Just Twilight

As Junyoung shook the dampness from her shirt, Lee Jisun glared at her, brimming with hostility.

“Didn’t you hear me? Get out!”

Junyoung saw the slap coming. With a frown, she caught Jisun’s frail wrist midair.

Unfortunately for Jisun, Junyoung was no stranger to people trying to slap her. Her voice, cool and sharp, cut through the air.

“When it comes to compensation, the most important factor is the fault ratio. No company pays millions without thoroughly verifying that first.”

“Let go! Let me go!”

“The company will take responsibility for the lack of safety measures!”

Junyoung’s firm words startled Jisun into freezing mid-struggle. Her tear-filled, bloodshot eyes locked onto Junyoung as she continued.

“But the cause of the fall can completely change the outcome. If it’s deemed fraudulent and you’re charged with criminal misconduct, compensation will be the least of your concerns. Survival itself will become a luxury.”

Jisun trembled, her eyes wide with despair. Junyoung lowered her voice.

“Corporations are bigger and stronger than individuals. To take on a company, you need to present a flawless case. Even the smallest crack can be exploited into a gaping hole.”

Junyoung slowly released Jisun’s wrist. The woman blinked, her gaze falling to the floor. It was as if all the life had drained from her in an instant, leaving her hollow.

“If you think of anything else to add, feel free to reach out. Anything at all.”

Junyoung whispered the words softly, then turned to leave. In the hallway, she noticed a small crowd of onlookers lingering, curiosity painted across their faces. Ignoring them, she walked past, pulling out her phone from her bag. A quick check confirmed the recording had gone smoothly.

After stopping the recording, she dialed the office while brushing off her damp clothes. The fabric clung stubbornly to her skin, the discomfort weighing on her as much as her mood.

“This is Yoon Junyoung. Can I speak with Deputy Park Hyungjun?”

• “Ah, Deputy Yoon! Deputy Park is in a meeting with the team leader right now.”

“Do we have any records of financial checks or debt inquiries on Jung Mansu, the victim of the Busan factory accident?”

• “Hmm… Not that I can see. You might need to submit a request to the data team for that.”

“Then please request a credit evaluation report for me.”

After hanging up, Junyoung let out a heavy sigh. Her shirt wasn’t the only thing soaked—her mood was just as damp.

Jung Mansu’s fear. Lee Jisun’s obsession with compensation, tinged with unease.

This wasn’t just a simple accident. That much was clear.

What are the chances he jumped on purpose?

Junyoung rubbed her chin thoughtfully. It would depend on his financial situation—how desperate he was, how much pressure he’d been under.

No one who relies on their body for their livelihood would easily make a decision that could result in death or permanent disability.

The more she thought about it, the more tangled the situation seemed. Her expression darkened. If she could, she’d grab Park Hyungjun by the collar, shake him senseless, and throw him against the wall for good measure.

Still, not everything was a loss. She had gained something.

Junyoung adjusted her bag and tied her damp, disheveled hair into a loose bun. She needed a change of pace to lift the oppressive mood.

As she walked down the hospital hallway, the clicking of her heels echoed. She ignored the curious glances of passersby, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead.

That’s why she didn’t notice the familiar face lurking near the vending machine, trying to stay hidden.

***

“Ah, now that the sun’s starting to set, it’s finally bearable. Maybe we should extend the working hours. Hand me some water,” sighed one of the workers, his towel around his neck soaked with sweat.

Another worker handed him an open bottle of water but then glanced outside and turned to speak.

“Kim, are you sure everything’s fine with him?”

“What do you mean?” replied Beomjin, leaning casually against the stacked cement bags.

“That guy out there.” The man motioned toward the outside with his chin. “He’s some loan shark, right? The way he’s just standing around every day, is he here to take a cut of your daily wages? What are you gonna do if he takes all your pay?”@@novelbin@@

Following the man’s gaze, Beomjin looked down. Samdu stood by his black car, parked in the shade. Despite being told to sit inside, Samdu had stubbornly insisted, “How can I sit comfortably when you’re out here working, hyung?” As a result, he stood out like a sore thumb, leading the other workers to suspect he was some kind of debt collector.

“He’s not that bad,” Beomjin replied flatly, watching as Samdu wiped his sweat with a handkerchief for the umpteenth time. Clicking his tongue, he added, “Not the type to steal anyone’s wages.”

