BAI Ch 26

“Hyung, when someone apologizes, at least pretend to listen.”

“Fine, let’s just head back.”

Ryujin had no choice but to look up at the 192-centimeter-tall Kwon Sehyuk. It was humiliating, but lowering his eyes to stare at the ground felt even more degrading.

Dark clouds gathered in the gloomy sky. The air clung stickily to his skin. It looked like another downpour was coming.

After a long pause, Kwon Sehyuk let out a sigh.

“Alright.”

He didn’t get into the driver’s seat but climbed into the passenger side. He slammed the car door so hard that the entire Jeep shook.

“What the hell!”

Ryujin pounded on the passenger window.

“Hey! Kwon Sehyuk!”

The window rolled down.

“What.”

“Get out.”

“You said to head back. Changed your mind?”

“You’re the one who messed up. You called me a parasite first, so why are you the one getting mad?”

“If I get out, do you know what’ll happen to you, Hyung?”

Ryujin flinched. Kwon Sehyuk moved. Stepping out of the passenger side, he looked even taller than usual. It felt like he was over two meters tall.

“I’m out.”

Kwon Sehyuk crossed his arms and stood firm.

“Say what you’ve got to say. I’ve got things to say too.”

“You…!”

“I like you.”

“What?”

Ryujin’s knees buckled. Kwon Sehyuk reached out to steady him. His voice and gaze were different now. Earlier, he’d seemed like a dragon ready to breathe fire, but now he was like a large dog with drooping ears and a wagging tail.

Kwon Sehyuk sat Ryujin in the driver’s seat, took the passenger seat, and fastened his seatbelt.

“I think I really like you, Hyung.”

“What nonsense is that?”

“I was just pretending to be mad earlier. I thought if I got mad, you’d… pay attention to me.”

“You crazy bastard!”

“I know. I totally messed up the approach. But I succeeded a little, right?”

“Succeeded at what!”

“You’re laughing right now.”

Ryujin was at a loss for words.

“…I am?”

“Yeah.”

Kwon Sehyuk grinned, pointing at the rearview mirror. Ryujin flinched, realizing he was indeed smiling. How.

I’m smiling because of Kwon Sehyuk.

What would Shin Haebeom say if he saw this?

“Be careful, Hyung. If you crash with me in the car, it’s execution.”

“You call that a joke!”

Ryujin started the car confidently, but whether it was Kwon Sehyuk’s grim joke or his own novice driver’s anxiety, he didn’t get far before pulling over to the shoulder.

Ryujin let out a small laugh and restarted the engine. They’ve already taken everything from me, so you think I’d be scared of that?

Sweat beads on his temple slid down his cheek. The veins on Ryujin’s hands, gripping the steering wheel tightly, stood out.

“You okay, Hyung?”

“Don’t talk to me…”

Kwon Sehyuk regretted it. He’d clearly provoked him the wrong way.

“Hyung, I’m sorry. That execution talk was a lie. I mean, there’s a law like that, but you think I’d let you get executed?”

Ryujin’s face was pale. His clenched jaw and stiff neck showed his tension. Kwon Sehyuk placed a hand on Ryujin’s shoulder, who was breathing heavily.

“It’s because it’s your first time. Everyone’s like that at first. And this isn’t even your car. Plus, I’m right here. So, Ryujin Hyung, this isn’t because you’re stupid. Got it?”

“Don’t make me talk.”

“Hyung…”

Kwon Sehyuk’s shoulders slumped. He looked at Ryujin’s hand clutching the steering wheel. His knuckles were white, veins bulging on the back of his hand.

“Hyung… what do I have to do for you to forgive me?”

“…”

“Ryujin Hyung…”

Now he was practically begging. Kwon Sehyuk gently shook Ryujin’s arm.

“Hyyung.”

If this didn’t work, he’d have to mimic his nine-year-old sibling’s tone next.

“Hey.”

“Huh?”

“It’s raining now, isn’t it?”

“Oh…”

Kwon Sehyuk looked out the window. The weather had been bad since morning. It seemed to clear up when they reached the guitar shop, but dark clouds were rolling in again, and raindrops were starting to fall.

“Yeah. It’s raining.”

“Doesn’t rain make driving harder?”

“Yeah. Especially for beginner drivers like us…”

Kwon Sehyuk deliberately said “us,” hoping to ease Ryujin’s mind even a little.

“Then… let’s take a break.”

“Huh?!”

“Let’s rest a bit.”

“But, Hyung… you just said we need to head back.”

