The questions came at me in a blur. Documents I had never seen kept being shoved in front of me, and strangers I had never met pressed me relentlessly. Money I had never touched showed up in account balances under my name, and documents I had never approved bore my seal.

“Mr. Jung Sejin, if you don’t answer, this will be difficult.”

For the first time in my life, handcuffs clamped around my wrists. Reporters who had rushed over upon hearing the news snapped away outside the building, taking photos of me from every angle. It was less an arrest than a performance, as if they were determined to purge corporate corruption.

“I won’t answer until my attorney arrives.”

I tried to sound as calm as possible, but the looks they gave me said everything—they thought they knew the truth. The murmurs that drifted through the room accused me of being “ungrateful” and worse.

What had they said—embezzlement of a massive sum. Hundreds of billions of won, and apparently every last bit of it had gone into my pocket. They repeated the figure again and again, adding on chastisements about whether a financial firm could behave that way.

I had been away on an extended leave, and in that time I had no idea what had happened. I didn’t know the company’s finances had faltered, nor that public funds had gone missing. It had been precarious, yes, but not on the verge of collapse. I had no way of knowing what had gone so disastrously wrong.

But the prosecutors viewed even my vacation as nothing more than an alibi I had manufactured. They shoved mismatched puzzle pieces at me, demanding endlessly that I admit them as fact. Alone, without even Mr. Kim, the best I could do was keep my mouth shut.

“I’m Attorney for Mr. Jung Sejin.”

The lawyer who arrived belatedly was not Father’s usual counsel. Had they switched people? As I wondered, the lawyer went off to speak with them. I waited helplessly, praying for my innocence to be proven, but the words he finally brought back were these:

“The Chairman said you should serve your sentence and come out afterward...”

“...Excuse me?”

Serve my sentence—what did that even mean? In all my years at Haesin, I had never once tampered with money. I knew some executives sometimes did, but that wasn’t something within my reach to touch.

“He said there’s no room for excuses, so you should quietly accept it. If he helps you, the company’s image will suffer...”

The words the lawyer relayed didn’t make sense. Admit guilt? Serve the full sentence and then return? That this was all Father could do for me?

“If you want to reduce your sentence, showing remorse might help.”

My stiffened head creaked as it turned. Because I’m not his biological son? The lawyer suggested I exploit that angle for sympathy. There was no talk of denying charges, of proving I had been framed, of how to fight the accusation.

“Also...”

I already knew. I had only been refusing to admit it. All of this meant one thing: they were pinning something I hadn’t done on me to dodge this crisis. And perhaps, they meant to use this chance to strip me of everything.

“You’ll also have to step down as Director.”

***

I spent an entire day in solitary confinement. No one came. All I could hear was the droning of some machine I couldn’t identify. My phone had been confiscated, so I had no means of contact, but even if I did, who would I have asked for help?

I sat slumped against the wall through the night, blank, hollow. In this unbelievable situation, my mind drifted endlessly back through the days I had lived. The moment I trudged barefoot through the snow. The day I met Father. All the effort I had made to be acknowledged as his son, and the thirst that never eased no matter how much I tried.

Was this the result I had fought so hard for all this time? If I closed my eyes and opened them, it might all turn out to be a dream. Reality drifted further and further away, showing no sign of returning.

As dusk fell, rain began. Drizzling drops announced the monsoon season at summer’s edge. Damp air mixed with the metallic tang of iron, and every breath carried the scent of wet asphalt.

'You have nowhere to go back to but here, Sejin.'

Could I even return home? No, most likely not. Whatever Father was thinking, after this, I would have no further use. If I went to prison, I would come out a stranger for good.

My fist clenched tight, and my fingers found the ring I wore. What had once felt unbearably awkward now felt so natural that its absence would have been strange. Had Kwon Yido heard this news? And what would he think of me? Such pointless thoughts chased each other endlessly.

'Sejin.'

Maybe, in a way, this was for the best. A mistake that would have been revealed someday could be ignored like this. Though it would leave me as the worst kind of person in his eyes, maybe I should be grateful to escape like this.

