BAI Ch 10
by mimiWhen Shin Haebeom returned to his seat, the symptoms began.
Kwon Sehyuk hid his trembling hands under the table. His mouth felt parched. It was as if his tongue was cracking like a drought-stricken rice paddy.
No matter how much water he drank, the thirst wouldn’t subside; it only helped momentarily. Now even his eyes felt dry. Kwon Sehyuk poked at a sticky rice tart filled with apples and honey, a dessert whose flavor he couldn’t quite place, with his fork while repeatedly wiping the sweat that kept beading at his temples.
“Hyung-ah, do you need to use the bathroom?”
Kwon Sehyuk didn’t miss the opportunity his naive younger brother provided. Just then, Shin Haebeom had returned to his seat, and he had the ability to draw the attention of Kwon Sehyuk’s uncle and mother. Kwon Sehyuk flashed an awkward smile and excused himself.
One of the Disciplinary Training Corps members followed him, but even he didn’t go as far as entering the bathroom. Kwon Sehyuk let out a sigh of relief. He hurriedly stepped inside and locked the door.
With trembling hands, he rummaged through his pocket. He pulled out a silver cigarette case. Only a few small, flat pills remained.
Kwon Sehyuk took out one white pill engraved with the letter W and hastily put it in his mouth. He didn’t chew it but let it dissolve on his tongue. He didn’t need concerned looks or words. This was merely a means to relieve fatigue. He could stop anytime he wanted.
Kwon Sehyuk sighed and sat on the toilet. He covered his ears with both hands. His head still ached, and his stomach churned. It would take a little longer for his mood to lift. Somehow, the pill’s effect seemed to be weakening.
“…….”
Kwon Sehyuk counted the remaining pills. The friend who had been his supplier had lost contact after high school graduation.
All he could remember was that the friend had said he bought them at a club. The friend hadn’t shared the club’s name or location. However, it didn’t seem like a place with strict management. If drugs were circulating even in high schools, it couldn’t be that secure.
So, if he dug around, he’d eventually find a lead. Kwon Sehyuk rose, his body heavy.
“Will you head back up now?”
“Well…”
Kwon Sehyuk trailed off. He noticed that the corps member following him had been acting strangely anxious for a while.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, sir. I’ll escort you.”
“Come on, what is it? Tell me.”
“…….”
“It’s fine.”
“…….”
“Really, it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”
The soldier hesitated, then pointed to the corner Kwon Sehyuk had just come from. The bathroom.
“Go ahead.”
“I’ll be right back, sir.”
He must have been holding it in for a while. Kwon Sehyuk chuckled at the sight of the soldier hurrying away. To be fair, even Shin Haebeom had stepped away mid-meal, so it must have been a tedious dinner.
Kwon Sehyuk stretched and walked down the corridor. As his headache gradually faded, his mood improved.
His friend hadn’t properly told him the name of this magical pill. He said it would make him feel uneasy. It was just a bit of harmless rebellion, and he didn’t want to feel guilty about it. So, they just called it “X.” The twenty-fourth letter of the alphabet, the spelling X, symbolizing the unknown.
Kwon Sehyuk agreed with his friend’s sentiment about not wanting to feel guilty. Swallowing a few pills wasn’t going to cause any major trouble. He wasn’t a drug addict.
Somewhere, the sound of water reached his ears. A waterfall? No, a fountain. The massive fountain in the center of the garden sparkled under white lights. Countless streams of water rose and fell toward the sky at regular intervals.
The falling droplets looked like jewels. Kwon Sehyuk gazed in awe.
He was so busy looking up at the sky that he didn’t notice he was trampling the small flowers. Not until a stranger’s voice struck him from behind.
“Get your feet off.”
“What?”
Kwon Sehyuk turned around instinctively.
“I said get your feet off, Chiwoo. You’re ruining the grass.”
A slender man wearing a black ball cap, hands stuffed in his pants pockets, was staring at him.
“Didn’t you hear? Step aside.”
“Oh! Sorry.”
Kwon Sehyuk hurriedly moved his feet. Stepping off the grass, he alternated his gaze between his own feet and the stranger before him. Like, is this okay now?
The man nodded. His face was hard to see because of the cap. Moreover, Kwon Sehyuk was standing in the brightly lit center of the garden, while the man stood in the shadows cast by tree branches. It was the boundary between light and darkness.
