22화 문틈

D-1, 청담동 호텔.

모연은 프라이빗 룸 앞에서 잠시 멈췄다.

"밖에서 기다려요."

수진에게 그렇게 말하고 문을 닫았다. 완전히 닫지는 않았다.

*왜 안 닫았지.*

문틈을 남긴 건 의식적인 행동이 아니었다. 손이 그냥 거기서 멈췄다.

*듣든 말든.*

모연은 그렇게 넘기며 자리에 앉았다. 오늘 이 자리에서 무슨 말이 오갈지는 이미 알고 있었다. 열여덟 살 이후로 몇 번이나 반복된 자리였으니까.

"솔직히 말씀드리면, 저희 쪽에서는 조금 아쉬운 부분이 있습니다."

상대 남자가 입을 열었다.

"양녀시라고 들었는데, 그럼 지분 승계는 어떻게 되는 겁니까?"

모연은 손을 무릎 위에 가지런히 얹은 채 앉아 있었다. 시선은 테이블 위 찻잔에 고정돼 있었다.

*열일곱 번째던가.*

이런 자리에 나온 횟수를 세는 버릇이 있었다. 정확한 숫자는 기억나지 않았다.

"얼굴이야 뭐, 나쁘지 않습니다만. 나이가 좀 있으시죠? 애는 낳을 수 있는 겁니까?"

**[오늘 준비된 자료]**

| 항목 | 내용 |
|---|---|
| 프로필 | 학력, 경력, 취미 |
| 건강검진 결과지 | 최근 6개월 이내 |
| 가족관계증명서 | 입양 사실 기재 |
| 준비 부서 | 회장 비서실 |

"그건 걱정 안 하셔도 됩니다. 건강검진 자료도 준비돼 있으니 필요하시면 보내드리겠습니다."

오빠의 목소리였다.

"얘가 원래 말이 없어요. 어릴 때부터 그랬어요. 뭐 시키면 시키는 대로는 잘합니다."

*그렇게 만들어놓고서는.*

모연은 속으로만 생각했다. 표정은 조금도 움직이지 않았다.

"까다롭게 굴 성격도 아니고요. 그런 걸로 속 썩인 적은 한 번도 없습니다."

웃음소리가 났다. 여러 사람의 웃음이었다.

모연은 찻잔을 내려다봤다. 익숙한 소리였다. 아프지도 않았다.

*아프면 안 되니까.*

아프다고 느끼기 시작하면 견딜 수가 없었다. 그래서 언젠가부터 아예 느끼지 않는 법을 익혔다.

그런데 오늘은, 문틈 너머가 자꾸 신경 쓰였다.

*듣고 있으려나.*

문이 열리고 나왔을 때, 수진은 복도 벽에 등을 기댄 채 서 있었다.

얼굴이 굳어 있었다. 손이 주먹을 쥐었다 폈다 하는 게 보였다.

*들었구나.*

모연은 그 사실을 확인했다. 그러고는 아무 일 없다는 듯 앞장서 걸었다.

"가시죠, 상무님."

수진의 목소리는 평소와 다름없었다. 다만 그 목소리를 내기 위해 얼마나 애쓰고 있는지가 고스란히 느껴졌다.

차 안에서 두 사람은 아무 말이 없었다.

모연은 창밖만 봤다. 백미러로 몇 번이나 자신을 훔쳐보는 시선이 느껴졌지만, 모른 척했다.

*뭐라고 말이라도 하지.*

이상하게 그런 생각이 들었다. 위로받고 싶은 건 아니었다. 위로는 아무 소용이 없다는 걸 오래전에 알았으니까.

다만 저 사람이 지금 무슨 생각을 하고 있는지 궁금했다.

*불쌍해 보이겠지.*

모연은 스스로에게 그렇게 답했다. 그리고 그 답이, 왜인지 마음에 들지 않았다.

펜트하우스에 도착했다.

*오늘이 마지막이네.*

모연은 문을 열며 그 사실을 되뇌었다. 내일이면 모든 게 끝난다. 계좌가 옮겨지고, 저 사람은 공항에서 체포되고, 자신은 아무것도 모르는 피해자가 된다.

여덟 달을 준비한 판이었다.

그런데 이상하게 발이 무거웠다.

**[내일 예정 — 모연이 알고 있는 계획]**

| 시각 | 내용 |
|---|---|
| 오전 | 공항 이동 |
| 10:30 | 자금 이체 승인 |
| 이후 | 익명 제보 접수, 수사기관 개입 |
| 모연 | 참고인 진술 후 이탈 |

이미 제보는 넘겨둔 상태였다. 어젯밤에 마쳤다. 이제 되돌릴 방법이 없었다.

