SACCHARIN
CHAPTER 25

 

I paused for a moment, looking through the netted fence at the golf course beyond.

Even after sunset, the entire course was brightly lit, and people were still playing. Were they using an undersea cable to bring electricity from the mainland?

No, given the distance, that seemed unlikely. Then were they generating their own power?

Considering how freely they kept the lights on even at night, there had to be large-scale generators or a private power station somewhere on the island.

If I were a movie protagonist, I’d cut the power, throw the island into chaos, and escape under the cover of darkness. But in reality, that was impossible.

As I walked past the golf course, the Living Complex came into view. Apparently, the old chapel had been converted into a screen golf practice area.

In a twisted way, it was impressive. Since this was an island, building anything here must have cost a fortune—from labor costs to material transport.

Yet Pyeon Jae-ho had spared no expense, turning this place into his personal paradise—or his prisoners’ hell. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to know why.

“Is she the first one since Gombo?”

“No, there were others before her, but they all died….”

“So… will she die too?”

“Maybe not. The chairman let Gombo live, even though she killed his son.”

“Wait—didn’t Gombo say she didn’t do it?”

“Nobody knows the truth.”

“Hmm….”

People were still whispering about me. But instead of irritation, I felt satisfaction—I was learning new information. That satisfaction, however, was short-lived. Because in the next moment, I was shaken.

From what I knew, Chairman Pyeon Jae-ho wasn’t childless. I had heard that he had lost his only son in an accident. But… it wasn’t an accident? It was murder? And Gombo—the ballerina—was the killer?

“When the chairman dies, things at the company will get chaotic. As you know, he has no heir, so… things have gotten complicated.”

Of course, rumors could always be exaggerated or twisted. But even if it hadn’t been murder, there was undoubtedly something suspicious about the death of Pyeon Jae-ho’s son. And that middle-aged ballerina was somehow involved—which explained why she had been exiled to this island.

However, that wasn’t my biggest concern. What bothered me the most was how deeply Shin Chi-woo was entangled in my father’s betrayal and disappearance. The scope of this situation kept growing, and I was starting to feel trapped. I needed to be careful—very careful.

Because the enemy of my enemy wasn’t necessarily my friend. Just because Shin Chi-woo and Gombo had joined forces, it didn’t mean they were on my side. They could be working toward a goal that had nothing to do with helping me or my father.

“Staying in the factory is the safest option.”

At first, when Shin Chi-woo told me that, I hadn’t believed him. But ironically, as time passed, I realized he was right.

If violence broke out in such a closed-off environment, it would mean all-out war—one that no one would survive. Apparently, there had been mass killings in the past, which was why people were careful to maintain order—not out of kindness, but to protect their own lives.

Even more concerning was the cozy relationship between Pyeon Jae-ho and the coast guard. In a way, this made the island an even safer place. I could see it with my own eyes—right there on the golf course was a coast guard officer, casually playing a round.

Which meant that even if I miraculously stole a boat and escaped, they would track me down and send me right back. It didn’t matter which side I looked at—all of them deserved to have their skulls smashed in with a golf club.

None of this matters. I just want to go home. To my apartment in Seoul. To my old life, as if none of this had ever happened.

As reality sank in, my mood darkened. The calmness I had felt after leaving the cafeteria was gone. I walked forward with a gloomy expression, having now completed my loop around the island.

That’s when I saw Glasses heading toward the cafeteria. She seemed to be heading for the bathroom attached to the building. I quickened my pace. It was time to settle things with her. Because even hostility was a form of interest—which meant she had a reason for constantly harassing me.

Whoosh— Luckily, the bathroom was empty. This was my chance.

I followed Glasses inside and walked to the sink, washing my hands as I watched myself in the mirror. Then, I practiced smiling—pulling the corners of my mouth up on both sides. Because the first rule of business was always a friendly face.

“What the fuck—?”

After about five minutes, Glasses stepped out of the stall. She looked startled for a moment when she saw me standing by the sink, but quickly covered it up with a curse as she turned on the faucet. As she washed her hands, she stared at me through the mirror, mocking me with her expression. I stared right back, my voice calm and deliberate.

“Hey… unnie.”

“Why the hell would I be your unnie?”

“I wasn’t sure what to call you. I can’t call you ‘senior,’ and if I spoke casually, that’d be picking a fight. I’m not that stupid.”

“Yeah, I already knew you weren’t stupid.”

“…How did you know?”

“Because your crying at night is all an act. Isn’t it?”

“…….”

“If you don’t want to get caught, at least put some real emotion into it. Stop doing that fake ‘boohoohoo’ nonsense.”

“Oh… I’ll try that from now on.”

So she wasn’t just a petty bully. In a way, that was even better. It meant she would understand me without me having to explain things in excruciating detail.

“So, what do you want?”

“You probably know better than I do why I’m here.”

“It’s long, make it short.”

Glasses turned off the faucet and straightened her back. She must have figured I had a reason for waiting here, because she smirked as she wiped her wet hands on her clothes, as if telling me to get to the point.

“I want to get along with you. Don’t hate me too much—just try to see me in a good light.”

“You’re hilarious. You want to be liked? Then do something likable.”

“That’s why I’m saying this… I think this would suit you well. What do you think?”

I deliberately raised my right hand and unfastened the leather watch on my wrist, making sure she could see. Then, I reached out, gesturing for her to extend her left wrist.

Smiling slightly, Glasses held out her arm as if to say, go ahead. I fastened the leather watch around her wrist, my voice smooth and deliberate.

“It’s simple and clean—elegant, even. The black leather strap gives it a sleek look. Back when I was outside, I barely wore it because I was saving it.”

“…What the hell are you doing?”

“This model is discontinued now, but people say it’s even prettier than the new ones. Some are willing to buy it secondhand at a high price.”

“So what? You want me to sell it for you?”

“No, I’m saying it’s something you can’t easily get, even if you paid for it.”

“What do you want?”

“Help me, unnie.”

Luckily, the strap size fit her perfectly, and the design suited her well. I waved playfully at the watch on her wrist before meeting her eyes. If I was going to negotiate, I needed to look her straight in the face.

“Just keep bothering me at this level. Enough so it doesn’t seem like we’re working together.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather get caught in a drizzle than a typhoon.”

I hadn’t figured out every person on this island in just ten days, but I knew I couldn’t leave Glasses unchecked. She worked in the same factory building as me and even shared my dorm. If Shin Chi-woo didn’t keep his promise and left me stranded here, I needed a backup plan. For the past few days, I had been considering who could serve as my temporary shield.

“Keep pretending to mess with me, but watch my surroundings for me.”

“…Are you some kind of masochist? Do you like being bullied?”

“It’s not that. Like I said, I just want to take cover under a tall tree when the storm comes.”

I had no idea how long this alliance, formed through a simple watch, would last. But at the very least, it should buy me a month or two—enough time to hold out. Of course, it would be best if Shin Chi-woo got me out of here before then.

“…I heard you were working on a PhD at Korea University.”

“Not PhD—just a master’s. I was my professor’s slave.”

“…Yeah, you are a masochist.”

Still, at least she understood what I was saying. She lifted her left wrist, glancing at the watch before grinning. Then, she held out her palm.

With a loud smack, we high-fived, sharing our first real smile.

“But if this is fake, you’re dead.”

“If you don’t believe me, check at a department store when you’re on leave. It’s real.”

“…Alright. Keep calling me unnie from now on.”

“Yes, unnie.”

I knew Glasses had come to this island voluntarily, carrying her own story. If you had to be locked away from society for the rest of your life, this island—working at the factory—was probably better than prison.