One of the workers handling the pipes leaned closer and spoke quietly, “If it’s a problem, just say the word. We can sneak a few bucks out of our pay to help you out.”

“Thanks,” replied Beomjin, his voice calm.

The other workers paused briefly, taking a moment to catch their breath as the day’s work neared its end.

“Where’s Yeongbok hyung? I was going to ask if he wanted to grab some grilled pork skins later.”

“He didn’t show up this afternoon. Must have something going on at home.”

“Man, I hope Mansu’s situation gets resolved soon. Poor guy.”

“At least that new woman seems more competent than the last guy who came by,” one of the workers remarked.

This caught Beomjin’s attention. He glanced toward the group, who were sharing water and chatting.

“Competence can be worse. She’s still a company person, after all. Probably here to find an excuse to deny the compensation,” someone grumbled.

“Well, at least she’s been pushing for better safety nets and scaffolding,” another said.

Some snorted in disbelief, while others nodded in agreement. Slowly, the slight arch in Beomjin’s brow relaxed as the conversation continued.

“That complaint we sent to the district office—was that it? Are they not coming back to check on things?”

“What’d you expect them to do? The point was just to scare the company into paying the compensation faster. Isn’t that what Kim said we should try?”

“Young and smart, that Kim. He even helped resolve that mess with Choi’s lease, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, didn’t he get into it with those thug landlords? Yeongbok hyung said his punches weren’t half bad. Couldn’t stop praising him. Maybe he used to box or something?”

The workers glanced toward Beomjin, but he merely offered a faint smile and didn’t respond.

One of the workers joked, reeking of sweat from his sleeveless shirt, “Bet he could take on that big guy outside too. If he gets too pushy, just knock him out.”

“Come on, he’s not here to hurt anyone. Didn’t you hear he has a little sister or something?”

When you don’t talk much, people tend to fill in the gaps for you. All it took was a slow, deliberate lowering of his gaze to let them carry on.

Still, imagining Samdu’s reaction if he overheard this made it hard for Beomjin to suppress a grin.

“Hey, did you hear about that apartment site that Samjin Construction is working on? Someone fell there too.”

Tension rippled through the group.

“How bad was it? Don’t tell me…”

“They didn’t die, but their shoulder and leg were badly broken. I heard their daughter visits the hospital every day after school and cries her eyes out. It’s heartbreaking.”

“How’s their case going? Are they getting compensation?”

“Well, Samjin had that fire at a site last year, right? Maybe that’s why they handled the compensation quickly this time. Which is good. I heard the wife had major medical bills a few years ago and racked up over a hundred million won in debt. The guy was working like crazy to make sure his daughter wouldn’t inherit the debt.”

“Maybe they settled early because they knew the payout would be bigger if he died.”

The voice that mumbled this was quiet, but it cast a heavy shadow over the group. Most of them shared similar circumstances. Skilled workers could save up and live well, but for unskilled laborers, financial worries were a constant burden.

“Why are there so many accidents lately? You remember that guy I knew? Slipped carrying materials on a site last month. You know, the guy from Cheonan—the one who could drink three bottles of kaoliang in one sitting.”

“Oh no, what happened to him?”

“Same old story. Why is it always the ones with the worst luck? He stood surety for some friend back home and got buried in debt. Worked himself to the bone to feed his wife and kids. Poor bastard.”

Standing a step behind the group, Beomjin’s eyes narrowed.

Jung Mansu had claimed someone pushed him. He’d regained consciousness, and his surgery had gone well, but his refusal to see visitors suggested he suspected one of them.

Yet, after observing the workers over the past few days, no one seemed to hold a grudge against him or have any financial ties that might lead to foul play.

No recent arguments. No lingering debts.

Mansu had always kept to himself, avoiding anything unrelated to work. He was quiet, diligent, and well-liked.

So why would someone push him?

The word debt kept echoing in Beomjin’s mind. It wasn’t just unusual for accidents to happen so frequently—it was even more suspicious that every victim seemed to be drowning in debt.

Coincidence seemed unlikely.

Wiping his sweat-drenched hair with the towel around his neck, Beomjin turned toward the stairs. As he moved, heads turned to follow him.

“Kim, heading out?”

“Time to clock out. See you tomorrow.”

“What about that thug out there?” someone muttered, but Beomjin paid no mind, striding down the stairs with purpose. Pulling out his phone, he hit the call button.