Kwon Sehyuk scratched his cheek with a finger. Of course, return time didn’t matter to him. The issue was Ryujin’s words. Suggesting a break.

This is that thing, isn’t it? The trick a player uses to sweet-talk an innocent kid…

“What are you thinking? I mean there.”

Ryujin’s finger pointed straight at the middle of the window. Kwon Sehyuk leaned toward the driver’s side.

“There?”

Ryujin nodded, his face tense.

“Oh, come on!”

Kwon Sehyuk burst out laughing.

With such a grave tone, he thought they were heading somewhere grand. But the place Ryujin pointed to was just a common coffee shop on the street.

Kwon Sehyuk racked his memory. There was a hotel not far from here. If they were going to have coffee, he wanted to take Ryujin somewhere nicer than a random street café. But Ryujin had already bolted out of the driver’s seat. Kwon Sehyuk laughed, watching Ryujin charge toward the café, his ball cap’s loose strap flapping because it was adjusted to the smallest size for his small head.

“What the heck, really.”

Kwon Sehyuk chuckled dryly. You don’t need to rush; I’m not changing my mind.

The café was crowded. Kwon Sehyuk pulled his mask up to his nose and scanned the surroundings. Ryujin was standing in front of the cake display.

“Hyung.”

“You’re here? I want that chocolate cake.”

“Order one of each kind. No allergies, right?”

“Nope. And I don’t need that much.”

“Oh, come on, you gotta eat a lot to keep that guy in your stomach fed.”

Ryujin’s fist landed in Kwon Sehyuk’s stomach. He clutched his abdomen, letting out a dramatic, “Huuh, huuh,” wail.

A couple waiting behind them gave strange looks. Ryujin hurriedly lowered his eyes and pulled his cap down. Kwon Sehyuk placed the order.

“One of each cake and donut, and two cappuccinos. We’re eating here.”

Then, pointing at Ryujin, he added.

“This guy’s eating it all.”

Ryujin sank deep into the sofa. He shoved a whole donut in his mouth and chewed. While eating, he scanned the trays Kwon Sehyuk held in both hands, eyes calculating what to eat next.

“I’m not stealing it. It’s all yours, Hyung.”

Kwon Sehyuk pushed the entire tray in front of Ryujin.

“You’ve got sugar on your lips, Hyung.”

“…”

“Eat slowly. No one’s taking it.”

“…”

“Have some coffee too. You’ll choke.”

“…”

“Are you really not gonna talk to me, Hyung?”

Ryujin swallowed the donut with coffee and glared at Kwon Sehyuk’s brown eyes.

“How am I supposed to talk while eating!”

“Oh, sorry. Sorry.”

“And don’t talk to me since I’m a parasite-infested pig.”

“Hyyung.”

Kwon Sehyuk covered his face with both hands. A timid voice leaked through his fingers.

“I’m a dead man…”

“If you know, don’t bother me.”

Ryujin reached for the chocolate cake. Kwon Sehyuk offered a fork, but he didn’t take it. He ate messily on purpose. It was more out of defiance toward Shin Haebeom than Kwon Sehyuk. Shin Haebeom’s large hand, which would smack the back of his hand for the slightest breach of table manners, kept flickering in his mind.

“Hyung, look at me.”

It was a corner seat, out of sight. Partitions between the sofas provided some privacy. Kwon Sehyuk, resting his elbows on the table, leaned in and spoke.

“I’ve got something to say.”

Ryujin was unimpressed.

“Pigs can’t understand human words.”

“You’re not a pig. You’re a super handsome, beautiful person.”

“No, I’m a pig.”

“No way. I’ve met real pigs with nasty tempers. Come on, Hyung, just look at me.”

Ryujin finally met Kwon Sehyuk’s gaze.

“What’s it about?”

Kwon Sehyuk’s expression was grave. The sound of him swallowing hard was loud.

“I’ll tell you one of my secrets. As an apology.”

“Pass. It’s probably something trivial anyway.”

“No, it’s not. This is top-secret stuff. Sell it to a broadcaster, and it’d fetch a pretty penny.”

Ryujin put down the cake he was eating. His fingers were slippery with cream.

Top-secret?

Worth a lot if sold to a broadcaster?

Isn’t this exactly what Shin Haebeom wants?

Ryujin tried to act casual. He sipped his coffee, hiding his face with the cup. His heart swelled with anticipation. Things were falling into place too easily.

“What’s your secret?”

“When I was a kid, I got infected with parasites.”

“Cough!”

