Chapter 98: Doorbell Phantoms and Yakuza Reckoning

“You… ever since college, you’ve been dodging school and now work whenever you can. You weren’t like that as a kid.”

“Hahaha, was I?”

Doyoon laughed like I’d told the world’s best joke, looking at me with syrupy-sweet eyes. Not sure if that’s the right way to put it, but they were intensely fond. I panicked, scooping soybean sprout soup with my spoon. Then I gasped.

“Wow.”

The spicy, piping-hot soup wrapped my alcohol-ravaged stomach like silk. Insane. Heavenly. I gave a thumbs-up; Doyoon beamed, proud.

Right as I savored the male lead’s special dish, the doorbell rang.

<Delivery—.>

Mid-bite, I frowned. “You order something?”

“Nope. Wrong address, probably.”

Doyoon hopped up, grabbed the intercom. “Didn’t order anything.”

<It says this address…? Please check.>

He glanced at the screen, then headed to the door. He’ll handle it. The soup was that good. Rolled rice with kimchi—rivaled Jeonju bibimbap. I heard the door open; Doyoon didn’t return.

He’s not even talking to anyone—why so long?

Slightly worried, I set down my utensils and called, “Doyoon-ah?”

The door shut immediately; he shouted back, “Yeah, just using the bathroom real quick!”

He bolted to the toilet. What the—? When he emerged, he looked pale. Did he drink that much too?

“You okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah… right.”

He seemed unsteady.

“You sure?”

He stayed silent a while, deep in thought. Then, sitting opposite, spoon in hand, he suddenly looked at me.

“Hyung, how about moving to my place?”

The soup sobered me instantly.

“Sud… denly why?”

“Security here’s weak. Anyone can just walk in… like that delivery guy.”

“Probably a mistake. This place is fine. You lived here—why act like that?”

Doyoon pondered, nodded. “True… guess I’ll handle it fast.”

“Handle what?”

“Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. From that day, Doyoon stalked me like a shadow.

And it was intense. At the office, fine. But after work? He finished every task on the dot to leave together—baseline. He’d crash at my place unannounced, claiming the commute was exhausting.

I didn’t hate it, but his pathological vigilance on the walk home was weird. He’d flinch if someone brushed past me; if I stayed late, he’d march into our department and drag me out.

Once, he tucked me home, then left to finish work. I was baffled. Never thought I’d say this at my age, but I had to.

“Why are you like this lately? Are you… my mom?”

“Just don’t wanna be apart from you even a little.”

Shameless answer.

Clearly not the reason… But whenever I probed, he’d deftly change topics. I let it slide—for now.

I’d already noticed him obsessively checking the front door and mailbox. He’d look away fast when I caught him, but it was obvious. He was worried about some letter reaching me.

What’s the deal?

He wouldn’t answer if I asked. After two weeks of this, I hit my limit. Living with a dorm supervisor wasn’t sustainable.

Tonight, we talk straight.

Plan derailed.

Right after work, Seunghee barged in—no heads-up. She looked startled seeing Doyoon, but quickly shrugged it off, like she’d convinced herself it was fine.

“Whatever, you can hear too.”

Still in her suit—must’ve rushed from the office. We three sat at the table. Her serious face worried me.

“Something wrong at home?”

“…Not ours—the Hanseong family. Their eldest got beaten half-dead at a gambling den; ICU now.”

My eyes widened.

“Han Won-ju? Saw him at the wedding?”

“Yeah, him. His gambling buddies all got nabbed by cops. Gambling and drugs… You didn’t contact him separately, right?”

I yelled, incredulous, “What?! When would I have time?! I’m a wholesome salaryman!”

Doyoon backed me. “True. Hyung’s been with me all day lately.”

Oh right, that’s what I meant to bring up. Seunghee’s sudden visit threw me. She grimaced slightly at Doyoon’s words.

“…Fine. Anyway, your name came up in their contacts, so I checked first. Cops might call. Answer carefully.”

“Nothing to answer—I’m clean.”

“Not suspecting you.”

But her sharp gaze said otherwise.

I get it. No guarantee the “reformed” brother didn’t fall back into old temptations. But it’s been years—still misunderstood…

I felt wronged. Then I remembered something for Seunghee.

“Back then—nine years ago—when I got hit in the head, passed out, hospitalized. Memory loss after, remember?”

“Of course.”

“…Wasn’t drugs. He tried forcing them into my mouth; I dodged, hit him. Even if tech detects century-old traces, I’m negative.”

Silence. Seunghee and Doyoon’s eyes nearly popped.

Seunghee exploded, “Why didn’t you say then?!”

“Right!”

Doyoon echoed loudly.

“…Remembered recently.”

They looked flabbergasted. Seunghee muttered, “…That bastard deserves to die.”

“My words.”

They sat awkwardly, suddenly in sync. I was dumbfounded but asked, “How’d he get beaten like that?”

Seunghee, visibly relieved, said, “Heard he was high at the den, picked a fight with yakuza.”

What the hell.

“How does that even happen?”

“Dunno. Could be gossip. I have police contacts—heard fast. Anyway, beaten to a pulp. Place is chaos.”

“That bad?”

“Exaggerated a bit, but might die. Why mess with yakuza? No, he always lived like that—reap what you sow. Sorry, but karma.”

I grimaced at her ruthlessness. Doyoon turned to me cautiously.

“Hyung… worried about him?”

“No, just—hospital visit or something.”

Doyoon’s eyes flashed unpleasantly. He snapped, “Why would you go?”

Seunghee looked surprised. I patted his shoulder smoothly.

“Hey, we know each other. Grandfather would probably say go.”

Still heated, but softer, “ICU anyway—can’t visit. If Grandfather says, I’ll go instead. Don’t worry.”

Seunghee eyed him. “…You really hate him?”

Doyoon flinched, then smiled. “Harder to find someone who likes him.”

She nodded instantly. He continued naturally, gazing at me.

“Heard once—impressive rap sheet. Not just gambling: fraud, embezzlement, sexual assault, blackmail, stalking…”

He stared pointedly. I tilted my head; he smiled.

“But even if police get him, how long’s he out? Bail. Suspended sentence a few months? Means nothing to the victim.”

Seunghee agreed fiercely—rare for her. “Exactly.”

“…He’d only reflect after losing what’s most precious.”

His life?

Then—a bizarre chill struck me. Unprovable, inexplicable hypothesis, but it hit like lightning from my crown.

Wait… did he… do this?