Kwon Sehyuk narrowed his eyes and asked.
“Are you staff here?”
“Part-timer.”
“Garden security?”
“…Something like that.”
His husky voice was striking. A pale, delicate chin peeked out from under the cap. Kwon Sehyuk carefully stepped toward the shadows, mindful not to damage the grass or flowers. For some reason, he wanted to talk up close.
The man didn’t budge from his spot. Kwon Sehyuk hoped he wouldn’t be scared or run off.
“I didn’t know. I’ll compensate for any damaged flowers.”
“Do whatever.”
His attitude was quite different from moments ago when he was worried about the grass. Kwon Sehyuk tilted his head.
“Maybe… don’t you recognize me?”
“Who are you?”
Kwon Sehyuk scratched the back of his head. He didn’t have much to say. After all, expecting someone to recognize him when he was just starting to appear in public was a bit greedy.
Kwon Sehyuk smiled awkwardly and extended his right hand.
“I’m Kwon Sehyuk from Sinkyedong.”
That’s how he was taught to introduce himself. It still felt awkward, but for now, he figured he should do as his uncle instructed.
But it didn’t seem like the right introduction for this man. He didn’t take Kwon Sehyuk’s outstretched hand, just stared down at it.
An awkward silence followed. Kwon Sehyuk was puzzled. Since he’d given his name first, it was only polite for the other to introduce himself. That was manners.
Unable to bear the awkwardness, Kwon Sehyuk opened his mouth to speak, but the man spoke first.
“What sport do you do?”
“What?”
“Your hands look like an athlete’s. Are you a pro?”
“Oh, this is…”
Kwon Sehyuk withdrew his hand. He felt a bit shy.
“I was on the volleyball team at school. I’ve graduated now, though.”
“Starter?”
“Well, yes, but not the ace. Just good enough to make the lineup.”
“Sounds like you were pretty good.”
A hint of amusement crept into the husky voice. Kwon Sehyuk’s expression brightened. He took another step into the shadows.
“Do you like volleyball? Do you go to games?”
“I’ve never seen one in person.”
“Why not? It’s way more fun live. It’s a completely different vibe from watching on TV.”
“Too busy.”
“Oh, because of your part-time job?”
The man let out a short laugh.
“You hit the nail on the head.”
“Are you that busy? No time even on weekends?”
“What, you gonna take me?”
Kwon Sehyuk hesitated. The man’s gaze was cold. Kwon Sehyuk had seen that look before. It was back when he’d just started high school.
The capital city was vastly different from the port city where Kwon Sehyuk was born and raised. The high school he attended was a prestigious institution, filled with the scions of prominent families. Among them, Kwon Sehyuk received special treatment.
But he brushed off everyone who approached him based solely on his status. Instead, he sought out friends who had earned their place through talent and effort, regardless of their background or family.
Those were the special admission students.
The Censorship Bureau’s arts and sports talent development program had expanded its benefits, providing living expenses and scholarships to promising youths in various arts and sports fields. Kwon Sehyuk’s high school, in cooperation with the national program, also admitted special students.
Kwon Sehyuk didn’t know exactly what benefits they received from the school. He only knew they were a minority, came from less privileged backgrounds, and stuck tightly together. They didn’t cause trouble, but they were definitely an ostracized group within the school.
Kwon Sehyuk endured all sorts of humiliations to befriend the special admission students. He still remembered the sharp, cold glares he received back then. They were exactly like the man’s gaze now.
Kwon Sehyuk lowered his head.
“If I spoke out of line, I’m sorry.”
“…….”
“I didn’t mean anything by it. Really.”
“Why are you apologizing all by yourself?”
The man said. Or rather, asked.
“Why are you so scared? Afraid I might be hurt?”
“Yes.”
Kwon Sehyuk answered honestly.
“Just knowing someone dislikes me is painful.”
“…Is that from experience?”
“Yeah.”
“Even with someone you just met?”
“You never know how things will turn out with people.”
“Spoken like someone high up, with a different mindset.”
Kwon Sehyuk frowned.
“You knew who I was.”
“It was cute how surprised you were, so I pretended not to know. Sorry.”
Strangely, he wasn’t angry. Probably because of X.
Kwon Sehyuk looked at the man’s delicate chin and thought to himself. It was all because of this damn pill. High on it, he was smiling in a situation where he should be angry.
“Then tell me your name.”
“My name?”