Cappuccino foam went up his nose. Ryujin coughed violently, shoulders shaking. Kwon Sehyuk, jumping up, wiped Ryujin’s face with a napkin.

“You okay, Hyung?”

“You’re really! Such a jerk, you! That’s your top-secret?!”

“I haven’t finished yet.”

“Like they say, you only see what’s in your own eyes. Since you had that happen, you keep calling me a parasite…”

“Why’re you like that? You didn’t even hear me out.”

Ryujin let out a deep sigh. No need to hear more. So much for things falling into place. What was I even expecting?

“When I was a kid, I was kidnapped.”

“Huh?”

“I was locked in an underground bunker. Those bastards didn’t feed me. So… well… you’re eating, so I’ll skip the details.”

It was a serious story, but it was hard to take seriously. The person telling it was smiling so casually, as if it were nothing.

Ryujin glared at Kwon Sehyuk’s tawny pupils.

“Don’t mess with me.”

“It’s true. The reason I’m telling you is, well, I keep worrying. If our mom ever messes with you, just expose this. You’ll be fine. This is something hardly anyone knows.”

Kwon Sehyuk’s voice grew quieter. He whispered secretly.

“Not even Uncle, or Haebeom Hyung, knows. Probably not Muhyuk either. He was still in Mom’s belly back then.”

The room had a door in the ceiling. Fifty centimeters wide, thirty centimeters long.

“It was an unlicensed underground bunker, built over a water vein. That’s where I was held.”

It was damp and clammy. The walls were tiled, but the ceiling and floor were bare concrete. Cockroaches, centipedes, and all sorts of bugs crawled around, and a pungent stench filled the air. It was impossible to call it comfortable, even as a lie. In that place, Kwon Sehyuk lived with tape wrapped around his face. Only his mouth, for speaking and eating, was left open. He didn’t scream or resist. He’d learned on the first day that it was pointless.

“I’m not lying to get your attention, Hyung.”

Kwon Sehyuk stuck out his tongue like a mischievous boy. The center of his tongue was noticeably scarred.

“What’s that?”

“Got scratched by a gun barrel.”

“…Why?”

“That guy was trying to shut me up.”

When Ryujin stared blankly, Kwon Sehyuk added with a bright smile.

“I put up quite a fight the first day.”

“…”

“The place I was in wasn’t even on the command’s maps. An unlicensed secret base, basically. Probably built during the war. There are more of those places than you’d think. Some get used as cult meeting spots… I don’t know much about that.”

Ryujin lowered his eyes.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Nah. It healed ages ago.”

Kwon Sehyuk scratched the bridge of his nose indifferently.

“There was probably a doctor or nurse among them.”

He didn’t know their faces or hear their voices. But “someone” disinfected and stitched his wound. The stitches dissolved inside his mouth. When his primary doctor later noticed the scar, he said it was fine. It didn’t hurt anymore. It had already healed.

“It’s no big deal. It bugs me sometimes, but.”

It happened in the port city of Jangjin. Jang Doohyun was furious that his grandson was kidnapped from his own yard. Having long been in politics, he had little trust in public authorities. To find his abducted grandson, Jang Doohyun took command himself, leading the investigation with his experience and connections.

Jang Seunghee didn’t oppose her father’s decision. She knew too. The Leader’s education policy was “the one who survives.” There were no guidelines in the succession war. To eliminate competitors, anything was fair game.

The group that kidnapped Kwon Sehyuk aimed for that. The Leader, who controlled the country as he pleased, had no time to coddle his children.

Survive on your own. Climb up on your own. The great nature of the earth doesn’t intervene in petty human squabbles.

Thus, the succession war favored those with strong maternal family backing. Kwon Sehyuk survived, rescued thanks to his maternal grandfather and the Jang family’s private forces. But if the kidnapped child’s maternal family had been ordinary?

Kwon Sehyuk poked at the cake Ryujin left behind with a fork.

“They say kidnappers are often someone you know.”

Jang Doohyun was certain from the start that it was a grudge-driven kidnapping. He believed the family shouldn’t show signs of distress. The investigation was kept strictly confidential. Even Jang Seunghee, pregnant at the time, calmly carried out her usual schedule. Jang Doohyun quietly but surely eliminated the Jang family’s competitors.

“Competitors?”

“Candidates for the next Leader.”

The Leader’s publicly known children were seven sons and four daughters. Only two were legitimate, registered in the family registry: Kwon Sehyuk and Kwon Muhyuk.

