L*st and Death

The boiling rage inside him surged up, and Siron hurriedly downed a glass of cold water. Baekgyeong, who remained unreachable, was one thing, but when he thought about Jiyeon’s predicament, guilt came first. Waking up to find a massive sum deposited into her account must have frightened her. On top of that, getting a call from the National Tax Service out of nowhere would’ve shocked her even more. If it had been money that didn’t exist in the first place, that would’ve been one thing. But when it’s money that dropped in like a surprise gift, and then disappeared again—it doesn’t feel like it vanished. It feels like it was stolen. That’s how human psychology works. Especially when it’s not 2.5 million won, but 25 billion.

“A request for documentation explaining the acquisition of overseas assets and the source of overseas funds? What the hell is this.”

Clicking on the file Jiyeon had attached to the email, Siron slowly scanned through its contents, then let his head fall onto the table with a look of damp, defeated gloom.

He couldn’t make sense of even half of the document the National Tax Service had sent. If even he struggled this much, there was no way Baekgyeong—who was even more clueless than him—could possibly interpret or understand it. And that wasn’t all. Baekgyeong was the very embodiment of an incompetent human being—he’d never once transferred money from a bank account himself.

And then the next thought flowed naturally. A sudden realization jolted Siron upright, like he’d woken from sleep.

“The one who transferred the money for Baekgyeong... was Daniel, right?”

Frantically, Siron pulled out Baekgyeong’s burner phone and opened the contact list. The only entries saved were Siron’s old number and “ddd.” The one who had transferred that $20 million was “ddd”—the same “Daniel” who used to run Siron’s fan site, Ron Moment. There was no way to know how that Daniel had gone from being Yoon Siron’s crazed fan to becoming Baekgyeong’s accomplice.

To Siron, fans were witnesses to his most radiant era. But after his fall, they had faded like shadows in an increasingly distant memory. Those who once cheered and celebrated his success were now nothing more than sweet fragments of nostalgia.

He didn’t want to reveal his pathetic self to those fans who reminded him of his days of glory. But today, he had no choice.

Yeah. There’s nowhere lower to fall anyway. Daniel must know I’m already at rock bottom.

Just before dialing, Siron took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Since things had come to this, he burned with determination—he would make Daniel fall for him all over again.

Using the internet mid-flight was pure torture. The Wi-Fi signal scattered uselessly beyond the steel walls, and the loading spinner kept spinning endlessly in the middle of the screen, wasting time. That this much time had to be wasted just to check a single email made the supposed advances of technology feel like a farce.

It took nearly three minutes to load just one email. With each click, Baek Sang’s patience wore thinner.

Feeling a tight, cramping sensation at the back of his neck, Baek Sang finally closed the email window. He’d already managed to take care of the most urgent matters, so he decided to leave the rest until after arriving in Korea.

Sipping a cognac he’d preordered, Baek Sang found a moment of peace as he gazed out at the quilt of clouds below and then closed his eyes for a brief nap. When he opened them again, about two hours had passed. The ten-odd hours remaining before their arrival in Korea stretched ahead of him like an eternity.

The cabin was calm and quiet. His father, lying in the opposite seat with a sleep mask on, was deep asleep thanks to the alcohol, and most passengers were either watching movies or passing the time alone in silence. After the short nap had washed away all traces of sleep, Baek Sang tried to read through the PDF file containing his mother’s email records, but the text wouldn’t stick in his mind.

He had the nagging feeling he was forgetting something. As he puzzled over this inexplicable emptiness, Baek Sang suddenly remembered Baekgyeong.

He pulled out his phone and checked the message he’d sent Baekgyeong: “Did you arrive in Korea safely?” But the message still showed as unread.

It was 9:21 AM in Korea—right when a new workday would be in full swing. And yet, there had been no contact from Baekgyeong or from his executive assistant.

Growing uneasy, Baek Sang contacted his executive assistant in Korea. Only after another torturous delay with the loading spinner did he manage to send the message. A long while later, the assistant replied.

[Secretary Jung Jiseung]: Good morning, Executive Director. This is Secretary Jung. There has been a significant change in Intern Baekgyeong’s travel itinerary. Due to a mechanical issue with the private jet, Mr. Baekgyeong boarded a commercial flight instead. He departed from New York, transferred in Los Angeles, and is scheduled to arrive at Incheon Airport.

[Secretary Jung Jiseung]: The estimated arrival time at Incheon Airport is 10:05 AM today. This change was communicated in advance by Secretary Kim Seontae. I sincerely apologize for not sharing it with you earlier. We are taking all necessary measures to ensure Mr. Baekgyeong’s safe return and will update you immediately with any new developments.

It was certainly an unusual occurrence. A mechanical issue had diverted Baekgyeong to a commercial flight, and yet Chief Secretary Kim hadn’t reported this critical change to him. A strange tightness began to twist inside Baek Sang’s chest.

He sent a message to Chief Secretary Kim demanding an explanation and instructed his own assistant to verify the situation as well.

“Something wrong?” his father asked sleepily, pushing the sleep mask up to his forehead.

Baek Sang shook his head, forcing a smile despite his pale face.

“No. It’s just work. I have to respond quickly... but the Wi-Fi’s unbearably slow.”

“Is it urgent?”

“No, I’ve handled the critical part.”

His father gave him a pitying look, then summoned a flight attendant to convert Baek Sang’s seat into a bed.

“Even on the plane, you’re still working. Just sleep. You haven’t been getting proper rest these past few days, have you?”

“Yes, I will.”

After switching to the bed setup, Baek Sang put down his phone and passed nearly an hour in restless limbo. Enough time had passed that Baekgyeong should have arrived in Korea already, but there was still no word from the assistant. Yet here, high above the ground, Baek Sang could do nothing.

Was it true that the private jet had experienced mechanical failure? Or had Baekgyeong, the moment he confirmed the contents of his mother’s will, abandoned the funeral and run away? And if he did run—was it because he wanted to indulge in something sordid with Yoon Siron, that disgrace of a fallen actor, and had instructed Secretary Kim to cover for him?

His mind was in chaos, flooded with every imaginable worst-case scenario, and just as his patience was nearing its breaking point, his phone buzzed with a low hum.

[Secretary Jung Jiseung]: Emergency report regarding Intern Baekgyeong, who was scheduled to arrive at Incheon International Airport on flight KE012 from LA today. The flight landed at 10:05 AM as planned, but Mr. Baekgyeong did not appear at the designated gate.

[Secretary Jung Jiseung]: According to the airline, Mr. Baekgyeong was not listed on the passenger manifest for flight KE012, and we have been unable to reach him. Attempts to contact Secretary Kim Seontae have also been unsuccessful.

[Secretary Jung Jiseung]: Furthermore, it has been confirmed that the claim of mechanical failure on the private jet was false. The flight was unilaterally canceled by Secretary Kim, according to the airline.

[Secretary Jung Jiseung]: We are currently taking additional measures to determine Mr. Baekgyeong’s whereabouts and situation. We will report any progress to you immediately. We apologize for the inconvenience and are doing our utmost to resolve the matter quickly.

The moment he read that Baekgyeong hadn’t boarded the flight, blue flames of fury flared in Baek Sang’s eyes. But the sentences that followed only complicated things further. Baekgyeong’s antics weren’t new, but why had Secretary Kim aided his defection? And why—why now—was he completely unreachable?

Sitting in his seat, anxiously rubbing his hands together, Baek Sang was struck by a crushing sense of helplessness. Though he felt the pressure to resolve the situation, he was essentially imprisoned inside a flying cell with no way in or out. At this moment, there was absolutely nothing he could say with certainty.

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