MOON Ch 26

If he on that last night they met eye to eye had the feel of a predator that would surely bite the back of her neck and force her to sink down, perhaps because he right now possessed an aura prevalent with fatigue, a sense of pressure like that time was not felt. Relieved inside at that, Chaeon asked:

“…The piano?”

Taeha leaned obliquely against the bed headboard and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

“I haven’t been able to sleep properly for several days, so I need someone to put me to sleep for a bit.”

At the answer whose context could not be grasped, Chaeon slightly furrowed her brow.

“Though I can play the piano, I don’t have a knack or anything for putting someone to sleep.”

“Who knows.”

“Pardon?”

“Because while listening to it, I might fall asleep.”

“What if you don’t fall asleep?”

His pupils, which somehow seemed sunken deeper than usual, stared directly at Chaeon.

“Shouldn’t you show the sincerity of making an attempt before saying such things?”

“I mean, why to me…”

“Last time.”

“…”

“I think I told you once that I dislike being made to say things multiple times.”

At his chilly single remark, her lips, which were about to retort something, closed tightly like a clam shell. Reluctantly swallowing a sigh, Chaeon sat on the piano stool while pressing down tightly on her surging irritation.

“Is there a piece you like in particular? Something that makes your heart a bit at ease when listening to it.”

“Anything.”

He added with a snicker:

“Play. With what you want to play.”

Chaeon, who stared as if bewitched at his mouth stretching out into a long arc, hastily lowered her gaze to the keyboard the moment his gaze was about to head toward her again. So he’s a person who knows how to smile like that. It was an appearance that could not be seen at all from his usual self, who was like a sharply carved blade.

Calling her out of nowhere and asking her to play the piano because he couldn’t sleep well… Apart from being uncomfortable with the man, she felt strange as if she had come to see an unexpected side of him.

“Um…”

Though she sat in front of the piano right now, due to the memory from a while ago, Chaeon’s fingers merely remained placed on top of the keys while hesitating for a long time. Taeha, who noticed that sign, spat out softly:

“It’s fine, so play.”

“…”

“Because there’s no one to act recklessly like that time, as you wish.”

What were those words, and why did they sound like encouragement? Chaeon bit the flesh inside her lips tightly without making it obvious and looked down at her hands placed on the keyboard.

Because she had given up and lived through many things since childhood, Chaeon had become much too accustomed to suppressing herself, and doing something according to her own will was an impossible thing for her. Because she knew that even if there was something she wanted, she would ultimately be unable to have it in the end, she chose the method of rather turning away or hating it. Perhaps the piano too.

Then, when she sat in front of the instrument as if bewitched, the violence that rained down as if chastising her momentary greed. Taeha ended up pushing the back of Chaeon, who was hesitating because she could not easily forget that memory.

Her hand, which had stopped for a long time, finally began to move slowly.

The fragile and soft first note rang out, and soon a melody—like a moonlit waterside sprinkled with silver powder—filled the room bit by bit. Debussy’s Clair de Lune. Taeha slowly closed his eyes. To his ears that grew dull as if drenched in water while the effect of the medicine took hold bit by bit, the clear and elegant melodies of the piano seeped in.

His insomnia used to visit spasmodically. The more he squeezed himself and the more tasks accumulated, the more frequent its occurrence became.

As what one held in their hand increased, those aiming for it increased by that much as well, so he needed a solid power that would not be shaken even if a considerable situation struck, and the way to obtain it was to know more than anyone else and build a solid barrier without loopholes.

‘The Vice Chairman’s side made contact with CEO Kim Changwoo of Believe Entertainment. It’s already the fifth time this year alone, and as you probably guessed, it seems they intend to enter the acquisition process for that entertainment company. The scope of funds Believe is drawing and using is growing larger.’

It had been a long time since Chairman Jang openly took sides and declared his intention to support Taeha. Come to think of it, as for the gap between Chairman Jang and Jang Ikhyeon not being bridged, setting aside the private matters that had occurred in the meantime, it was largely due to Jang Ikhyeon’s incompetence or the image of the company that the personnel he gathered eroded every single day.

It started off with allegations that he covered up a sexual harassment report against a female employee inside the company, which was reported in an article due to problematic remarks released at a drinking spot by a journalist off the record. Though both the company name and the parties involved were indicated by initials, the name of Jungwang implicitly drifted up and down in anonymous communities of office workers, leading Vice Chairman Jang Ikhyeon to issue a public apology at a press conference room.

