The first time Heeju met Baek Sa-eon was not long after she had moved into Chairman Hong's house.

"The daughter of that club singer's wife."

She had heard such whispers from the very first day.

Her mother, ignoring her father, would run barefoot to greet Chairman Hong with a smile.

Her beautiful older sister ignored her, and her mother was more concerned with filling Chairman Hong's ashtray than feeding Heeju.

As a child, Heeju wandered aimlessly around the neighbourhood, thinking of the father she had left behind.

"These houses are so big..."

The wealthy neighbourhood was lined with walled mansions.

Walking through the high-walled alleys felt like being trapped in a maze. Whenever Heeju thought of her father, she instinctively sought out narrow, dark places.

This day was just one of those ordinary days.

"...!"

But someone was already standing there, motionless. He was neither a nine-year-old like her, nor a grown-up, but somewhere in between.

Wearing a school uniform, the boy looked ghostly pale.

Despite his broad shoulders, his frame was gaunt, the white short-sleeved shirt billowing in the wind, revealing his thin torso.

His skin was so pale it looked as if he hadn't eaten properly in ages. But what stood out most was the sharp bridge of his nose. His eyes, sharp as daggers, radiated a prickly intensity.

Heeju was fascinated.

There were only old people in the club. His youthful face, unmarred by age or blemishes, was astonishing to her.

"Wow..."

When she had to look up to see his face, her neck hurt.

Then their eyes met.

"...!"

The boy froze and then, without warning, a tear rolled down his cheek.

The moment seemed to last forever.

Realising that the person in front of him was only a child, the boy rested his head against the wall and let out a sigh of relief.

"Are... are you hurt?"
"..."

Without answering, he stared at her with bloodshot eyes. His flushed, tear-filled gaze was frightening.

As Heeju instinctively took a step back, a hand suddenly reached out.

"...!"

A large hand pressed tightly against her forehead, fingers digging into her temples and his palm blocking her view.

She was about to scream when the boy's low sobs reached her ears first.

"..."
"D*mn it... Ugh..."

She could have easily backed away or called for help. But the sound of his choking sobs froze her.

She couldn't see. Her blocked vision made it impossible to see his face.

I want to see his face...'

In that intense moment, her hearing sharpened. Suddenly she remembered something people used to say to her.

"If you're Yeon-hee Kim's daughter, you must be a good singer."

She didn't know why this thought had occurred to her. Customers at the club had always said that, fiddling with toothpicks as they judged her.

She had stubbornly refused to sing, even when teased, but now...

"Little chipmunk can't poop1-"
"..."
"Acorns are disgusting, grapes are tasty-"
"..."
"Grapes, oh grapes, green green grapes-!"

The boy's sobbing seemed to stop for a moment.

"Rub your tummy, rub, rub, rub-"
"How old are you?"

The boy's raspy, cracking voice interrupted her impromptu song.

"...N- Nine."

He was silent for a moment. Then the pressure on her forehead disappeared and her vision cleared. She found herself face to face with a boy who had already erased all emotion from his expression.

"Don't sing again."

 

***

 

Peep! Peep! Beep!

The alarm beeped loudly.

"Ah!"

Heeju was startled. The memory of her first encounter with Baek Sa-eon lingered longer than she had expected.

Even though it had been twenty years, it only grew sharper with time.

Just when I thought I had forgotten...

The memory of not being able to see him and only hearing his muffled sobs. Was it the intensity of the moment? Or the fear of his sudden, invasive action?

Heeju stared blankly as he walked away.

The next time she met the boy was at a garden party.

"When I grow up, he will be my husband."

She vaguely remembered her sister whispering this as she passed. But instead of the distraught boy crying in the alley, the person she saw was the Prime Minister's grandson.

He looked nothing like the boy she had met before.

Despite his still developing frame, he wore his suit impeccably and took up the central position in the garden. There was no sign of him lurking in the shadows of an alley.

Heeju wanted to find the boy from before, but the person who approached her now held out a hand with an impeccable poker face.

"You're the ten? Eleven?"

Though his gesture was polite, his feigned ignorance was confusing. When Heeju reflexively took his hand as if to shake it, he squeezed it tightly.

She immediately understood it as a silent warning. That day, she realised that what she had witnessed in the alley was the boy's vulnerability.

***

 

"What kind of leverage could anyone have over Sir?"

The assistant grumbled, annoyed that anyone would dare to threaten Baek Sa-eon.

Ignoring the complaint, Baek Sa-eon strode ahead through the halls of the Blue House.

He had just finished his morning interview with reporters, fielding questions on issues ranging from a recent hostage crisis to the rise in intimate partner violence. After summarising the President's stance, he had gone straight into a meeting of senior communications officials.

Walking briskly, he nonchalantly responded to greetings from passing staff before asking, almost as if it were someone else's problem, "Do we have a lead on the location yet?"

"Ah... That..."
"And the street CCTV?"
"We, c- checked them all, but..."

At the assistant's hesitation, Baek Sa-eon raised an eyebrow.

"That's enough. I've heard all I need to hear."

The nervous assistant stammered out a weak excuse.

"The thing is, the analyst said the blackmailer seems to have gone all out."
"..."

"In less than ten minutes, the IP was jumping like crazy. It's probably not an individual - it looks like an organised group. And every piece of CCTV footage from that time is conveniently erased. It's driving us crazy.
"An organised group, you say..."
"But sir, what exactly are they demanding?"
"Two billion won."
"Excuse me?"

The assistant's jaw dropped.

"For... for what exactly?"
"You threatened to expose my private life."
"W- What?"

This time the assistant's eyes widened to almost cartoonish proportions.

"Private life? Sir, do you... I mean, could it be...?"

Though sceptical, the assistant looked up at him with a dubious look.

"Private life?

Baek Sa-eon was someone who planned his life to the minute.

The idea that there could be two billion won worth of dirt on him was incomprehensible.

The assistant furrowed his brow in confusion and muttered to himself. If it had to do with his professional life, maybe - but his private life?

"Let's discuss this later," Sa-eon cut him off, pushing open the door to the meeting room.

"He really is an unpredictable man..." Park Do-jae, the assistant, exhaled quietly.

Some called Baek Sa-eon a 'handsome prop with a microphone', but that was a gross underestimation by those who didn't know him.

His role was much more than symbolic.

The incumbent president was a notoriously secretive leader who favoured private meetings and small gatherings, sharing as little information as possible.

But Baek Sa-eon never missed these meetings.

His unrestricted access gave him a front-row seat to policy-making and a deep understanding of power dynamics.

And then there was his real affiliation...

The very thought made Park pale.

'Whoever this blackmailer is, he's picked the wrong target.

 

***

 

Blue House Communications Office:

"We can't delay the assignment of sign language interpreters any longer."

Baek Sa-eon's expressionless gaze shifted to the speaker.

It was the last item on the agenda of the meeting attended by the press officers for international media, national public relations and new media.

"Sign language interpreters, huh..."

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

"While Parliament finalised their assignments last year, the Blue House keeps postponing. The National Human Rights Commission keeps sending us letters. Wouldn't it be better to wrap this up properly rather than leave it to the next administration?"

The staffer hesitated, gauging the reactions of the other secretaries, but continued.

"It doesn't make sense that there are interpreters for MPs and ministers, but not for the president. The public is also critical of the lack of sign language interpretation at Blue House briefings.

Baek Sa-eon sat with his legs crossed, idly turning a pen.

No one noticed the slight curve at the corner of his lips.

With a casual glance at his phone, he finally spoke.

"All right."
"Pardon?"
"Then let's make it a big announcement. Schedule the interviews immediately."