But not being in the registry didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Nine others were confirmed as blood relatives through DNA tests, excluding Kwon Sehyuk and Kwon Muhyuk. Gi Woohee was one of them.

“But there’re probably more. They just stay quiet because they want to live peacefully. Oh, and the dead don’t count.”

“Dead?”

“For example… you know Woohee Noona had two siblings, right? A girl and a boy.”

Ryujin clenched his fist to hide his trembling hand.

“To the Major…”

“Don’t misunderstand. It wasn’t our family’s doing. What was it, they starved to death, was it?”

“What?”

“No, wait. The boy died from illness, and the girl…”

Ryujin shot up from his seat. Kwon Sehyuk looked up with a blank expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t talk about the Major like that when she’s not here.”

Kwon Sehyuk nodded obediently.

“Got it. Sit down.”

Ryujin, fist clenched, fixed his gaze on the tips of his sneakers. Kwon Sehyuk’s calm voice continued.

“Know why I’m nice to Woohee Noona? Because she’s not my competitor.”

“…”

“What matters is proof of lineage. The registry. Only Muhyuk and I are listed there. But Muhyuk… honestly, he’s no match for me.”

Ryujin looked at Kwon Sehyuk with shocked eyes. He hadn’t expected him to say such things about his beloved younger brother.

“That kid’s too young. Weak.”

Kwon Sehyuk muttered.

“I survived that underground bunker. I was, what, ten or eleven? Can you believe it? An eleven-year-old kid trying to please kidnappers. Obeying, not crying, eating everything, enduring pain… The hardest part was pretending to be happy.”

“Pretending to be happy?”

“There was this guy who said it was just a game, that I’d go home soon. I pretended to believe him. I didn’t want them to think I was a troublesome kid. Kidnappers kill kids they find annoying.”

Kwon Sehyuk’s voice was cold.

“Muhyuk couldn’t do that. He’d die if something like that happened to him.”

Ryujin thought of the child he saw at Howollu. The kid who clung to Kwon Sehyuk’s neck. He didn’t look nine. Too small and skinny.

“But not me.”

Kwon Sehyuk said he learned something from that experience.

“To survive, you have to please others. Act good. Make them like you. When you’re weak, that’s all you can do.”

“When you’re weak…?”

“That’s how I survived and became this.”

Kwon Sehyuk thumped his chest.

“I’m not weak anymore. I survived and got this strong. Not just my body, but I can protect others too.”

When Kwon Sehyuk suddenly grabbed his hand, Ryujin jumped. He tried to pull away, but the grip was as strong as Shin Haebeom’s.

“I can protect others too.”

“…”

“When I was rescued, I got so much praise. Grandfather said I was smart and strong. Truly his blood.”

“…”

“I heard later that Mom was almost kidnapped when she was a kid too. The live-in nanny who raised her from infancy changed her mind and brought her back to the house.”

Losing a child wasn’t new for Jang Doohyun. That’s why he could stay calm during Kwon Sehyuk’s kidnapping.

Jang Doohyun’s life was a series of challenges, competitions, crises, and triumphs. Jang Seunghee had walked the same path as her father. And now, standing at the threshold of that struggle, was Kwon Sehyuk.

“You talk so easily.”

“Huh?”

“Even if it’s an old story… how can you talk about something like that to someone like me so… so casually?”

“Because I trust you.”

Kwon Sehyuk was smiling.

“Trust me?”

“You showed up when I needed someone. You knew exactly what I needed. Sometimes I wonder if you knew me from before. Before I got famous.”

I did know you.

Ryujin murmured to himself.

He recalled the photo of Kwon Sehyuk that Shin Haebeom showed him. Wearing a gray uniform from a prestigious high school, holding a large bouquet, smiling brightly like the sun.

The Kwon Sehyuk in the photo looked happy. Perfect. But the real Kwon Sehyuk wasn’t.

Gi Woohee loaded her gun. The bullet in the chamber was a blank. Still, it shouldn’t be aimed at people. But Gi Woohee’s muzzle was pointed at the head of a person marching at the front, holding a placard high.

“Major.”

Sung Jaekyung called out to Gi Woohee. She didn’t move. Why can’t I just mow them down with a machine gun? Corpses are easier to deal with than resistors.

“Major.”

“What.”

“Be careful.”

Gi Woohee didn’t respond. She only curled one side of her lips.

Bang! A shot pierced the sky, and screams erupted from all directions. The street shook. Buildings and utility poles trembled. Sung Jaekyung issued a suppression order impassively. Responses flooded through the radio. Tear gas, riot rounds, suppress, arrest. Crush all the rebels threatening the nation’s safety and survival.