“As an apology. If you do, I’ll let today slide.”
“Let it slide? What’s there to let slide? Did I hit you or something?”
“Ever heard of lèse-majesté?”
“For something like this? That’s ridiculous.”
“If the person on the receiving end feels bad, it’s not a joke. And I’m, well, a bit more special than others.”
He was talking more than usual. Kwon Sehyuk could feel it himself. His words were spilling out ahead of his thoughts, sweat was beading at his temples, and his heart was pounding hard. All because of X. Just one pill made him feel good, made his body feel as light as a feather.
“Name.”
Kwon Sehyuk took another step forward.
“Tell me. Meeting like this is fate, and we could become friends.”
“Friends?”
The man scoffed.
“Friends are possible when you’re equals. We’re not.”
“Everyone says that. But I’ve already done it once.”
He’d broken through the barrier of status and stepped inside. He’d earned their trust and belief. Kwon Sehyuk was confident. He smiled as brightly as the sun.
“Not gonna tell me your name?”
Jeong Seonghyeon had gone to a temple to choose a name for his nephew, who shared not a drop of blood. Pitying the child who had suddenly become an orphan and faced public scorn, he consulted a fortune-teller and paid for a carefully chosen name. He prayed fervently before the golden Buddha statue. Please, even just a little, take away the misfortune pouring onto this child.
Park Jinah wasn’t pleased with the name her husband brought back. She wanted the child to remember who he was. She believed the superstition that changing a name made you a different person.
In the end, the child’s name was formed by combining one character each from what the couple wanted. It was the best outcome for the couple. But the child who would live with the new name had no say. No one asked.
Ryujin knew it was pointless now, but he still sometimes wondered. If his aunt had asked for his opinion back then, what would he have said?
“Later.”
Ryujin brushed it off vaguely.
“I’ll tell you later. It’s not that important to you, is it?”
“That’s for me to decide. A person’s name is important.”
“…….”
“Is it some huge secret? Why won’t you tell me?”
Kwon Sehyuk clung persistently. Ryujin regretted ignoring Shin Haebeom’s advice to return quietly to the annex and study for his driver’s license exam.
“I don’t trust high-up people.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re different on the inside and out.”
“I’m not that kind of person.”
“Everyone who says that turns out to be no good.”
Kwon Sehyuk’s expression froze. Ryujin took a step back.
“Hey!”
Kwon Sehyuk instinctively reached out and grabbed the man’s arm. He was immediately shaken off.
“Don’t grab me like that.”
“Sorry. I just wanted to talk more with you.”
“…If you want to make friends with commoners, go to a club. Buy them a drink, and they’ll warm up to you. Oh, but you’re probably too busy for that.”
“That’s a stereotype.”
“You saying you’re different?”
Kwon Sehyuk nodded.
“Yeah. I’m different.”
“Bullshit. I’m not falling for it.”
Kwon Sehyuk was speechless. To say something like that to his face. Where were his manners? Was being a commoner something to brag about?
Kwon Sehyuk pressed his lips shut and glared at the man.
“Don’t talk like that. What do you even know about me?”
“It’s obvious without looking.”
“You’re really full of yourself. No manners either. That’s why you’re here…”
Doing a part-time job like this, he almost said, but stopped.
Kwon Sehyuk covered his mouth with one hand. He was shocked. He couldn’t believe he’d had such a thought.
Kwon Sehyuk turned abruptly.
“Fine, then. I’m not going to beg someone who doesn’t want it.”
“Good for you.”
Kwon Sehyuk walked quickly. He practically ran out of the garden. He felt the gaze clinging to his back but didn’t look back. Whoever that guy was, he seemed full of resentment toward the world. Defensive and self-absorbed… no thanks from this side either.
Kwon Sehyuk returned to the restaurant. At the end of the corridor, the pale-faced corps member spotted him and rushed over in a panic.
“We’ve been looking everywhere. Where were you?”
“Just checking out the garden.”
“You could’ve at least said something…”
“Do I have to?”
The soldier quickly bowed.
“No, sir. My apologies for the disrespect.”
“As long as you understand.”
The soldier stared at Kwon Sehyuk’s back as he climbed the stairs. He seemed in a good mood earlier, so what got into him? Was he always this moody?
