BAI Ch 13

Ryujin pressed the back of his hand against his warm eyelids.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes…”

“You don’t have to hold it in.”

“I’m okay, really… Really, I’m okay.”

Shin Yena didn’t pry. She simply stroked Ryujin’s trembling back gently. The Jung Ryujin she was with wasn’t the younger brother of the infamous femme fatale Ryu Yeonbi, nor a vicious terrorist. He was a child who cried over a good, satisfying meal. Shin Yena wanted to erase the last clause of the <Siren> project—the “dispose of after completion” clause—from her mind.

✶⋆.˚

There seemed to be a monumental chasm between nineteen and twenty. Otherwise, there was no way someone could suddenly become the center of the world simply by being a year older.

Kwon Sehyuk stared blankly at the schedule his uncle had given him. It was packed from six in the morning to eleven at night.

“Can you even manage this, Uncle?”

The older gentleman, looking dapper in his brown fedora, smiled.

“It’s perfectly manageable.”

He had heard about celebrities in their prime scheduling their time in ten-minute increments. At the time, Kwon Sehyuk had thought it preposterous. How could they be happy working when they were perpetually sleep-deprived? Weren’t they being driven to the brink of madness by overwork?

Kwon Sehyuk shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I told you, I can’t do this!”

“Such a lack of spirit in a young man like you.”

“If you work yourself too hard when you’re young, you’ll be riddled with health problems later. Do you want to see me keel over early, Uncle?”

“Stop making excuses and get ready.”

Secretary Im approached. Of all the villains his uncle had dragged along, he was by far the most intractable. He consistently rebuffed Kwon Sehyuk’s attempts to ask about his friends with, “That’s not something Your Highness should concern yourself with.” Just like last time. Frustration bubbled inside him, but he wasn’t brave enough to challenge the secretary in front of his uncle. Kwon Sehyuk swallowed his resentment and looked at his “outfit of the day.” It seemed that in the adult world, one was destined for some sort of divine retribution if not clad in a suit.

“Your Highness? Is there something you dislike about the outfit?”

The “designer” responsible for hair and makeup approached him. He was another one of his uncle’s villainous entourage. The ghastly mackerel suit he’d been forced to wear at his graduation party was his creation.

Kwon Sehyuk grumbled,

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? It creeps me out.”

“Then how should I address you?”

“My name! You do know my name, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but…”

He knew exactly what would follow.

“How could I dare address Your Highness by your given name?”

Kwon Sehyuk silently fiddled with the cuff of his suit. Despite being tailored to his tall frame and broad shoulders, it was horribly uncomfortable. He much preferred his sportswear, which he could wear without worrying about wrinkles or stains. His reflection in the mirror was a stranger. He tuned out the designer’s pronouncements of his dazzling handsomeness.

“Well? Doesn’t it look different when you try it on?”

“Next time, make the pockets bigger.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Inside pockets, if possible. I have a lot of things I need to carry.”

Kwon Sehyuk opened his desk drawer. He retrieved the cigarette case he’d hidden beneath a layer of thick cardboard and slipped it into his pocket. His uncle didn’t ask what it was.

Kwon Sehyuk went downstairs. Jang Seunghee, sipping her morning coffee, turned to look at him. Pride shone in her eyes as she looked at her eldest, who was usually dressed in his school uniform or rumpled athletic wear. Seated beside Jang Seunghee was his nine-year-old brother. The child, who was playing with a Rubik’s Cube, beamed when he saw Kwon Sehyuk and ran towards him. His uncle intercepted him before he could embrace his older brother as usual.

“Muhyeok, you’ve grown so much.”

Jang Seunghee responded,

“He’s still a baby. I think he’s even more clingy because Sehyuk is here.”

“What will he do now that his hyung will be busy?”

Kwon Sehyuk went to the dining table and downed a glass of cold water. He felt ridiculous, dressed to the nines, if he couldn’t even hug his little brother.

The child followed him to the front door. Kwon Sehyuk urged his frail younger brother to go back inside, lest he catch a cold in the draft.

“When are you coming back, Hyung?”

Kwon Muhyeok didn’t go to school. He had come to Gwangseong with Kwon Sehyuk, but unlike his older brother, who had quickly adjusted, he had struggled to make friends and remained isolated. His frail health and frequent illnesses were also a problem. In the end, Kwon Muhyeok had withdrawn from regular school and begun homeschooling. Kwon Sehyuk worried about his increasingly withdrawn younger brother.