Someone came for me just as the sun rose. Through «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» the palm-sized window, the sky was buried in clouds. The door creaked open, and one of the men who had hounded me yesterday stepped inside.

“Come with me.”

He led me back to the interrogation room. He returned my phone and glared at me sourly. When I didn’t take it, he shoved it into my hand with a click of his tongue.

“Don’t live like a criminal. Alright?”

“....”

What... what was happening?

My head was too fogged from the long night to grasp it. Even my own lawyer had given up on me—so why were they suddenly returning my belongings? I hadn’t even gone to trial yet, and it felt as if they were letting me go.

“Anyway, rich bastards...”

The man grumbled, ruffling his own hair. Complaints about how chaebols were rotten, how unfair the world was. As I listened, my mind finally began to turn.

“Are you going to stand there forever?”

Someone had bailed me out. Paid the money and pulled me out before trial. Could it... could it have been Father? That hope flickered only briefly.

“Mr. Jung Sejin?”

Through the open door came a man in a sharp suit. He looked to be in his thirties, with slim glasses that reminded me of Mr. Kim. He approached, handing me a card.

“I’m Park Kyung-seok, secretary to the Executive Director.”

The first thing I saw was the Seonho Group insignia. The name, title, and contact information didn’t look fake in the least. And as for the “Executive Director” he referred to—there was only one person it could be.

“I was instructed to bring you, by the Executive Director.”

***

We avoided the public and went to the underground parking lot. In the elevator, I powered on my confiscated phone and checked the backlog of messages. Notes from subordinates. Missed calls from Kwon Yido. Old friends I hadn’t spoken to, checking in. And a message from Mr. Kim.

「I’m sorry.」

“....”

So you knew too. That this would happen. That must be why your face was so heavy on the way to work. When you said I’d do fine, maybe you meant in prison.

Ironically, there was nothing from my family. Not Father, not Mother, not Minjae or Seoyoung. Though I had been arrested overnight by prosecutors, they all fell silent as if they had already known. No proper attorney, no defense—only being pushed off a cliff with the order to serve my sentence.

Ah. I really had been abandoned. I was nothing more than a disposable card.

The realization struck like a blade. I had always known it, but now it dug into the bone, unbearably raw. There was nothing left to humiliate me, yet my chest still twisted out of shape.

'You’re the hero of our company, Sejin.'

I had never wanted to be a hero. Only a son. But instead I became the scapegoat. Someone else’s crime was piled onto me, and they cut me away like a tail, discarded after its use was spent.

“...Ha.”

Nausea surged. My stomach roiled, bile rose, and I nearly vomited. I swallowed hard, hunched forward, to keep from spilling everything.

“Are you alright?”

Kwon Yido’s secretary looked at me impassively. He offered to steady me if I needed, gently taking my arm. Feeling as if I might truly collapse, I let him lead me out of the elevator.

“...Jung Sejin?”

But before I’d gone more than a few steps, a familiar voice pierced my ears. Dazed, I looked up—and saw a face that shouldn’t have been here. His hair dyed dark, his clothes unusually plain.

“Jung Sejin, you—!”

Minjae strode forward and grabbed both my arms at once. The secretary who had been supporting me flinched back. From close up, his eyes wavered wildly.

“You... how did you get out?”

Ironically, what I saw in him was worry. His eyes were sunken, his expression haggard, but he was worried about me. What had once felt burdensome, now only seemed ridiculous.

“Father must have...”

Minjae cut himself off. No doubt he had been ordered to keep quiet as well. No matter how reckless he was, he wouldn’t disobey something this important.

“...Did that bastard bail you out?”

Minjae grasped the situation instantly, his voice dropping low. His eyes burned as they flicked from me to the secretary. The secretary asked with the same expressionless tone:

“Shall I give you some space?”

“...No, it’s fine.”

I shook Minjae’s arm off without effort. Rough as his grip had been, he let go quickly. Brushing down my sleeve, I looked him straight in the eye.

“Why are you here?”

