chapter 3

Chapter Three – The Price of Silence

(~950 words)

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright for midnight. Ji-an gathered the last of the files, stacking them neatly even though his fingers still trembled. His reflection stared back at him from the darkened window—stern, exhausted, furious.

“Breathe,” he muttered under his breath, voice cracking. “Just… breathe.”

The air still carried the faint trace of whiskey. Kang’s presence lingered like grease, clinging to his skin. Ji-an wanted to scrub it off, wanted to scream, but instead he straightened his tie and forced his face blank. No one could see. No one could know.

If the Chief’s threats were true—and Ji-an knew they were—then one complaint would end his career. A single whisper of rebellion and every law firm, every courthouse, every office in the city would slam its doors. Kang’s reach was long, his reputation untouchable.

And Ji-an had nowhere else to go.

The salary was modest, but steady. Enough to keep the tiny rooftop apartment in Gangseo. Enough to send money each month for his aunt’s medicine back in the countryside. Enough to keep food on the table.

Enough to make survival possible.

Losing this job meant losing everything he had clawed to protect.

A chair scraped across the polished floor. One of the interns—barely more than a boy, tie crooked, eyes half-asleep—looked up from his corner.

“Still here, Ji-an? You’re insane. Do you ever go home?”

Ji-an forced a small smile. “Someone has to make sure the numbers add up.”

The intern yawned. “They pay you too little for that.”

“They pay me enough.”

The boy shrugged and stumbled out, leaving Ji-an alone again.

“Enough,” Ji-an whispered, but the word tasted bitter. Enough to survive, never enough to live.

---

The next morning, the courthouse was alive with footsteps, voices echoing down long marble corridors. Ji-an walked through them like a ghost in his own right—sharp suit, files in hand, eyes down. He slipped past gossiping clerks, ambitious prosecutors, men who bowed to Kang with nauseating eagerness.

“Ji-an.”

The voice made him stiffen.

Kang stood at the end of the hall, every inch of him composed, smiling like a saint. To anyone watching, it was a mentor calling to his brightest student.

Ji-an’s throat tightened. Mask. Wear the mask.

“Yes, Chief?” His voice came out calm, respectful. Perfect.

Kang’s eyes glittered. “Come to my office after this case review. There are… personal matters we should discuss.”

A thousand retorts clawed at Ji-an’s throat. Not in this lifetime. Go to hell. Over my dead body.

What slipped past his lips instead was: “Understood.”

Kang’s smirk widened, satisfied.

As the older man walked away, Ji-an’s nails dug crescents into the file he held. His heart hammered against his ribs, not with fear this time, but rage.

I’ll endure. For now. But one day, you’ll choke on your own power.

---

At lunch, Ji-an sat alone in the cafeteria, pushing rice around his tray. Laughter rippled from the next table where junior prosecutors gossiped about promotions.

“Did you hear? Chief Kang favors anyone who flatters him.”

“Or anyone who shares his bed.”

“Careful. You don’t want him to hear that.”

Ji-an’s chopsticks froze mid-air.

One of them turned to him. “Hey, Ji-an, you’re sharp enough to get promoted. Why are you still an assistant?”

Ji-an forced a smile, though it felt like swallowing glass. “Guess I’m just not good at flattery.”

The table laughed. The sound rang hollow in his ears.

He excused himself quickly, tossing his untouched tray aside.

---

That night, Ji-an sat at his desk again, lamp light pooling across his papers. His phone buzzed with a message:

Aunt’s medicine is running low. Can you send more this week?

Ji-an closed his eyes, pressing the phone to his forehead. “I’ll find a way.” His voice cracked.

He looked at his reflection in the dark window once more. The ghost of a woman flickered again—just for a second. Hollow eyes, lips whispering soundless warnings.

“Why are you haunting me?” he whispered.

Silence answered.

Ji-an leaned back, exhaustion dragging him down, but his mind kept replaying Kang’s words. You’ll never work again.

The truth was simple. He couldn’t afford to fight. Not yet.

But one day, he swore, his voice trembling in the empty office, “One day, I’ll be free of you.”

---

The courthouse doors slammed shut behind him as he stepped out into the night. The streets of Seoul were alive—neon signs buzzing, cars streaming past, the city breathing in chaos and rhythm.

Ji-an pulled his coat tighter around him. He felt like an ant beneath the skyscrapers, insignificant, but determined not to be crushed.

He didn’t know yet that somewhere across the river, another man had already taken notice of him.

A man whose world was built on blood, ghosts, and shadows.

A man named Seok.

---

End Chapter Three (~960 )

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