TOIGC 78

Chapter 78 …

A Righteous Reporter? (1)

“Pardon?”

For a split second, Ryu Geun-tae was half-convinced he must have misheard.

Did my brain just short-circuit for a second there?

As it turned out, however, he hadn’t misheard anything at all.

“I said, send a full set of home appliances to that reporter’s parents’ house.” “Chairman, the reporter I just told you about is the one trying to run a hit piece on Yaikai Department Store…”

Hearing Geun-tae’s words, Yoongi let out a long sigh and furrowed his brow.

“Secretary Ryu.”

It was a demeanor Yoongi had never once displayed toward him before, instantly making Geun-tae tense up with the chilling dread that he had just committed some monumental blunder.

“Y-yes, sir! Chairman.” “Lately, I’m starting to get the feeling that Secretary Ryu is forgetting his proper place.” “N-not at all, sir! I was only acting out of a desire to properly assist you, Chairman…”

Yoongi cut him off mid-sentence.

“Lately, you’ve been acting far too much like a department store president. If that’s what Secretary Ryu genuinely wants, I can certainly make it happen, but is that really what you want?”

Yoongi’s personal secretary versus the president of Yaikai Department Store.

Only then did Geun-tae fully grasp the gravity of his mistake.

“I am deeply sorry. I will make sure an error like this never happens again…” “Do you realize what the problem was?” “Yes, I am truly sorry…”

Yoongi was nobody’s fool. That meant every order he handed down had a clear, deliberate rationale behind it. Since a secretary’s duty was to execute instructions, there was zero reason for Geun-tae to second-guess or re-explain the situation regarding the reporter. Doing so stepped past the boundaries of advice and crossed right into the territory of trying to persuade the boss.

And a secretary trying to persuade the chairman?

That was a blatant overreach of authority.

“As long as you understand, that’s enough. And drop the gloomy face. Anyone can make a mistake.” “Yes, sir! I will make absolutely sure—never again!”

Though Yoongi casually brushed it off by saying people make mistakes, Geun-tae quietly tightened the reins on himself once more.

“Ho-je, think this through again. If you publish this piece, it might actually get you killed. Do you even want to end up dragged down to Namyeong-dong? Do you have any idea how deeply connected Yaikai Department Store is with the new military regime?”

In response to the editorial bureau chief’s frantic warning, political desk reporter Kim Ho-je shook his head stubbornly.

“Chief, I really need to write this article. If I don’t write it, who will?”

“You absolute lunatic! Why are you the only one trying to publish a story that everyone else is deliberately avoiding?”

Having pulled all-nighters for over two days straight, the bureau chief hadn’t even washed his hair; his pomade-slicked locks shone with a greasy sheen as he pounded his fists against his chest in utter exasperation.

“Chief, I honestly don’t get it. The city desk chief already gave this the green light, so why are you the one standing in the way?”

“You idiot! That guy can easily wiggle out of it later by claiming, ‘I assumed the editorial desk handled it.’ In practice, he bears zero responsibility!”

At the chief’s words, Ho-je narrowed his signature slanted eyes, pulling the corners upward in an angry scowl.

“Chief, you’re being ridiculous. Where did the man who always told us reporters need to have grit and backbone go? Don’t tell me you’ve already knuckled under to the new military regime?”

“Hey… how can you say something like that to me…”

Struck by the sheer look of betrayal on the chief’s face, Ho-je instantly realized he had crossed a line.

“I’m sorry. I let my mouth run away from me…”

Knowing just how hard the bureau chief fought behind the scenes to protect his reporters, Ho-je lowered his head in genuine remorse.

“Whew… Fine… I suppose you’re just doing this out of youthful grit. But listen to me, Ho-je. Can’t you sleep on it just one more time? We aren’t talking about ordinary connections here—this is a group tangled up with both JD and JSD. Cross them the wrong way and you really will end up dead.”

“It doesn’t matter. The public has an absolute right to know.”

“The right to know… ugh…”

The bureau chief pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and slid the pack across the desk toward Ho-je. Ho-je pulled out a cigarette of his own, and the chief leaned over to light that one as well.

“Doesn’t this remind you of the old days? We spent two solid weeks undercover just to nail a single corruption case involving President P’s family. We smoked just like this back then, too…”

Hearing the nostalgic tone, the tension in Ho-je’s face softened.

“Ho-je.” “Yes, Chief?” “Alright. Go ahead and run the piece.”

“……!”

Ho-je stared at the chief with an expression of pure, stunned gratitude, which prompted the chief to raise a finger.

