Can Murder Be a Workplace Accident? Chapter 2.3

“Please let me know anytime if your shoulder is bothering you. I can process your sick leave at my own discretion. There is an orthopedic clinic nearby as well. Shall I introduce you to one?”

It would be even better if you dropped dead for good. Min Isak smiled nonchalantly as he made the suggestion to Namgung Tree.

“I will die in this gallery if I have to die, so there’s no need for you to worry, Chief Min.”

What’s this guy’s problem? I’m the type to become a gallery ghost even after I die. Namgung Tree glared back, not to be outdone.

“You should be the one to watch your health. Shall I buy you a donut cushion? Your butt must hurt from sitting at a desk for so long.”

Namgung Tree sneered, quickly motioning with his eyes toward Min Isak’s butt. At the subtle mention of his own sore spot, the quick-witted Min Isak clenched his teeth.

“…Please have a seat, Director. The tea is getting cold.”

He couldn’t just grab the grown son by the hair in front of Printemps Kim.

“Right. Tree, sit down. My neck hurts from you standing there when you’re so tall.”

Just as he had said only a few minutes ago, Printemps Kim was the one with the authority to hire and fire, and Namgung Tree was her son. It was foolish to insult her blood relative in front of the person holding the leash.

I’ll back down this time. I already landed a counter punch a little while ago, so I can take one jab.

Min Isak sat down, poured out the cold tea, and poured fresh hot tea again. Namgung Tree tossed back the tea, which was too hot to drink in one gulp, all at once. Unable to spit it out, he pressed a hand firmly over his mouth and glared fiercely at him.

“Come to think of it, Chief Min, you’re also a Hanmiyoung graduate, aren’t you?”

She brought up Min Isak’s alma mater. School ties, regional ties, family ties. It was a common ploy to find some connection and bind people into their world.

“Our Tree is a Hanmiyoung graduate, too. Chief Min, how old are you this year? Aren’t you around the same age as our Tree?”

Normally, he would have readily revealed he was a Hanmiyoung graduate, but for Min Isak, who had no intention of revealing their connection, it was an unwelcome remark.

“Yes, that’s right. Were you also a Hanmiyoung graduate, Director?”

If he revealed they had attended school together, it would bring up a whole string of things, from their high school days to the current shitty situation. He played dumb, but he could feel his own lips tightening.

Seeing this, Namgung Tree’s mouth slowly fell open.

“Chief Min, you were a Hanmiyoung graduate too? It’s a small world.”

He too acted as if he were hearing it for the first time. Min Isak grew anxious, as Namgung Tree wasn’t the type to say such things without some hidden motive. He needlessly adjusted his glasses, which hadn’t even slipped, and covered his mouth with his hand. He didn’t want to show even his lips, which he was habitually biting.

He hoped that the unsettling feeling he got from the “small world” comment was just his imagination.

“What class were you?”

Is it age after alma mater? In Korean society, age is power, so it was a natural progression.

“I graduated with the 58th class.”

“Really? I’m from the 57th. That makes me your hyung.”

Namgung Tree announced his class year, slapping Min Isak on the shoulder. The area under his eye twitched. That, that liar!

“Then, I’ll speak informally in private.”

The back of his head tingled. He’d cured his low blood pressure through his work life, but now it seemed he’d have to get treatment for high blood pressure. In truth, both of them were from the 59th class.

“Oh my. I was worried that Chief Min might be older than our Tree, but this is great. From now on, you can get along well as hyung and dongsaeng.”

Beside a comfortably laughing Printemps Kim, Namgung Tree raised an eyebrow and smiled despicably. He had only answered a lie with a lie, but it was very effective.

“The 57th class? I don’t think we ever ran into each other at school…”

“If you attended school at the same time, there’s no way you wouldn’t know me. My name is unusual, to start with. Namgung Tree. I’m the only one in the entire world with this name. Chief Min, I didn’t think you were like this, but you didn’t take your school life seriously, did you?”

“Th-that’s not true.”

He had given an inch and gotten a mile. Come to think of it, even in high school, several teachers had been taken in by this guy’s wordplay. He had laughed it off back then, but now that it was happening to him, it felt extremely unpleasant.

“That’s right!”

Namgung Tree slapped his knee with his large palm.

What, what now? What on earth is he going to say? Min Isak’s mouth was so dry he had to wet his lips with his tongue.

“It’s just my mother, me, and Chief Min here right now. We can consider this a private setting, right?”

No way.

What he was about to say flashed through Min Isak’s mind like lightning.

No way. It can’t be.

“Director, the workplace is entirely a public setting…”

“Try calling me hyung. I was the youngest, so I really wanted to be called hyung.”

Hyung? What is this bullshit? For a moment, he thought he had misheard. He forgot Printemps Kim was sitting in front of him and failed to control his expression.

“Excuse me? Hyung?”

“Yeah, hyung. Come on, try saying, ‘Tree hyung.’”

He grinned. The way he bobbed his upper body looked like he would start dancing to the rhythm if someone turned on some music. He looked to Printemps Kim for help, but her eyes were sparkling as well.

