“Car hacking?”
If a vehicle’s internal controller is hacked, the ignition, locks, black box, route, radio, air conditioning, engine, and brakes can all be tampered with.
She didn’t know if it was hacking or if someone had deliberately sabotaged her car.
If that’s the case, who’s behind this? Who ordered it?
With in-laws as high-profile as hers, enemies were inevitable. A few suspects immediately came to mind—too many, in fact, to pinpoint anyone specific.
Political rivals clashing with her father-in-law. Adversaries of the Sangyeong Ilbo newspaper.
But out of all the potential targets, why me?
Her lips, which had been frozen in tension, curled into a bitter smirk.
…Hostage, as always.
At the same time, blinding white headlights pierced her retina.
Instinctively, Heeju squeezed her eyes shut and raised her hand.
Something was rushing toward her.
“Ugh, ugh…!”
Panic-stricken, she stomped on the gas pedal, but the car wouldn’t budge.
Instead, a massive dump truck screeched across the rain-soaked road, accelerating toward her.
“Don’t come this way!”
Her tongue, stiff from fear, suddenly found its voice and shot out the words like a bullet.
Her voice, echoing in the cramped car, felt unfamiliar, as though it belonged to someone else.
She pounded the steering wheel, blasting the horn, her pupils dilating uncontrollably.
A vivid premonition struck her.
The smell of death.
As the blinding headlights surged closer, about to engulf her, only one face came to her mind.
Screeeech!
+++++
The relentless flashing of cameras greeted Baek Sa-eon as he entered the Blue House briefing room. Annoyed, he slammed the door with his fist, silencing the chatter.
Pinpointing a few disrespectful reporters among the crowd, he shot them a chilling glare, reminding them to behave.
Once inside, the atmosphere grew even heavier, the air tightening like a noose.
He was the most striking figure in the Blue House: tall, young, and elite, yet subject to endless envy and criticism.
“I have confidential information to share,” he began.
Even as all eyes turned to him like pen tips poised to write, he remained indifferent, treating the audience like wallpaper.
Not a single breath could be heard.
Baek Sa-eon had been stationed at the Blue House for days, attending endless meetings with senior aides and anti-terrorism teams.
Despite the grueling schedule—fielding incessant media calls from dawn to midnight—there wasn’t a hint of fatigue in his demeanor. If anything, his sharp gaze seemed even more dangerous, brimming with intensity.
“We are indirectly communicating with the kidnappers through the media,” he stated.
“...!”
The room buzzed with murmurs.
“They are monitoring our press coverage and adjusting their stance accordingly.”
Standing at the Blue House podium, his already cold expression hardened further.
“So, I urge all media outlets to exercise extreme caution in their reporting. Avoid any statements that might send the wrong message to the armed group. Refrain from personal biases or criticisms of the government for now. Also―”
He glanced at his watch.
“17:02. As of this moment, a temporary media embargo is in effect under government directive.”
“What?!”
The stunned reporters erupted in protest.
“An embargo? Is the situation that critical?”
“Spokesperson, don’t you think this violates the public’s right to know? Is this the government’s official stance?”
“How are we supposed to parrot only what’s spoon-fed to us?!”
“Isn’t this excessive suppression of press freedom and editorial independence?”
As the reporters’ objections grew louder, Baek Sa-eon didn’t flinch.
With the same unchanging expression he had entered with, he scanned the room, his presence as calm and ominous as the eye of a storm.
Then, he muttered under his breath, “We’re doing this to prevent your careless words from getting hostages killed.”
“...!”
Though barely audible, his comment, spoken directly into the microphone, was heard by everyone.
Yet, he continued as if nothing had happened.
“Please wait until the negotiations are concluded.”
His composed tone made the reporters doubt what they’d just heard.
“This operation has no room for backseat drivers. Don’t ruin it with cries of ‘the public’s right to know.’”
“...”
“And let’s call things by their proper names. It’s not a ‘right to know’; it’s a ‘right to publish,’ a craving for attention, reckless ego, and an insufferable sense of superiority. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”
“...!”
“No citizen wants to hear the gruesome news of a hostage being slaughtered.”
“...”
“So don’t disguise your frustration and indignation as concern for the public. It’s disgusting.”
The chilling reprimand dampened the heated atmosphere.
“Life is more important than knowledge. Stirring chaos at the cost of lives is not a right; it’s harassment. At least in this case.”
“...”
“Remember, your silence right now could save the lives of our kidnapped citizens. And help ensure that the negotiation team on the ground can do their job without distraction.”
Gripping the microphone firmly, he leaned forward.
“If anyone here slips up and causes another hostage to die―”
Though his voice was muffled by his hand over the mic, his warning was unmistakable.
+++++
“Did I die?”
“Did I just die and come back to life?”
“Gasp… gasp…”
The massive dump truck had narrowly missed her, smashing her side mirror instead.
The impact left her car door dented and trembling.
“...!”
She didn’t know how long she had been holding her breath, frozen in terror.
The urge to relieve herself hit her so strongly she nearly lost control.
Leaning against the steering wheel, she struggled to catch her breath.
Her entire body ached, and her sweat-soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to her skin.
Will I even make it home alive?
Her dazed eyes stared blankly ahead, her trembling hands barely able to grip the wheel.
But then—
A sudden chill ran down her spine, raising the hairs on her neck.
Something scratched at the edge of her senses, urging her to look in the rearview mirror.
“...!”
She locked eyes with a scruffy, homeless-looking man.
“Ah―!”
Before she could scream, the figure crawled over the backseat, lunging at her.
The man, grinning maniacally, clamped his hand over her mouth.
Her head was pinned against the seat’s headrest by the strength of his arm. A sour stench filled her nostrils.
“Surprised, sis?”
Everything happened in an instant.
“...W-who... wh-who…!”
Her muffled voice, smothered by his hand, trembled violently.
“It’s Baek Sa-eon, isn’t it? Yeah, Baek Sa-eon.”
“...!”
“Let’s call him. I know his number. I know Baek Sa-eon’s number. Let’s call him. We need to call him.”
His disheveled curls bobbed as he leaned toward the driver’s seat.
“You’re the hostage. I’m the call boy. I’ll make the call. The call boy.”
No, that’s not… what it means…
“Starting navigation.”
The GPS, which had reset itself, now displayed a new destination.
“You drive.”
“Ugh…”
“I’ll make the call.”