Before the revealed truth, the stock price fluctuated greatly, and for a long time, a mockery-like derogatory name followed behind Jungwang’s name. After his mother’s death, his ties with Woosung were almost severed as if completely cut off, and since he brought about the thing Chairman Jang abhorred most, it was as clear as day that Jang Ikhyeon’s standing would narrow.

How dark his eye for business was. Believe, a large agency, seemed to succeed temporarily with aggressive targeting of overseas markets, but had failed to produce distinct results since the failed contract renewal of a certain idol group.

They also ambitiously attempted to invest in the media mix side, but as the plagiarism issue of a drama produced by a famous studio—which was an anticipated work for the first half of next year—and the issue of unpaid wages for subcontracted employees surfaced, even that had loud noise, and the game industry in which they were investing on a large and small scale was in a state of making a mess every time, falling behind competitors.

‘Even investors are rushing claims for early redemption. If the materials I gave you here are correct, while the stock price is declining day after day, it is also unclear whether convertible bonds can even be issued properly.’

At Ms. Kim’s report, Taeha merely laughed. After ignoring Jang Seongju so much at the dinner table, it ultimately meant the ball he kicked himself was a junk shot too.

‘Just what possibility did our Vice Chairman see here to make such a blunder?’

‘It seems Believe Entertainment is promoting a business combining nightlife with VR, and quite a lot of investors seem to be hooked in this.’

Taeha let out a hollow breath. After getting fixated on the AI business and ruining that big time, now it was nightlife and VR.

‘Assign a few staff separately to make them approach the investors, and please update related sources whenever you get the chance. Keep checking the financial situation on Believe Entertainment’s side too.’

‘Yes. Understood.’

A mind that falls behind is scary to this extent. AI, VR, IP said to be endlessly provided toward visual media like dramas and movies. Yet to jump in without prior research on how trend-sensitive and highly volatile a business that was. In both the drama and movie fields, improvements to poor environments were sluggish, and merely taking on the abnormal appearance fees of celebrities was overwhelming, making daily cancellations a routine matter.

He was probably holding the naive thought that even if seven out of ten collapsed, if one or two were made into big hits, there would be no problem at all. It was a foolishness that made him feel disgusted all over again that they were born sharing the same blood. They say there is no match for money right now, but well. Indeed, how long Chairman Jang would sit back and watch that foolish act.

Because there were many things to think about, he could not get a deep sleep at all. Even while his mind was becoming hazy as the effect of the medicine and the sound of the piano mixed together, his eyes did not close easily. Taeha slowly pushed away his heavily sinking consciousness and opened his eyes.

A slender girl sitting in front of the window where light flooded in, tapping on the keyboard.

People in positions like his were already thoroughly accustomed to noticing the dark and intimate desires of others. Countless people who would always cross over as if unable to resist whenever he held out what they would want most and offered whispering temptations. No matter how much they pretended to be desireless, the fragile faces that ultimately got down on their knees before desire the moment what they wanted most was thrust right before their eyes.

Young and inexperienced Yoon Chaeon would probably crumble even faster there. The piano was a sweet something contained deep inside to entice such a her.

However, on the other hand… Ordering her to play the piano was not merely to make her move inside his hand as he wished.

It was because while living out days on edge ahead of important matters, the thing that brought to mind the most peaceful moment in his memory was that very piano melody. It was an unexpected thing even for him to discover that unexpectedly, that girl—who seemed like she wouldn’t even be half his body—played a performance that uniquely resembled the melody in his memory.

Suddenly, looking at Chaeon who was immersed in playing with all her might, Taeha’s eyes narrowed. The cardigan Chaeon was wearing as if almost deeply buried in it, looking at a glance to be much too big for her frame.

…Ah. Jang Yeonjun.

At that transparently obvious stunt, Taeha suppressed a scoff that almost burst out. Looking at Chaeon with a deepened gaze, as he stood up, she—who had been focused on playing—spotted him and flinched, making a blunder with her hands.

Ting. A dissonance popped out noisily once, and as Taeha approached behind her back as she sat at the piano, the performance that had been sounding its reverberating notes stopped dead. And…

He carelessly pulled the cardigan draped over Chaeon’s fragile shoulders with his large hand.

Thud.

Below the piano stool, the clothes heavily stained with Yeonjun’s fragrance fell down like a shed skin.