L*st and Death

‘What kind of pathetic display is that at your age?’

Praised for his artistic talent, but far more often complimented for his handsome face, Baekgyeong’s father—though he’d never admit it—was highly sensitive to beauty. And Chief Manager Kim, inconveniently enough, was quite a good-looking man. Baekgyeong, wondering whether his mother had valued Kim’s competence or simply his decent face more, asked casually, as if in passing:

“How are your kids, Chief Kim? First one's a boy, second a girl, right?”

Kim said nothing. As the car took a tight corner on a narrow road, Baekgyeong, annoyed by the silence, asked again.

“The first must be middle school age by now?”

“...He would be.”

“He was such a tiny kid. Must’ve grown a lot.”

Six years ago, Baekgyeong had met Kim’s eldest son only once—when Baekgyeong had been hospitalized for a follow-up tumor scan. The boy had been admitted after severely fracturing his leg while skating, and their rooms had been nearby. But clearly, Kim didn’t want to linger on the subject of his family. He redirected the conversation.

“I heard you visited the IT department two days ago.”

Pulled from the memory, Baekgyeong frowned and turned his head. Just hearing the words “IT department” from Kim’s mouth triggered a stress reaction in his body. His pheromones felt unusually heavy today, so he cracked the window slightly to ventilate.

“What the hell is wrong with this company’s security? Where’d you hear that?”

“From the CEO. Apparently a report came in that the vice chairman’s younger son had visited the IT department.”

“Chief Kim, are you the CEO’s errand boy now?”

“You still have a talent for saying unpleasant things.”

Baekgyeong scoffed and leaned his head back against the seat’s headrest. After a long pause, he made up an excuse.

“There’s a startup I personally invested in. I wanted to check if they could use our servers. Building their own setup costs way too much.”

It was a lie, of course. He’d simply gone to install a backdoor on the company server, under Park Daniel’s instructions.

Someone had hacked his mother’s email. Select messages related to “alphas” had been deliberately deleted—along with all communication between her and Baekgyeong. The ones who dared such a thing were likely behind her death.

Baekgyeong had ordered Park Daniel to identify who accessed her email account, but even Daniel couldn’t manage that alone. No matter how much of a genius hacker he was, breaking into a multilayered, highly secure system wasn’t easy.

So Baekgyeong had to attempt physical access to the server himself. Carrying a USB loaded with Daniel’s auto-run backdoor program, he visited the IT department and slipped the drive into a USB port while the manager’s attention was elsewhere. A few minutes later, he retrieved it and walked away like nothing had happened.

“You know that request is impossible,” Kim said.

He went on to lecture about how using company resources for personal projects was prohibited. Baekgyeong only half-listened, cranking the window down a little further.

In the distance, the crematorium where his mother’s body would be burned came into view. It was a pointed, stained-glass building reminiscent of a cathedral.

Baekgyeong and Kim entered the building, following after his father and older brother who had arrived earlier.

Perhaps because she’d owned so much in life, the procedures following his mother’s death were complicated and demanding. She was a Christian, and per her wishes, the formal funeral rites had been completed through the United Church. After cremation, her ashes would be brought back to Korea and honored for two more days in a Buddhist ceremony, in accordance with her husband’s beliefs.

Despite the five chaotic days since her autopsy, her body had remained preserved in this world. Now, all that remained was to press the green button that would start the incinerator—and her body would be consumed by fire, reduced to a handful of ash in a small urn.

Baekgyeong’s father, Baek Kwonil, stared at the ebony casket holding his wife’s body through the glass with a pained expression. After a long hesitation, his trembling hand finally pressed the green button. The cremation chamber roared to life, and flames flared behind the crystalline glass. As the casket was engulfed in fire, a spasm of grief passed over his face.

According to Yoon Siron, the moment of cremation is the saddest part of a funeral. Having felt no significant emotional response even after his mother’s sudden death, Baekgyeong had waited for this moment, hoping to feel something. But what came was disappointment. He had expected to unearth at least a small shard of sorrow—but he felt nothing.

He almost pitied his mother for having a son like him.

With a detached heart, Baekgyeong calmly observed the mourners’ faces. Their grief felt like something from another world. He only felt the emotional distance, as if watching a play unfold on a stage—utterly separate from him.

A few hours later, the urn containing his mother’s ashes was handed over to his father. The polished brown urn was made of mahogany. Led by his father carrying the urn, the family and a few guests exited the crematorium and got into their cars. Now, it was time to return to the places she had once lived—to complete the process of dividing her immense wealth in accordance with her will.

