Just like the flashing video noise that covers a TV screen with a bad signal, loud static kept ringing at the center of Baekgyeong’s head. Ever since hearing the sudden news of his mother’s death, that noise in his mind had been shaking his thoughts without pause.
Inside that noise, Baekgyeong felt an overwhelming fatigue. He pressed his tired eyes with his fingertips, like he was trying to shove his eyeballs back into their sockets. The world behind his closed lids filled with flickering black-and-white dots. As those dots blinked randomly, collided, and vanished, the noise in his head gradually began to fade.
“This flight will begin its descent shortly. Please fasten your seatbelts.”
The flight attendant’s voice snapped him back to reality. He turned his head toward the window. Sunlight beamed through the clouds, casting mystical patterns across the glass.
The plane was still gliding over the vast North Atlantic, but within ten minutes it would touch down on the runway at Westchester County Airport in New York. It was the closest airport to his parents’ house in Scarsdale.
After landing, Baekgyeong quickly grabbed his belongings and headed to the arrivals lobby. The moment he stepped into the airport building, he heard familiar Korean voices. Reporters—who somehow knew he’d be here—rushed toward him, flashing cameras in his face.
“How do you feel right now?”
“When was the last time you saw your mother?”
“Was your relationship with her as complicated as the public believed?”
It seemed his older brother, Baek Sang, had anticipated something like this. Thanks to the tailored black suit he’d sent ahead, Baekgyeong appeared before the media in a composed, formal outfit for the first time in years—since his trial. If he’d shown up in the disheveled state he’d worn while drifting through Baggers City, half the headlines would’ve speculated about a massive falling-out with his mother.
Tuning out the reporters’ barrage of questions, Baekgyeong scanned the area. There was no sign of the staffer who was supposed to meet him at the gate holding a sign. Just as he pulled out his phone to call the employee he’d messaged earlier—
“Will Yoon Siron be attending the funeral?”
The moment the question hit his ears, Baekgyeong’s entire body froze as if struck by lightning. He turned toward the voice. A long-faced reporter was clicking away on his camera while staring straight at him. The sudden change in Baekgyeong’s expression—after previously ignoring all questions—caused a ripple of murmurs among the reporters.
“Or perhaps you’re hoping Yoon Siron will attend the funeral?”
With that follow-up, rage exploded in Baekgyeong’s skull like a bomb. His heart pounded violently, and his face twisted with raw, unfiltered fury.
“Why the fuck would he show up to that?”
How could they even suggest bringing the soft, defenseless Siron into a place crawling with predators?
As he advanced on the reporter like he was about to grab him by the collar, a hand yanked him back. A young Black man had grabbed his sleeve.
“Intern Baek! Over here! I’m here!”
In his hand was a sign that read “VILE GROUP / BAEK GYEONG.” Seeing that pathetic placard—broadcasting to the world that Baekgyeong had arrived—extinguished his boiling rage in an instant.
“Where’s the car.”
“Uh? Right outside the airport...”
The man answered nervously.
“Give me the keys.”
“K-keys? ...The car keys?”
“Yes, now.”
The employee quickly fumbled the keys from his pocket and handed them over. Snatching them, Baekgyeong stormed past the crowd of baiting journalists and exited the terminal at a near run.
He walked straight toward the car that beeped in response to the remote. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he only then noticed the presence of a man sitting hunched in the backseat.
“What the—!”
Startled, Baekgyeong whipped around. The man in the back straightened up. It was Director Kim Seontae, one of his mother’s longtime confidants.
“Director Kim! What the hell are you doing in here?”
“I figured you’d take a cab if you knew I was waiting. So I hid.”
The middle-aged man offered a sheepish smile. He had the neat, elegant face of someone who had surely once been beautiful.
“Hmph. You really left Jamal behind, didn’t you.”
“Jamal? Oh... that clueless guy with the sign?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“Do I have to bring him?”
“Well... not necessarily.”
An awkward silence settled between them, dense like a vacuum. Director Kim eventually spoke up with difficulty.
“It’s been a while since we last saw each other.”
“It’s only been a month.”
As Baekgyeong looked at him with hollow eyes, he could read faint sorrow and clear disdain in Kim Seontae’s face. For over a decade, the man had served as a loyal aide, handling everything big and small for the family. Now he seemed to be genuinely mourning the Chairwoman’s absence.
Baekgyeong, however, didn’t share that depth of emotion. The reality that his mother no longer existed didn’t feel real—it all felt distant, like something out of a long-forgotten film.