Gi Woohee lit a cigarette. Sung Jaekyung quickly lit it for her. The large, black, tank-like military vehicle, inspired by water cannons, was exclusive to the Disciplinary Corps’ suppression team. Only three such vehicles existed in the Corps, named Mujo, Wana, and Yeongwol. Gi Woohee drove all three sisters but had a special fondness for Mujo, the first. It felt reliable somehow. Maybe because it was the eldest.

Sung Jaekyung, scanning ahead with binoculars, reported.

“They’re all armed with rebar and metal pipes. I see fire extinguishers inside the scrum. The barricade looks like machinery from a factory.”

Gi Woohee leaped lightly from Mujo. A click came from her gun. Having fired a blank, the chamber now held a real bullet. She aimed at the thigh of a man charging with a pipe from a distance.

“I’ll let you live.”

They were workers from factories forcibly demolished for Kwon Joohyuk’s Hwacheon district development project. Toothpaste factories, soap factories, all small-scale, but together, they made a sizable number.

Gi Woohee lowered her goggles and aimed. The trick to shooting protesters was targeting the thigh. The torso was too risky, and arms moved too much to aim accurately. The thigh was wide, and a bullet passing through was treatable. If luck was bad, it might hit the knee, but, well, why didn’t the guy stay home cooking and doing laundry?

Gi Woohee advanced, firing in bursts. Two shield-bearing team members followed. Shoot, reload, shoot, reload, shoot. Having quickly dismantled the frontline, Gi Woohee grinned. Worker protests had better armaments than student ones, but their scrums were looser. Lack of experience. Next time, watch how the college kids do it. If there is a next time.

“Major!”

A burning tire rolled toward them. Despite the rain, it burned fiercely, likely treated with chemicals. The protesters’ barricade caught fire too. Gi Woohee knew they were resolved, with nowhere left to retreat.

A helicopter flew over Gi Woohee’s head. Support from the military police. Shouts and screams erupted simultaneously from the protestors. They’d prepared with rebar, but there was no countering the tear gas sprayed from the helicopter.

“Major, Major!”

Gi Woohee elbowed Sung Jaekyung, who ran up holding a shield in one hand and a machine gun in the other.

“What?”

Sung Jaekyung was holding the shield like an umbrella.

“You can’t get hit by the chemicals.”

“Stop whining. Lower the shield. That’s not what it’s for.”

“You can’t get hit by chemicals.”

“Sergeant.”

Gi Woohee’s knee slammed into Sung Jaekyung’s abdomen. It happened in a blink. Sung Jaekyung dropped to his knees on the wet ground, coughing. Gi Woohee’s cold voice fell over him.

“Know your place, Sung Jaekyung.”

Jang Seunghee, with an irritated expression, gestured to her personal shopper. The employee, clutching a tablet, hurriedly turned off the television. He apologized quietly to Shin Haebeom, who’d been focused on the news.

“Sorry.”

Shin Haebeom gave the tense employee an understanding smile. The news he’d turned on was live footage of the Disciplinary Corps’ suppression operation. It reported that despite the state providing ample compensation, the Corps’ suppression team had been deployed to stop armed workers occupying the streets.

The personal shopper, deemed inferior to her predecessor by Jang Seunghee, seemed to wither every time Shin Haebeom saw her. She must be suffering from catering to a demanding client. Shin Haebeom felt a strange camaraderie with her. So he swallowed his complaints. Damn it, I can’t even watch TV freely.

Shin Haebeom stretched his long legs under the table. He hadn’t relaxed for nearly three hours. Maintaining a forward gaze and a ninety-degree posture made his joints creak. Worse, Jang Seunghee demanded he wear a formal dress uniform for their meetings. In the middle of summer, during this rainy season.

Shin Haebeom had brought a short-sleeved summer shirt in his bag, planning to change as soon as he was free from Jang Seunghee. Until then, he had to wear the heavy jacket laden with insignia. The VIP room’s state-of-the-art air conditioning and air purifier worked hard, but they were useless to a soldier who couldn’t remove his hat or jacket.

Shin Haebeom stared at Jang Seunghee’s slender back as she examined a jewelry box, wearing glasses. Thinking she’d be at it for another thirty minutes made him dizzy. Somebody save me.