“Will you be back before I’m done studying?”

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Kwon Sehyuk took the Rubik’s Cube that his brother had been fiddling with. He knew why he was struggling with it. It was a toy Kwon Sehyuk himself had played with when he was Muhyeok’s age.

“Here.”

“Wow!”

Kwon Sehyuk knelt and ruffled Kwon Muhyeok’s hair as the boy looked up at him with wide, admiring eyes.

“Can you be brave while I’m gone? Study hard.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Promise.”

Kwon Sehyuk held out his pinky finger. Kwon Muhyeok solemnly linked his pinky with his brother’s. A faint smile touched Jang Seunghee’s lips as she watched her sons.

Kwon Muhyeok had been born when Kwon Sehyuk was eleven. Jang Seunghee remembered how the boy’s hands had trembled as she’d placed the baby in his arms. Kwon Sehyuk, on the verge of tears as he’d marveled at how small and fragile the baby was, had grown into an overprotective older brother. It was little wonder, then, that with his brother constantly hovering over him, Kwon Muhyeok had become increasingly dependent.

Kwon Muhyeok had a therapist specializing in child psychology. The therapist had assured them that there was no need to be overly concerned about Muhyeok’s dependency, as he was still young. But Jang Seunghee disagreed. Even if he couldn’t contribute to his older brother’s future, he shouldn’t hold him back.

Kwon Sehyuk was a fledgling dragon, just beginning to test his wings. She didn’t know yet whether he would seize the yeouiju and ascend to the heavens, or remain earthbound as an imugi, a proto-dragon who failed to achieve his true form. Jang Seunghee silently watched the taillights of the departing car.

✶⋆.˚

On his first day at Howollu, Ryujin slept the entire day.

He didn’t eat, he didn’t use the bathroom. Aside from waking briefly to drink a glass of water from the pitcher by his bed, he hadn’t moved from under the covers. He felt Shin Yena come to his room at dusk and stroke his head, but he was too exhausted to even open his eyes. A wave of fatigue washed over him.

The clock on the wall showed 5:00 AM.

Ryujin groaned as he sat up. The floor was warm. The pale light of dawn filtered in through the window. Ryujin took in the room properly for the first time.

The bedroom Shin Yena had given him was cozy. It wasn’t large, but it was more than enough for one person. He liked the heavy cotton bedding, and the en-suite bathroom.

Ryujin reached for his toothbrush, then hesitated. It was a clean and tidy room, yet it bore the undeniable imprint of someone’s presence. It didn’t feel like a hotel room used by countless guests, or a guest room that had stood empty for a long time. Could it be…

Ryujin opened the bathroom cabinet. He found men’s toiletries: disposable razors, shaving cream. There was also a small first-aid kit, cotton swabs, and wet wipes. The bottle of lotion he found tucked away at the back was about two-thirds full. Ryujin poured some into his palm and sniffed. He knew.

This was Shin Haebeom’s room. The room he used whenever he came to Howollu.

Ryujin tossed the toothbrush he’d been holding into the trash and angrily tore open a disposable one. He felt guilty towards Shin Yena, but he needed this small act of defiance.

Ryujin took the first-aid kit and went back into the bedroom. He dried himself and looked at his reflection. He looked dreadful. He sighed. He was just about to apply a pain relief patch when he heard a knock.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. I brought you some breakfast. What are you doing?”

It was Shin Yena. Ryujin hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head.

“One minute!”

The door opened, and Shin Yena entered, carrying a tray in both hands. She smiled when she saw Ryujin holding the first-aid kit.

“I’ll… I’ll do it.”

“It’s hard to reach your back. You won’t be able to apply it properly, and it’ll just end up all wrinkled. Give it here.”

“……”

“What are you waiting for? Are you going to stick it on over your clothes?”

Ryujin lifted his shirt. Shin Yena winced. His back, so thin his shoulder blades protruded, was a tapestry of purplish bruises. Some relatively recent, others faded scars…

“Did Oppa do this?”

“It’s… Don’t worry about it.”

“I am going to worry about it. That’s my job.”

