SACCHARIN
CHAPTER 7

 

“When the chairman passes, the company’s going to be in chaos. You know how it is—since the chairman doesn’t have any children, things have gotten messy internally.”

My father, having worked closely with the chairman for years, had shared bits and pieces of the company’s situation with me. The chairman wasn’t particularly old, and he’d always taken care of his health, even exercising regularly. He probably thought he’d be around much longer. His sudden illness must have caught him completely off guard. From what I’d heard, he hadn’t even named a successor, let alone solidified the line of succession.

Naturally, his impending death had stirred up a power struggle within the company. My father had mentioned that there were various factions within the organization, each busy aligning themselves with potential future leadership. But instead of staying low and biding his time, my father had done something reckless.

It seemed clear to me now that my father had planned to switch loyalties to align with a new power, betraying Chairman Pyeon in the process. If that wasn’t the case, there was no other way to explain the kidnapping and the sense of danger hanging over me.

I was certain of one thing: my father’s bold decision had failed, and now I was paying the price along with him.

Sitting obediently on the sofa, I was running through every possible scenario in my mind. I already knew how I’d respond if the chairman asked about my father’s whereabouts, but I was carefully choosing words that would sound as polite and deferential as possible.

“But, Wan-yi,” the chairman began, his tone deceptively calm, “you don’t seem very surprised by how I look. Did your father tell you about my condition?”

“Oh, well, that’s—”

“So he did talk. I thought it was supposed to be a secret that I was terminally ill. Seo Director has a loose tongue, it seems.”

“N-no, Chairman, it’s not like that—”

“Our dear Wan-yi. You must be very close to your father. Isn’t that right?”

“Chairman…”

My mouth went dry. It felt like I had misspoken, but at the same time, the chairman seemed to be deliberately picking at my words, looking for something to catch me on.

If an experienced interrogator like him decided to disguise his probing as casual conversation, I wouldn’t stand a chance. For a moment, I wondered if it would be better to just keep my mouth shut. But then, I remembered what Shin Chi-woo had told me earlier.

“Deny everything. Just insist you don’t know.”

It was clear—keeping my mouth shut was the best course of action. Overthinking my responses could lead me straight into a trap. Crying and insisting I knew nothing would be close enough to “denying everything” as Shin Chi-woo had advised. Following his suggestion, at least outwardly, might convince him I was on board with his plan.

From that moment, I responded to all of the chairman’s questions with a resolute “I don’t know.” I pretended to follow Shin Chi-woo’s advice, but most importantly, I was doing it to save myself.

“By the way, Wan-yi, didn’t Seo Director ever mention it? That he was planning to stab me in the back and ruin me? That you should be ready to escape together?”

“Chairman, I swear, I don’t know anything. I don’t even understand what’s happening right now. I’m just… I’m so scared…”

Waving my hands frantically, I shook my head as if genuinely panicked. My knees were trembling so badly I could barely stand, and I exaggerated my fear with clumsy movements to show just how intimidated I was by the chairman’s imposing presence.

“Are you really saying you didn’t know anything?”

“Yes, I don’t know anything! What could I possibly know? I’m just a student, a grad student! I don’t even understand what you’re talking about… This whole situation is terrifying…”

“There’s no need to be so scared,” he said, though his tone was far from reassuring.

“I’m sorry,” I replied meekly.

The chairman didn’t seem convinced that I had any decisive information about my father’s disappearance. But as a hostage, I was valuable leverage, and even if I didn’t know anything significant, pressuring me might still uncover some clue. That’s why he kept the pressure on.

“Wan-yi, this old man is running out of breath here,” he said, coughing lightly.

“….”

“Shin… cough Shin Chi-woo.”

His failing health seemed to prevent him from continuing the interrogation himself. Passing the baton to Shin Chi-woo, he leaned back, retreating into his wheelchair.

Now that Shin Chi-woo was stepping forward, I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or if I had just walked into another trap. Either way, I had no choice but to watch how he approached this.

“Miss Seo Wan-yi, I’ll be asking a few questions on behalf of the chairman,” Shin Chi-woo said, his tone calm but unreadable.

At the chairman’s signal, Shin Chi-woo, who had been standing behind the wheelchair, stepped forward. From his jacket, he pulled something out and placed it on the coffee table. It was my father’s passport—the one I had hurriedly grabbed from home.

“Miss Seo Wan-yi,” he began, his tone measured. “Just tell us where Director Seo Kyoyong went.”

“I really don’t know. I’m not lying—I truly don’t know,” I said, shaking my hands frantically to emphasize my innocence.

My gaze flickered to the coffee table, scanning for any other clues. It struck me then: the expensive watches that had once adorned both my father’s wrists, the rings that used to cover his fingers—they were all gone. More importantly, my own passport wasn’t there.

They had tossed my father’s passport onto the table, as if daring me to make a connection. Could it be possible that someone—perhaps Shin Chi-woo—had deliberately hidden my passport to keep me from getting dragged into this mess? If so, could I trust him? Maybe I should claim that my father had intended to leave me behind while he escaped.