Today, Jang Seunghee’s focus was jewelry. A ruby ring from Gold & Iron, a subsidiary of the Almighty Group. The dealer, Yoon Geumgang, flown in from Germany, was a woman with long, bleached blonde hair down to her waist, tanned bronze skin, and an impressive 180-centimeter height.

With her bold, clear voice, Yoon Geumgang talked about a massive diamond recently acquired by a German museum, keeping the mood lively. Jang Seunghee and her personal shopper listened, enthralled, giving Shin Haebeom a moment to breathe. The man slouched on the sofa across from Shin Haebeom seemed to feel the same.

Shin Haebeom silently observed him. The ID badge around the man’s neck read “Gold & Iron Secretariat,” but no matter how you looked at it, he wasn’t doing any secretarial work. A sharp gaze from beneath the brim of Shin Haebeom’s hat scanned the man’s face.

His appearance was strikingly similar to Yoon Geumgang over there, and even giving him the benefit of the doubt, he looked to be in his mid-twenties at most. His features were refined, but there was a youthful air about him. Fine fuzz was visible on his jaw and neck. Shin Haebeom thought to himself. He’s like Kwon Sehyuk.

Perhaps sensing the scrutiny, the man spoke first, his tone openly sarcastic.

“That’s a sharp uniform.”

The implication was whether it wasn’t hot in this weather. Shin Haebeom gave a faint smile.

“Are you new?”

“Just learning the ropes. My sister gets anxious if I’m not by her side.”

“She doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to you.”

“She’s someone who clearly separates work and personal matters.”

“For someone like that, she sure has a lot of hangers-on.”

The man was the type of person Shin Haebeom despised. A parasite living off others’ abilities. A hollow can who’s nothing without a powerful backer. He knows it himself. That’s why he holds his head high and looks down on others. Afraid his true worth will be exposed.

The man’s expression hardened. Shin Haebeom, not wanting to disrupt Jang Seunghee’s shopping, was satisfied with landing one blow and backed off.

“Gaining experience is a good thing.”

“Experience broadens your options. I hear that a lot.”

Shin Haebeom stared at the man’s ID badge and asked.

“What’s your name?”

Asking for a name clearly displayed on the badge implied distrust in the man’s identity. It was a question that could easily offend. But the man, showing no signs of displeasure, promptly pulled a business card from an alligator-skin wallet and handed it over.

“Yoon Taegeum.”

Shin Haebeom glanced at the three characters of Yoon Taegeum’s name, then gently placed the card on the transparent glass table. Both siblings’ names included “Geum” (gold). Their parents must have been obsessed with wealth.

“That’s a good name.”

“I hear that a lot too.”

“No, it really suits you.”

“May I ask your name?”

Shin Haebeom’s lips twitched. Excessive politeness could sometimes be grating.

“Shin Haebeom.”

“That’s a good name.”

“Think so?”

“Is it your real name?”

“Why?”

“It’s a fine name, but I couldn’t help but think a softer name might suit a handsome man like you better. Pardon my presumption.”

“Good thing you know it’s presumptuous.”

Shin Haebeom and Yoon Taegeum locked eyes. Their clenched jaw muscles twitched, and their gazes grew fierce. Shin Haebeom recognized the sensation prickling down his spine. Kinship disgust.

He gave a faint smile.

“I hope you learn a lot while you’re here. Have a good time.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

“Since your lady trusts you so much, I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of.”

“It’s more than I deserve.”

“More than you deserve?”

“This position doesn’t suit me to begin with.”

Yoon Taegeum leaned forward. Leaning toward someone while seated was a habit Shin Haebeom also had. Herbivores don’t do this. Only predators confident in their teeth and jaws make such a gesture.

“Your sister plans to make Gold & Iron a world-class jeweler, and she’s more than willing to bring me along on that journey, but truthfully, that’s not the field I’m interested in.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s closer to where you work.”

Shin Haebeom chuckled.

“You don’t strike me as someone with military ambitions.”

Yoon Taegeum tilted his chin up.

“I’m a mechanics expert.”

The bold confidence of a young predator. Shin Haebeom asked.

“The military and mechanics.”

The answer came immediately.

“Planning to build a robot army?”

“As expected. Being an active-duty soldier, you’re quick on the uptake.”

Are all pampered young masters like this? Shin Haebeom fell into thought. Kwon Sehyuk wasn’t the only one deluded into thinking everyone wants to like and befriend him. And Yoon Taegeum was a far worse breed of young master than Kwon Sehyuk.

