Into The Thrill

It was a vulgar word. Woojin frowned in distaste, and Jung Ho-myung, who, like him, was used to pulling all-nighters, immediately looked uneasy. Realizing he had overstepped, he quickly apologized, "Sorry, that was inappropriate."
Woojin entered his office without another glance. Behind him, Jung Ho-myung bent deeply at the waist and said, "Good luck with your work, senior." The words were cut off mid-sentence as the door shut.
Haewon did have a baby face. Despite being twenty-nine, he went around pretending to be a music student, and there were fools naive enough to believe such nonsense.

Woojin never liked the number twenty-nine. It was the age at which his fiancée had committed suicide. It was the age at which Lee Taeshin had killed himself, causing him endless trouble.
After experiencing two such coincidences, Haewon's age began to bother him immensely. It was one of the reasons he had tried to distance himself. No number was as incomplete as twenty-nine. Fortunately, he would soon turn thirty. Once this winter passed, his ownership would be perfected even further.
"Prosecutor, Chief Prosecutor Park Hyung-soo called earlier. Did you have your phone off?"

"I turned it off during the meeting."
"He said it was urgent and asked you to call him back."
"I'll call now."

Woojin replied to Section Chief Hwang, then entered his office and shut the door. From a corner of his bookshelf, lined with law books and case files, he pulled out a thick Prosecutorial Practical Training Record. Inside the pages of a book no one would ever bother opening, a document envelope was hidden. He took it and dialed Park Hyung-soo.
"Sorry, I was in a meeting."
— "I hear you're shaking down the Federation of Economic Organizations?"

"The former administration's Minister of Finance is now the ruling party's floor leader. We're proceeding carefully."
— "By the way, CEO Kim Jung-geun isn't answering my calls. Have you spoken to him recently?"
Park had started with routine small talk about the investigation before circling back to his real concern. He was probably feeling the heat, with Kim Han-se probing persistently.

"I heard he’s on an overseas business trip."
Woojin glanced at the calendar on his wall before continuing.
"He’s arriving back today. Try calling him this evening; he should answer."

— "You're saying he’s not deliberately avoiding me?"
"You need to remember that this case requires both of you to work together. You, Chief, need to handle it properly. Don’t forget that Kim is a businessman—don’t expect loyalty from him."
— "I’ll have to find a way to talk him around. We’ve worked together too long to turn on each other over something like this… If I become Attorney General, I can get you promoted to Chief of the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office within my term. You know what I mean, right?"
"Don’t worry about me. You two need to reach an agreement first. With Kim Han-se watching so closely, it’ll be difficult to sweep this under the rug. That’s our internal issue, but CEO Kim might not see it that way. You’ll have to persuade him well. If you two end up at odds, both the prosecution and HanKyung Group will be in trouble."

That was precisely what Woojin was waiting for.
— "Kim Jung-geun isn’t an idiot. He won’t make excessive demands. This is just about appearances—I go in, spend a little time inside, then get out on medical parole. If they push me too hard, they risk losing everything they’ve built with the prosecution. The Commissioner wouldn’t just stand by and watch, would he?"
"Exactly."

His logic was sound. But the problem was that things wouldn’t necessarily go the way Park Hyung-soo expected. Kim Jung-geun had no intention of letting a chief prosecutor dictate terms to him. He was the head of a conglomerate—someone like Park was just another cog in the machine.
Woojin ended the call and slipped the envelope into his bag.
Kim Jung-geun was set to return from his business trip in Shanghai on an evening flight. After landing, he would either meet with Park Hyung-soo or contact him. Though he had been abroad, he had undoubtedly been briefed on the situation through his secretary’s office.

Woojin calculated his schedule. He needed to keep his evening free after nine o’clock.
This wasn’t originally the pace he had planned to move at. He had intended to wait, to solidify his position—either at the Supreme Prosecutors' Office or at least in a high enough rank to exert his authority—before making his move.
He didn’t deny that Haewon’s words had provoked him. He didn’t want to endure being called Kim Jung-geun’s dog for a few more years just because he needed more preparation. He had lived like a dog for now, but that was over.

By noon, Woojin had cleared his backlog of indictment cases. In the afternoon, he personally interrogated the financial manager from the Federation of Economic Organizations.
On paper, the documents were perfect. But under scrutiny, they were full of contradictions—things that simply °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° didn’t make sense. The deeper he dug, the more the organization seemed utterly useless, redundant, a meaningless waste of resources. In short, it was absurd.
A so-called nonprofit association that burned through over fifty billion won annually for publishing a conservative economic newspaper that no one read. Another fifty billion spent maintaining its nonprofit status. A total of a hundred billion won in annual expenditures, yet its actual impact was virtually zero. Frankly, it would be better if it didn’t exist at all. The entire thing was a slush fund disguised as a government-backed subsidy.