But what if I was wrong? What if Shin Chi-woo had my passport hidden and was simply waiting for the right moment to reveal it, accusing me of lying? One misstep, and I’d be finished.

I couldn’t decide what to do. The only thing I knew for certain was that I couldn’t trust anyone but myself.

After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to take a gamble. If Shin Chi-woo really was an ally of my father, I’d cooperate with him for now. And if it came down to it, I could always betray him to the chairman to save myself. Survival was my top priority.

“Where did your father go?” Shin Chi-woo repeated.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know…”

“The car’s navigation showed a destination of Incheon Airport.”

“That’s because—I mean, I only got a call from my father telling me to bring his passport to the airport!”

“So you weren’t planning to leave with him?”

“He didn’t explain anything to me! He just said to bring his passport to the airport, and that was it.”

“Are you telling the truth?”

“Yes, I’m telling the truth! I thought he had forgotten his passport for a business trip abroad, but now that I see the situation… he was planning to leave me behind, wasn’t he? He was going to run away and abandon me…!” I choked on my words, letting out a pitiful sob for effect.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to appear as distressed and helpless as possible, hoping that this performance would buy me some time—or maybe even their trust.

No matter how many times Shin Chi-woo asked, my answer remained the same. I told them I received a call from my father, packed his passport, and was heading to the airport when their interference caused the accident and led to me being held here. I insisted that it was my father who had betrayed me.

Of course, I omitted the part about my father waiting in the long-term parking lot and suggesting we leave the country together. I also didn’t mention that he had told me to bring my passport along. Following Shin Chi-woo’s earlier advice, I pinned everything on my father and feigned ignorance as much as possible.

“So you want me to believe that Director Seo planned to abandon his daughter and flee the country?”

“That’s why I’m going crazy, Chairman. I’m terrified that my father might really have abandoned me.”

The back-and-forth questioning and repetitive answers felt like a broken record, until finally, the chairman raised his right hand to signal a stop. Even he seemed too frustrated to continue.

But his return to the forefront of the conversation wasn’t good news for me. Knowing this, I tried a different tactic: I began to cry. I hated the idea of using tears to manipulate sympathy, but I wasn’t in a position to be picky.

“Wan-yi,” the chairman said, his voice calm but firm, “look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Are you saying that’s all there is? That you truly don’t know where your father went?”

“Yes, it’s the truth. I swear on my life.”

“Your life, girl?” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s worth so little to me it wouldn’t even matter.”

His face remained calm and serene as he casually dismissed the value of my life, as if he were judging the quality of a market item. That tranquil demeanor only made him more terrifying. I began to fear that the lies I had started spinning would eventually turn into a blade aimed at my throat.

The fear became so real that my tears weren’t just an act anymore—they were genuine. Yet there was no turning back from the web of lies I had already begun. I kept repeating my denials like a broken record, insisting on my innocence with all the desperation I could muster.

“Hmm…”

The chairman leaned back, pondering aloud.

“Seo Kyoyong isn’t exactly the most meticulous man… But then again, he does have his clever moments. Still, would he really have confided in his own daughter?”

“Please, Chairman… I’m begging you…”

“Well, you’ve been insistent enough. Fine, fine. I’ll take your word for it, Wan-yi.”

“Thank you, thank you so much…”

I stammered, bowing my head repeatedly, my tears still falling.

Relief washed over me for a brief moment, but I knew it wasn’t over. His calm acceptance of my story felt more like a tactical retreat than true belief, and I could feel the unspoken threat lingering in the air.

As I stubbornly stuck to my denials, it seemed the chairman was finally ready to give up. He let out a long sigh and shook his head a couple of times before giving me the answer I had been desperately waiting for.

For a fleeting moment, hope sparked in my chest—maybe I would actually get to go home.

“But, Wan-yi,” the chairman said, his cold eyes boring into mine, “it’s strange. You haven’t once begged me to save your father, have you?”

I froze. My mind went blank, unable to find the words to respond. He was right—through his eyes, it must have seemed unnatural that I hadn’t pleaded for my father’s life first.

“What’s the point of raising children, huh? When their own lives are at stake, do you think they’d spare a thought for their parents? Even our sweet Wan-yi is like this,” he said, smirking as if mocking me.

Did he suspect that I was in league with Shin Chi-woo? Or had he already seen through my lies entirely?

The sharp gleam in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. I averted my gaze, unable to meet his, and turned my head slightly to the side as guilt gnawed at me.

I felt a wave of deep regret for betraying my father, but I had no other choice. If this made me a traitor in my father’s eyes, then so be it—I wanted to survive.

To be honest, even if Shin Chi-woo hadn’t given me that subtle hint earlier, I would still have prioritized my own life. Whatever predicament my father had landed himself in, I didn’t want to die here.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care about my father—I did. But he wasn’t here, and I was. Faced with the chairman’s unrelenting intimidation, it felt almost inevitable to focus on saving myself, even if it meant leaving him behind.

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