This must be why people say mother and son are exactly alike.

“…I am the eldest, so it’s a little awkward. If you wish… I will call you sunbae-nim.”

Calling someone the same age as him hyung was too much for his pride. Sunbae was at least less damaging to his pride.

Saying that was good too, he nodded readily.

“Hmm, sunbae-nim. I like it. I’ll be a sunbae who looks out for his hoobae, Isak-ah.”

The phrase ‘look out for his hoobae’… isn’t sexual harassment, is it? He couldn’t stand to listen to it anymore. His patience at its limit, he shot up from his seat.

“Please continue your chat. I will return with the approval documents.”

Namgung Tree, having found something to tease him with, heckled him from behind to add sunbae-nim to his name, but Min Isak pretended not to hear and closed the reception room door. He could hear chuckling from beyond the door.

He returned to his desk, fuming.

The approval clipboard for work reports, a pencil holder, reference books for work, sample merchandise for exhibitions, and small decorative items were all neatly arranged. Among them, he picked up two particularly shiny walnuts and rolled them in his hand.

Click-clack, click-clack. Click-clack, click-clack. A gruesome sound, like bones being ground in his palm, emerged.

Silence fell over the office, which had been cheerful and friendly with the boss away. After whispering amongst themselves, wondering what was wrong and if they should ask, the exhibition designer sitting across from him, Baek Girim, took the lead.

“…Chief, is something upsetting you?”

“No. I’m in a great mood.”

Click-clack, click-clack. Click-clack, click-clack.

“The muscle around your eye is twitching. Would you like some chocolate?”

Song-hee, sitting next to Baek Girim, offered the chocolate she was eating. Normally he would have accepted it happily, but today he wasn’t in the mood. Even the documents, neatly filed by type inside the approval clipboard, were subtly grating on his nerves. They were the auction approval documents he had to come in over the weekend to prepare because of the mess he had made on Friday.

“No. It’s okay. Are the preparations for the exhibition planning meeting this afternoon going well?”

At the word “meeting,” the curators sitting in the office hastily turned their gazes to their monitors. Amidst the whirring of the air conditioner, the sound of dozens of keyboards tapping away was clamorous.

“The meeting is at two. The presenter was Ms. Song-hee, right? And Ms. Lee Jihye, don’t forget to check the equipment in the conference room beforehand.”

He repeated the instructions he had given them repeatedly over the last few days.

“He’s mad…”

Baek Girim muttered.

He ignored it and busied his hands. About a dozen sheets of paper, without a single tear, crease, or fingerprint, were perfectly aligned. He placed a fountain pen for signing into his jacket pocket and straightened his tie.

He felt a bit more put together now.

He returned to the reception room with the approval documents.

As the door opened, the two people sitting side-by-side on the sofa looked at Min Isak simultaneously. Namgung Tree’s face, which had been playful just a moment ago, hardened slightly.

“Ahem.”

Clearing his throat, Min Isak opened the clipboard so that both Printemps Kim and Namgung Tree could see. The signature fields on the approval document were for the director and the owner, two spaces. For amounts under one hundred million won, approval could be finalized at the director’s level, but for amounts in the hundreds of millions, like at an auction, it had to be approved by the owner as well.

In reality, the director was little more than a figurehead president.

Printemps Kim read the documents meticulously. Since it was not a small sum of money, she too had to check it carefully.

“Lee Youhwan. You succeeded?”

She pointed her finger at Lee Youhwan’s <Point and Line> listed in the document.

It was the painting Printemps Kim had ordered him to purchase no matter what. Yes, that’s correct. Min Isak nodded.

Namgung Tree, who had been staring intently at his mother’s face, hardened his expression. Namgung Tree had hoped that Printemps Kim didn’t know what Min Isak had done to acquire the painting, but her expression suggested she already knew about the backroom deal.

“Wasn’t the budget tight? If it hadn’t been for the last Art Basel Hong Kong, I could have given you plenty.”

How will you react?

When Printemps Kim mentioned Lee Youhwan, Min Isak instinctively sought out Namgung Tree’s face. He was secretly curious what kind of expression he would make.

Just as you condemned me as trash, can you really point your finger at your own mother, who has profited from the result of my trashy actions?

“I told you to use any means necessary, but… you’re amazing every time.”

She praised Min Isak. Namgung Tree’s thick lips pressed into a firm, straight line. It was a stark contrast to how he had criticized him.

“What’s your secret? I need to know the know-how in case you ever decide to move to another gallery, Chief Min. Are you not going to tell me this time either?”

“You know very well, Madam. Where else would I go but here?”

He said this while looking not at Printemps Kim, but at Namgung Tree. It was a declaration that it was useless no matter how much he tried to fire him. Namgung Tree closed and opened his eyes. The inside of his eyelids felt hot.

“You can sign here, Director.”

Min Isak even leaned over the table and offered him the pen. The sharp scent of menthol drifted faintly from him.

Visible below the high, white French collar was a patch stuck to his long neck. It was in the exact spot where someone’s lips had left a mark.

He was clearly showing it off intentionally. To probe my feelings like this.