“You must’ve been shocked.”
“Well... yeah.”
Avoiding his gaze, Baekgyeong started the engine and pulled out onto the road.
“Why were you in Hel Sota?”
“To find Yoon Siron.”
“Did you find him?”
“No. He ran away again.”
“Are you going back to look for him?”
Baekgyeong didn’t answer. A quiet sigh drifted from the seat behind him.
“The will is scheduled to be released after the funeral. Please at least wait until the inheritance process is finalized before you leave.”
There would be many things to sort out after the funeral. Most of the inheritance would obviously go to his father and brother. Still, a will that long—dozens of pages—was bound to include a line or two about Baekgyeong. The only thing that truly interested him was the Holmby Hills mansion where he and Siron had first met. He wondered whether that massive house had been left to him.
“Maybe she left me something. Either way, I’ll stay until the legal process wraps up. Hm. Director Kim, any updates on the investigation?”
“I wouldn’t know. Other than what’s been reported in the media, I have no information.”
There was no way the police had shared their internal investigation with a family aide. As Baekgyeong focused on driving, a question suddenly came to him.
“Director Kim. Are there any new drug candidates that recently had an IND filed with the FDA?”
Given Baekgyeong’s usual attitude, it seemed like an oddly out-of-character question. Kim’s face clearly showed his confusion.
“Why are you asking?”
“It’s a long story. Just answer.”
“...I’ll check.”
Kim reluctantly tapped at his tablet for a while.
“There’s one currently in progress.”
“Yeah? What kind of drug?”
“An Alzheimer’s treatment that prevents beta-amyloid protein buildup. It’s in IND review.”
“What else? Anything in the pipeline?”
Still staring at the tablet, Kim replied,
“There’s a neurotrophic factor modulator for severe depression in preclinical trials. We were planning to submit an IND in September... but with the Chairwoman’s passing, that timeline might change.”
In other words, there were no plans to announce the rut suppressant to the public. The project had been halted before it could ever be unveiled.
Adjusting the rearview mirror to reflect the backseat, Baekgyeong asked,
“Director Kim. Did you ever get the impression my mother was preparing some major project recently?”
“I’m not sure what sort of project you mean.”
“Something about pheromones, for example...”
His words trailed off. Kim frowned, as if he’d just heard nonsense about pseudoscience.
“Pheromones?”
“Yeah. You’ve never heard anything?”
“No. As you know, Vile Group doesn’t deal in livestock fertility or animal breeding products like pig aphrodisiacs.”
“...I know that.”
Even though Kim had been the Chairwoman’s trusted aide, his limits were obvious. He knew nothing about alphas, rut suppression, or the genetic science surrounding them. Baekgyeong now strongly suspected that his brother Baek Sang was equally in the dark. He needed to confirm this more clearly.
His mother had planned to reveal the existence of alphas through FDA-approved clinical trials of the rut suppressant. Given the project’s sensitivity, she’d kept it under extreme security. Everything had been sealed tight—carefully locked down to prevent leaks. But with her sudden death, all of it had fallen apart.
If her death was truly connected to this project, then identifying the people involved would be enough to reveal the shape of what had happened.
“By the way, Intern Baek, I think you missed a turn. You should’ve turned right, not left.”
“I know.”
“...Excuse me?”
“We’re not going home yet. I’ve got somewhere to stop first.”
Watching Director Kim’s uneasy eyes in the rearview mirror, Baekgyeong added,
“I need a favor.”
Spotting a bus stop nearby, he pulled over to the curb and opened the back door. Hunching slightly, he extended a hand toward Director Kim.
“Get out.”
“...What?”
“I said, get out.”
“D-Do you even know where this is...?”
When the flustered man hesitated, Baekgyeong let out a long sigh.
“Fine, take an Uber if you hate buses.”
“I don’t know how to use Uber!”
At Kim’s firm resistance, Baekgyeong yanked his bag from the backseat and set it gently on the bench at the bus stop.
“Then I guess you’re taking the bus.”
Kim realized that if he didn’t get out, Baekgyeong looked ready to drag him out by force. Left with no choice, he stepped out of the car. As the black vehicle sped away without mercy, Kim stood there, seething. After glaring at the vanishing taillights, he pulled out his phone and called the intern who’d been stranded back at the airport.
“Call me an Uber, will you. I’m at... well, never mind, I’ll drop you my location.”
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