*잘한 거야.*

모연은 스스로에게 말했다.

여덟 살에 이 집에 들어와서 스물아홉이 되도록, 단 하루도 자기 것인 삶을 살아본 적이 없었다. 내일이 그 유일한 기회였다.

누군가 한 사람이 대신 감옥에 가야 한다면, 그건 어쩔 수 없는 일이었다. 지금까지 살아남기 위해 해온 수많은 계산 중 하나일 뿐이었다.

*그런데 왜.*

문을 닫는 손이, 유난히 느렸다.

English

D-1. A hotel in Cheongdam.

Moyeon stopped for a moment in front of the private room.

"Wait outside."

She said that to Sujin and closed the door. She did not close it all the way.

*Why did I leave it open?*

Leaving that gap open had not been a **conscious** act. Her hand had simply stopped there.

*Let her hear it or not.*

Moyeon let it pass like that and took her seat. She already knew what would be said at this table today. It was a meeting which she had sat through many times since she was eighteen.

"To be honest, from where we stand there is one part that falls a little short of what we hoped."

The man across the table began.

"We heard you were adopted. So how does the share succession work in that case?"

Moyeon sat with her hands laid neatly on her knees. Her eyes stayed on the teacup on the table.

*The seventeenth, was it?*

She had a habit of counting how many times she had been brought to a table like this. The exact count she could not remember.

"The face is not bad, I will say. But you are a little older, are you not? Can she have children?"

> **[Papers Prepared for Today]**
>
> | Item | Details |
> |---|---|
> | Profile | Schooling, career, hobbies |
> | Health screening results | Within the last six months |
> | Family relation certificate | Adoption noted on the form |
> | Prepared by | The Chairman's secretariat |

"You do not need to worry about that. We have the **checkup** results ready, the tests from the last six months, and I will send them over if you need them."

It was her brother's voice.

"She has never talked much. She has been like that since she was small. If you tell her to do something, she does it well enough."

*After making me this way.*

Moyeon thought it only inside. Her face did not move at all.

"And she is not the difficult sort. She has never once given us trouble over anything like that."

Laughter came. It was several people laughing.

Moyeon looked down at the teacup. It was a familiar sound. It did not even hurt.

*Because it must not hurt.*

Once she began to feel that it hurt, she could not bear it. So at some point she had learned how to go **numb**, how to feel nothing at all.

But today, what lay beyond the gap in the door kept pulling at her.

*Is she listening?*

When the door opened and Moyeon came out, Sujin was standing with her back against the corridor wall.

Her face was set hard. Moyeon could see the hand close into a fist and open again.

*She heard it.*

Moyeon confirmed that much. Then she walked ahead as if nothing had happened.

"This way, Managing Director."

Sujin's voice was no different from usual. What came through was how much it was costing her to keep it that way.

In the car neither of them said anything.

Moyeon looked only out the window. She felt eyes on her in the rear-view mirror more than once, and she pretended not to notice.

*Say something, anything.*

Strangely, that was what she thought. It was not that she wanted comfort. She had learned long ago that comfort is no use at all.

She only wanted to know what that person was thinking now.

*I must look pitiful.*

That was how Moyeon answered herself. And for some reason that answer did not sit well with her.

They reached the penthouse.

*Today is the last day.*

Moyeon said it over to herself as she opened the door. Tomorrow everything would be finished. The account would be moved: one **transfer**, and the money would be gone. That person would be taken at the airport, and she herself would become a victim who knew nothing.

It was a table she had spent eight months rigging.

And yet her feet were strangely heavy.

> **[Tomorrow's Schedule — What Moyeon Knows]**
>
> | Time | Details |
> |---|---|
> | Morning | Move to the airport |
> | 10:30 | Sign-off on the money transfer |
> | After that | An anonymous report comes in; investigators step in |
> | Moyeon | Gives a statement as a witness, then steps out |

The tip-off had already been handed over. She had finished it last night. There was no way to take it back now, and the whole thing had become **irreversible**.

*I did the right thing.*

Moyeon said it to herself.

From the age of eight in this house until she turned twenty-nine, she had never lived a single day that was her own. Tomorrow was the one chance.

If one person had to go to prison in her place, that was simply how it was. It was only one more of the countless calculations she had made to stay alive.

*So why.*

The hand closing the door was unusually slow.