Despicable bastard.

He snatched the pen from Min Isak’s hand. He took a step back with a startled expression.

Just as Printemps Kim didn’t know about the conversation he and Min Isak had, Min Isak didn’t know about the conversation that had passed between Printemps Kim and himself. That was Min Isak’s miscalculation.

‘The director and the owner are positions that give orders, Tree.’

That was what Printemps Kim had said to her son while they were alone in the director’s office.

‘It means that from the owner’s perspective, it doesn’t matter how the hound catches the prey, as long as it brings back the game it was ordered to catch.’

She seemed to know the method by which Min Isak had hunted down the Lee Youhwan piece. Indeed, word of his pillow sales had reached New York, so it was absurd to think the owner, who was right here, wouldn’t know.

‘Don’t get involved in the way Chief Min works, and don’t try to find out. Ignorance is bliss, and that is the way to protect yourself.’

In short, she was telling him to knowingly turn a blind eye to his tyranny.

All he had to do was sit in a clean place, far from any wrongdoing, and hold the well-prepared meat in his hands. That was it. She was firm.

‘If he is someone whose work methods must be kept secret, wouldn’t it be better to fire him?’

He had suggested this to Printemps Kim subtly.

Although he didn’t have the authority to fire him, as a son who was closer to his mother than anyone, he could always voice his opinion. If she gave the notice of termination as Min Isak said, the troublesome problem would disappear immediately.

She tilted her head as if to tell him to say more. It seemed she was curious about the opinion of Namgung Tree the third son, born and raised in a family of merchants, not Namgung Tree the painter.

‘You said he worked with the former director, Ms. Lee Yang-hee, for a long time. I heard that woman was grinding her teeth, saying she wouldn’t go quietly. I can’t trust Chief Min either. I can’t work with him.’

‘Tree.’

She lowered her voice.

‘Do you not know why your father and I fired Lee Yang-hee but not Chief Min?’

‘…’

‘Running a gallery isn’t just about knowledge of art. Someone has to do the dirty work. Do you want to do that work instead?’

Printemps Kim took both of Namgung Tree’s hands and stroked them. It was a benevolent touch filled with the wish that her son’s hands would remain forever clean.

‘Chief Min is competent. A graduate of Hanmiyoung and Hankuk University of Arts. He has an affable personality and a pretty face, so the big clients like him. That’s not all. His exhibitions and his eye for investing in artworks are also impeccable.’

The reason I can hold my head high among the chairmen’s wives these days is purely thanks to Chief Min. She said, straightening her posture.

The founder of Namgung Construction was Namgung Tree’s father, Namgung Chun. As a man from the countryside and a graduate of a technical high school, the image of new money always followed him. It was the same for Kim Chunja, Printemps Kim, the daughter of some wealthy rural family.

Their children, polished by all kinds of education, heard such things less, but for the first generation, the more money they held, the more scorn followed. The establishment of the gallery was what diluted that. Gallery Spring, named after the character ‘chun,’ meaning spring, which was common to both their names.

It was a world where money could buy honor. As Gallery Spring thrived, surpassing galleries and art museums with long histories and traditions, praise for the Namgung couple as cultured people followed.

Printemps Kim seemed to have no intention of firing the man who satisfied their vanity.

‘Then why did you call me instead of making Chief Min the director?’

A figurehead director with no real power. If the owner was going to do as she pleased anyway, it wouldn’t matter who sat in the position. But she snorted as if the idea was ridiculous.

‘You are my son.’

Printemps Kim gently cupped Namgung Tree’s face.

‘And Chief Min is an outsider.’

The sharp artificial nails poked his cheek. His brow furrowed. Her hands traveled down his neck to adjust his shirt collar. She straightened his crooked tie and fixed the lapels of his blazer, which were crumpled near his neck.

‘Gallery Spring is yours. Not his.’

In the end, it meant she would use him as much as she could and then discard him when the time came. That was why she could be indifferent to the methods he used to handle his work. Because the person doing the discarding doesn’t need to know the circumstances of the trash.

It felt like he was suffocating. Namgung Tree loosened the tie she had fixed for him. Still feeling stifled, he unbuttoned two buttons and took a deep breath.

‘Won’t he betray you if you give him nothing?’

Once again, he subtly urged her to fire him. Talent from Hanmiyoung High School of Arts and Hankuk University of Arts could be found if one looked hard enough. If there was truly no one, he could just work twice as hard himself.

‘Well. We’ll have to wait and see about that.’

His mother smiled meaningfully. And just then, Min Isak had entered with the approval clipboard. Seeing him, Namgung Tree couldn’t sneer as he had before.

The signature block was located in the upper right corner of the document. Inside a two-part rectangle, the titles of owner and director were placed side-by-side.

Namgung Tree glared at Min Isak and uncapped the pen. Resisting the urge to rip the patch off his neck, he scrawled a large signature.

Even as he passed the clipboard to his mother sitting beside him, he did not take his eyes off him. With an unreadable expression, Min Isak just smiled faintly.

“The Lee Youhwan piece, who were we up against?”