Framed for Murder

Luckily for Jihoon, he was a good athlete, so the killer wasn't able to catch him. However, he could tell that he was still being followed. He ran all the way to the police station, and when he entered, the officers were startled.

"Someone is trying to kill me!" he exclaimed.

"Who? What's your relationship with the person?" A female detective, interested in his case, rose to her feet.

"I don't know him! I was just returning home when I bumped into him! The moment I saw the bloodied knife in his hands, I took off, and then he started chasing me!" Seo Jihoon explained to the detective.

"Show me your ID," the detective demanded.

Jihoon dipped his hand into his jacket pocket and dug out his ID, handing it over to the detective. She glanced through it and then turned to face another detective with a smile.

"Senior, we're quite lucky today! The murderer ran right into our arms!"

Jihoon cocked a brow. "What murderer?"

The female detective handcuffed him and threw him into a cell. Jihoon was too shocked to process what had just happened. A few seconds ago, he had been running from a killer and had entered the station, thinking he would be safest there, only to be branded a murderer the moment he set foot inside.

"What's going on here?" Seo Jihoon boomed from behind the bars.

"Keep it down!" the female detective replied.

"At least let me know why you're arresting me! I've been a good citizen—"

"Good citizen, my foot," the detective chuckled. "Why did you kill your landlord?"

"What?" Jihoon's eyes widened. He was receiving a lot of shocking information today.

"Wow, that's some classic acting skills you have," she praised. "If I wasn't a detective, I would've thought you were innocent."

"But... I haven't even been home since morning," Jihoon replied.

"According to the information I've gathered about you, you're a painter who works part-time jobs and owes your landlord two years' rent. Your neighbors say you frequently return home drunk, and after that, you'd pick fights with your landlord. Some even said you were like a son to her." The detective's eyes watered as she read through the report.

"Why'd you kill her, you brat?" she slammed her palm against one of the bars.

The other detective she had spoken to earlier was forced to intervene, pulling her away from Seo Jihoon to prevent her from doing something reckless.

"Grandma..." Jihoon's legs gave out, and he slumped to the ground.

Who would kill her? And why? She was just an old lady with only a few years left to live!

After losing his parents in a fatal car accident, Seo Jihoon had no one to fall back on—he had only been six at the time. Miss Jeong had taken him in, telling him she was only doing it because she owed his late mother a favor. Jihoon didn't remember much from his childhood, but he knew that Miss Jeong had always been kind to him.

She had tried her best to make him forget the car accident, and she succeeded. Jihoon had forgotten all about the accident—only bits and pieces remained in his memory. And whenever he thought of them, they felt foreign, as if they weren't his own.

---

A grand mansion stood amidst the green trees, radiating an aura of power. This was the Lee family house—royal and majestic in its design. Maids scampered about the vast compound, hurrying to complete their tasks lest they get fired.

From the highest floor, a pair of beautiful eyes gazed down at the scene below. Her black hair fluttered and shimmered under the sun's rays as the morning breeze whooshed through her window.

Lee Seyeon breathed in the cool morning air and glanced at her handmaid. "Prepare the bathtub—I have to visit Father soon."

"Yes, Miss," the handmaid bowed and left to carry out her orders.

Seyeon sat on her bed, her eyes fixed on a family photo resting on the nightstand beside her. In the framed picture, her father and mother smiled brightly. A five-year-old Seyeon sat on her father's shoulders, grinning wide, revealing two missing incisors—one from the top and one from the bottom.

A faint smile appeared on her lips. She picked up the photo and wiped the dusty glass with her sleeve. How her mother had died remained a mystery to her, even though she had been there when it happened. She had lost her memories from then.The doctor advised her to stop trying to force them back—that when the time was right, they would return on their own.

She had no choice but to listen to the doctor. After all, trying to regain these memories had only caused her headaches, nosebleeds, and even fainting. Since then, Seyeon had waited, hoping that in time, the lost fragments of her past would return to her.

"Miss, the bath is ready," the handmaid announced.