Ryujin didn’t reply. As Shin Yena applied the patches to Ryujin’s shoulders, sides, and lower back, she thought, two weeks was far too short.

“There, all done.”

“Thank you.”

Shin Yena set the tray down.

“This is porridge. I made it myself, I hope you like it.”

It was porridge laden with abalone and shrimp. Ryujin smiled, saying it smelled delicious just from the aroma.

“Thank you.”

“If you feel up to it after you eat, would you like to go for a walk outside? It’s not good to sleep too much, you’ll get a headache. The air is nice and fresh up here in the mountains.”

“Yes… Thank you.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

Ryujin smiled sheepishly.

He ate every last bit of the porridge. Shin Yena laughed, saying there was no need to wash the pot. As Ryujin stood, she pulled a thick cardigan from the closet and handed it to him.

“Put this on. It’s still chilly.”

Ryujin hesitated as he took the gray cashmere cardigan. He didn’t want to wear something that reeked of Shin Haebeom. But he also didn’t want to be rude to Shin Yena. He was in a truly awkward position. They were cousins, yet how could they be so different?

“Let’s go. I’ll show you the garden.”

“Garden?”

“It’s quite nice. Large. It played a big part in Howollu becoming famous.”

The annex where Ryujin was staying was quite a distance from the main building, but a shortcut inaccessible to cars allowed him to reach the main building quickly.

Tiled roofs appeared between the dense trees. Massive pillars, reminiscent of a temple, caught Ryujin’s eye. The red lanterns, which must have shone brilliantly all night, were being extinguished one by one.

“Ryujin.”

Shin Yena, who had gone ahead, beckoned him. Ryujin followed her. A faint scent of orchids wafted from somewhere.

Shin Yena walked silently. She clearly knew the layout of the place and the flow of people. He hadn’t encountered a single person while crossing the courtyard and walking down the corridors, even though business had just ended.

They finally reached the garden. Ryujin saw a huge fountain shooting up into the bright white lights, surrounded by a sea of flowers. His jaw dropped.

“Wow…”

Shin Yena said,

“The flowers change with the seasons. If you had come a little earlier, you could have seen the cherry blossoms… It’s a shame. It’s truly a spectacular sight then.”

It was more than enough now. He thought this must be what heaven was like. Ryujin walked towards the fountain, mesmerized. Dazzlingly white spray shot up into the sky and then fell in droplets. Shin Yena spoke from behind him,

“I really wanted to show you this.”

The sun was rising beyond the horizon. Pushing away the predawn darkness, heralding the start of a new day. Ryujin blinked, stunned. He thought this must really be heaven. Everything here was so beautiful… so happy. Unbelievably so.

“I…”

“Yes?”

Shin Yena looked at Ryujin’s hesitant face. His hair, damp from the fountain spray, and his long eyelashes, glittered in the rising sunlight.

“I want to stay here for a long time.”

“Me too. But that’s not up to me.”

“Oh, that’s not… that’s not what I meant.”

Ryujin spoke in a clear voice.

“I want to work here.”

Even if it was just for two weeks. If there was anything at all he could do.

Shin Haebeom’s voice on the other end of the phone was cold.

— What kind of work could he possibly do there?

“He’ll be bored being alone all day.”

— It’s not good for him to be seen by people.

“We’ll make sure he’s not seen. We can tell our staff to keep quiet.”

— If it were that simple, I wouldn’t be worried…

“He’ll stay in my office and just answer the phone. If anyone asks, we’ll say he’s a part-timer.”

— Read my proposal again. Where does it say anything about that?

“I’ve already reviewed it. I’ve confirmed that it allows for decisions at my discretion.”

Shin Haebeom sighed deeply. Shin Yena suppressed a laugh.

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen. He’ll just be quietly answering the phone and studying in the office. It’s not good for anyone to be cooped up in a room all day. It’ll make him sick.”

Shin Haebeom continued to sigh, but he finally gave in to Shin Yena’s persistent requests. Of course, he didn’t forget to add that she should take action if she noticed anything suspicious.

Shin Yena chuckled.

“He’s not that kind of kid.”

— Don’t judge a book by its cover. You know better than that.

“Ryujin is kind. And sensitive. I wish Oppa would treat him better.”

— You’ve already fallen for him.

“I have a weakness for pretty faces.”