✶⋆.˚
Shin Haebeom pulled out the prepared document envelope. The plan inside the yellow envelope, stamped clearly with the Disciplinary Training Corps seal, was <Phaeton>. Kwon Joohyuk’s expression turned peculiar as he took it. Shin Haebeom met his snake-like eyes and bowed deeply.
“Please review it.”
Kwon Joohyuk didn’t ask what it was. Shin Haebeom didn’t bother adding an explanation. People on the same boat understood each other without words. Of course, neither knew if the other was hiding a lifeboat or wielding a harpoon behind their back.
Jang Seunghee looked at Shin Haebeom’s gently smiling face. She first met him before Kwon Sehyuk was born, at a garden party hosted by Shinryonggwan. Back then, Shin Haebeom was the son of Seogyeong Pharmaceuticals’ CEO, named Shin Haejun.
The boy stood out for his striking looks. Not that she had any special feelings for him at the time. Jang Seunghee was an adult, the wife of the president, and, crucially, pregnant with Kwon Sehyuk.
The son of an anti-government figure, no matter how polished, wasn’t likely to seem appealing. She was certain of that. But she couldn’t deny that his appearance was striking even from afar. He resembled his mother, a Western beauty with sharp features.
Already the center of attention, he seemed to have inherited Shin Youngsan’s bulldozer-like leadership as well. Jang Seunghee watched the boy, a head taller than his peers. For some reason, it was hard to look away.
Suddenly, the boy turned his head. Perhaps sensing her gaze, he looked directly at Jang Seunghee. She instinctively lowered her eyes, then, realizing it was absurd to react that way to a young boy, lifted her chin. Her neck tensed. She was ready to scold him for staring so rudely at an adult if needed.
But in the next moment, Shin Haejun smiled at Jang Seunghee.
Brightly.
Like a flower blooming.
His white, even teeth were revealed. His long, double-lidded eyes curved softly. Jang Seunghee was certain. That boy knew exactly what impression he made on others. He knew too well, and it was unsettling.
Many things had happened since then. The boy with the flower-like smile lost his family and fortune. He lost everything he was born with and was cast out onto the streets. Jang Seunghee heard that Shin Haejun, barred from advancement due to the stigma of his background, was taken in by Shin Jihee, who had narrowly escaped the purges.
Jang Seunghee tried to turn her attention away. But if the heart followed logic, there would be no such thing as fate.
Jang Seunghee was curious about Shin Haejun. She wanted to know how he was living. She wrestled fiercely between the thought that she shouldn’t care and the instinct to hear news of him.
The official reason she left for her hometown was the fear that the purges sweeping through Shinryonggwan might harm her unborn child, but it was also because of Shin Haejun. Jang Seunghee believed she shouldn’t stay in Gwangseong. Watching that boy’s misfortune, she feared she’d never forget his radiant face. She might end up grabbing the wrist of a boy she was supposed to ignore and pull him toward her.
Twenty years was no short time. It was enough for the boy who smiled like a flower to grow into a man whose presence felt sharp enough to cut.
Before meeting Kwon Joohyuk, Shin Haebeom’s life was miserable. A human shield, a bullet catcher. Due to his background, he remained a sergeant well into his thirties. But in just three years, that gutter life had transformed into a rags-to-riches success story.
Jang Seunghee was curious about Shin Haebeom. Now, Shin Haebeom was within her reach. He was no longer the flower-like boy with whom she could only exchange distant smiles. He was a force of power, galloping toward the future like an unbridled horse. No longer a boy, but a man. Jang Seunghee smiled as she gazed at Shin Haebeom’s long, knobby fingers.
Kwon Sehyuk returned. Shin Haebeom noticed that his expression was much brighter than before. Already tipsy from a few drinks?
Shin Haebeom feigned concern as he spoke to Kwon Sehyuk.
“Is the meal not to your liking?”
“No, it’s not that…”
Kwon Sehyuk trailed off, then suddenly grinned at Shin Haebeom.
“I met an interesting friend.”
Shin Haebeom laughed inwardly. He had a hunch what Kwon Sehyuk meant.
This was Howollu. Though it was still early for the second evening session, it wouldn’t be surprising if some bold opportunist, aiming for a status boost, had approached him. Wasn’t Jung Ryujin the same? Trailing along like a hungry puppy smelling food…
“I’m glad Your Highness is enjoying himself.”
Shin Haebeom smiled back at Kwon Sehyuk. You must feel like the world is in your hands right now. Enjoy it while it lasts.
