Into The Thrill

The man looked at Haewon as if he was going to wait here until Haewon returned, as if he would root himself to this spot for the entire night. Haewon gently kissed his lips. The man’s face flushed in embarrassment. Haewon hurriedly left the apartment of the man whose name he didn’t even know.
Senior Choi’s car was parked nearby. The sun had set, and the surroundings had grown dark. Haewon got into his car. Senior Choi was also wearing a white shirt and black pants under his coat. Senior Choi looked up at the apartment Haewon had just walked out from.

"Are you staying here?"
"Yes."
"You can't practice in places like that. Even if Sarah Chang played a Stradivarius, they’d probably call the security office complaining about the noise."

With a slightly mocking tone, Senior Choi seemed to be subtly making fun of Haewon’s situation. He should have come when I offered the practice room, he seemed to be saying through his silence.
When it’s not necessary to depend on others, words that once seemed ordinary now felt different in this situation. It was a feeling Haewon didn’t want to acknowledge or question. He didn’t respond.
They drove for about an hour. The car stopped in front of a hotel on the outskirts of the city, where the surroundings were beautiful. The security guard at the entrance checked the car number and their identities before allowing them inside.

"This is it. Let’s get your violin and head in."
Haewon got out of the car with him. The security guard approached them. Senior Choi handed him the keys. The security guard moved the car to the designated parking area.
Senior Choi walked with ease, as though he had been here before. Haewon followed him inside.

They passed through a well-maintained garden, expertly tended by professionals, and walked to the entrance of the hotel’s banquet hall.
The hotel banquet hall, with its luxurious lighting, reminded Haewon of a medieval castle. In a place like this, it wouldn’t be strange to bring in the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra or Henry Chang, who had a performance scheduled for the next day, to perform.
"Your friends should have already arrived. Let’s quickly go over what we’ll be doing today."

The staff preparing the catering in the banquet hall were moving around busily.
Haewon followed Senior ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Choi into the waiting room behind the banquet hall. The cello and viola were already there. Haewon hadn’t met the violist before, as they had joined the orchestra after he had left. The cellist was someone he had seen before but had never spoken to.
Haewon exchanged a brief, formal greeting with them. There wasn’t enough time or a proper place for a rehearsal, so he simply read through the sheet music with his eyes. Dvořák, Fauré, Beethoven, Sibelius, and Mozart string quartets—everything else was just background music.

The string quartet was the most ideal combination of instruments. Two violins, a viola, and a cello. It could cover the high, low, and middle ranges, providing a stable, balanced sound that didn’t need more players or fewer. After trying one piece, the violist flipped through the music and spoke.
"It’s our first time, but the timing is good."
"Haewon is just that good."

"I listened to your album too. The music is great. It sold well, right? I heard you aren’t active these days?"
The cellist, who had graduated from the Hamburg University of Music and was doing a master’s at Juilliard, asked. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, but Haewon couldn’t help but be bothered by his words. Maybe it was because of Kim Jaemin or his own insincerity, but since he hadn’t received any contact from the record company lately, the question felt uncomfortable. It almost seemed like the cellist was asking why Haewon, who had abandoned the top orchestra and was doing well on his own, had shown up here. It felt like a question driven by the fact that he had no money and was now in this mess.
"There’s no piece I really like."
"Well, you just need one big hit."

While these mismatched people, gathered only for the money, exchanged useless words, someone knocked. A middle-aged man in a tuxedo entered.
"The setup outside is ready. The guests will arrive soon."
"Got it."

Senior Choi replied and stood up. They all took their instruments and went outside. The banquet hall, with its high ceiling, was set up with a stage for the performance. In front of it were round banquet tables and chairs, waiting for the guests.
The string quartet took their seats and did their final tuning. Haewon stacked the sheet music in order. They would just play in this order, and once it was done, he could return to the unknown man’s house.
"How about we just start lightly as if we’re rehearsing?"

Senior Choi, the principal violinist who graduated from Seoul National University and did his master’s at Juilliard, lightened the tense atmosphere. The cellist and violist nodded in agreement. Haewon also placed the violin on his shoulder.
They began playing. No one was listening. It almost seemed better to play music through speakers. The performance felt like white noise, something to drown out the awkwardness and cold atmosphere. Meanwhile, the party hall was filling up with people. The guests, wearing elaborate party dresses, took their seats at the tables marked with name cards.
After finishing a twenty-minute piece, the hall was nearly full. When the piece ended, no one reacted. There was no time to relax and stretch their shoulders before they moved straight on to the next piece. It was as if the guests would be uncomfortable if the white noise stopped. They transitioned to Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 7.