— Just like me.

Shin Yena hung up the phone and thought, Shin Haebeom was truly an enigma.

Shin Haebeom judged people in two categories: those worth keeping, even if it meant reshaping them, and those to be used and discarded. Those currently by his side were the lucky ones who fell into the former category. Those who fell into the latter met a tragic end.

Which category did Jung Ryujin belong to? Considering <Siren>, it was likely the latter. But not everything went according to plan. If it did, life would be easy. There were no perfect people in the world, and no perfect plans. There were always variables in life.

The question was whether one could recognize and prepare for them.

Shin Yena returned to the office. She carried a shopping bag containing a new uniform, a hat, and a pair of soft-soled shoes designed for quiet movement.

“Ryujin, try this on. I guessed your size, but I think it should fit.”

“Okay.”

Ryujin, who was sitting on the sofa, stood up.

“This is a uniform?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

A white shirt and black trousers. While it was still a uniform, designed to erase individuality, it was much lighter than the Disciplinary Training Camp uniform. He especially liked the comfortable shoes.

“How is it? Does it fit?”

“Yes, it fits well.”

It was actually a little big. The trousers were loose around his waist because he was so thin compared to his height. But there was a belt, and he was sure to gain a few kilograms quickly with all the food he was eating. As Ryujin adjusted his clothes, a sudden sense of unease stopped him. He wondered, whose approval was he seeking?

✶⋆.˚

He did facial exercises in the car. His uncle had told him that people often looked worse on camera than in real life. Although he had been briefed on the route to the podium for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, there was no guarantee that everything would go according to plan. He was told to maintain a relaxed smile and a calm demeanor, even if something unexpected happened. Listening to his uncle, Kwon Sehyuk felt like a child being led by the hand. Who was he, really, if he was treated as an adult by some and a child by others?

Kwon Sehyuk looked out the window. Thanks to the tinted windows, no one outside could see in, but the sight of the throng of reporters and cameras was intimidating. The thought of having to live like this made him feel suffocated. Kwon Sehyuk stared at the gray building in front of him.

“A library named after me has appeared without my knowledge.”

“It’s a gift for your twentieth birthday.”

“Did it really have to be built here? If it’s a national library, shouldn’t it be located somewhere on the outskirts with a larger population?”

“Then it wouldn’t be as visible. And the transportation wouldn’t be as convenient.”

“That’s what I mean by unfair. All the public institutions and amenities are concentrated in the central areas.”

His uncle smiled benevolently and nodded, but he didn’t seem to be taking Kwon Sehyuk’s words seriously.

Secretary Im, sitting in the passenger seat, turned around.

“Your Highness, we’re on standby.”

“I told you not to call me that…!”

He didn’t have time to complain. Kwon Sehyuk was practically pushed out of the car.

“Oh.”

The barrage of camera flashes was overwhelming. He felt like he was going blind. He instinctively turned his head away from the lenses, only to have a camera shoved in his face. Questions bombarded him as he walked. Kwon Sehyuk was completely disoriented. Was he supposed to give an interview? His uncle had told him to go straight to the podium.

Kwon Sehyuk hesitated, surrounded by the crowd. The podium was still a distance away, but he couldn’t move forward.

He remembered the advice his volleyball coach had given him. Trying to use your height and physique to your advantage in everyday life could easily lead to irreversible accidents. So always be careful, and be considerate of others.

Kwon Sehyuk was flustered. He wanted to ask his coach, who wasn’t here, what he should do in this situation. He could force his way through, but he was afraid of hurting someone.

Kwon Sehyuk’s neck and ears burned. Cold sweat beaded on his temples. Secretary Im, watching from inside the car, spoke.

“General, what should we do?”

“Good grief…”

“I’ll go out there.”

Shin Haebeom, who was behind the wheel, said. Kwon Joohyuk clicked his tongue.

“You always were good at this from the start, Haebeom.”

“His Highness is still young, isn’t he?”

The front door of the official vehicle opened. Shin Haebeom, Director of the Disciplinary Training Camp, emerged. Dressed in full uniform, including his cap, he extended a hand to Kwon Sehyuk, who was hesitating amidst the reporters. His movements were precise, his smile bright. He was the perfect picture of a prince’s escort.

“There’s no need to be alarmed. These people are all here for you.”