Ignorance paired with bravery hurts the individual. But when intelligence is paired with deliberate mischief, the individual stays unscathed while those around them suffer. The scale of the damage depends on the troublemaker’s size, affecting individuals, cities, or entire societies. Sometimes, it shakes a whole nation. That’s civil war. If the conflict isn’t contained within borders, it becomes war.

“Should I pretend I didn’t hear that to put you at ease?”

Yoon Taegeum bowed his head.

“Thank you for your consideration.”

“Your sister must be worried.”

“She’s already scolding me. Says I’m a lost cause.”

“Let’s hope there’s no war in our generation.”

“Every day is a war, isn’t it? Isn’t it the same for you?”

Yoon Taegeum’s eyes flicked while he remained seated. His gaze landed on Jang Seunghee.

Shin Haebeom laughed silently. If he blew Yoon Taegeum’s head off with a revolver right here, would a future time traveler hail him as a hero for preventing a catastrophe? That was impossible to know.

Jang Seunghee liked the ring. As it was an extremely valuable item, Gold & Iron’s security vehicle transported it to her residence in Singyedong. Shin Haebeom intended to drive behind the security vehicle carrying the gold siblings, but Jang Seunghee, as if it were obvious, designated a different destination.

“Shopping takes a lot of energy. I want to rest for a bit.”

Shin Haebeom was reminded anew that he was a luxury handbag for a noblewoman. He’d briefly forgotten after meeting an unexpected kin. He didn’t know what kind of monster that young predator would grow into, but if a new government threatened the nation’s survival, Shin Haebeom was prepared to use any means necessary.

He hoped he wouldn’t come to regret today’s encounter.

Shin Haebeom blinked under the pouring cold water.

Every time he was intimate with Jang Seunghee, he thought of Jung Ryujin. He felt no guilt about it. The guy who’d have a fit if you gripped his arm too hard was, to put it bluntly, intensely stimulating. That was Jung Ryujin.

He didn’t dry off after stepping out of the bathroom. Soaked, Shin Haebeom charged to the bed. Doing his best at any given task was his specialty. Mastering that alone gets you halfway. Of course, to climb higher, you need something more. That’s why he was exerting himself to death like this.

Ryujin’s nape was small enough to fit in Shin Haebeom’s grip. The long neck supporting that small face trembled with every upward thrust. Licking that smooth neckline and sinking his teeth into the lean, angular shoulder was something Shin Haebeom greatly enjoyed.

The prominent shoulder blades, the taut muscles on the slender waist. The fists clenched to endure the pain looked too weak to crush even tofu. Hands like that couldn’t protect anything.

Shin Haebeom breathed heavily. He grabbed Jang Seunghee’s pale, slender hand on the white sheets. She let out a moan at the unexpected strength. Shin Haebeom, frowning, struggled to control himself.

Beads of sweat rolled down Shin Haebeom’s firm, supple neck. His taut collarbones rose and fell with every breath. Her long nails dug into his solid shoulders. He curled his lips into a wide smile.

For Shin Haebeom, pain was akin to pleasure. In front of an opponent he couldn’t punch, he could only stab his own thigh to bleed and suppress his urges. It was like a floodgate forcibly locked just before release. The surging water, blocked by a barrier, reversed its flow. Suppressed desires, energy soaring aimlessly into the void. Shin Haebeom realized his limit was near. Cracks were forming in the wall.

He buried himself deeply into Jang Seunghee, growling. He missed Jung Ryujin.

The return route was blocked. The radio reported that the roads were congested due to a protest that day. Kwon Sehyuk gave an awkward smile as he glanced at the passenger seat. Ryujin, with a box of cakes and donuts on his lap, was looking out the window.

“The roads are… kinda jammed.”

“Must be the rain.”

“Reminds me of the Fifth Central Hospital. Wonder if that middle schooler’s all healed.”

Ryujin fiddled with the purple ribbon tied around the box.

“Good thing it wasn’t a bad injury.”

“You got hit too, Hyung. My heart nearly stopped. Man, I should’ve gotten a good look at that guy’s face.”

“What would you do if you did?”

As Kwon Sehyuk opened his mouth to reply, the traffic light changed. He drove slowly to avoid the tires slipping. The rain grew heavier.

“They say the rainy season’s longer this year than last.”

Kwon Sehyuk said.

“There’s a typhoon coming too. It’ll hit the port cities hard. Well, Grandfather will handle it, I’m sure…”

“What’s the port city like?”

Kwon Sehyuk’s face lit up. He was thrilled that Ryujin showed interest in his hometown.