Amid the lively farewells of many, he boarded the departing car. Kwon Sehyuk let his dozing younger brother sleep with his head on his lap. He patted his brother’s chest as he breathed softly. His gaze drifted outside. The road the car traveled was smoothly paved, but the dense trees on either side gave it an eerie feel.
Kwon Sehyuk knew only three things about the man. A pale, delicate chin, a husky voice, and a lean build. He seemed around 180 cm tall, probably close to his own age. Kwon Sehyuk sighed and propped his chin.
Because of the cap, he couldn’t see his face properly. If he was a short-term part-timer, he wouldn’t stay at Howollu long, so the chances of meeting again were slim. So… it was better to forget him. That was the easier path. Even tonight, he had a stack of documents to memorize. He was scheduled to appear on some current affairs debate or talk show.
But he kept thinking about him.
Kwon Sehyuk sighed. His mind was troubled. He couldn’t understand why he felt so offended by the man’s careless remark.
“I don’t trust high-up people. They’re different on the inside and out.”
He’d heard that kind of criticism throughout his three years of high school. He should’ve built up immunity by now. But he hadn’t.
Kwon Sehyuk rummaged through his pocket. But nothing was there.
“Huh?”
It was gone. Nowhere to be found.
“Hyung-ah…?”
His groggy brother asked what he was looking for. Kwon Sehyuk couldn’t answer. He was at a loss for words. He was sure he’d put it back in the bathroom…
“Oh.”
He clutched his head with both hands. Sweat beaded on his nape. Losing something was a common mistake. It happened more often in unfamiliar places.
The mistake wasn’t the problem. The problem was the contents of what he’d lost.
“Hyung-ah, what’s wrong? You look weird.”
Kwon Sehyuk forced a smile.
“It’s nothing. Just… your brother’s a bit tired today.”
“Your Highness, shall we take you to a hospital?”
“No!”
His voice came out louder than intended.
“It’s just light dizziness. Don’t worry about it.”
“Hyung-ah… are you really sick?”
His brother’s small hand reached out. Kwon Sehyuk grabbed it and pulled it away from himself. He was worried that his frail brother, Kwon Muhyuk, might catch his bad energy.
“I’m fine.”
There were only two places. The bathroom or the garden. His mind leaned toward the latter. The bathroom was a small, enclosed space. If he’d dropped it on the tiles, it would’ve made a sound. But the garden was different. The soft, grassy ground was vast. He wasn’t 100% certain, but…
Kwon Sehyuk shivered and clenched his teeth. The chances of recovering it were slim. It was better to deny it. To say it wasn’t his.
Once his thoughts reached that point, he felt at ease. Right, it’s not like my name was engraved on the case. Who cares? I’ll be fine.
Of course, he wasn’t fine.
Kwon Sehyuk couldn’t sleep. The growing anxiety and restlessness gifted him a splendid night of insomnia. After tossing and turning all night, by 4 a.m., Kwon Sehyuk gave up on sleep and sat at his desk.
Since it had come to this, he figured he’d at least memorize the script. That, too, failed spectacularly. The words just wouldn’t stick in his head. Kwon Sehyuk got up, stretched, lifted exercise equipment, and even shook his head like a madman with earphones in the middle of the night, but nothing worked.
After all sorts of antics, morning arrived.
“Oh…”
Kwon Sehyuk collapsed onto his desk. The paper in his hand crumpled.
It was 5:30 a.m. Soon, his uncle and the horde of villains following him would barge in. The fact that he needed two hours to leisurely complete hair and makeup filled Kwon Sehyuk with disgust. All that effort to get dolled up, for what? Just to recite a memorized script in front of a camera, smiling, nodding, and agreeing without even knowing what he was saying…
Kwon Sehyuk touched his forehead. His head throbbed.
In the midst of this, he thought of that man. The garden maintenance part-timer. If he’d lost the cigarette case in the garden, there was a high chance it was in his hands. Did he know what was inside? Would he think it was his? If so…
Kwon Sehyuk licked his dry lips. If the man’s goal was money, he could handle it himself. But if it went beyond that.
Kwon Sehyuk tugged at his hair. He’d wanted to see the man again, but not like this.
✶⋆.˚
Before getting out of the car, Shin Haebeom checked the revolver in his holster.
Something felt off. He wasn’t a shaman possessed by spirits or a prophet foreseeing the future, but the instincts of a man who’d survived countless trials tended to be right. Like now.