A moment of silence fell, and then cheers and gasps erupted from the reporters.

It didn’t matter that they hadn’t been informed of Shin Haebeom’s appearance beforehand. The sight of two handsome men walking side by side was more than enough compensation for the hours they’d spent waiting. It was a picture-perfect moment. And picture-perfect moments always sold.

“A pleasing sight.”

Kwon Joohyuk stroked his chin, satisfied. He was pleased with his creations. Shin Haebeom and Kwon Sehyuk. Kwon Sehyuk and Shin Haebeom.

The majestic national anthem played. Kwon Sehyuk mimicked Shin Haebeom’s actions. His heart pounded with nervousness.

When the introductory speech by President Kwon Joohyuk’s aide ended and it was his turn, Kwon Sehyuk instinctively looked at Shin Haebeom below the podium. Shin Haebeom tipped his cap slightly and mouthed the words silently.

You’re, doing, great.

Kwon Sehyuk’s face brightened. He recalled the speech Secretary Im had written for him, the speech he had memorized last night.

Cameras broadcasting the event live glittered nearby. Everyone was watching him. Kwon Sehyuk swallowed and slowly began to speak.

“To the citizens who have joined us here today…”

Howollu was also known as Yeonji-dong. The building, formerly a gisaeng school, had been purchased by Shin Haebeom, Director of the Disciplinary Training Camp. At the time, it had caused quite a stir because he had bought not only the main building but also the entire seventeen-acre site and the thirty or so annexes. It was an impulsive purchase, made without considering the location or investment value, and experts discussed Shin Haebeom’s motives for a while. The fact that the entire purchase had been made in cash fueled rumors that it was a government redevelopment project. Of course, Kwon Joohyuk, the president’s aide, remained silent on the matter.

The public’s questions were soon answered. The old, dilapidated traditional house underwent extensive renovations and was transformed into a high-class restaurant. Of course, with its exorbitant prices, it wasn’t accessible to everyone and catered to prominent figures in politics and business, as well as professionals in various fields.

Howollu’s basic operating policy was a members-only reservation system, and from 10 PM, when the second round of evening service began, they only accepted members of a certain rank or higher. These customers were managed exclusively by Shin Yena. They were familiar with Howollu’s policies, so there was no need for separate guidance.

Ryujin’s job was to answer the phone when Shin Yena was unavailable. The manual was so simple it was almost embarrassing to call it a manual, and Ryujin memorized it all in less than an hour.

Shin Yena was impressed by Ryujin’s quick memorization skills. But Ryujin wasn’t entirely happy about it. It felt like Shin Haebeom’s military-style education was paying off.

“Tomorrow is our day off. Let’s go get your hair done.”

“Okay.”

Ryujin touched his hair, which had grown long enough to cover his nape. It was messy and overgrown, the dye faded. His bangs, constantly poking his eyes, were also bothering him.

Shin Yena, looking at the reservation list, said,

“I have an important guest today, so I’m going to check on the arrangements. Can you watch the office for me?”

“Sure. See you later.”

“Call me immediately if anything happens. Okay?”

Shin Yena mimed holding a phone to her ear.

Ryujin flipped through the manual he had already memorized. He was about to rest his chin on his hand out of boredom when the phone rang. He quickly picked it up.

“Yeonji-dong.”

— This is Im Chanyeol. I’m calling to confirm a reservation for 7 PM today.

Ryujin checked the reservation list. Seven o’clock… Im Chanyeol. The entire 2nd-floor terrace had been booked. Five diners. Ryujin nodded and replied,

“Your reservation is confirmed. We look forward to serving you.”

The line went dead with a curt reply. Most customers were like this. Shin Yena had explained that diners rarely made reservations under their own names; it was usually their secretaries or aides who made the reservations in their own names. That, too, seemed to be a form of “security.”

Ryujin thought of the 2nd-floor terrace, which offered a panoramic view of the fountain garden. It was the best seat in Howollu, where a single meal cost the equivalent of a month’s worth of food for an ordinary family. The thought of just five people occupying that spacious area, which could accommodate twenty-five… It felt incredibly inefficient and selfish. Whoever they were, they were throwing their money around.

Shin Yena didn’t return for a while.

He must have dozed off briefly. The commotion outside the office woke Ryujin.

