Into The Thrill-Chapter 12.1

Laughter and noise were already spilling out of the private room where the dinner gathering was taking place. Arriving late, Woojin slid open the door with a soft rattle.

They had already had a lunch gathering just days ago after the deputy chief prosecutor was replaced, but apparently, it wasn’t proper to skip alcohol altogether. So, the Central Prosecutors’ Office’s Special Investigation Division was once again summoned to a traditional Korean restaurant near Lawtown after work.

Jung Ho-myung, who had arrived earlier, gave Woojin a nod of greeting.

The deputy chief prosecutor sat at the head of the table. Along the long, joined tables, as if arranged in a hierarchy, the chiefs of Special Divisions 1, 2, and 3 sat next to him, followed by deputy chiefs and then senior-ranking prosecutors.

Jung Ho-myung sat at the very end. Normally, as the senior-most prosecutor, Woojin would have sat next to Chief Lee Seung-min or beside a deputy chief, but those seats were already taken. There wasn’t a single open spot at the first table where he usually sat.

Jung Ho-myung avoided Woojin’s gaze. Woojin sat in front of Jung Ho-myung, the only remaining empty seat.

Noticing Woojin’s arrival belatedly, the deputy chief prosecutor asked in a dry tone,

“Bit late, huh? No seats left, so just sit there for now.”

“Apologies. I had some things to take care of.”

“You’re not that busy these days, are you?”

“Thanks to your consideration, things have lightened up.”

In an organization where, when a junior surpasses a senior in promotion, the seniors naturally resign and leave, Woojin’s current seat—across from Jung Ho-myung, among junior prosecutors with only a few years of experience—was a clear message.

The new deputy chief prosecutor was a peer of Chief Prosecutor Park Hyung-soo.

By all accounts, Woojin should have become a part of HanKyung Group. He might have even become family with them. His ties to HanKyung were inseparable, and they remained tightly entangled.

For the leadership that had clashed with Kim Jung-geun, the CEO of HanKyung Group, Woojin’s presence was burdensome. This seat was perhaps inevitable.

With no expression, Woojin casually poured himself a glass of water and drank. The junior prosecutors sitting near him darted uneasy glances his way.

Even though Woojin was seated at the very end of the table, far from the others, the deputy chief prosecutor, Chief Lee Seung-min, and the deputy chiefs kept an eye on him as though on alert. It cast a strange chill over what had been a pleasantly tipsy atmosphere.

After what happened to Kim Jung-geun of HanKyung Group, everyone assumed Woojin would naturally resign. But he did nothing. He didn’t submit his resignation, nor did he try to distance himself from HanKyung. He acted just as he always had.

The deputy chief started pouring soju bombs. One round, downed in a wave. Woojin drank as well.

Jung Ho-myung kept glancing at Woojin like he was sitting on pins and needles. He knew Woojin wasn’t bothered by such blatant disregard. He also knew that Woojin had been the real force behind Kim Jung-geun’s downfall. Yet the air treating him like a soldier stripped of command was impossible to ignore.

The deputy chief stood and began making rounds, pouring drinks. Each time it was someone’s turn, the prosecutors would jump up to receive the drink respectfully, reaffirming the pecking order.

It came to Woojin’s turn. Seeing everyone else stand, he slowly got up and held out his glass.

“Special Division 3, right? Name is... Woojin? Hyun Woojin?”

Though he already knew the name, the deputy chief scrunched his brow like trying to recall it from memory.

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Is that so.”

“Quite the famous name, I hear.”

“Not at all.”

It was sarcasm, but Woojin didn’t bite. He showed no sign of resentment or anger at being placed at the lowest seat. He was simply observing from a step removed, watching how the board was laid out.

He had no intention of wasting energy on a pointless skirmish. Politely, he received the drink.

Even within the elite ranks of the Central Prosecutors’ Office’s Special Investigation Division, Woojin had led Team 3 alongside Chief Lee Seung-min, handling high-profile cases and figures.

They said he was on the fast track to becoming Prosecutor General—maybe even the youngest ever. Even before his engagement to HanKyung Group’s eldest daughter, that was the consensus. And now, here he was, seated at the end of the table with no trace of displeasure.

The deputy chief was secretly taken aback. Though Park Hyung-soo remained suspicious of Woojin, he had also said Woojin was someone who only thought of work, that he probably had no real connection to Kim Jung-geun.

He filled Woojin’s glass to the brim with a soju bomb. All the prosecutors lifted their glasses in unison and downed the drink on cue.

As the tension began to ease and the mood of the gathering picked up, Woojin felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and stood up.

He stepped out into the corridor. Glancing at his phone, he saw it was a message from the tracker attached to Haewon. After orchestra rehearsal, Haewon had gone to play tennis. A photo arrived, showing him returning a shot under the coach’s one-on-one guidance at an indoor court.

Haewon didn’t particularly enjoy exercise, but he played tennis consistently purely for stamina. Since his profession relied on physical performance, a day of poor condition affected the quality of his playing—so he never skipped.