Playing background music at first was tough, but as Haewon kept playing, he forgot that it was supposed to be unpleasant. The quality of the chamber music was different from the usual amateurs; these were top-tier orchestra members. The lack of a practice space didn’t matter anymore. Practicing here was better than not at all. Haewon didn’t care whether anyone was listening or not.
Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 7 was a long piece, close to forty minutes. They only managed to match the opening passage and couldn’t get through the rest properly. They just decided to go with the flow. Senior Choi’s lead was good, and despite it being Haewon’s first time playing the quartet, their timing was surprisingly good. By the end of the long performance, Haewon’s back was damp with sweat. A few people clapped, but they quickly resumed talking among themselves.
"Let’s take a break."

As the quartet paused, the piano, which had been waiting, began to play. The music never stopped.
Haewon headed to the restroom outside the banquet hall. His hands were sticky with sweat. After using the restroom, he splashed his face with water at the sink. The bathroom, with its white marble tiles, had a marble sink as well. He grabbed a small towel folded neatly in a corner of the storage space and dried his wet face. Haewon looked up. Someone’s eyes met his in the mirror.
"...."

"I didn’t know anyone was in here."
Where had he seen him before?
Haewon stared at the face in the mirror. The man, dressed in a dress suit, was leaning against the door, waiting for Haewon to move aside.

"Ah."
"Are you done?"
"Ah, yes."

Seeing the man unexpectedly, Haewon slightly furrowed his brow. He had seen him at the hotel swimming pool, at Taeshin’s funeral, and even at the police station investigating Taeshin’s suicide.
Before he died, Taeshin had called him about ten times. Haewon hadn’t answered. Taeshin had called over twenty times before jumping. No one had heard his screams. No one had responded to his cries. Taeshin had jumped off the rooftop of a building, holding a phone no one would pick up.
If Haewon had answered the phone, if Taeshin had gotten through, he would still be bothering him, lamenting his unrequited love.

About that man.
Haewon tossed the used towel into the basket beneath the sink and turned around. As he tried to pass by the man, who was rolling up his sleeves and approaching the sink, he abruptly stopped in his tracks. Standing there, blocking the way, Haewon lifted his head to meet the man’s gaze. As they faced each other up close, the guest bathroom, which had seemed spacious earlier, suddenly felt cramped. The man looked down at Haewon and asked.
"Have we met somewhere before?"

"......"
"I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere."
"Well... I’m not sure."

"......"
The man stared at Haewon’s face, so long it felt intrusive. Then, as if he couldn’t recall where from, he tilted his head slightly. Haewon, not wanting to stay in his way, turned and walked around him.
Leaving the restroom, Haewon entered the banquet hall, its chandeliers sparkling as people in extravagant party dresses gathered in small groups, chatting. Senior Choi approached him with a cold drink in hand.

"Want a drink?"
Haewon silently accepted the juice he offered and drank it.
"Is it okay? Can you manage?"

"I just thought of it as practice. Since no one’s listening, it doesn’t feel burdensome, and it’s actually good."
At Haewon’s self-deprecating remark, Senior Choi, who had been smiling with amusement, suddenly stiffened. His gaze shifted behind Haewon. Haewon turned to look in that direction. A middle-aged man with a soft expression was standing behind him.
"Hello. I’m Kim Jeonggeun from HanKyeong."

"Hello."
The name Kim Jeonggeun triggered a faint memory. He must have heard it in the news or a newspaper. Haewon took the hand the man offered and bowed his head. He was the CEO of HanKyeong Group.
"I don’t think I’ve seen you before today, right?"

"Yes."
"Your performance was great. I thought it was difficult to match the timing, but you all are incredibly skilled. Especially your name..."
"Moon Haewon."

"Ah, Moon Haewon. You had quite a unique spiccato. Is that your usual playing style? Ah, my mother was a violinist, and I also played when I was younger."
It seemed someone had been listening to their performance.
"I’m not usually like that. I may have overdone it today."

"That Beethoven piece wasn’t bad either."
He patted Haewon on the shoulder as he passed. Kim Jeonggeun greeted Senior Choi with a handshake and exchanged pleasantries, including a reminder to look after him.
"Do you know Kim Jeonggeun?"

Senior Choi asked once Kim Jeonggeun walked off, his figure fading into the crowd. Haewon shook his head.
"No, I know the name, but I must have heard it somewhere."
"Kim Jeonggeun, CEO of HanKyeong Group. The honorary chairman has been out of the business due to dementia for a while, so he’s the real owner now. He probably can’t give away stocks because of inheritance taxes."