Ryujin sat up groggily. He looked at the clock; it was 6:30 PM. He was puzzled. The evening staff usually bustled around from five o’clock, when they started preparing for the first seating, until six o’clock sharp. Once the guests started arriving, they were supposed to stand at their designated positions, still as statues. Customer complaints were filed if the staff made too much noise.

Ryujin pulled his hat down lower. Judging by the time, it was the terrace guests. An unusual curiosity piqued his interest. He was bothered by the fact that Shin Yena had called them important guests. What kind of people warranted special treatment at Howollu, a place frequented by VIPs?

Ryujin made his way to the back door on the first floor, avoiding the staff’s eyes. He could go outside unnoticed if he went through the food storage warehouse.

As he turned the corner, he bumped into a staff member hurrying in the opposite direction. It was a female employee in a white chef’s uniform. The basket she was carrying fell, scattering fruits like bananas and melons across the hallway. Ryujin quickly crouched down and started picking them up.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking.”

“It’s okay. My fault too.”

“You seem busy. Are you preparing for the terrace guests? The seven o’clock reservation?”

“Oh, yes…”

The employee sighed deeply.

“It’s a family dinner for MVP. There was a last-minute change in the dessert, so we’re scrambling to get it ready. Apparently, one of the guests has a corn allergy…”

“MVP?”

“Oh, yes.”

The employee replied,

“Prince Kwon Sehyuk is coming.”

It wasn’t because he had any particular objective. It was simply curiosity. Perhaps Shin Haebeom had anticipated this and sent him to Howollu for this very reason.

Ryujin took off his shoes and hid them under the wooden floor of the veranda. He crossed the first-floor garden and went to the main entrance. From there, he slipped into the thick bushes, avoiding the security guards.

The enormous, ancient tree, which looked like it could be centuries old, complemented Howollu’s grand entrance gate. Ryujin hid behind the tree trunk and exhaled. His skills at navigating alleyways to avoid the Disciplinary Camp hadn’t dulled.

The staff lined up on both sides looked tense. Shin Yena, appearing with a walkie-talkie, spoke briefly with the manager before disappearing back inside.

Ryujin crouched behind the tree trunk and counted the red lanterns swaying in the wind. They seemed to shine even brighter than usual tonight, outshining the stars that dotted the dark sky.

Ryujin took off his hat and clutched it tightly. Sitting on the ground, he could feel the faint vibrations of the paved road. A procession of cars smoothly rounding the curve at a steady pace.

Only one thought occupied Ryujin’s mind. Seize the opportunity when it comes.

Three official vehicles entered in a row. They were identical, making it impossible to tell them apart. The fear of assassination attempts was the same for celebrities in any era. It was the weight of the crown that those in power had to bear.

The moment he saw the person emerge from the first car, Ryujin almost cried out.

It was Shin Haebeom and the Disciplinary Training Camp trainees. Shin Haebeom, impeccably dressed in his uniform, walked over to the second car and opened the door.

An elderly gentleman in a trench coat and brown fedora stepped out. He was followed by an elegant woman in a flowing chiffon dress, the click of her high heels echoing in the air. Shin Haebeom naturally escorted the woman.

A sneer appeared on Ryujin’s lips as he watched them.

Serves you right, Shin Haebeom. Acting all high and mighty, only to end up as a glorified handbag holder for some rich lady.

Sweat beaded on his palms. Ryujin wiped his hands on his knees and focused on the third and final car. His heart pounded.

The door opened.

The moment the passenger emerged felt stretched out in slow motion.

Ryujin covered his mouth. His heart felt like it would leap out of his chest. The picture of Kwon Sehyuk that Shin Haebeom had shown him flashed vividly in his mind. The gray school uniform, the colorful bouquet, the bright smile. The boy who smiled, built on the sacrifices of so many.

There were two people. This was unexpected. One of them was Kwon Sehyuk, but he had a small child with him. Seven or eight years old, perhaps. The child reached out to Kwon Sehyuk, calling out, “Hyung!” The high-pitched voice, typical of a young child, carried clearly even from a distance. Hyung. Hyung.

Kwon Sehyuk was tall. About the same height as Shin Haebeom. He looked strong, too, matching his physique. Kwon Sehyuk effortlessly scooped the little boy up with one arm and held him close.