Seyeon put down the family photo and went to take her bath.

Along the hallways of the Lee family house, Lee Tae-gun sat in his wheelchair, gazing at the paintings that lined the walls. On the right hung the portraits of his great-grandfather, grandfather, and father. Opposite them, on the left, were their wives, each woman facing her respective husband.

The next frame after his father's painting was empty—just like the one after his mother's. His own portrait was meant to be placed there, an important family tradition. But he had refused to uphold it.

Because he hated his father.

A man whose only love had been his business. Everything else—family, emotions, even basic human decency—meant nothing to him.

Lee Tae-gun pulled out his phone and called his secretary. "Min-chul, is the family painter still available?"

Kang Min-chul had worked for Tae-gun's father long before he worked for him. But he had never treated Tae-gun like a boss. To him, the boy was like a son. After all, someone had to be the father figure Tae-gun never had.

"The painter died 21 years ago," Min-chul answered.

"Twenty-one years ago?" Tae-gun narrowed his eyes. "That was the same year my wife died."

"Yes," Min-chul affirmed. "Mr. Seo and his wife also lost their lives in a car accident that year—just like your wife did."

"You think there's a connection?" Tae-gun leaned forward.

"Possibly," Min-chul replied.

"How come I didn't know about this?" Tae-gun's gaze flickered to the empty frame in front of him.

"I didn't want to burden you with it. You were still coping with your wife's death," Min-chul said.

"Didn't they have a son?"

"They did."

"Is he still alive?"

"He should be. Last I heard, he was adopted by Boksoon," Min-chul replied.

"Jeong Boksoon? Seyeon's former handmaid?"

"Yes," Min-chul confirmed.

"The Seo family had a history of painters. I remember Father calling Mr. Seo to paint a portrait of Mother and himself, as per our family's tradition. Now, I need a painting of myself and Dahye."

Kang Min-chul's eyes widened. "I thought you wanted to discontinue the family tradition?"

"I'm not doing this because of my father," Tae-gun said with a slight frown. "I'm doing this for Seyeon, her future children, and her children's children—so they'll know what their great-grandparents and grandparents looked like."

Min-chul smiled. "In that case, I'll find the boy right away."

"Send Sera," Tae-gun replied. "She knows how to handle stuff like this."

---

Back at the station, Jihoon was taken to the interrogation room, where a female detective questioned him, but he remained silent. He still couldn't believe Grandma was dead. His eyes watered, his heart ached. Since he refused to speak, they threw him back behind bars.

Just outside the police station, a black Lamborghini rolled to a stop. Inside sat the dark silhouette of a man, and beside him was the masked, hooded figure Jihoon had bumped into earlier. The unknown man took out a cigar and lit it.

Taking a slow drag, he spoke. "The kid's in there."

"Yes," the hooded man answered.

"So, you killed the landlord and framed him for it," the man exhaled, smoke curling from his lips.

"Yes," the hooded man smiled.

"Ryu, you know me, and you know what I hate." The man grabbed Ryu's head and slammed it against the car's dashboard. "You failed to kill the kid the first time, and now you failed the second. If you fail again, I'll kill you myself. Do you understand?"

"I do," Ryu answered, his voice strained.

"Good," the unknown man said. "Now get out of my car."

Ryu stepped out of the Lamborghini and watched as it sped off. His blood boiled. He wanted to kill Seo Jihoon now more than ever. His teeth clenched, his fists tightened, and his eyes burned with rage.

Ryu pulled a mask over his face, concealing his entire identity. In his hands were several strange canisters. Without hesitation, he strode into the police station and scattered them across the room.

Hissing sounds filled the air as thick gas billowed out. Officers coughed violently, their lungs burning, their vision blurring. One by one, they collapsed, succumbing to the gas.

Ryu didn't stop there. He tossed the remaining canisters into the cells and waited as the prisoners choked and slumped to the floor.

Once the station was silent, Ryu unlocked Jihoon's cell and dragged him out. He threw the barely conscious painter into the back of a black van before speeding off into the night.