One Year Marriage

Chapter 2

Western District Prosecutor’s Office, Criminal Division 3, Office of Kang-jae Cha.

This was where Kang-jae worked.

It was his fifth year as a prosecutor. He had walked a very different path from what Chairman Cha had meticulously planned for him—what university he should attend, what company he should join, whom he should marry. This was in contrast to Sun-jae, who’d followed every command with resigned tears.

Instead, he’d lived as a thorn in the side of his father and his father’s new family. He was like a tiny splinter stabbing at the sole of one’s foot, or a hangnail catching painfully on one’s finger: small and seemingly insignificant, yet impossible to ignore.

As soon as Kang-jae stepped into his office, Investigator Ju-ho Shin greeted him. “You’re back sooner than expected. I thought you had urgent family business.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t as important as I expected,” said Kang-jae. “How’s the summons for Eun-ho Kang coming along?”

“Well, actually... They’re saying Eun-ho Kang is the fifth cousin of the District Prosecutor of Haeju,” Shin said, scratching his forehead awkwardly as he followed Kang-jae into the inner room.

“So?” Kang-jae asked as he removed his coat.

“The chief prosecutor said he’s reassigning the case. Apparently, the Haeju District Prosecutor went to the same high school as the chief prosecutor.”

Kang-jae placed his coat on a hanger and sat in his chair. Leaning back against the chair, he softly muttered, “I see,” before looking back at Investigator Shin. “Well then, I guess you and I managed to save our careers.”

Whew.

Investigator Shin let out a heavy sigh, prompting a sly smile from Kang-jae. The investigator planted his hands on his hips and shot Kang-jae a pointed glare.

“Careers? That’s what you’re worried about when we’re letting obvious criminals off the hook because of school, family, or hometown affiliations? What’s the point of moving up in a dirty, unfair system?”

Kang-jae nodded. “It’s true. The system’s dirty and unfair, and I can’t stand it. Do you think I should just quit?” He fiddled with the plastic ID card hanging from his neck.

When he asked as if he would really toss it, the investigator scoffed. “Then what? Are you going to set up your own shop?”

“Not exactly. Corporate, probably.”

“An office job? Are you getting scouted by a law firm?”

Shin’s hands, which had been at his sides, naturally moved forward as he asked, “Which law firm? Odaeyang? Yi and Choi? Hanbat?”

Shin’s excited tone made Kang-jae think: Should I be honest and tell him it’s my father’s company? Maybe he’ll tell me to pack up and go. Maybe he’ll be disappointed that I can’t escape the mire of academic, hometown, and family connections. Maybe he would even offer to follow me to my father’s company and work as my right-hand man.

Most importantly, was my father even serious? Or was his offer just something he threw out there after being caught up in the emotions of impending death? That’s probably why I can’t shake this uneasy feeling.

Kang-jae sat up straight and rested one arm on his desk. He propped his chin in his hand and studied Investigator Shin, who seemed almost giddy.

Feeling the weight of Kang-jae’s gaze, Shin awkwardly pressed the back of his hand against his cheek. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“If I quit, I was wondering if you’d quit with me. You said the system was corrupt and unfair, after all.”

“Well, that’s...”

“You also complain about how underpaid we are despite all that we do for this country.”

The tone was too heavy to be just a joke and too light to be serious, which caused Shin to squint at Kang-jae suspiciously.

“You’re not being recruited, are you...? Something happened at home.”

Shin knew that it was unusual for Kang-jae to be so open about his personal feelings.

Seeing how serious Shin looked, Kang-jae shrugged lightly. “Just figured... If you were to quit with me, I might actually entertain the notion.”

“Well, sh*t. Here I was, all excited, thinking you were actually pulling the trigger.”

“Is me quitting something that excites you?”

“You didn’t know?”

Seeing Shin’s good-natured smile, Kang-jae asked, “Hey, you want to go grab a drink?”

“You want to grab dinner together? Something really must’ve... Ah, whatever. All right. For you, I will clear my evening!”

Luckily for Kang-jae, Investigator Shin had been his reliable partner since his days as a rookie prosecutor. He was a comfortable person to be around.

Today, for some reason, it felt like it would be better to grab a drink with Shin rather than dining alone at his usual spot. Though it was difficult for Kang-jae to open up or trust anyone, perhaps sharing drinks with someone familiar would be enough to shake off the uneasy feeling weighing on him.

＊ ＊ ＊

Ding dong.

When the doorbell rang, Moon-young’s head instinctively turned. It was her mother, Yae-boon, stepping into the small restaurant—called Sodam—with a folded umbrella in hand.

The eagerness in Moon-young’s eyes dimmed the moment she realized who it was.

“Oh, Mom, it’s you...”