Woojin had planned to handle this case lightly, just enough to boost his record while focusing on Kim Jung-geun and Park Hyung-soo. But he couldn’t ignore something this irrational.
"The newspaper is distributed for free. Does anyone even read it?"
"People must read it, otherwise we wouldn’t distribute it."

"You paid Representative Park twenty million won per column—every month, at that. That’s just for writing, correct?"
"It’s not just a writing fee. It includes consulting fees and lecture fees for our executive training sessions. Frankly, we should be paying him more, but he agreed to a lower rate."
"Submit a detailed report on his consultations, lecture materials, lecture frequency, and attendance records by the end of today."

"Consultations are mostly over the phone. There are no lecture materials. And we don’t track attendance like a school."
"So, no photos either, I assume?"
"None."

Woojin looked up at the financial manager, who shamelessly lied without a flicker of hesitation. Staring him down, Woojin watched as the man avoided eye contact and took a sip of his now-cold coffee.
"Do you smoke?"
At Woojin’s question, the man hesitated before nodding. Woojin pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket, placed it between his lips, and lit it. The financial manager, clearly expecting a cigarette for himself, awkwardly watched as Woojin smoked alone.

As he exhaled, Woojin tapped at his laptop.
"I see that the Ministry of Strategy and Finance allocated 12 billion won for this year. The activities remain largely unchanged from last year—where is that extra 2 billion going?"
"There’s an executive training program in Germany and the Netherlands, and we’re planning to build a training center in Gangwon Province. The budget application details everything."

"Fifty billion for a newspaper nobody reads. Two billion for website development, yet it averages only three visits per day. Even your own employees don’t use it, yet you spend two hundred million a year on maintenance. Do you know that’s comparable to the upkeep of large-scale servers?"
"I’m not an IT expert, so I wouldn’t know."
"…Interesting."

Woojin chuckled. If someone was going to commit fraud, they should at least put in the effort to make it look convincing. But all he saw was blatant deception. It was a mess—illogical, inefficient. Even the financial manager’s half-assed attitude, relying on Representative Park’s protection, was grating.
"Excuse me? What did you just say?"
The financial manager, unnerved by Woojin’s smirk, asked hesitantly.

"I said, this is interesting."
"…"
Woojin deliberately enunciated his words, "I said it's interesting." But his face betrayed not even a shred of amusement.

The irrationality and absurdity were one thing, but there wasn't even the slightest effort put into this theft.
The financial manager, who had no clue what Woojin meant, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Woojin stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and turned to Jung Ho-myung.
"Issue a summons for Representative Park Yong-ho of the National People’s Party."

"Excuse me?"
He was making a move to escalate the situation. Jung Ho-myung, suddenly tense, looked at him.
"Brief the press about the corruption in the Federation of Economic Organizations and have it aired on the evening news. Call in the journalists, set up the photo line, and have Park report by 8 a.m. the day after tomorrow."

"Shouldn’t we inform the chief first?" Jung Ho-myung asked cautiously.
Woojin, without shifting his gaze from the financial manager, who had now gone pale, replied. His eyes were like those of a snake, paralyzing its prey with fear.
"This is under my full authority. Also, summon everyone involved in the Federation’s newspaper, the website developers, the maintenance company. Find out where that training facility in Gangwon-do is and summon the construction and design firms."

"Uh, Prosecutor, wait a moment… Can I make a call—"
"Arrest him immediately and request a post-detention warrant. Dig up everything on Park Yong-ho. I want everyone connected to him stripped down to their underwear."
"…Senior. He’s the ruling party’s floor leader. He was a minister in the last administration."

Jung Ho-myung lowered his voice, trying not to let the financial manager overhear.
"I’ll take full responsibility. Have the entire Third Investigation Team focus on Park Yong-ho."
Leaving the investigation to Jung Ho-myung, Woojin finished work around six in the evening. With the press releases, journalist briefings, and summons preparations to handle, Jung Ho-myung groaned, watching Woojin head out right on time. He trailed behind him but could only curse under his breath when Woojin got into his car without looking back.

Woojin drove straight to Haewon’s officetel. He had time until nine.
Haewon stood in front of his music stand, seemingly having practiced violin. His face had regained some energy. Woojin had expected him to still be lying in bed, unable to move, but his stamina was surprisingly strong. Haewon turned and smiled.
"You’re early."

"I have to head out later."
"Again? Night duty?"
"Not duty, just an appointment. Let’s eat dinner."

Woojin took off his jacket and hung it over a chair at the dining table before tying on an apron. He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. Then, he opened the fridge he had stocked for Haewon a while ago.
He enjoyed cooking. His tastes were picky, and most restaurant food didn’t suit him, so he ended up cooking for himself out of necessity. His preferences were meticulous.
Tonight, time was short. He settled on spaghetti—quick and easy.

Haewon, having placed his violin back in its case, approached from behind and wrapped his arms around Woojin’s waist. He buried his face against his back and rubbed against him.
"…I’m a mess. My hands are completely stiff; they won’t move properly."
"Take it slow. It’ll come back with practice."

