Substitute-Chapter 126

Gwak Tan was tense.

He hadn’t expected the Chairman to kill someone where so many eyes could see—and a Guest at that.

A former prosecutor turned attorney, and a Legal Office staffer, no less.

How was he planning to handle the fallout? Gwak Tan already had a headache.

Kim Taehyun, who had witnessed the abrupt killing, was barely in his right mind. He was scared out of his wits. He shuffled backward and then bent over and heaved up his guts.

Disgusting.

Gwak Tan grimaced and looked away.

Security had carried out the killing, and with the weather fucked to hell and it all happening in the brush, he hadn’t even seen the kill cleanly.

But that reek of blood—thicker than usual—turned Gwak Tan’s stomach over.

He was only holding it in to look tough; in truth he wasn’t much different from Kim Taehyun. He just wasn’t as panicked, only left with a bad taste.

Because it wasn’t like the Chairman at all.

Don’t people say when you start doing things you never do, it means your time’s up?

Has he gone senile? Fuck.

It wasn’t just the killing that had Gwak Tan on edge.

Gwak Yeol.

His cousin reacted like a fly had died, not a person. He didn’t look delighted either. He just stared quietly at the Chairman’s back with a blank face.

Then he turned toward Gwak Tan, and when their eyes met, he winked.

Don’t tell me that bastard knew?

The suspicion came naturally.

If the Chairman had given his cousin a heads-up, there was no way he could let that slide.

Maybe this killing was a kind of warning aimed at him.

Try any funny business and you’ll end up like this too. Heel.

Even if it was only conjecture, the horrific images that rose on their own tightened around Gwak Tan. He’d done things that would prick the Chairman’s eye, so he flinched first.

“Michael, why’s the old man like that? Is it dementia?”

Kim Taehyun, barely back to himself, pressed in close and asked. His voice shook.

“Can’t I just go home? Screw sex, my dick shriveled right up, fuck.”

He was gripping the umbrella so hard his knuckles had gone white.

“If you want to go, ask Grandfather,” Gwak Tan snapped, taking it out on Kim Taehyun for no reason.

“What, can’t you talk to him?” Lacking the nerve to ask the man himself, Kim Taehyun shrank on his own.

The Chairman was deliberately watching the body being handled. He hadn’t told them to go or stay, so they had no choice but to stand and watch with him.

Gwak Tan was sick of the game and this damned rain. But he waited with patience. He hoped once the body was dealt with they’d be able to go inside.

He hoped the Chairman’s target began and ended with Oh Jaehyun.

When the recovery was more or less wrapped, the Chairman turned.

Striding toward the three of them with imperious bearing, the Chairman looked, to Gwak Tan’s eyes, like a grim reaper.

Kim Taehyun flinched and hid behind Gwak Tan.

“Counselor Oh, that fellow—he’s the betrayer. He was in contact with the police.”

The Chairman said it like nothing.

“It’s always best to handle things like this quickly. Fewer problems afterward.”

He looked around at the three of them as if the reason he’d forced the game to continue in this weather was all because of Oh Jaehyun.

“Thanks to Counselor Oh we caught the rats, but that’s that.”

Then he gave an awkward smile.

The late Attorney Oh Jaehyun, it seemed, had heard from the police that rats had infiltrated the Project and carried that to the Chairman. And instead of rewarding him for fetching valuable information, the Chairman had killed him for “contacting the police.”

The Chairman’s actions and words made no sense together.

Oh was a former prosecutor turned attorney. Of course he knew hundreds of cops, and for work or private reasons he still met them.

And he killed him for getting high-grade information from them—and called him a betrayer?

If that was the real reason he’d killed Attorney Oh, the first to die should have been none other than the Chairman himself.

How many senior prosecutors and police had the Chairman colluded with to date?

For all anyone knew, he’d exchanged greetings with one of them today.

And {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} that man said he’d killed Oh Jaehyun for contacting the police?

Even a mutt on the street would laugh at that excuse.

Only clueless Kim Taehyun relaxed like an idiot.

“Fucking bastard. How dare he contact the police. He deserved to die.”

He muttered it just loud enough for Gwak Tan to hear.

Gwak Tan looked back at him with a scowl.

Shut up, he growled under his breath.

“Did you say there were six left?” The Chairman rubbed his hands and asked.

A man was dead, and he meant to keep the game going.

“Chairman, are you... really continuing the game?” Kim Taehyun asked, flustered.

“Why, you want to quit?” he shot back.

“If you want to quit, catch one.”

Saying so, the Chairman grinned.