As a businesswoman, Choi Baekhee had made it a point to update her will every six months, purely as a precaution. It was a routine designed to ensure the seamless transition of Vile Group’s leadership to her chosen heir. Even so, her inheritance list included quite a few names beyond her immediate family.

The reading of her will was held in the grand banquet hall where parties used to take place. The portion concerning stock inheritance for direct family members had been dealt with privately the previous day. Today’s event was for distributing the rest of the estate.

As expected, Baek Kwonil, her husband, received not a single share of stock. Before their marriage, Choi Baekhee had signed a prenuptial agreement barring him from influencing Vile Group’s management. She upheld that clause with absolute firmness throughout their marriage.

As expected, most of the stock went to the heir—her eldest son, Baek Sang. Baekgyeong, the second son, inherited 0.9% of the publicly traded shares, and 25% of a separate class of unlisted shares issued solely for controlling the company and receiving dividends. As a result, Baekgyeong was set to receive roughly 60 billion won a year in dividends.

Though he had no authority to intervene in company management, the generous dividends left him with no complaints. She had essentially strapped wings to his back, telling him to live a carefree life, doing nothing until he died—and to burn money as he pleased. There was no reason to be unhappy. If anything, Baekgyeong wondered whether his mother had been a little too tipsy when she drafted her final will.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered today to confirm and execute the final wishes of the deceased. Each of you had a close relationship with her, and I imagine the content of this will carries deep significance to all present.”

The middle-aged lawyer standing at the podium paused to open a sealed folder. Calmly, she opened the envelope and withdrew the documents.

“We will now solemnly read the will containing the deceased’s final wishes. We ask that you respect the legacy entrusted to us and act in accordance with her intentions. I will now explain each clause of the will in detail.”

The grand banquet hall grew tense. All eyes fixed on the lawyer. With dramatic music, it might have looked like a scene from a movie. The lawyer took a breath before reading each part aloud, making eye contact with each beneficiary—a meticulous delivery of Choi Baekhee’s final sentiments.

The first heir named was Baek Kwonil. He inherited eleven works of art, a gallery in New York, a single-family house in Samseong-dong, and a penthouse in Manhattan. On top of that, he received a significant amount of cash—enough to cover all estate taxes and still have plenty left over. Baek Sang inherited a large amount of cash, real estate, and art, though most of his assets would be consumed by tax payments. Then came Baekgyeong’s turn.

‘She definitely wrote this drunk.’

Baekgyeong blankly examined the inheritance certificate handed to him by the lawyer. Not only had he inherited significant cash and real estate—he also became the legal owner of Stone Creek Psychiatric Hospital, where he had been institutionalized for the past three years.

‘The director’s gonna faint when he finds out I’m on the board.’

Still, a vague unease lingered. Benefiting from her death without mourning her—it left a bad taste in his mouth.

While Baekgyeong sat in that unresolved discomfort, the will reading continued. From small gems to commercial buildings, her wealth found its way to new owners. No one betrayed disappointment, even if the inheritances fell short of expectation. No one was foolish enough to openly express such feelings—everyone had come prepared, measuring their relationship with the deceased in worldly terms.

But one person did show an unexpected reaction.

“To Mr. Kim Seontae, a loyal friend and employee, the deceased leaves a 7-story commercial building at 121 Hangang-dong, Seoul, and a $3 million education trust for his daughter, Kim Sua.”

While others reacted with gratitude, surprise, satisfaction, pride, or quiet grief, Kim Seontae’s response was different. With a face full of suppressed anger, he walked up to the lawyer’s assistant and accepted the inheritance documents.

‘Was it not enough?’

The building was in Gangnam, yes—but it was only 7 stories. And $3 million wasn’t even 4 billion won. Spent freely, it could be gone in less than a year. After nearly two decades at Choi Baekhee’s side, inheriting less than 10 billion won might indeed feel insulting. Baekgyeong found himself sympathizing with the disappointment. WritersResources

‘Still, no need to look that sour.’

Watching Kim’s darkened face as he turned away, Baekgyeong leaned toward Baek Sang and whispered:

“If the second kid is Kim Sua, what was the name of his first?”

Baek Sang looked at him like, Why would I know that?

“No idea. I don’t remember.”

“The first was a son, the second’s a daughter. He’s got two kids, so why’s only the daughter getting a trust fund? Is the first one the black sheep?”

Baek Sang’s face contorted in disbelief. He turned slightly toward Baekgyeong and spoke in a serious tone.

“Are you kidding me? Chief Kim’s first son died from illness.”

Baekgyeong fell silent.

“...I didn’t know.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!