Though he was obsessive about the violin, he wasn’t especially enthusiastic about orchestra or doing gigs on the side. Yet he never missed lessons or workouts. That sort of unexpected professionalism and diligence was surprising.

Woojin zoomed in on the coach’s face, who was standing uncomfortably close to Haewon.

Just then, the sliding door opened with a loud rattle and chatter burst into the hallway before quickly dying down again. A prosecutor one year senior to Woojin stepped out, likely heading to the restroom, and began slipping on his shoes.

Their eyes met. The senior prosecutor gave him an awkward, ambiguous glance before heading off.

At that moment, Jung Ho-myung came out behind him and spotted Woojin leaning against the corridor wall. He gave a dry smile and approached.

Woojin slipped his phone back into his pants pocket.

“Told you, didn’t I?”

“Told me what.”

“You’re officially a broken water jar now.”

“Me?”

“Kim Jung-geun was the fortress backing you. Now that he’s been arrested and sentenced, they think you’re done.”

“Let them think what they want.”

Woojin wasn’t just brushing it off. He genuinely didn’t care, answering with clear indifference.

Jung Ho-myung shook his cigarette pack, signaling for them to step outside. The garden in front of the private room was quiet, possibly because there weren’t many other guests around. Only the faint, raucous voice of the deputy chief could be heard in the distance.

Jung Ho-myung pulled out a cigarette and handed it to him. Woojin took it between his lips and leaned in for a light. He inhaled and exhaled. White smoke curled up into the air.

“Still, today was rough. Sitting you all the way down there. I was embarrassed for you.”

“I didn’t expect that either. Sitting at the same table as you, of all people.”

Woojin replied with a face that barely registered interest, smoking leisurely as he fiddled with the phone in his pocket.

“They basically told you to resign.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“It was. You just don’t care, but yeah—it was that bad.”

“Hmph.”

Just as Jung Ho-myung said, the vibe at the Prosecutors’ Office had changed.

The people who used to invite him to lunch or grab a coffee had disappeared. The ones who would cling to him, asking to share a smoke whenever they crossed paths, had dwindled to none.

Now, when eyes met, no one even greeted him. Some even went out of their way to avoid him. He hadn’t experienced that kind of social frost since his school days.

By wrapping up Take 2 and 3 at once, Woojin had achieved the top priority on his list.

The second trial for Kim Jung-geun had also concluded. Though the trial was slightly delayed due to Kim Jung-geun’s unauthorized absence, the outcome of the appeal had turned out exactly as intended.

Even if Kim Jung-geun filed an appeal, the Supreme Court’s ruling wasn’t going to change. Seven years in prison for a chaebol chairman was no light sentence.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Though he hadn’t become part of the chaebol family due to the death of his fiancée, Woojin had continued maintaining close ties with Kim Jung-geun, the de facto owner of HanKyung Group, proudly wielding that formidable backing.

Now aiming beyond the Prosecutor General’s position, Woojin had handled only major cases from the Intelligence Division of the Central Prosecutors’ Office, gripping and shaking up key figures from politics and business alike.

But with Kim Jung-geun receiving a prison sentence even in the second trial, to others, Woojin was now unmistakably on the path to ruin. With the Prosecutor General and Chief Prosecutor Park Hyung-soo publicly declaring HanKyung Group as a common enemy, Woojin’s influence within the Central Office had effectively vanished.

The only ones who knew that it wasn’t Park Hyung-soo but Woojin who had orchestrated the takedown of HanKyung were Lee Seung-min, Chief of Special Division 3, and Jung Ho-myung. That was why Jung Ho-myung spoke so candidly.

“The target investigation you submitted last time was handed over to Special Division 1, I heard.”

“Looks like I’ll have a peaceful break.”

“What are you planning to do next?”

“Surely they won’t send me to a district office.”

“You’ve got a solid track record, they wouldn’t go that far. There may not be a transfer, but they’ll probably just assign you small-fry criminal cases.”

“That’s perfect. I’ve been a bit busy anyway.”

“Busy?”

“Yeah, busy.”

Just then, a vibration buzzed through the phone he’d been fidgeting with. Woojin took it out of his pocket. He motioned to Jung Ho-myung to head back inside and walked toward a secluded spot.

“Yes.”

―It’s me.

It was the Chief Secretary.

Glancing at Jung Ho-myung, who was now stubbing out his cigarette with his shoe and heading back inside, Woojin began to speak.

“Apologies. I should have contacted you earlier.”

―How long are you going to keep me waiting? Didn’t you already wrap up the second trial?

“I’m reviewing it now.”

―You’re not trying to blackmail me with that, are you?

There was an undertone of irritation and anxiety in his voice—nervous about whether his name had shown up in the slush fund ledger found during the raid on Kim Jung-geun’s residence.

“Blackmail? Come on. You know there are more than a few cards I could use to shake you even without that ledger. As I said, I’m reviewing it.”

―I don’t care about the others.

“You have nothing to worry about.”

―Let’s meet tomorrow. We’ll talk face to face.

“I have meetings all morning. The day after’s tight too... but lunch next Tuesday works. Let’s meet then.”