“Of course. Who would come eat at this hour?”

She checked her clock to find that it was already 10:30 at night. Dinner service had long since ended, and the person Moon-young had been waiting for hadn’t shown up.

“Wow, is it already this late? I had no idea.”

Hiding her disappointment, Moon-young got to her feet. As she pushed her chair under the table and removed her apron, Yae-boon spoke up.

“It’s raining outside. You should get home earlier.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time it’s ever rained.”

Moon-young quickly tidied up the kitchen and turned off the lights. She let down her tightly tied hair, revealing chest-length waves of brown curls. She ran her fingers through her hair, brushing it out roughly.

“Umbrella?” asked Yae-boon. “I brought one with me just in case you didn’t have one.”

“I do have one, but I want to share an umbrella with you.”

As Moon-young finished getting ready and slung her jacket over her arm, Yae-boon gestured with her chin.

“Put on your coat. The weather was warm a few days ago, but now the night breeze is chilly. You’ll catch a cold.”

Following her mother’s advice, Moon-young put on her jacket and turned off the remaining lights in the dining area.

They stood by the entrance, and Yae-boon heard Moon-young softly say, “Let’s go.”

“System security activated.”

As Moon-young locked the restaurant door, a notification sound indicated that the security system had been activated. Just like that, another day of business came to an end.

Though Moon-young opened and closed the restaurant every day, the nights when her awaited guest didn’t show were always full of lingering regret. Her feet hesitated, reluctant to leave, but she sidled up to her mother and took the umbrella.

As the umbrella opened, raindrops began to patter against its surface. The two women started walking side by side.

Using the sound of the rain as her rhythm, Yae-boon began her usual nagging. “Staying open late doesn’t mean you’re making more money. At your age, you should be meeting friends and dating, not tied to a restaurant all day.”

It was the same topic as always. Yae-boon was convinced that the restaurant was a shackle, born of debt that had yet to break even. Yae-boon was of the mind that Moon-young should shut it down and apply to work at a small company instead.

It’d been two years since Moon-young had opened her small restaurant in Seongbuk-dong, where she’d lived her entire life. She had worked as a contracted nutritionist for a major corporation for five years, only to be told that her contract wouldn’t be renewed.

She’d been at a loss about what to do after that. But then, driven by a determination to try something, she’d opened a modest restaurant with just five tables. It wasn’t a huge moneymaker, but it paid off her debts and rent while leaving her with a salary comparable to an office worker.

Over time, she had gained a fair number of regulars.

One of them was a person who often stopped by on weekday evenings. From sunset onward, she would pour her whole heart into waiting for him. And on nights when he didn’t show, she sometimes foolishly kept the restaurant open until dawn, just in case. If it weren’t for her mother, she might have stayed at the restaurant tonight, waiting without any promise.

Waiting for him had become a part of her daily life.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll strike it rich and spoil you and Dad. I’ll fly you both wherever you want.”

“Your dad and I don’t need your help—we’re doing fine. What you need to do is make some money and find a good person to marry. You’re already thirty now. Thirty!”

Moon-young bantered back playfully, though her mother’s nagging didn’t seem to have an end in sight. Even though she found it tiresome, Moon-young playfully responded to her mother’s words.

“Are you saying I can’t get married unless I’m rich? Guess I’ll never get married, then! Guess I’ll have to live with you and Dad forever!”

“Why wouldn’t you?! Of course you can. Look at Han-sook’s daughter—her husband’s family told her to just come and not bring anything. She literally went empty-handed! And then what? At the wedding, he turned out to be so unbelievably ugly. Honestly, the only way he would have ever gotten married was by bringing bags of cash.”

Though there was no one around to hear but Moon-young, Yae-boon lowered her voice as if sharing a secret.

“I wouldn’t marry someone like that even if they paid me a fortune. Han-sook’s daughter must have a strong stomach.”

Moon-young tilted the umbrella toward her mother and smiled softly. “Well, you did say you married Dad because he was handsome.”

“Looks are a prerequisite. Once you meet that requirement, then you look at their job and family.”

“Really?”

“Yes. What about you? What kind of person are you interested in? I need to know.”

Yae-boon spoke as if she were planning to arrange a blind date on the spot. Moon-young pressed her lips together, remaining silent. The person who came to mind first was someone whose name she couldn’t bring herself to say.

“What kind of person are you interested in? I’m going to die here waiting for an answer.”

Yae-boon’s shoulder bumped Moon-young’s arm, which was holding the umbrella. Their eyes met briefly, but Moon-young quickly averted her gaze. Even then, Moon-young held the umbrella firmly to shield her mother from the rain.

Hesitantly, she opened her lips to speak.

“I...”