Chapter 33: Traces in the Dashcam

It wasn’t a painting she had purchased personally. Therefore, she held the definitive transaction records.

Controlling her inner agitation, Yoosun asked Secretary Park.

“Wasn’t it a painting officially bought through the museum?”

Yoosun had raised the auction price up to 8.12 billion won while purchasing the artwork through Gallery Jung.

“It is indeed a painting purchased with the museum’s official funds.”

Secretary Park answered seriously.

“There is a contract between the museum and Representative Jung, isn’t there? The remittance records should remain as well.”

“The receipt purchased under the name of Gayuljae is naturally filed officially. Tax reporting for 8.12 billion won has already been completed.”

“And yet.”

Why was that perfect transaction flawed? Where on earth was the problem? Yoosun twisted her lips.

Her eyes wavered anxiously.

‘If the full payment is certain, isn’t it simply a matter of flashing the actual contract drawn up between Representative Jung and me?’

Thinking it was that simple, Yoosun paused.

Did a separate contract drawn up with Jeong Youngwon regarding Valin Debussy’s work still exist?

The personally drafted contract was the problem.

As she chewed her lip, Secretary Park spoke.

“Well… the data specifying the amount that the Director needed to deal with Representative Jung has practically become unclear, making it ambiguous to prove to Representative Jung that he needs to deposit the funds.”

Valin Debussy’s The Side of the Wall had been estimated by New York’s Deworby at a maximum price of 6.28 billion won at the time, and Yoosun had bought it through Gallery Jung for 8.12 billion won.

Of course, since it was purchased as museum property, the transaction was carried out using the foundation’s money.

And Yoosun had written a separate contract with Youngwon to have the price difference returned through her personal account.

“Secretary Park.”

Yoosun called Secretary Park in a low voice.

She couldn’t think of a single clear-cut method.

The original was gone, and she couldn’t pull out a copy now to reveal Deworby’s estimated price.

No, original or copy, it was a contract that should never have been made public in the first place.

How could she tell them to punish Jeong Youngwon for failing to pay the price difference after they had intentionally inflated a painting worth merely 6.2 billion won up to 8.1 billion won and secretly arranged to pocket the difference?

‘I cannot confess the crime I committed with my own mouth.’

That would be far too foolish.

Yoosun closed her eyes tightly.

“Yes, Director.”

“Is there really no way?”

What kind of money was that?

Has Jeong Youngwon gone mad? Yoosun tucked her hair tightly behind her ears, completely dumbfounded.

“As of now… there is none.”

Damn it.

Unable to control her surging anger, Yoosun gripped her fist and pressed down on the desk.

Her knuckles turned white.

This is driving me crazy, truly.

She couldn’t even sue him for fraud; what on earth was she supposed to do?

Inhaling heavily out of frustration, Yoosun stared straight at Secretary Park.

“Tell Representative Jung. The balance—every single last won—must be deposited within this week.”

“If there are misunderstandings, we should clear them up.”

Straining her eyelashes, Yoosun commanded Secretary Park coldly.

“If Representative Jung retaliates by hinting at a lawsuit……”

“Lawsuit? What lawsuit?”

Even if a lawsuit were to happen, it was something she should be the one filing.

“How could Representative Jung possibly sue me, Secretary Park?”

There was no way he would do that unless he wanted to drag himself down into the sewer with her.

Yoosun shook her head firmly.

“Move quickly, Secretary Park.”

Yoosun urged the speechless Secretary Park.

“At this rate, my blood-money will be completely swindled away by Gallery Jung, won’t it?”

Yoosun stroked her half-bitten lips with her thumb.

“I will convey that.”

Secretary Park nodded.

However, he did not turn around and leave immediately.

“However, if Gallery Jung holds out, there is no way. We must find the USB.”

Yoosun nodded in agreement.

Indeed. If she only had the original contract, the tide would tilt back in her favor.

After all, this was an industry where personal connections were far more terrifying than the law.

If that happened, Jeong Youngwon would have no choice but to bow his head low.

If she dragged Gallery Jung’s credibility issues out into the light of this industry, would they be able to enjoy their current prosperity?

Yoosun could answer with absolute confidence: No.

“Jin Seohee.”

As if resentful about having her original copy snatched away, Yoosun chewed on Seohee’s name repeatedly.

Knock, knock.

Aram entered along with the sound of a knock.

“Madam.”

“Yes.”

Seohee answered without opening her eyes.

“I refused Professor Park’s visit just as you instructed.”

Aram kept glancing at Seohee’s expression even as she spoke.

That was because Seohee had expressed her refusal without a moment’s hesitation when Leehyun ordered Professor Park Jiyeon to visit.

“Yes. Thank you. If it gets too hard, I will speak up first.”

The strawberries she used to eat so well were reduced to just a few berries today.

Her weak voice and face nearly buried in the quilt made it hard to tell whether there was even a person on the bed.

“Shall I bring you some water?”

Aram’s gaze locked onto Seohee’s bloodless, parched lips.

Seohee slowly shook her head, as if even that was too much of a bother.