2 a.m. The basement-level elevator. As soon as the doors opened, a cold muzzle pressed against the back of his head.
“Don’t turn around. Get in.”
He did as told. The elevator in Shin Haebeom’s luxury villa had no mirrors, but the walls were always polished to a shine, allowing him to make out the assailant’s attire. A ball cap pulled low over the eyes and a navy-blue shirt. Dressed to pass as a security company employee, but on closer inspection, the uniform’s details were off. Still, it was convincing enough to avoid suspicion at a glance. Shin Haebeom sighed inwardly. These knockoff bastards, peddling counterfeit uniforms—has business been good?
The muzzle aimed at his head shifted to his side. It was a move mindful of the elevator’s CCTV.
“Press the third floor.”
“You even know what floor I live on, Ha Shinsung.”
“Do as I say.”
The cold muzzle jabbed at his side. Shin Haebeom felt like crying from the injustice. What kind of ordeal was this? After a long day of work and an excruciating dinner, he was exhausted, only to face death in the elevator on his way home.
“I heard you got out of prison.”
“So you let your guard down?”
“Not exactly.”
The pressure at his side intensified. He didn’t know how Ha Shinsung had gotten past security. Maybe he’d killed them.
Shin Haebeom was certain Ha Shinsung had done thorough groundwork for this moment, planning it with gritted teeth. The security guard always left the spot closest to the elevator open for Shin Haebeom’s large Range Rover, and Shin Haebeom hadn’t ignored the kindness of an old man with a grandson aspiring to be a special forces officer. Who would’ve thought it would be exploited like this?
The fact that Ha Shinsung knew his exact floor was chilling. Shin Haebeom sighed inwardly. You and I, learning only the worst things—what a mess we’ve made.
“Thanks to you, I got to see the inside of a cell. Quite an experience.”
“If you commit a crime, you must face punishment.”
It was a stroke of divine luck that the security chief, who had tried to stop Ha Shinsung, injured his back. Following orders, Choi Yusin produced a medical certificate for three weeks of recovery, and the security chief was gifted a long vacation under the guise of sick leave. He said he was going to visit his hometown, which he hadn’t been able to do in a while due to his busy schedule. Shin Haebeom sent him off with a generous condolence payment, urging him to rest well. The security chief’s face, teary with gratitude, was still vivid in his memory.
“Wasn’t it three years?”
“Four years, suspended.”
“Must’ve hired a good lawyer.”
“Yeah. Ryujin’s trial is being handled by the same guy.”
“What trial? Jung Ryujin hasn’t been arrested.”
“What?”
Ha Shinsung swallowed hard. By the time he realized he’d been played, it was too late. This fearless bastard grabbed the gun pressing against his side with his bare hand and twisted it away.
A fist came flying at his face. He dodged by a hair’s breadth but lost his grip on the gun in the process. Ha Shinsung groaned from the pain of a blow to his wrist bone.
The elevator reached the third floor, and the doors opened, then closed again. In the scuffle, the two men ended up back on the basement level.
The elevator doors opened. Clutching each other’s collars, they tumbled onto the floor with a loud crash.
“Ugh!”
The toe of Shin Haebeom’s combat boot slammed into Ha Shinsung’s solar plexus. His breath caught in his throat. Ha Shinsung frantically reached out. The Desert Eagle spun across the floor, sliding far out of reach. Ha Shinsung scrambled to his feet, but Shin Haebeom was one step ahead.
The barrel of the Desert Eagle, now in Shin Haebeom’s hand, gleamed.
“So this is it.”
“…….”
Ha Shinsung drew a kurt knife from his waistband. Shin Haebeom examined the gun from different angles and said.
“Nice model. Why didn’t you show it off?”
“What nonsense.”
“Ryujin, I mean. He likes guns. Why didn’t you let him take a look? You’ve got something this nice.”
Ha Shinsung frowned.
“Don’t call him so casually.”
“Didn’t I tell you we’re close?”
Shin Haebeom waved the gun.
“Give me this, and I’ll tell you in detail. How I got close to him.”
“Cut the crap.”
“Don’t want to? Then get a hole in your head.”
Shin Haebeom aimed the gun at Ha Shinsung’s head.
“Jung Ryujin won’t be arrested. Because he signed a contract with me. He’s now part of the Disciplinary Training Corps.”
“You’re insane.”