The child wrapped his thin arms around Kwon Sehyuk’s neck and nuzzled his face against him. He looked happy. They were a truly affectionate pair of brothers.

Ryujin watched Kwon Sehyuk. He now understood why he was called MVP. He had the physique of an athlete, a soldier. It was hard to imagine him in any other profession. He couldn’t believe this guy, with a build similar to Shin Haebeom’s, had been in high school just a few days ago.

Kwon Sehyuk didn’t exude the immaturity of someone barely out of their teens. He was perfect, dazzling, radiant, as if he’d been born that way. He shone so brightly it was almost painful. It was exhausting just to look at him from afar.

Ryujin, hidden behind the tree trunk, watched Kwon Sehyuk smile, running a hand through his well-groomed hair. Howollu’s dazzling lights awaited him. The whole world seemed to shine on him.

Kwon Sehyuk hugged his younger brother tightly. The elderly gentleman and elegant lady walking ahead, even Shin Haebeom, turned and smiled at the blessed siblings.

Ryujin clenched his fists. Unspoken words festered beneath his tongue.

Noona, they look so happy.

Shin Haebeom said with a bright smile,

“Thank you for inviting me to this honored occasion.”

“We would have been in trouble without you today, Haebeom.”

Kwon Joohyuk handed him a gold envelope bearing the Shinryonggwan seal. Shin Haebeom jumped to his feet and bowed deeply, as if about to knock his forehead on the table.

“It’s an honor. I’m overwhelmed by your constant consideration for someone as insignificant as myself.”

“It shows how much I trust you. I’ll be counting on you to take good care of Sehyuk.”

Shin Haebeom’s smile deepened. The old man’s increasing meticulousness was suspicious. He used to act as if he’d trust him with his life on the battlefield, but now he was paying for every single action and drawing lines. Was he saying that now that he’d put his prized racehorse on the track, the mongrel should step aside?

As he pocketed the envelope, Shin Haebeom thought, Don’t get any funny ideas, unless you want to see a bullet hole in your precious racehorse’s belly.

Of course, Shin Haebeom was capable of saying one thing while thinking another.

“It’s an honor, I assure you. I’m happy to be of service to His Highness. I will continue to serve him to the best of my ability for the remainder of his schedule.”

Jang Seunghee chimed in,

“I was so nervous watching the broadcast… He’s never been in front of so many people before.”

Shin Haebeom put on a gentle smile and pretended to listen attentively to Jang Seunghee. But his attention was focused on the annoying little boy clumsily handling his chopsticks beside her.

He was a cute kid. Cute enough to make him want to smack him.

He’d been a nuisance since they left the house in Shin-gye-dong, complaining of car sickness and headaches, forcing them to stop the car several times. If he wasn’t feeling well, he should have stayed home… The little brat had no idea how much effort went into transporting a member of the royal family.

The twenty-year-old brat across from him was just as naive. Shin Haebeom looked at Kwon Sehyuk’s exceptionally glossy brown hair. Well-fed and with good hair, too…

Shin Haebeom looked away. He felt like he would vomit if he continued looking at these people while eating. Just sitting at the same table with President Kwon Ilhyuk’s brother, wife, and son made his stomach churn. He wanted to fry them alive in oil.

A gust of wind rustled the branches. Shin Haebeom’s face hardened as he looked down at the garden on the first floor. He excused himself mid-meal and stood up. He subtly showed the lighter hidden in his palm to his adjutants who asked what was wrong.

Of course, the cigarette was an excuse. From the second-floor terrace, Shin Haebeom had seen him. Jung Ryujin’s small face, peering up at him from behind the dense foliage.

He recognized him instantly, despite the hat. Jung Ryujin, whose swelling had subsided considerably, revealing his original slender face, looked much healthier than he had at the Disciplinary Training Camp. He wanted a closer look.

Shin Haebeom walked quickly down the hallway, too preoccupied to smile at the staff he passed. His heart pounded. That damn brat, he’d sent him away to recuperate, and he was causing trouble again.

Shin Haebeom approached Ryujin silently. It wasn’t difficult for a trained soldier to conceal his presence. Ryujin didn’t notice him until he was right next to him, seemingly fixated on Kwon Sehyuk on the second-floor terrace.

Seeing him up close made the situation even more absurd. He looked like Romeo spying on Juliet.