“Yes, I understand. And Madam, this is the dashcam footage you asked for.”

Hesitating for a moment, Aram placed a USB on the bed table.

“Were there any places you frequently visited or went to on a regular basis?”

As Seohee propped herself up on the bed with her arm, Aram naturally supported her and replied.

“Yes, there were. The place you visited most often and frequently was Gallery Jung, and the other place recorded repeatedly was Ongojae.”

“Ongojae?”

“Yes. It is an art gallery located in Yulchon. It is famous for ceramics and celadon, and it has gained a reputation by word of mouth among people interested in traditional art.”

Traditional art.

Seohee nodded quietly.

“Recently, they are said to be broadening their spectrum to contemporary art as well.”

Aram placed an art catalog and materials related to Ongojae on Seohee’s lap.

“So, I took charge of Director Song’s personal errands, and the places we frequented during that time were mainly Ongojae and Gallery Jung?”

Those two places were closely associated with Director Song.

Ongojae and Gallery Jung.

Seohee crossed her arms and fell into deep thought.

“Yes. That is correct.”

Aram nodded and opened the art catalog to show her.

“This is an artist receiving the spotlight at Ongojae these days.”

“Artist Yoon Karam?”

“Yes. He is a prominent young artist in contemporary art.”

“Is that so?”

“Aside from the fact that the head of Ongojae also serves as the head of the Galleries Association of Korea, there are no special notes.”

It was simply a gallery frequently visited by people who loved celadon.

Since there was nothing particularly out of the ordinary, Seohee’s eyes wavered anxiously.

‘What on earth can I figure out with something like this?’

Nothing came to mind, nothing surfaced.

Everything was new.

A heavy sigh spilled out one after another.

“These are the exhibition catalogs of Gallery Jung and Ongojae from the past up to recently. I gathered the catalogs I couldn’t bring along physically onto the tablet as much as possible.”

While turning the catalogs one by one, Aram stood by her side and added brief explanations.

Seohee meticulously examined them one by one, harboring a faint hope that something might spark her memory.

***

Jihoon, seated in the conference room, reviewed the redevelopment bidding proposal.

“Isn’t it about time we proceeded with new bidding?”

Yet, with a proposal as pathetic as this, where on earth were they supposed to break ground?

At Jihoon’s distrustful attitude, the executive board corrected their postures and hurriedly began their report.

“First, we hung promotional banners in Namseo District 2. Ahead of selecting the construction firm in the latter half of this year, we will be able to make a solid impression on the union members.”

For a while, Gayun Corporation had completely stayed out of the redevelopment bidding wars.

People had even expressed concerns in public, wondering if they had given up the construction business altogether.

Instead, Jihoon had latched onto the government’s urban development projects and recently completed the bridge connecting Hanseo and Ganghae.

“Are you certain?”

Now that the bridge was fully built, this upcoming bid had to succeed without fail.

Jihoon’s eyes gleamed.

Had Yoon Leehyun not appeared, everything would have been perfect.

Having become the largest shareholder of Gayun Group and having swallowed up the electronics division, Jihoon had planned to drive up Gayun Corporation’s stock price once again.

‘You shouldn’t have appeared, Yoon Leehyun.’

Things that had started unraveling one by one with his appearance had now reached the brink of shattering.

Jihoon found this situation entirely displeasing.

‘If I hesitate like this, I’ll even lose the Corporation.’

Thoughts born from survival instinct could not possibly be wrong.

Jihoon grew anxious.

He needed to produce results. Results. And visible results at that.

“We are preparing thoroughly. There will be no setbacks.”

Despite the confident tone, that answer failed to satisfy Jihoon.

“Is this the only project confirmed for this year?”

Though the scale of the commissioned projects, including reconstruction and remodeling, was substantial, it wasn’t a particularly dazzling performance compared to the former Gayun Corporation’s track record.

Jihoon roughly yanked off his necktie.

“If we win all the projects currently in preparation, it is expected to reach nearly ten, but given the recent skyrocketing cost of materials, cutthroat competition seems unavoidable.”

When had material costs ever gone down?

He was sick of it.

As Jihoon contorted his face, the executives watching him avoided his gaze.

“Is this your first day or two handling projects?”

At Jihoon’s remark, which implied they should figure out where to siphon off money themselves, the color drained from the executives’ faces.

“Even that has its limits nowadays—”

Clack.

Jihoon stood up, bracing himself against the desk, and turned his back on the executives.

It meant they should calculate it themselves and submit the report.

As Jihoon stepped out of the conference room and made to enter the president’s office, a familiar face attached itself to him.

“Come in, President Lee.”

Omitting the formal honorific -nim lightly, Jihoon motioned with his head, and Gyeonghwan stepped inside as if he had been waiting.

“Coffee? Whiskey?”

At Jihoon’s words offering to cater to his preference if he wished, Gyeonghwan gave a dry laugh.

“I’ll have a glass of whiskey.”

Demanding whiskey shamelessly in broad daylight as if he wouldn’t refuse, Gyeonghwan leaned back comfortably, and Jihoon had his secretary bring over two glasses of whiskey.