When Tadashi arrived, the funeral was already going for one hour or two. He unconsciously tug onto his black coat, which was hastily thrown over his school uniform on his way there, as if it could act as an invisibility cape and take him away from the lens of the press. Being it because of the coat or because the journalists were too occupied with the main event to notice a single boy, luckily he was able to make his way into the funeral without bringing attention upon him.
The first person he laid his eyes on was Go Minhyuk right at the entrance, to whom he directed a very polite bow while softly expressing his condolences. Then he wrote his name on the guest book and stepped farther inside, there were other people coming and going and he shouldn’t take too much of Minhyuk’s time - what do you even say to a father who just lost her daughter?
The following step was handing the condolence money over to Ahn Jiho, a generous sum placed inside a small envelope. Having done that, he walked into the altar room, taking a white chrysanthemum from his pocket and carefully placing it on top of other flowers people had left before him, then bowing before Jihyun’s portrait. As he raised his head again, he took a moment to stare at the picture. The girl had always been in his life, even if as a distant friend, and maybe at some point he had had a small crush on her. His chest tightened as he noticed he would never get to see her again, with a frown on his face he shook his head and walked to the next room before stubborn tears decided to fall.
Tadashi wasn’t in the mood for eating, he’d rather just go straight back home, but customs were customs and he knew he had to act accordingly not to be impolite and not ruin his family’s reputation. Also, he had gone to the funeral in a rush after the first half of his school day had just ended, saying he wasn’t hungry would be the most blatant lie. That being so, he took a bowl of yukgaejang and thanked the woman who served him before heading to the corner to have it by himself.
@ahn hajoon ⁹⁷ Mio lets her shoulders be at more ease, and she crosses her arms by her front. It /is/ a surprise, even to her. "Well, he hasn't violated anything," she says, her Japanese all too different from the usual formal Korean tone, the same dialect heavy on her tongue. "Not yet, at least." By contract, she means the vows that she and Dohyun exchanged during the wedding. Even if there is somewhat of a semblance of love from her husband's side integrated into said union, all she offers is the satisfaction of having the woman he's currently enamored with by his side, in exchange for the assets that he puts on the table.
With a light movement of her hand, she pushes a lock of her hair behind her neck, glancing briefly back toward the direction of the funeral before returning her eyes to her companion. Her gaze hardens then, not even masking the annoyance that glints so vividly in her irises. "Although he /is/ pushing my limits. That pest too. I would prefer that pest to be on my table right this instant, but alas," she closes her eyes, "I can't move just yet."
When she opens her eyes, she meets his, and an eyebrow quirks up. "What are you doing here though? For your image again, I assume?"
@kurosawa mio ⁹⁶@ahn dohyun ⁹⁶ And here she comes, the dissection queen herself.
Behind her trails none other than Ahn Dohyun, the infamous prosecutor known for the ticking time bomb he's so stubbornly latched onto and made his wife. Hajoon has to admit that even he is shocked by his devotion to Mio, despite being fully aware of her temperament and her history. Not once had Hajoon thought anyone would be attracted to his old friend, knowing all her... curious little idiosyncrasies that may or may not lead to taking one's last breath. Along the line, that shock turns into amusement — how soon will this one last, he wonders? Will his infatuation with the infamous Kurosawa Mio spare him from the grisly fate that befalls her so-called husbands? (Considering his excessive interactions with the woman that Mio deems a mere pest, the answer looks to be /not ing likely./)
Still, he understands how it feels to be bound to Mio's whims — he'd been in that exact position for majority of his life, after all. So all he can offer is an amicable wave in Dohyun's direction, a playful grin lifting the corner of his lips as he heads out after Mio, soon catching up with the woman in a more secluded area, away from prying eyes. Immediately, he relaxes, hands stuffed into his pockets as he easily falls into the Kansai dialect of his younger years.
"So. Your husband's still alive, huh? Thought he'd be on the operating table in your basement by now, especially after that whole thing with that pest of yours."
@ahn hajoon ⁹⁷@ahn dohyun ⁹⁶ This scenario is no longer unfamiliar; hasn't been for the past two decades of Mio's life. Death to her is as casual as breathing, and while many people may find that morbid, she can only refer to it as the natural cycle of life. But she supposes this is indeed a life that was taken too early, taken without a chance to bloom completely. She isn't one to believe in gods and deities, isn't one to pray, but she has been asked before whether or not she believes there is something awaiting mortals on their deathbeds. She has never once answered that question.