Shin Haebeom grabbed Ryujin’s arm and pulled him into the shadows.

“Ah!”

“What are you doing wandering around?”

Contrary to his expectations, Jung Ryujin replied in a surprisingly calm voice,

“I was curious to see him in person.”

“Does Yena know you’re sneaking around like this?”

“Noona doesn’t care. I’m leaving now anyway.”

“You’re disappointing, Jung Ryujin. Yena took a liking to you and went out of her way for you, and you’re going to betray her like this?”

“Don’t tell Noona. No one else saw me.”

“But I saw you.”

Ryujin’s voice grew quieter.

“How did you find me?”

“Wearing a hat pulled down low like that only makes you stand out more.”

Shin Haebeom’s finger tapped the brim of his hat.

“Stop it.”

“I tend to want to do things even more when I’m told not to.”

“Asshole.”

“You’re only just realizing that now?”

Thud. Shin Haebeom’s right hand grabbed Ryujin’s neck and shoved him against a tree trunk. The rough bark scraped against his back. Ryujin gritted his teeth.

“Let go of me.”

“Scream. Let’s see if anyone comes to help you.”

“Leave me alone, you crazy bastard.”

“I was going to, but you caught my eye.”

Shin Haebeom removed Ryujin’s hat with his left hand. His face, revealed in the dim light, looked better than expected. He was newly impressed by his own fist-fighting skills. Hitting someone without breaking bones was a skill not everyone possessed.

“You’ve gotten prettier, Jung Ryujin.”

“……”

“But you need a haircut. How about getting one like MVP? Oh, maybe that aristocratic style wouldn’t suit you.”

Ryujin swung his arm. It was unexpectedly strong. Shin Haebeom let out an “Oh” and stepped back.

“Give it back.”

He snatched his hat back with the swiftness of a swallow. Seeing him practically crush the hat onto his small head, Shin Haebeom burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Have you been well?”

A bewildered look appeared on Ryujin’s face.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Is it so strange to ask how you’re doing?”

“It is. It’s creepy. Don’t talk like that.”

“Fine. I’ll greet you with my fist if that’s what you prefer.”

Ryujin muttered, looking down, Don’t be scared. It’s okay, don’t be afraid. What’s Shin Haebeom going to do to me here?

“Kwon Sehyuk, no, MVP… Why didn’t you tell me he had a younger brother?”

Shin Haebeom’s eyes narrowed. That’s why he hadn’t been surprised to see him. The little sneak had been spying on them from the start. He didn’t know where he’d been hiding, but the fact that he had managed to get near the second-floor terrace where MVP and his party were dining without being detected meant he’d already figured out Howollu’s layout and the staff’s movements.

If he hadn’t glanced down at the garden… he would’ve been completely oblivious. Shin Haebeom’s lips twitched. He felt like Ryujin had gotten one over on him.

“What?”

“I’m asking why you didn’t tell me MVP has a younger brother.”

“Why? Did seeing that make you waver?”

It hit a nerve. Shin Haebeom clicked his tongue, looking at the speechless Ryujin.

“What good are you if you’re so easily swayed?”

“It’s not that, it’s just that I didn’t know…!”

“And what do you know about MVP?”

Shin Haebeom reached out and removed Ryujin’s hat. He ruffled his overgrown hair and smiled.

“Don’t get any wrong ideas. Who’s worried about whom here?”

“I’m not worried!”

“Know your place, Jung Ryujin.”

Ryujin flinched as Shin Haebeom brushed his bangs aside and gently pressed the burn on his temple.

“Imagine. While you were grieving the loss of your noona, what was that kid doing? Where was he living? What kind of food was he eating? Whose protection was he growing up under… I endured by thinking about those things.”

“……”

“They don’t even know who they’ve stepped on. They think their background is their destiny, their good fortune. How could they possibly understand? They’ve probably never experienced failure in their lives. Never had to give up on something they wanted, never lost something precious. But you and I are different.”

Shin Haebeom caressed Ryujin’s cheek.

“Let’s teach them a lesson.”

He traced Ryujin’s lips with his thumb, then gripped his chin and turned his head. Their noses almost touched.

Ryujin closed his eyes. The scent of cigarettes, cologne, and the familiar lotion washed over him.