“Not insane. Innovative.”
“What’s your game?! What are you doing with Jung Ryujin…!”
Shin Haebeom found the situation amusing.
Ha Shinsung’s disheveled expression, his desperate voice, his trembling eyes—they were all entertaining. Ha Shinsung had forgotten the first rule of winning an argument: don’t get riled up by your opponent’s words. That’s just exposing how much you’re worth.
Shin Haebeom gripped the Desert Eagle tightly.
“Let me keep him.”
“What?”
“He’s pretty, isn’t he? Honestly, I thought he couldn’t compare to Ryu Yeonbi, but the more I looked, the more I grew fond of him. That’s what’s scary. Attachment.”
Ha Shinsung’s face contorted.
“What the hell are you scheming?”
“Why do you always think so cynically? Scheming? Are you that jealous that I’m close to Jung Ryujin?”
“Did you kill him?”
“How could you say something so harsh!”
As if the mere thought gave him chills, Shin Haebeom rubbed his arms. Ha Shinsung’s face twisted further.
“Stop the bullshit and tell me where Jung Ryujin is.”
Shin Haebeom sighed as if the ground would swallow him.
“You don’t know how lucky you are, do you, Ha Shinsung? You’ve got so much more than you deserve. This gun, for one…”
Shin Haebeom’s muzzle pointed directly at Ha Shinsung’s forehead.
“And Jung Ryujin, too.”
A click sounded. Cold sweat trickled down Ha Shinsung’s temple. Shin Haebeom’s mocking voice pierced through.
“Jealous bastard.”
“…….”
“You’re really a lucky guy. Even Chiwoo’s mother is still alive, but honestly, it wouldn’t be surprising to hear of her passing any day now.”
“You’re still hung up on dusty old grudges.”
“Everyone says that. Forget the past. Remembering it only makes me suffer. But it’s not something you can just decide to let go of.”
The finger on the trigger moved. Shin Haebeom stared straight into Ha Shinsung’s eyes.
“I’m jealous of you.”
“…….”
“I’m even jealous to death that you became rivals with your father.”
“If you touched Jung Ryujin, I’ll kill you.”
Shin Haebeom nearly burst out laughing. I already had him, you thick-headed bastard.
He glared at Ha Shinsung and said.
“Do you remember what Jung Ryujin said to me when he came to visit?”
Ha Shinsung didn’t seem to recall. No surprise there. That’s why he was dumb enough to lose his lover to his father and still chase after him to prison, making a mess.
Not me.
Shin Haebeom ground his teeth.
“You said it to me. Why didn’t I leave the country? Why did I stupidly stay here? I’ll throw it back at you. Ha Shinsung, why are you still here?”
“…….”
“Don’t use the suspended sentence as an excuse. You guys, if you put your mind to it, could churn out forged passports without even getting up.”
“…….”
“What, a love triangle? Did your father not take you along this time?”
“Shut up.”
Shin Haebeom grinned broadly. He could feel Ha Shinsung’s anger and despair.
“Where’s Jung Ryujin?”
“My house, my room. On my bed.”
“Don’t fuck around, you bastard! You’re hiding Jung Ryujin!”
“I just told you, I’m keeping him.”
“Cut the bullshit!”
“Don’t believe me if you don’t want to. Keep denying reality. It’s not like that’ll make him disappear from my bed.”
“You son of a…!”
“Jung Ryujin’s impotent.”
Ha Shinsung’s face went pale.
“You’d know if you touched him there. Must be because of that incident back then…”
Shin Haebeom didn’t finish his sentence. The kurt knife Ha Shinsung threw tore through his left ear and struck the concrete wall.
“…….”
Blood from the torn ear dripped down Shin Haebeom’s neck and shirt collar.
“Ouch.”
“Watch your mouth.”
Ha Shinsung was panting heavily.
“If you don’t want to die for real.”
If you thought coming face-to-face with an enemy armed with just a gun and a knife was enough, you were mistaken. A brawl was fine too. Ha Shinsung glared at Shin Haebeom. He wasn’t the only one who’d clawed his way up from the mud.
Shin Haebeom was selfish. He thought he was the only one suffering, the only one struggling. Had that bastard ever considered why his father made that choice?
“You think we had it easy?”
Ha Shinsung shouted.
“You think I was living like a crown prince in China?!”
The moment he took a step forward, a piercing alarm blared, shrill enough to tear his ears.