A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive

In my opinion, the first and most essential trait of a possessive character is, without a doubt, jealousy.

Thinking back to my time as a reader, I vividly remember how thrilling it was to watch obsessive male leads lose their minds in fits of jealousy, going to insane lengths. I’d curse them as lunatics, yet I couldn’t resist being drawn into the addictive thrill of their madness.

However, if I were the one receiving that obsessive attention and jealousy, I doubted I’d find it enjoyable.

“You’re curious about what Kang Jaewook did, aren’t you?”

“No.”

But judging by Choi Taejoon’s current reaction, I couldn’t help but think, Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It was a ridiculous thought, but wasn’t it possible that even the protagonist in this world secretly wanted it? Maybe they enjoyed watching the male lead unravel with jealousy.

“Stop saying useless things and go to the hospital.”

“What about Kang Jaewook?”

“…If you say his name one more time, I’ll send you straight to him like you want.”

“What?”

Taejoon reached out and gently ran his hand over the back of my head, his voice deceptively soft.

“Can’t seem to get him out of your head, huh?”

Honestly, I would’ve preferred if he’d just outright threatened to kill me. Saying he’d send me back to Kang Jaewook? That was far scarier than any death threat.

I shook my head vigorously and took a step back.

“What a horrible thing to say! Absolutely not!”

Seeing my alarmed reaction, Taejoon seemed to relax a little. His tense demeanor softened, and he began asking questions.

“Dizziness?”

“None.”

“Tinnitus?”

“Not at all.”

Finally, a faint smile tugged at Taejoon’s lips.

“Well, that’s lucky for me, though maybe not so much for you.”

It was clear what he meant: the fact that I hadn’t died was fortunate for him, but not necessarily for me.

Why was my survival fortunate for him?

I couldn’t make sense of it, but I knew one thing for sure—I didn’t want to die at someone else’s hands.

Let me reiterate: my one wish is to die peacefully, without pain.

Yet ever since I’d been pulled into the world of Rubbing Alcohol, my body seemed to have turned into something unbreakable. Even when I’d been in a car accident before, I’d healed quickly and without issue. Now, after everything I’d endured, I was still standing.

It was baffling to think I could take so many hits and still be walking around like this.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Taejoon stared into the distance, lost in thought, before turning and walking into the funeral hall.

I stood there, staring at his retreating figure.

Against the backdrop of white funeral lanterns and vibrant temple patterns, Taejoon’s silhouette looked like something out of a painting.

Ironically, the funeral hall was beautiful, and Taejoon fit perfectly into the somber yet elegant setting.

A man who thrived on the reverence and fear of others—that was Choi Taejoon. When I thought of him, countless words and expressions came to mind.

For a brief moment, I felt as if all those layers had been stripped away, and I’d caught a glimpse of the real Taejoon beneath it all.

Maybe it was the funeral setting that made me think that way.

“Rookie!”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Move it!”

“Oh, right! Got it!”

The condolence wreaths lining the walls had been knocked over during the earlier chaos and lay in complete disarray.

Following a senior officer’s instructions, I began straightening the wreaths, aligning them properly. The names on the ribbons were remarkable—politicians, business tycoons, judges, and prosecutors, both domestic and international.

With the sudden death of such a powerful figure in the underworld, it wasn’t just Taesung Industries that was on edge. Other organizations, as well as the police, were undoubtedly on high alert.

While the public believed it was an accident, the truth was that Kang Jaewook had been deeply involved in Vice Chairman Gil’s death.

No one knew how things would unfold from here.

It felt like we were all passengers in a car carrying a ticking time bomb, speeding toward an inevitable explosion.

A few days after the funeral, I received a message early in the morning and headed down to the parking lot. There, I saw Taejoon waiting for me.

“Executive Director!”

It had been a while since I’d last seen him, and he looked noticeably thinner. The exhaustion etched into his face made him look almost fragile.

Seated in the driver’s seat, Taejoon gestured for me to hurry up.

“Get in.”

For the first time, it was just the two of us heading to work—no Secretary Kim in sight.

“I’ll drive,” I offered.

“This is my car. You can drive when we’re in a company car.”

Taejoon’s tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

“Then, excuse me,” I said as I quickly climbed into the passenger seat.

Choi Taejoon’s work ethic was the very definition of strict discipline. No matter how late he got home, early morning departures were a given, and he never wasted a single moment. He was a rare breed—a diligent and hard-working gangster.

If anyone in the same tower knew his actual occupation, they’d probably struggle to believe it. After all, Taesung Industries outwardly operated as a legitimate business, and most of Taejoon’s work danced on the line between legal and illegal. Still, the bigger jobs often fell squarely into the realm of the unlawful.