For the younger Mio, she would most likely think that her future self has grown an even colder heart, having grown somewhat empty in the face of the deceased. For the Mio of present, she would only say that this is how it's supposed to be — this is the only path that she could take.
Some may call it insensitivity, but one will grow too tired, too exhausted too fast if they always empathize with the dead and its family. But she'd argue that it's even more insensitive to bring the press to such... a private occasion, and announce another child at the same time the other died. How strange, really, and what impeccable timing. Jang Nari doesn't look like someone who might kill in cold blood, but Mio has long learned never to judge anyone by their appearances. She believes that everyone is capable of killing someone in cold blood, even if it would typically end on regrets and guilt from the murderer's side, but this is a part of humans that not many will admit to, which is something she understands.
Humans, of course, will never accept such ugliness.
That still, however, does not change what she feels about attending the funeral in general. She looks at Dohyun from the corner of her eyes, facing the general direction of the deceased still. "Death is nothing but simply part of the natural process in life. You are letting your heart get too attached to a stranger — or am I supposed to assume that you know this girl as well?" she asks with an eyebrow raised, before her eyes wander back to the crowd. "The only thing you have to do is to pay your respects to the dead, and perhaps talk with the other guests. There is only so much you can do to comfort the grieving family." If this family is even grieving in the first place — Go Minhyuk seems to have easily replaced his daughter with a simple statement.
Then she finds Hajoon, just the man she needs to talk to.
"I'm afraid I have something I need to discuss with Hajoon," she says, looking back at Dohyun," "in private. I will come back to you later, if you'll wait for me." And with that, she walks from their place, meeting Hajoon's eyes almost immediately. She tips her head to the side, gesturing to come with her, and believing that he'll understand what she means, she walks out of the altar hall.
for the past few days actually, ever since that night. after she left the police station, many thoughts have looked up their way to her, from how everything happened to who could have done this, but nothing gave her the answer she wanted - because she didn't know jihyun that well. to her, she was just a student, and she might have given her more attention just because she lived in the penthouse, wanting to show her best in front of the father, her final goal - but she knew nothing more besides that. she didn't believe that this is a suicide, but there wasn't any evidence to show why it wasn't, it just felt like it to her. if there is one thing that she had truly realized from this incident, it would be that:
this girl had too many secrets.
what did she know? who would want to kill her besides herself (and she knew she didn't do it), but whatever she had obtained from this perspective doesn't justify for her death. she must had known more, maybe she threatened others about their secrets just like how she did to her, and found this upon herself. coming to this thought, a small rock was lifted from her chest as she arrived at the entrance of the altar, briefly throwing a glance to the father who had never loved his now dead daughter, and bending to sign her name on the guest book. he didn't come for her for these days, although she was always the one who made the first move, but it wasn't sadness in his eyes. he must have had a lot to ask her.
but who knows? maybe he was the one who killed her and pretended to be a loving father himself. she thought to herself, maintaining her stoic facade as she walked into the altar, a white chrysanthemum held at the tip of her fingers. she makes eye contact with the girl in her black and white photo, placing the flower at where it was piled up and bows slowly. her heart felt unusually calm, as there was no guilt, no nothing - a moment lasted before she backed away, blending into the group of guests quietly as if she had never came.
maybe she would have felt bad for her, if she had learned her ways to behave her age.
hyori cannot help but to scoff (internally) at her brother’s theatrics in front of the press. the man was as wily as a seasoned politician. jihyun’s incident was still fresh in everyone’s memories and he had already replaced her with someone new. he ran his family like how he ran the business, much like a well oiled machine. something stopped working? replace it. his wife got depressed? divorce her. daughter is dead? get a new one. like all the men in their family, he was so predictable, almost too predictable.
it was only 11 in the morning but their relatives had come to pay respects to jihyun. her parents were here briefly, not wanting to be seen at such a public event and unwilling to show up at the funeral of someone of the younger generation. it was unheard of during their days, but for the image of daesan corp, the chairman and his wife made their (very) conspicuous appearance at the funeral hall. her uncles and aunts did too and so did a few cousins.
by noon, hyori was sure she could put ‘waiter’ on her resume. she had never served so many bowls of yukgaejang and kimchi jeon in her life, or poured this many glasses of soju even before the sun was halfway across the sky, all while watching her two and a half year old who had now figured out how to walk without assistance, who by now, was getting restless.
