Pain lanced through Seo Tae-joon’s skull, sharp as lightning. His face twisted, one eye twitching uncontrollably. He started to reach for the woman, his hand trembling, but the effort was too much. He clutched his head as a wave of music crashed over him, intensifying the agony.
“Can I help you?” the woman he had been reaching for asked.
“Bach,” was the only word he could force past his lips.
“What?” Joo Dong-mi stared at him, confused by the cryptic answer. Seo Tae-joon’s gaze darted around, searching for the source of the music. She followed his eyes and saw a string trio playing on the street corner. He was staring at them with a desperate intensity.
Joo Dong-mi had seen cornered animals bare their teeth on these streets before, but there was something different about this man. His sharp eyebrows and vacant stare disturbed her in a way she couldn't quite name. She shook her head, a pang of sadness for his obvious distress.
“Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude,” Seo Tae-joon murmured, the words startlingly clear despite the chaos in his mind. Joo Dong-mi’s eyes widened slightly.
“Do you like this piece?” she asked.
Seo Tae-joon didn’t answer. The title had surfaced from the void of his memory, a piece of data without context or emotion. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead as his heart hammered against his ribs. The vibrating strings seemed to saw at the air, their shrill notes threatening to tear reality apart. Nausea rose in his throat, and his chest tightened. Fumbling, he wrenched his tie loose and tore open the top button of his collar, gasping for air.
“Hey, I know this is a cliché, but… haven’t we met before? You look strangely familiar.” Joo Dong-mi waited, but he only continued to stare into the distance. “Are you okay? You’re sweating.”
Seo Tae-joon’s instincts screamed for Han Ji-woo. He remembered her name, and the thought was a lifeline. Only she could calm the frantic terror in his heart. An image fractured the chaos in his mind: a tranquil garden behind a floor-to-ceiling glass wall. Ji-woo stood there, her hand clamped over her mouth as she swayed as if she were drunk. Then, the music snapped off. Silence roared in its place. He clenched his fists, his mind threatening to splinter. Turning his back on the woman on the street—and the one in his vision—he fled.
Joo Dong-mi reached out a hand to stop him, then let it fall. “Next time, tell me your name!” she called after his retreating back. “Maybe I can help you!” She stood for a long moment, trying and failing to place where she had seen his face before.
Ji-woo scooped water from the garden fountain with both hands, frantically rinsing the bitter taste of bile from her mouth. The urge to flee again, to just keep running, was a powerful current pulling her under. Instinct led her to the base of a large tree, where she collapsed behind the trunk, hidden from view. She tried to control her breathing, but each gasp was ragged and shallow. Clawing at the restrictive collar of her dress, she fought for air. It had been so long since she’d hyperventilated like this.
Her chest ached with the effort. She dug her fingers into the cool earth, trying to ground herself in something solid. The image of the man on the crutches was burned into her mind, his smile widening as he savored her torment.
“Yeah, this is the Han Ji-woo I remember,” he had mocked, his voice dripping with glee. “I missed you, Ji-woo. I really missed this.” He had looked her dead in the eye as he slowly, methodically, ground the plants under his crutch.
“No matter how many scholars say plants feel things, that they have emotions, I find it all so amusing. It’s just a patch of grass. I have the power to save it or kill it. Just like I have over you.”
Ji-woo moaned as the memory replayed: Hwang Jo-yoon reaching for her.
But before his fingers could touch her, Hwang Jo-yoon hit the floor with a heavy thud. Seo Tae-joon stood over him, his expression one of pure exasperation. He hauled Hwang Jo-yoon to his feet with a single, brutal tug.
“S-Seo Tae-joon,” Ji-woo had managed to whisper.
“Shh,” Seo Tae-joon had said softly. “It’s alright. Don’t worry. Just breathe.”
With swift, economical movements, Seo Tae-joon ripped off Hwang Jo-yoon’s tie, clamped a hand around his neck in a chokehold, and stuffed the silk into his mouth. Hwang Jo-yoon clawed desperately at the hand cutting off his air, his face turning a mottled red. In stark contrast, Seo Tae-joon’s expression was ice. Watching the scene unfold, Ji-woo’s own breathing began to even out. Seo Tae-joon then dragged the man to a nearby tree and, with practiced skill, used the tie to bind his hands.
“Let go of me, you bastard!” Hwang Jo-yoon’s muffled shout was furious.
“Do you want me to tie your neck instead of your hands?” Seo Tae-joon asked, his voice low enough that only Hwang Jo-yoon could hear. The man froze.
“I believe I made myself perfectly clear the last time… we met.”
“Ugh…” He struggled pitifully against his bonds.
“Don’t you get it? The more you struggle, the more I enjoy this,” Seo Tae-joon said, his voice dangerously low. “Arrogant bastards like you are my favorite.”
A predatory glint appeared in Seo Tae-joon’s eyes. Hwang Jo-yoon swallowed hard. After the beating, he had gone straight to a hospital for a medical certificate, evidence he planned to use to put Seo Tae-joon behind bars. But just before dawn, his phone had rung. It was Director Jo Kyung-cheon.
“There’s someone here who wants to see you,” Jo Kyung-cheon had said, his voice strained. “And how exactly do you know this man? Listen to me, don't provoke him. I’ve already had enough trouble because of him.”
The meeting was in a private room at a bar, but there wasn’t a single bottle of alcohol in sight. The man waiting for him looked to be about his age, with a severe face and a military-style buzz cut.
“You!” Hwang Jo-yoon had cried out. It was his neighbor, the bastard who had ignored his calls for help when Seo Tae-joon dragged him away. At that moment, a yellow envelope landed at his feet.
“A message from the Director,” the man said.
Hwang Jo-yoon looked around, bewildered. “Director? What director?” He blinked at the bizarre situation before finally stooping to pick up the envelope. As he read the contents, the color drained from his face. The man opposite him noted his frozen expression and rose from his seat. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
“Who the hell are you people?!”
Inside was a file detailing the time he’d sold cannabis seedlings he’d secretly grown to teenagers as an undergraduate. He had nearly gone to prison for it, but Professor Jo Kyung-cheon had intervened and had the record wiped. Why the hell was this here?
“Jo Kyung-cheon is smart. It seems the same can’t be said for you,” the man had continued, his tone flat. “Do I need to spell it out? You had your run-in with the young master. You should have just gone home and kept your mouth shut. Why get a medical certificate?”
“What do you mean, young master—?”
The man gestured toward Hwang Jo-yoon’s battered face. “The director is watching you, Hwang Jo-yoon.”
Seo Ki-seok. CEO of Suguk Pharmaceutical. The realization hit Hwang Jo-yoon like a physical blow. Jo Kyung-cheon owed his professorship to the support of the Seo family; they were his sponsors, the power behind everything.
And was their CEO really only in his forties?
Suguk Pharmaceutical, number one in the industry for brand reputation, was famous for its young, handsome CEO. That was no comfort now. A fresh wave of defeat washed over Hwang Jo-yoon whenever he saw his bruised reflection. So Director Seo and this ‘young master’ were related? Young master, my ass, he thought, gritting his teeth. The man was nothing but a thug.