"I have a lesson tomorrow. My professor’s going to scold me."
"Just say you were sick. That you were too unwell to practice."
Haewon pressed his face against Woojin’s back, tightening his arms around his waist. He trailed him from counter to counter as he moved about the kitchen.

Woojin wasn’t the type to cook for others, but he had observed Haewon long enough to know what kind of person he was attracted to and what kind of treatment he responded to.
Haewon liked affectionate people. Receiving love and care was fundamental to him. It was his baseline. On top of that, he needed someone weighty enough to keep his impulsiveness in check.
Whenever Woojin was in Haewon’s space, he adjusted himself to fit Haewon’s ideal type. Affectionate, but not too indulgent. Firm enough to control him. It was far from Woojin’s natural disposition. But just as he was strategic in his work, he was strategic with Haewon.

After clinging to him for a while, Haewon stepped back momentarily. Then—click. Woojin turned around at the sound. Haewon was taking photos of him with his phone. Click, click, click.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking pictures."

"Why?"
"I don’t know when you’ll suddenly decide to end things again. I need to prepare in advance—at least I’ll have photos."
"As long as you behave, that won’t happen."

"…Really? If I don’t change, you won’t change either?"
Haewon set his phone down and approached again. As if it were a habit, he wrapped his arms around Woojin’s waist and gazed up at him.
Woojin always found his self-control slipping when he looked down at Haewon from this angle.

"The water’s boiling. You’ll get hurt."
"Eat later."
"I don’t have time. I have to go."

"I don’t need to eat. Later, okay?"
In the end, Haewon reached over and turned off the induction stove.
He untied the apron strings at Woojin’s back and slipped it off. Woojin, already losing control, lifted him up in one swift motion. Supporting him by the hips, he kissed him wildly.

He carried Haewon to the bed. Their lips locked, their tongues entwined. Haewon clung to him, his breath growing ragged. Woojin let himself sink into the sensation, savoring the warmth and wetness.
But then—Haewon pushed lightly against his shoulder. Woojin broke the kiss, panting, and looked down at him.
"Phone… your phone’s ringing."

Face flushed, Haewon murmured, shielding his face with his arm. From inside Woojin’s jacket, his phone blared.
Woojin glanced at Haewon, then at his jacket. Reluctantly, he got up. He was expecting an important call.
But instead of the expected number, the screen displayed Central Prosecutors’ Office.

"Yes."
— "Woojin, did you issue a summons for Representative Park Yong-ho?"
It was Chief Prosecutor Lee Seung-min. Woojin wiped his lips, still slick with Haewon’s saliva, against the back of his hand. He turned to glance at Haewon lying on the bed, then refocused.

"Yes."
— "The ruling party’s floor leader? You should’ve discussed it first. When did you send out the press release?"
"The journalist briefing—has it ended?"

— "Just finished. You’re killing me here. You should’ve reported this to me first. The Prosecutor General wants to see you. Where are you?"
"You don’t need to know. I have plans, I can’t come in. Cover for me."
Woojin looked back at Haewon. He wanted to return to bed immediately.

Haewon was waiting for him. He was sprawled out, his limbs loose, his breath rising and falling with a quiet rhythm. His chest lifted subtly with each inhale, exhale.
He wanted to go back. To press his mouth to Haewon’s skin, to run his tongue over his chest, to soak up his taste.
He licked his lips.

— "Cancel your plans and come in. The party leader is already here."
Lee Seung-min sounded exasperated.
"If the ruling party leader is interfering in an investigation, you should block it. That’s your job, Chief."

— "You sent out the summons without warning and set up a photo line? Couldn’t you have done this quietly?"
"I’m not coming in. If they keep pushing, show them the internal investigation reports on the party’s other lawmakers. They’re already short on members—let them decide whether they want to lose one or ten."
— "Who has the reports?"

"Jung Ho-myung should have them."
— "Got it. But what’s this plan of yours? Are you meeting with CEO Kim Jung-geun?"
"I told you, don’t ask. It’s better if you don’t know."

— "Damn, you’re ruthless. You’re going to be the death of me."
Woojin ended the call.
When he turned back, Haewon had already sat up, his curiosity evident. The heat from before had vanished.

"Who was it?"
"Chief."
"The one you don’t like?"

"Not that one, another chief."
"How many chiefs do you have?"
"Too many. I should probably trim a few. So, what’ll it be? Dinner? Or…"

"Your phone’s just going to keep ringing, isn’t it? Turn it off—I hate it."
Woojin already knew Haewon sometimes turned off his phone without permission. Usually, he let it slide.
Tonight, though, he had things to take care of.

So instead, he chose the latter.
He stripped Haewon fast, then pulled off his own shirt.
As he flipped Haewon onto his stomach, the younger man grumbled.

"I hate this… it feels like you’re just trying to get it over with and leave."
"That’s not it."