“seol, can you sit down and wait for mommy? if you run out there, what if a stranger takes you away? then you won’t be able to see mommy and daddy again. that’ll be very sad.” she tries to reason with the girl but at the thought of losing her parents, the toddler bursts into tears, clinging on to her mother’s legs, unwilling to let go until hyori bends down to pick her up, holding her daughter in a tight embrace. the guests could wait a bit longer. if jiho saw seol in tears, she’d never heart the end of it.
@kurosawa mio ⁹⁶ The presence of the press feels like a bit much, but Dohyun is usually very interested by such recordings in murder investigations. Emotions have not yet been processed, people speak before thinking, and sometimes, they commit mistakes. He wished it would not be necessary for the day's service, but truth is: a life was taken and to this day, no one has been placed in custody, Minhyuk keeping all rights to be outraged, broadcasting a glimpse into his thoughts to the press, to the city, along with a family secret. The revelation is news to him too. He clenches his jaw, and it probably shows.
The very still mourning girl he knows even less than he did Hyori's niece does not react to the announcement of her ties to the Go family but Dohyun dislikes the way secrets get revealed now that he is part of the ceremony. He ignores the press, keeping his distance for he has no intention to meddle into the investigation professionally. After paying his respects to the head mourner, he signed a generous check from his wife and him, for the Go family and yet an amount that coud never make up for their missing child. The mood in this parlor may have gotten to him but he is less at peace than he was during the interview. The ties are distant, but he relates to the loss, yearns to hold closer those he loves and cares for.
It takes some minutes before he eyes the grieving father again, thoughtful as to how to help him or Hyori. Dohyun sometimes he imagined what it would mean to have a child of his own, and then again, an early funeral is the last scenario that would occur to him. It takes more strength than ever to tear his eyes away to find his wife, needing instant support in her rooting and calming gaze. If he can find her eyes, then he may dig into the strength of the trust they have in each other, the same trust that granted him to ask her to come to the funeral. His whim; but he wouldn't be of much help to Hyori's family if not for Mio's presence, against all odds. Her face, her elegance in sobriety and her experience with grief for too many reasons. His black suit differs from those he wears to work, its expensive fabric elaborated to feel smoother, but it does not keep him from feeling like a cement was poured on him. This business his wife deals with on the daily suddenly could choke him. "Mio. How do I do this?" He asks although he was the one claiming he would be of help. His eyes plead, knowing she may have the words to get him to do what he came for so that they may leave as well. "Will you stay close to me?"
it's a small comment barely whispered to himself in japanese, a language that he knows just as well, if not better than his mother tongue. jang nari, secretly go minhyuk's daughter — surely, this is a scandal that will pull away from ahn hajoon's presence at the funeral, and from the fact that go minhyuk had practically screamed foul play in front of the eager press. yet, he still finds himself turning his gaze away from the reporters, pointedly ignoring any questions that they have for him — this is, after all, a funeral first and foremost.
he bows in go minhyuk's direction respectfully, moving to write his name in the guest book just outside the altar room. the condolence money, tucked away in a neat envelope (a complete and utter waste, if you ask him — these are the go's, after all. do they really need money?) is soon handed off to ahn jiho, and hajoon steps into the altar room without another word, away from the prying eyes of the public.
hajoon approaches the altar, setting down the white chrysanthemum in his hands almost carelessly — after all, he had barely known the girl. his presence here is largely unneeded, but how could he not attend such a public event? still, he bows out of respect that he doesn't really have, and after waiting a few moments, (because it would seem far too insincere to just enter and exit immediately), he leaves the altar room, murmuring a quick condolence to jang nari before heading towards the next room, breathing a sigh of relief as he's pulled away from the pesky eyes of the reporters.
finally.
mio would /definitely/ regret coming to this funeral, what with the sheer amount of publicity surrounding it. now all that's left to do is play the part of a grieving neighbor — and what does ahn hajoon do best, other than act?