Kim Taehyun jerked, and this once even Gwak Tan shivered.

With Oh Jaehyun done, it felt like his own turn had come, and he couldn’t sit still.

What excuse should he make?

His head spun.

Thank god his cousin became a savior.

“In this weather, what are we continuing for? Let’s call it and give prize money to the ones who’ve lasted this long.”

The kid grumbled.

Whether he was on the Chairman’s side or not, for now Gwak Tan was only grateful.

At his cousin’s words, the Chairman laughed loud.

“Kid. Is six hundred million your dog’s name or something?”

“If you don’t want to pay it, have Tan and Taehyun split it.”

His cousin snapped back, then looked at Gwak Tan and Kim Taehyun.

“Willing to pay?”

He challenged.

“If not, we keep going.”

He poked the bear.

As if six hundred million was nothing.

“I— I’ll pay. Chairman, I’ll put up ₩600,000,000,” Kim Taehyun even raised a hand.

“You boys really hate the game that much?” The Chairman chuckled, shoulders shaking with mirth.

Then—

“Freeze!”

Captain Choi Sucheol shouted.

At his voice, the bodyguard carrying the bag with the corpse stopped.

The same Captain Choi who’d been directing everyone moments ago shoved his hand into a clump of brush near where Attorney Oh had been lying.

A second later, a guy in a water-blue wetsuit was yanked out in Captain Choi’s grip, and the guards attending to Gwak Tan and Kim Taehyun rushed over and ringed him.

There was a witness.

The Chairman’s brow knit.

“I— I didn’t... see anything. N-n-no, really.”

The witness stammered and shouted.

Who?

It was too dark, and with the guards forcing the witness to his knees, there was no way to see his face.

Choi Sucheol’s gaze shifted this way—more precisely, to the Chairman.

What should I do? his eyes asked.

The Chairman gave a light nod, and Choi, without hesitation, drew his knife.

Fuck. We’re really doing this?

Gwak Tan’s mouth went dry.

Choi’s blade was about to open the guy’s throat when—

“I’m police too! I’m an undercover cop!”

The witness screamed.

“Central Police Academy Class x11 graduate, Patrol Officer Choi Minjae! Please, just spare me! I’ll tell you everything I know!”

No one had asked, but he volunteered his affiliation and name.

Hah! Another rat?

A hollow laugh slipped from Gwak Tan.

“What kind of crazy bastard—” Kim Taehyun, holding his breath, muttered in disbelief behind him.

Choi Minjae.

The one who’d rolled around with Han Seoho.

So that bastard was a cop. And Han Seoho didn’t know it.

Thinking of Han Seoho, still uncaught, Gwak Tan wet his lips. If he played it right, he might spin up an excuse using Han Seoho to get through this crisis.

“Shut up!” Whether the man was a cop or not, Captain Choi didn’t care and was about to finish what he’d started.

But he was checked at once by the Chairman.

“Captain Choi, bring him here.”

At the order, Choi, regretful, lowered his knife.

Dragged by the guards, Choi Minjae prostrated himself at the Chairman’s feet of his own accord.

“Spare me. I’ll do anything.”

He groveled.

“You’re Patrol Officer Choi Minjae?”

The Chairman asked in a warm tone.

“Yes! Patrol Officer Choi Minjae. Central Police Academy—”

He loudly stated his identity again.

“Heh heh. Boy, what a set of pipes.”

For no reason anyone could see, the Chairman praised him with a kindly face.

“A man with that kind of nerve—it pleases me.”

“Thank you! I really love this Project. I’ll do anything for it! Please, just let me live.”

Out of nowhere, Choi Minjae blurted as he teared up.

“You love this Project?”

The Chairman’s voice was full of curiosity.

“Yes! The best experience of my life. I truly want to lay my bones here for the rest of my life—no, live here!”

In the end, Choi Minjae burst into tears.

Watching the farce, Gwak Tan glanced at his cousin’s reaction.

He was laughing too.

He looked genuinely delighted.

The Chairman and his cousin were out of their minds.

“Captain Choi. Let’s chalk this up as having caught a runner.”

“Sir?”

“Let’s keep this one alive. Since we’ve caught a runner, he must be punished. Right?”

“...Ah, yes! Understood, Chairman.”

What the hell is he talking about.

Unlike Gwak Tan, who hadn’t caught the Chairman’s drift, Choi Sucheol keyed his radio at once and spoke to the control room.

Then, as if waiting, a loud fanfare blared from the speakers, and the Emcee began pattering on with oily lines.

Insane.

Everything had gone insane.