“Hyun Woo Kyung,” he said suddenly.

“Yes?”

His gaze landed on my head, staring for a long, uncomfortable moment. Eventually, it seemed like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You cut it?”

“Yes, I found a little time after work.”

My hair had been soft and curly, brushing over my ears, but in this heat, it had started to feel burdensome. So I’d buzzed the back short, leaving it neat and fresh.

Taejoon’s gaze shifted to the smooth nape of my neck, only to be followed by a clicking sound of disapproval.

“It’s too short.”

It was my first time cutting it this short, so it did feel a little awkward, but apparently, Taejoon wasn’t a fan.

“Does it look bad?”

“You already act like a kid, and now you look even younger.”

Sure, I had a youthful face, but I wouldn’t call it childish. After all, I was the oldest in my team!

“Excuse me, but no one’s ever called me childish before. If anything, I’ve always been told I’m dependable and reliable.”

Hearing this, Taejoon let out a faint chuckle.

“They must’ve been blind. From now on, get my permission before you cut your hair.”

“Permission…? Sure. In that case…”

I leaned toward him slightly, a playful glint in my eye.

“Can I give you some advice on your hairstyle, too?”

“What’s wrong with mine?”

“It’s just… a little too executive-like?”

“And what does ‘executive-like’ mean?”

His neatly combed-back style certainly complemented his tailored suits, giving him a refined and authoritative air.

“It’s dignified and mature… very cool.”

“You mean it makes me look old.”

“No, not at all! You don’t look old!”

“So, I’m not old, but I look older. Got it.”

I tried to explain that adding a touch of change to his hairstyle might make him look fresher, but Taejoon simply chuckled dryly at my suggestion.

“This style has been mine for as long as I can remember.”

The way he referred to himself in the third person felt a bit awkward, but before I could dwell on it, the car started moving. I leaned back in my seat, mumbling quietly, “Honestly, whatever you do, it’ll suit you. You’re handsome, after all.”

His gaze softened slightly as it shifted toward me.

“Are you the type to flatter people? I’m not a fan of that.”

“I’m not flattering you. I’m just being honest. Most of what I say is the truth.”

We stopped at a red light. Taejoon cleared his throat lightly before suddenly reaching across toward me.

“…!”

The luxurious scent of his cologne tickled my nose as his arm brushed past my chest. His elbow lightly grazed me, and the warmth of his breath brushed against my ear.

For a moment, my mind went blank, thoughts spinning wildly.

Was he about to kiss me?

Out of nowhere?

In the original novel, Taejoon was written as a character who couldn’t go long without regular physical contact.

Was he finally showing his true colors after acting so restrained all this time?

Within the span of one or two seconds, countless scenarios of what Taejoon might do flashed through my head.

Click.

Before I knew it, the seatbelt clicked into place across my chest.

“How much is the fine for this?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh… three thousand won.”

It seemed I’d forgotten to buckle up. Flustered, I pressed a hand to my burning cheek, trying to calm my racing heart.

“What about parking violations?”

“It depends on the car and location. Usually around forty thousand won.”

“And running a red light?”

“For your car? Seventy thousand.”

Taejoon’s lips parted in mild disbelief.

“Other than fines, is there anything actually useful you’re good at remembering?”

“…You’re the one who asked.”

“I asked because it’s surprising how well you remember those things.”

“I’m good at memorizing lines, scripts, and passages, too,” I replied.

As an idol, I’d been especially good at memorizing scripts. Even if my lines were just one or two sentences, I’d often end up memorizing my co-stars’ lines, especially Do Hyuntae’s.

“That’s… actually somewhat useful,” Taejoon said with a half-hearted compliment.

I chuckled dryly and turned my gaze out the window. He had no idea. I could probably recite all of his lines from Rubbing Alcohol.

Thinking back, maybe I had been more serious about acting than being an idol. Or rather, I’d been more serious about Do Hyuntae.

I still remembered the summer of my first year in high school when I fell for him after watching his campus romance drama. While most of my friends were swooning over the female lead, my eyes were locked on Hyuntae.

I loved everything about him.

I attended fan signings, chased his stage greetings across the country, and watched his movies dozens of times.

I even had one of his signed plush toys proudly displayed at home. I’d vowed to show it to him if we ever met again.

Look at me now, Hyuntae. I’ve grown enough to stand in front of the camera with you.

I’d probably have to go home first to retrieve it, though.

Thinking about it now, I realized there was one more important reason to go back—not just family, but him.

Still, when was I finally going to die?