Chapter 3: The Destroyer, Cha Taemok
There were a few things on Mangwoldo that one simply should not trust.
The weather—and next, the village bus. Even the timetable posted at the town’s bus stop was essentially meaningless. Arrival times were entirely at the driver’s discretion. They said things had improved since the county chief changed, but apparently, that was only temporary.
Seim put down her phone, which she had been staring at. She had already been waiting for the bus, which might never arrive, for thirty minutes. By now, the streetlights were on.
The chorus of frogs croaking loudly, the swarming mosquitoes clinging annoyingly—this could have been any ordinary summer night…
Seim frowned and turned her head to the side. A car was parked right next to the bus stop, its headlights pouring out brightly.
“How long are you planning to stay there?”
Cha Taemok, lips pulled into a casual line, drew on his cigarette. She lost count after the second one, but he’d likely smoked more than two. Wisps of smoke drifted lazily against the car glass.
Soon, his arm, sleeves rolled up, rested across the lowered window.
“Until your lungs rot away?”
Even with an expensive watch dangling from his wrist, his hand twitched lazily with the cigarette, as indifferent as ever.
Seim stared quietly into his eyes, half-hidden by her eyelids. They were fragments of memories tied to that time. Dry and unyielding, yet a faint spark could flicker at the corners.
Cha Taemok’s eyes.
She realized he probably knew she had liked them. Every time he pressed the corner of his eyes against her cheek with a playful jab, it was like a subtle confession.
Show the dimples now.
Whenever he smiled, two wells appeared in his cheeks. She had secretly loved his bad habit of pressing them with his index finger. When he wasn’t around, there was no chance to see those wells, so she had waited all year for summer.
It had to be summer.
Because, by virtue of her grandfather’s hometown, she spent every vacation on this island. And he only came during summer.
The sudden memory tightened her throat.
Chirr—chirr—
The cry of insects was strangely comforting.
Seim lowered her gaze, staring straight ahead. She didn’t want to layer the present over the film of the past. He was no longer the boy who came to spend summer here.
Now, he was the head of the Hoemok Group, come to destroy Mangwoldo.
“Looks like the head of headquarters has nothing to do.”
“I don’t. No work, no women to see.”
“What?”
“No one would say anything if I sat beside you.”
That single remark carried a weighty silence.
Feeling the sudden heaviness of the air, Seim looked at him again. His face, as he rubbed his hands with a wet tissue, betrayed no emotion.
Her heart cracked at his words. But he seemed utterly indifferent.
That statement was a clear deception.
“Go.”
To the Seim who had been swept up in the turmoil, it was definitely a lie.
“Go.”
Yet he stepped out of the car as if her warning had not even grazed his ears.
The figure approached slowly, hands shoved in his pockets, backlit by the headlights—somehow surreal.
She instinctively shifted her gaze, and caught the polished shoes in view.
“Aren’t you tired of saying the same thing? Just ride and get it over with.”
“No.”
“The bus is done for.”
Seim flinched. That smile, completely devoid of malice, was strangely unsettling.
“Technically, I ended it. Myself.”
Instantly, she shot up, indignant.
“But then no one else can ride either!”
Cha Taemok, taking in her angered expression, let out a low chuckle.
Just the expression he expected. The exact face he had imagined the moment he overheard the servant instructing someone to buy melons in town.
With another slight smirk, he casually picked up the two bags on the bench. After tossing them into the back seat, he opened the passenger door.
“The night is dark, the luggage heavy, and thanks to you, Seim, others can’t ride the bus. It’s a pretty miserable situation all around.”
He tilted his head toward the interior.
Seim, still resisting, approached reluctantly, though her anger remained. For the Hoemok Group to assert their power on Mangwoldo was utterly terrifying.
“I’ll ride, so put the bus back the way it was.”
She glared at him as he nodded slowly, closing the door. Yet she had no choice but to get in.
Once she settled in the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt, he slid into the driver’s side and pressed the accelerator gently.
Seim stared through the lowered window at the night. The wind tangled her eyelashes, but she kept her eyes fixed on the side mirror. Only the dim road stretched before her.
Then, after a while, a pair of lights appeared behind them, like the eyes of a predator.
They looked exactly like headlights, closing the distance rapidly, the form becoming clearer.
A large, rectangular shape.
Familiar.
No way…
Seim shot a startled look at Taemok.
The village bus was coming.
Her early mornings were a habit formed from years of intense studying. She was used to waking at dawn, but today’s scene felt different. The house was unusually silent, no news flickering on the TV.
The absent family was likely somewhere beyond the wall.
The villa lights had come on, so it was natural that the servants were busy. She pictured her father mowing the front lawn, her aunt preparing breakfast.
Seim sighed, took out cereal, and ate quickly before sitting at her desk. She promised herself she wouldn’t open her study books on Mangwoldo, yet every day she still flipped through past exam papers.
Soon, her pen slipped from her hand.
She couldn’t concentrate. Even grasping it again and pressing down on each character changed nothing.
I’ll do it tomorrow.
The playful low voice from the previous night rattled through her mind—the words she had heard at the gate, just after getting out of his car. “See you tomorrow.”
Eventually, Seim pulled out her earphones. Blocking out both ears seemed the only solution.
It was almost time to go to school. She grabbed a white short-sleeve shirt and jeans, slung on her backpack. Her fingers brushed against lipstick, and she startled, but picked up only lip balm.
While lightly tapping her lips, a knock sounded.
“Eat some melon before you go.”
Her aunt had brought a plate with perfectly cut melon. In that instant, Seim remembered Cha Taemok, grinning as he bit into a melon whole. It was unmistakably vexing.
“I’m off melons.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not eating them.”
“That’s a problem. Who’s going to eat all this? Earlier, Taemok…”
Her aunt, realizing her slip, corrected herself immediately.
“No, the head of headquarters bought a whole box this morning and left it for us.”
Seim frowned deeply. He had clearly known about the melon already. Was this some kind of mischief?
“Share it.”
“Share? We don’t have any neighbors.”
The densely packed hillside homes were mostly empty anyway. The Hoemok Group, observing Mangwoldo from the top, had gradually displaced the residents.
They knew each household’s desires precisely. Money for those who needed it, scholarships for those invested in education. Except for her house—they were probably difficult to manage.
For her father, who required the most secluded protection, no house but the topmost one would do.
So they had generously offered the villa management post. Yet it was only for a single season. The ongoing stipend throughout the year was nothing more than a bribe to eventually push them out.
Ah, they had also said that when the resort was built, a villa would be constructed in a remote corner of Mangwoldo, with servant quarters nearby.
Her aunt and father considered it a great favor.
Seim finished putting on her sneakers. “All right, Seim,” her aunt said, following her to the entrance, holding her phone.
“I called about the water, electricity, and gas for the downstairs unit. For electricity, someone has to come in person.”
“Ah, really?”
“So it’ll have to wait until next week.”
“Thanks, aunt. But what about Dad?”
“He’s busy fixing a lot of things around.”
Stepping onto the old tiles, Seim glanced at the frame on the living room wall. A woman with one eye faded to white smiled warmly.
Her sunken dimples explained everything in that single photograph.
Her mother.
“I’ll be back, aunt.”
Seim left the house, crossed the wide front yard, and pulled the main gate handle. Creak—the rusty hinge groaned loudly as usual.
Just as she was about to step over the threshold…
“……”
Her foot froze. Something was placed in front of the gate.