How had he even gotten in? It didn’t matter. He could have bribed his way, or invoked Father’s name as an excuse for a visit. Since he hadn’t made it past the parking lot, perhaps he had already been turned away.

“...Why am I here?”

Minjae’s lips moved uncertainly. My expression must have thrown him off, because his temper was subdued. Then his face twisted, and he burst out:

“Because you were arrested—”

“And what’s that got to do with you?”

My head was eerily calm. My thoughts weren’t stringing together, but my reason hadn’t left me either. The problem was that I felt nothing, as if something inside had broken.

“I got arrested. So what.”

“....”

My cold tone made Minjae falter. I had never once spoken to him like this. Playing the good son had always meant playing the good brother too.

“Did you come to pity me? Or did you want to hear, ‘You’re the only one who cares about me, Minjae’?”

“Hey, you son of a bitch, how can you—!”

“Jung Minjae.”

I was sick of it all. Everything felt meaningless, even speaking these words. Once, I would have thought I shouldn’t do this. Now, I couldn’t even find the reason not to.

“You know why I got arrested.”

I couldn’t believe this was only Father’s doing. When there’s a perpetrator, there are accomplices; and when there are accomplices, there are bystanders. Everyone in that big house except me was on the same side.

“If you know, then you shouldn’t be here.”

“....”

His eyes shook violently. Yes—he knew. Why I had been arrested, whose fault it was, what was going to happen.

“If you understand, then go home.”

With that, I walked past him. It wasn’t satisfying, only hollow. The emptiness flooded in, leaving not even tears behind.

“Sejin, you bastard!”

I had taken only a few steps when Minjae roared. He seized my wrist and spun me around. His face flushed red, he ground out the words:

“You really can’t say anything else?”

It was as if he was blaming me. Even if none of this was his fault, there was no way he hadn’t known something while it was happening.

“If you know why you got arrested, you think you can just... just not let me come? You think just because that bastard bailed you out you can act like this?”

Why didn’t he ever learn? When I had gone this far, shouldn’t he have stepped back? Why did he always have to push until the end?

“You... you son of—”

“I know you like me.”

The words fell flat. Minjae’s eyes went wide. I stared back, expressionless. Even the wrist he clutched painfully felt numb.

“Of course I know.”

“....”

“How could I not.”

Call it cowardly. I had always pretended not to know, ignored it—and now I admitted it only to use it against him, to silence him. I knew he still clung to those feelings, and I used that knowledge like a weapon.

“You know too. Why I insist on calling myself your hyung.”

But what choice did I have? If I didn’t, I’d go insane. The fence I had guarded all this time had collapsed, leaving only debris.

“Hyung, what are you...”

A laugh slipped out. I hadn’t thought I’d ever say this. But I could almost hear his voice, once snarling: Hyung, my ass...

“What kind of brother jerks off saying his brother’s name.”

His pale face flushed scarlet. His eyes shook so violently they seemed pitiful. Watching the red drain to white, I pulled my wrist free with my other hand.

“Minjae.”

“....”

“I’ve put up with you all this time because you’re my brother.”

If we had truly been family, I would never have said this. If we had truly been family, I wouldn’t have looked at his pitiful state with such detachment. But we were strangers, not even bound on the family registry. That was why it came to this.

“If we’re not family, then I have no reason to put up with your tantrums.”

He hadn’t acknowledged me as family, but he had to face that what we had was only held together by that word. Pointless though it was, it had lasted because I had tried.

“I used to think we were family.”

It had been my own lingering attachment. No one had ever acknowledged it, but I had stubbornly insisted. From the beginning, it was destined to end this way. There was no reason for me to cling.

“But now I don’t think so.”

After a long night, my thoughts had settled. Even staring into those devastated eyes, I felt no bitterness. Everything inside me was dry, quiet. Whatever ending this was, it was the one I was always going to face. What had I struggled for?

“I’m leaving.”

I knew instinctively. This was the last conversation I would ever have with Minjae. I turned my back on him, and he didn’t stop me. Twenty years of ties ended there.