas, Yoonshin’s clear face came out to greet him. His bangs seemed to be bothering h