“On one condition.” “Pardon?” “Just think about it for five more days. If you still insist on running the article after five days, I’ll put my own neck on the line and push it through. You don’t take me for a liar, do you?”

“Not at all, sir.”

The bureau chief had never lied to his staff, even when killing a story from the get-go. Extinguishing his cigarette in the ashtray, Ho-je reached across the desk and grabbed the chief’s right hand with both of his own.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Chief!”

“Enough of that. And use those five days to get your personal affairs in order. If that story drops in five days and you suddenly turn up missing, what are your poor parents supposed to do?”

Though a brief cloud of gloom crossed Ho-je’s face, he quickly nodded, setting his jaw with a confident look.

“Don’t worry about me. Kim Ho-je isn’t the kind of man to scare that easily.”

“Alright, whatever… Just head on home for the night.”

“Yes, sir!”

Since it was already past 11:00 PM, Ho-je felt a weight lift off his chest and decided to step out of the newspaper building and head home.

The night air was biting and freezing cold.

Feeling the sharp winter wind slice across his cheeks, Ho-je suddenly found his thoughts drifting to his parents back in his hometown.

You know… maybe I should drop by and check in on them while I still have the chance…

“Well now, look who’s here!”

An elderly grandmother in her mid-sixties, her back slightly hunched and wearing rubber shoes, dashed out into the courtyard.

“Mother, I’m home.”

In his mid-thirties, Ho-je was unmarried, leaving his parents as his immediate family outside of his siblings.

“You said you were too busy with your reporting work, so how come you’re visiting today? Hey, father! Come on out here right now! Ho-je’s here!”

“Eh? Ho-je’s here?”

The wooden door of the slate-roofed house swung wide open, and a father in his late sixties hurried out into the yard to pull Ho-je into a tight hug.

His skin was darkened from a lifetime of farming, webbed with fine wrinkles baked in by the sun. Seeing his parents still living out in this remote countryside scraping by through farming—largely because none of his siblings had found massive success—sent a sharp pang of ache straight through Ho-je’s chest.

[What’s that? Our boy became a reporter? Come on out and look, everyone in the village!]

While his parents had proudly bragged to the entire neighborhood that their son was a journalist, Ho-je had never actually managed to slip them a proper sum of pocket money since landing the job.

A pair of red thermal underwear bought with his very first paycheck was the extent of it. Because most of his earnings went toward supporting student activist organizations or sending prison meals to those locked up for anti-government protests, Ho-je was living in grinding poverty himself, let alone being in a position to take care of his parents.

“Have you both been keeping well?”

“We’re doing fine. Just fine and dandy! Even if we hadn’t been, seeing your face chased all the worries right away! But with how busy you are, what brings you all the way out here?”

“I got some time off.”

Unable to bring himself to say, ‘I came to look at you one last time before I die,’ Ho-je offered a flimsy excuse and darted his eyes away.

His parents, simply overjoyed by the mere sight of their son, remained blissfully unaware of the underlying truth.

“Come on inside first. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“No, actually, I’ve been craving Mom’s cooking.”

“Just give me a minute. I’ll whip up a meal in no time.”

Watching his mother hurry excitedly toward the kitchen, Ho-je followed his father inside the main room.

“Huh?”

For a split second, Ho-je doubted his own eyes.

What on earth are all these…?

A bulky color TV sitting in the living room, a large refrigerator tucked into the corner of the room, and an air conditioner mounted against the wall. Curious, he checked around the house and spotted a washing machine, a VCR, and an audio system.

Every single type of high-end home appliance he knew of was right there in front of him. A helpless smile tugged at the corners of Ho-je’s mouth.

“Did my brother or sister buy these for you?”

His father, however, offered a sheepish grin and shook his head.

“They told me not to tell you, but I suppose it’s alright to let you know now…”

“Pardon? What do you mean by that?”

Utterly baffled, Ho-je wore a look of complete confusion.

“Well… a few people came by a few days ago and dropped all this stuff off at our house.”

“Wh-who came?”

Having spent plenty of time dragging himself through the grimy underbelly of the reporting world, Ho-je didn’t believe for a second that anyone would hand out gifts like this purely out of the goodness of their heart. Just as the thought crossed his mind that if this was some malicious attempt to get to him, he’d stake his career as a journalist on tracking them down, his father continued.

“They kept praising you to high heaven, saying there’s no reporter as upright and honest as you are, and it made us feel so proud. They said you’re doing such an amazing job with your reporting… Of course, you never told us any of this ourselves…”

Listening to his father, Ho-je felt like his brain was undergoing severe cognitive dissonance.