There was a heightened sound in the man’s breathing, like he was suppressing something. Woojin, still holding the phone to his ear, listened carefully to the silence.

―Fine. Tuesday it is.

Click.

Woojin switched his phone screen back to the message from the tracker.

He stared blankly at the photo of Haewon.

Haewon, hitting the ball with some level of focus during a tennis lesson. Haewon, walking out of the concert hall with his violin case over his shoulder. Haewon, climbing into a taxi, seen from behind.

The tennis lesson would be wrapping up soon, so he would likely be returning to his officetel.

From the moment Haewon walked out of that officetel door until he stepped back inside, every detail of his day was reported to Woojin.

He stared at Haewon’s photo for a while, then ground out the last of his cigarette in the dirt and headed back inside.

The deputy chief, still trying to figure out Woojin’s intentions, kept pouring him drinks. Woojin accepted every one without refusal. He acknowledged the authority of the newly appointed deputy chief. He even made a show of submission, as if to say he’d comply.

He drank shot after shot of soju bombs but didn’t get drunk. Woojin rarely ever got drunk.

Drinking heavily just meant he’d have to visit the restroom more often—annoying, nothing more. No matter how much alcohol he consumed, it never affected him.

There was a time when he tried to get drunk on purpose, downing drink after drink, only to realize it was pointless. Since then, he only pretended. Woojin knew well that people lowered their guard when they believed someone was drunk.

He looked around at the prosecutors who were now sagging under the weight of alcohol.

He stared, almost clinically, at one peer drunkenly slurring words, arm slung over a senior prosecutor’s shoulder, flushed cheeks glowing. Then, as if mimicking him, Woojin began to replicate the behavior.

He blinked drowsily like someone too drunk to keep his eyes open, leaned forward with his chin on the table, swaying unsteadily.

When he ran a dry hand down his face again and again, the deputy chief finally laughed, his vigilance melting away.

“Looks like this one’s drunk.”

“Chief... I messed up. I’m the bad guy.”

Woojin, slurring like a drunk, dropped an arm around the deputy chief’s shoulder. His eyes stared directly at the others who, drunk and relaxed, had let down their guard.

“Please... just this once. I’ll work hard.”

“Of course you should work hard! You’ve got to do ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) your best and watch Kim Jung-geun rot in prison!”

“Absolutely. If you commit a crime, you should pay. Doesn’t matter who you are. Isn’t that obvious?”

The deputy chief patted Woojin’s shoulder. He poured him another drink. Woojin drank it down.

As midnight neared, half the prosecutors had collapsed, and the rest lay sprawled on the table. Jung Ho-myung, with his relatively high tolerance, took on the usual duty—loading the drunks into cabs and cleaning up.

He sent off the deputy chief, Chief Lee Seung-min, and the deputy chiefs first, each into cars driven by substitute drivers. Then he came to Woojin, who was leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Senior, time to go home.”

“Yeah. Time to go home.”

“Come on. Up we go. You really drank too much tonight... geez.”

Jung Ho-myung, uncharacteristically scolding, grabbed Woojin’s arm to lift him up.

Pretending to be drunk when fully sober—this was one of the things Woojin hated most.

But sometimes, if you wanted to blend into an organization, you had to do these things. If he didn’t let himself fall apart a little—look ragged and broken now and then—people would stay tense around him, like prey facing down a predator.

But when he acted like this, stumbling and causing a scene, people like Jung Ho-myung trusted him more. This was what they called “being human,” apparently.

“Where are you going? Should I take you to your officetel?”

“I’m going to that kid’s place.”

“The same one as last time? Why do you keep going to other people’s homes? It’s late—just go home.”

“That bastard owes me.”

“You still haven’t gotten paid? It’s about time, isn’t it?”

“That’s why I’m going. To collect.”

“Ah, it’s really late though...”

With Woojin insisting he had to go to Haewon’s officetel, Jung Ho-myung sighed deeply.

He ended up climbing into the car with Woojin and the substitute driver. His final task for the night: safely delivering Woojin—barely conscious—to a confirmed safe location.

Even Jung Ho-myung, usually good with alcohol, leaned his forehead against the window and nodded off.

Meanwhile, Woojin, who had been slumped to one side, now sat up straight, his back against the seat, staring out the window with indifference.

The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, surprised at how lucid he seemed.

When they arrived at Haewon’s officetel, Jung Ho-myung shook Woojin awake.

“Senior, get up. We’re here. Senior.”

The substitute driver, waiting for his fare, watched skeptically as Woojin staggered out, clinging to Jung Ho-myung.

Jung propped Woojin against the car and pulled out his wallet, handing the driver some bills. The driver, stuffing the money into his pocket, caught Woojin’s half-lidded gaze and flinched like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

Woojin gave a subtle nod of thanks with his eyes. The driver fled the parking lot like he was escaping.

Grumbling quietly, Jung Ho-myung slung Woojin’s arm over his shoulder and bore his weight. Woojin let himself be dragged, completely limp. He kept up the drunken act until Jung was cursing under his breath.