Senior Choi, who had a habit of revealing things that Haewon didn’t ask about, continued with his gossip. Sometimes, this side of Senior Choi’s materialistic nature felt strange. His usually neat and intellectual face seemed to take on a worldly, opportunistic look when it was illuminated by the light.
"They say his family really loves music. The honorary chairman did, and his wife was an opera singer. Seo Okhwa, who was a prima donna at the Metropolitan Opera in New York for over ten years. She married into wealth after meeting the second-generation chaebol."
"I don’t know."

Haewon’s indifferent tone didn’t stop Senior Choi, who was excitedly telling this story. He had always been the one to spread such rumors. Senior Choi admired the upper class and wanted to live like them. He wanted to build connections in places like this.
Haewon noticed the man he had seen earlier in the restroom. He was standing next to Kim Jeonggeun. Even among the people wearing extravagant party dresses, his appearance stood out, capturing everyone’s attention. He looked like the embodiment of the term "tall."
Senior Choi noticed Haewon’s gaze and followed it. When he saw the man, he let out an "Ah." It seemed he knew him. The officer who had referred to him as a prosecutor at the police station came to mind. And now that Haewon thought about it, Taeshin had also mentioned the man he was in love with was a prosecutor. Taeshin had said something about needing his help for some investigation related to his father’s company.

A chaebol and a prosecutor. It didn’t seem like a fair combination.
"Do you know who that is?"
Haewon asked Senior Choi. His senior, surprised by the question, raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you ask? Are you interested?"
Haewon, looking at his senior’s sneaky tone, gave him a disgusted look before turning his eyes away and replying.
"I saw him at the police station."

"Police station?"
"I saw him there when I had to go there for something."
"Well, he’s a prosecutor. He probably had business at the police station."

"A prosecutor?"
"Yeah, that’s Hyeon Woojin, a prosecutor in the Special Investigations Division at the Central District Prosecutor’s Office. He’s... got quite the story."
As he spoke, Senior Choi made a cynical expression. He seemed to be both mocking and understanding something.

"He's the unfortunate guy who almost became the son-in-law of Kim Jeonggeun."
Haewon looked at him, confused, wondering what that meant. Senior Choi, who seemed to dig through any gossip he could, continued.
"He was engaged to Kim Jeonggeun’s eldest daughter. It must have been around five years ago. The woman got into a car accident."

"Did she die?"
"No, it would have been better if she had. She became paralyzed, and her face was completely ruined. Hyeon Woojin is a handsome guy known for his looks even in the prosecutor’s office. Imagine how he felt when his fiancée’s face was completely destroyed. And then, her body became disabled."
"......"

It was a horrifying story, not just because her face was destroyed and her body was broken, but because it happened just before their wedding.
Senior Choi seemed to take pleasure in talking about Hyeon Woojin. He looked at him with a strange expression, almost like watching the fall of a rival.
"The woman was a chaebol’s daughter, and her mother was Seo Okhwa. She must have been beautiful. How do you think a woman like that could survive with a man like him, ruined like that? She wanted to call off the engagement, but Hyeon Woojin insisted on taking responsibility. Eventually, she couldn’t handle it and killed herself. Even though he promised to marry her, he still made her into a fool. Kim Jeonggeun still trusts him because he stayed by his daughter’s side, so he treats him like a son-in-law."

"......"
"He’s capable, and with Kim Jeonggeun behind him, he’ll probably make it to be the prosecutor general. His father’s the director of a general hospital, his mother’s a medical doctor, his brother’s a heart specialist in the U.S., and his younger brother is a thoracic surgeon. His whole family is a family of doctors. He’s the only one who strayed, became a prosecutor, and was engaged to Kim Jeonggeun’s daughter. But after she killed herself, he’s still hanging around. If it were me, I wouldn’t show my face. This is the kind of filthy intellectual behavior they call 'the smell of educated arrogance.' The more they learn, the more disgusting they become."
As he continued to rant about Hyeon Woojin, he suddenly stopped when Hyeon Woojin turned his head towards their direction. Even if they yelled from here, Hyeon Woojin wouldn’t hear, but Senior Choi, noticing him, coughed and sputtered while drinking his juice. Haewon locked eyes with him.

"How old was she?"
He coughed, surprised, and asked what he meant. Haewon, still staring at Hyeon Woojin, asked again.
"How old was she?"

"She was twenty-nine. Since Hyeon Woojin is the same age as me, five years ago she would have been twenty-nine."
When Taeshin jumped off the rooftop, he was twenty-nine. Taeshin’s fiancée, who had died because of the accident, was also twenty-nine. Haewon felt a shiver down his spine, like a cold, involuntary tremor. They would forever remain twenty-nine, and Haewon himself would be twenty-nine next month.