His career as a reporter was structured in a way that made enemies far easier to come by than allies. While he did have connections within anti-government circles, there was zero chance those groups had the means to provide this kind of luxury support. Their own lives were hand-to-mouth at best.

“Um, Father. Did they happen to mention who they were?”

“Let’s see, what was the name again…?”

As Ho-je stared intently at his father, silently willing the memory to surface, the older man laughed nervously and replied.

“Ah… what was it? I think they said it was Yaikai Department Store…”

Returning to Seoul after four days at his family home, Ho-je didn’t head straight back to the newspaper office; instead, he found himself nursing a drink at a small street pocha tent.

Before he left for the city, his parents had handed him two hundred thousand won, urging him to use it to help cover his living expenses. Knowing all too well where that money likely originated, Ho-je hadn’t touched a single won of it for his drinks. Consequently, his only accompaniment was a simple bowl of noodles garnished with chopped scallions and soy sauce.

Leaving the noodles untouched and merely sipping the broth between shots of raw soju, Ho-je wore an expression of absolute turmoil.

What on earth is Yaikai Department Store’s game? They told my parents not to let me know? They praised me as an upright reporter? What could possibly be their motive?

Not a single soul had ever approached him using a tactic like this before. The usual suspects either threatened to kill his stories or, in severe cases, didn’t hesitate to use physical violence. Yet Yaikai Department Store had gone out of their way to deliver an astronomical bounty of gifts straight to his parents’ doorstep and simply walked away.

They must already know that I’m planning to run a hit piece against them.

The very reason Ho-je had set out to write a critical expose on Yaikai in the first place was because he had heard and witnessed firsthand how lavishly they were wining and dining reporters. Naturally, his intentions would have been reported straight back to Yaikai by sympathetic colleagues within the press corps.

None of this makes any sense.

Driven half-mad by frustration, Ho-je slammed down three shots of soju back-to-back and finally reached a firm decision.

I’m going to go see them face to face.

8:00 AM.

Despite requesting a meeting on short notice, Ho-je was genuinely surprised when the other party actually agreed to see him. He had never imagined that Ryu Geun-tae—a corporate head rubbing shoulders with close associates of the new military regime including JD and JSD—would personally grant an audience to a low-level reporter like himself.

Are they still small enough to have time for this?

Small in scale, yet possessing infinite potential. That was Yaikai Department Store in a nutshell, but Ho-je figured that maybe their small operational footprint was the only reason the president had the time.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Ryu Geun-tae, president of Yaikai Department Store.”

The moment the office door opened, Geun-tae stepped forward with an outstretched hand. Ho-je found himself instinctively shaking it before following Geun-tae’s gesture to take a seat.

“Why on earth did you do it?”

Ho-je’s tone was sharp, skipping any polite pleasantries.

Geun-tae, however, didn’t show a shred of annoyance, replying with a calm composure.

“As far as Yaikai Department Store as a corporate entity is concerned, I couldn’t say, but on a personal level, it’s because I deeply respect people like Reporter Kim.”

“Pardon…?”

Though caught off guard, the words sent a ripple straight through Ho-je’s chest.

“I belong to the category of people who could never pull off what Reporter Kim does. I’m just a coward. So I simply did what little I could to support someone who can.”

“Wh-what on earth are you…”

“If I had tried to hand money directly to Reporter Kim, you would have refused it outright without a second thought. That gesture of goodwill was the only thing within my power to offer. You figured it out when you visited home, didn’t you? I am… truly sorry.”

At Geun-tae’s deep, ninety-degree bow, Ho-je’s bewilderment deepened into outright shock.

“You knew… you knew the whole time…?”

Ho-je asked, wanting confirmation of what he suspected, and Geun-tae delivered the final blow.

“Yes. Honestly, I was worried. But knowing you’d write the story anyway regardless of whether I tried to stop you, I merely extended my own personal support.”

“Good grief…”

Overwhelmed by a profound sense of disorientation, Ho-je let out a low sigh as he stared across the desk at Geun-tae.

Yet the initial disdain he had held toward the man was nearly gone from his gaze. Instead, his eyes reflected a turbulent mix of shock, bewilderment, a trace of goodwill, and a lingering grain of suspicion—pure, unadulterated chaos.

Right in the middle of that heavy silence, the office door swung open, and an employee stepped in to hand Geun-tae the morning paper.

“Sir, your morning newspapers.”

“Ah, thank you. Just set them down on the corner of the table.”

“Understood.”

Even though the newspaper was folded in half, Ho-je could clearly read the headline splashed across the top of the front page.

[The Dark Side of Yaikai Department Store: Military Puppet or Retail Hub?]