Real fear finally crept over Gwak Tan.

He became convinced all of this was a build-up to take him out.

Otherwise there was no way they’d keep doing this crazy shit.

Suddenly his vision swam.

Of all times, the drug had to kick in now—fuck.

Gwak Tan winced.

Right before the game, every Guest had been given a dose of their in-house stimulant, the “booster.”

The “booster” was a new drug developed to minimize the downsides of hallucinogens and maximize the upsides. Almost no side effects like voices or visions, with arousal cranked to the max, and a wakefulness effect so you didn’t feel tired at all. Not to mention your body heated up enough to forget the cold.

It was safe enough for an eighty-year-old to take, so Tan had taken it without qualms. The problem was he hadn’t only taken it before the game—he’d been chewing one or two more here and there. And thirty minutes ago, he’d swallowed three. The game was racing toward the end, and like everyone else he meant to burn the night down.

If he’d known someone would die, he wouldn’t have taken the damn pills.

He’d been careless, thinking the Chairman couldn’t touch men who wielded massive influence in society like every Guest here.

“Michael, Michael.” Clinging behind him, Kim Taehyun called, voice frantic.

“It’s fine, right? We’re okay, right? Christ, I’m scared shitless.”

He looked one step from crying.

Whether the Emcee knew their state of mind or not, he announced over the broadcast that all participants should gather in the garden.

“Let’s all move,” Captain Choi led from the front and marshaled the Seekers.

The Seekers left were, in truth, only four: Tan himself, Kim Taehyun, his cousin, and the Chairman. A measly four.

Two guards held Choi Minjae by both arms and walked him ahead, and the rest fanned out fore and aft and to both sides, as if to protect the Seekers.

Tan deliberately fell to the very rear and forced the guards who kept trying to drop behind him to go ahead. He kept watch in all directions, set on not getting done from behind like Oh Jaehyun.

Left between the Chairman and his cousin, Kim Taehyun kept buckling at the knees and falling, taking no one’s help. Whenever a guard even reached out a hand, he screamed like he’d been stabbed, making a ridiculous sight.

There was no law saying he wouldn’t end up the same way, so Tan grit his teeth.

He racked his brain for a way out.

Why am I this dizzy? Were three pills too many?

A sudden wave of vertigo hit again, and Tan stopped. Not by design, but he kept a nice distance from the group.

In the center of the garden, the Executioners were waiting. The ones who had led the Project under the title Team Lead were those very Executioners. Until the rain they’d been draped head to toe in white cloth, and now they stood proudly, not a stitch on.

“Captain Choi will carry out the punishment.”

Though he wasn’t a Seeker, the Chairman handed the whip to Captain Choi on the basis that he had “caught” a runner—Choi Minjae.

The captain bowed and scraped as if honored.

It even felt like the Chairman’s right hand had shifted from Manager Kim to Choi Sucheol.

Tan disliked Manager Kim, but even so he decided an ignorant soldier was far worse, and retraced where he’d gone wrong.

Following the Executioners’ instruction, Captain Choi took his place by the punishment frame.

Tied to it with his back laid bare, Choi Minjae shivered, drenched in rain.

Captain Choi cracked the whip with all his strength, and—

“Aaaugh!”

—Choi Minjae screamed.

Fucking bastard, seriously.

Even after witnessing someone’s death, Choi Minjae was flushed with excitement.

Tan scowled and watched the loud punishment.

One stroke, two, and when Choi swung the whip a third time—

A flash blazed, bright enough to blind, and a moment later a crack tore the sky.

Lightning and thunder. Thunder and lightning.

Whichever came first, both made a show of themselves like rivals.

Maybe because the ground here was high, it felt like the lightning was especially close.

He had just begun to worry about electrocution when everything fell into darkness.

A pitch so black you couldn’t see an inch ahead.

Power cut.

After a moment of panic, Tan suddenly thought: chance. A golden chance to get clear of this. Not running—just stepping away for a bit.

The Chairman had lost his reason. He was usually the most coolheaded of men, but whether it was this place cut off from the world, he looked out of his mind.

He had to buy time somehow. If he left here and returned to the civilized world—if they met again in the Chairman’s cozy study—he believed they would go back to being as close as before.

When that time came, the Chairman would fully understand why he’d had no choice but to do what he’d done.

Because he wanted the Project’s success as much as Tan did.

Not as a grandson, but as a businessman, and as a partner, he would understand him a hundredfold.

Tan backed away.

Lightning flashed again and the world lit up.

In an instant he chose where to go, and then he ran for his life.