(actually, it's a lot of things, but acting is the most important, given the current situation.)
since the moment nari's seen her name on the funeral bulletin, a bad feeling has sunk onto her stomach without any signs of being elevated soon.
perhaps she should have said no when minhyuk asked her to be the head mourner; perhaps she shouldn't have said anything at all to the man nights ago, because nothing — not even her sheer will — is enough to prepare her for the moment it all goes down, and so is, unfortunately, the image that her parents have wanted her to uphold for so long: the picture perfect family that kihyun and nayeon have worked on for so many years.
it is torn the moment she hears a reporter ask about her relationship with go jihyun, and for that brief moment, several lies have crossed nari's mind. she could have pretended to still be jihyun's bestfriend, to still have cared for the girl despite their falling out years ago — so many lies may have worked, knowing that she can pull them off just as well even if some of those don't even make any sense, but minhyuk opens his mouth to deliver the final blow.
"jang nari is my daughter."
and everything comes to a halt for a long second.
the onslaught questions come expected but still just as overwhelming, and she moves her gaze to minhyuk, questioning the man, avoiding the cameras. she didn't think he'd reveal it so casually, so openly like this — she /isn't/ prepared, no, not at all. the faces of her parents flash in her mind, and she can only imagine what kind of chaos has now ensued in the jang residence.
she hides her trembling hands by placing on top of the other by her front, and she takes a deep breath — an attempt to calm herself, even if it's not completely effective. all she has to do is act the role that she has been given, and the rest of her problems will have to be addressed later.
all she has to do is greet the visitors and act like a grieving sister — perhaps then the genuine way her eyes become glassy won't seem so strange in the eyes of the public.
there's a sense of déjà vu, when minhyuk steps into the altar hall. earlier this month, he remembers discovering a death certificate for go jihyun. except, it was an infant go jihyun. and today, he stands in front of her altar, her portrait adorned with white and light pink roses, her favourite flowers. nobody would have thought that pink roses would appear at a go family funeral but this was his baby, the girl he raised all by himself from the moment he saw her. it was the final thing he could do for her. her real name was chen anna; he had called the hospital where she was born and switched with the stillborn go jihyun. her mother was a fifteen year old student who wanted nothing to do with her newborn baby, born on valentines' day and gladly gave her up for a meagre 5000 usd. how would she feel if she knew the baby she had taken for a mistake would grow up to become the sole heiress to a vast fortune?
it was against custom for parents to send off their children, but this was the least minhyuk could do for the girl who had played the part of his daughter for 20 years of her life. lowering the white chrysanthemum to the altar, his gaze lingers upon her portrait, as if trying to immortalise her happy smile in his memory. she had a beautiful smile, one that would light up a room wherever she went. but on this portrait, it didn't quite have the same effect.
"when you are up there, anna, please take care of jihyun for me." he finally speaks, his voice calm and gentle. it was only right for her to do so when she had monopolised all his years of love and care all while being an imposter for his dead daughter. "i'll take care of rahee for you and this secret of yours so go in peace, my daughter."
twenty years was a long time to be living a lie. those twenty years ended that night.
as he stepped out of the altar room to the press, he lowers his head in a show of grief. "i lost my daughter, go jihyun. i have every reason to believe it was not an accident, she would never do this to herself so as a father i plead to the seoul metropolitan police to bring justice to my daughter."
"mr. go minhyuk, it says on the bulletin that the head mourner is miss jang nari, what is jang nari's relationship to miss go jihyun?" came an urgent voice, this was the nosy kbs reporter, he recalled from previous interviews.
"jang nari is my daughter." he admits calmly. all at once, there was a flurry of camera shutter sounds and buzzing, questions over questions being thrown at him. he raises his hands in surrender. "we are all here to mourn jihyun, please give our family time to grief in peace before we face the public again. in honour and in memory of jihyun, daesan corp will be donating ₩5,000,000,000 to the underprivileged. she was a girl who only had kindness to give, and we want to continue her spirit of giving to those who need it more. thank you for coming here today, please enjoy the food before you leave." he takes a step away from the media circus and lowers his head in a bow.
jihyun's life may have ended but the family legacy must go on.