“It’s great. They call it the second metropolitan city, and it fits. Kids here think Jangjin’s just some backwater, but it’s not at all. Trends actually hit there faster. It’s got direct trade with foreign countries. The downtown’s wild. Feels like you’re abroad. You’ve got people speaking the local dialect, standard language, even foreign languages, all mixed together. Lots of foreigners too. Grandfather built a new hotel and resort, and the facilities are pretty nice.”

Hotels and resorts. Imagining wealthy people vacationing, Ryujin gave a bitter smile.

“Have you been there?”

“Nah. It was finished after I came up to Kwangseong. I could’ve gone during breaks, but sports kept me busy. Practice, compete, practice, compete… That world’s like that. You can’t skip practice. Rules are strict. The competition for a starting spot is insane. And the gossip’s sneaky bad. Hyung, can you believe it? They chewed me out for drinking water during practice.”

“To you?”

“They probably didn’t know I heard.”

Kwon Sehyuk spat out the words.

“Thinking about it now, it’s pathetic as hell. Why did I let those losers get to me?”

“…”

“I’m good now. All I need is you, Hyung.”

The destination came into view. The Disciplinary Corps’ twelve-story headquarters stood majestically in the pouring rain. The yellow dragon flag fluttered in the storm. Ryujin silently hugged the cake box.

Kwon Sehyuk attempted to enter through the back gate. Fear of obsessive fans thrusting face-sized cameras at the slightest glimpse of him had instilled unprecedented caution. The problem was that the back parking lot was filled with large vehicles like armored cars used in operations. After circling for a while, Kwon Sehyuk found a single empty spot far from the building’s entrance.

“Hyung, hold on.”

“What?”

Ryujin, turning casually, saw Kwon Sehyuk unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s no umbrella. Put this over your head, Hyung.”

“I’m fine. I’ll just run.”

“Still.”

No amount of protest worked. Kwon Sehyuk insisted on draping his shirt over Ryujin’s head. Before Ryujin could stop him, he leapt out of the driver’s seat. The short-sleeved tee he wore underneath got soaked, clinging to his body. His toned muscles, honed by sports, were visible through the wet fabric. Ryujin hurriedly got out of the passenger seat. Kwon Sehyuk grabbed his hand and shouted.

“Hyung, run!”

Ryujin ran instinctively. Reaching the building would bring relief. But before long, his frail body lost balance and stumbled. His foot slipped on the wet ground.

“Ah!”

The world tilted. As the sky and ground flipped, the image that flashed before Ryujin’s eyes was his smooth-soled Converse sneakers.

Now he understood why soldiers wore heavy, sturdy combat boots. Shoes that wouldn’t slip even running in the rain.

“Hyung!”

Kwon Sehyuk was running back toward him. Ryujin propped himself up on his elbow, barely standing. Water dripped from his face, soaked in a puddle. The cake box had flown off and was smashed. Seeing the snacks he’d planned to savor scattered on the asphalt, he choked up. Ryujin widened his eyes, holding back tears.

“Hyung, you okay? Let me see!”

Kwon Sehyuk, reaching him in a flash, helped Ryujin up. His brown eyes were brimming with tears.

“Hyung, I’m sorry. I let go of your hand.”

It wasn’t Kwon Sehyuk who let go. The moment Ryujin lost balance, he’d loosened his grip on their joined hands. There was no need to point that out. He didn’t have the mental space for it.

Ryujin breathed heavily. His limbs stung and burned. The rainwater soaking the ground mixed with red blood. Kwon Sehyuk, looking down, gasped. Ryujin’s knees and elbows were scraped raw from the asphalt.

“Hyung! You’re bleeding!”

“It’s fine. This much is…”

“Hospital, no, the infirmary. Get on my back!”

Ryujin pushed away Kwon Sehyuk’s shoulder as he tried to hoist him up. But Kwon Sehyuk insisted he had to be carried. As they argued in the pouring rain, a bright light flashed from the back entrance.

Six blue headlights sliced through the rain-soaked asphalt. Both turned simultaneously. Ryujin’s jaw dropped. The ground’s vibration traveled up his legs, hitting his spine.

A low, growling exhaust note, like a crouching beast.

The menacing roar of a powerful engine.

A door opened, spewing hot exhaust, and a fully armed riot officer stepped out.

Ryujin knew what that massive, black military vehicle was. A mix of tank, water cannon, and jeep, it was the Disciplinary Corps’ suppression team vehicle, trained to flee at the sound of during his <White Lion> days.

This was his second time seeing it up close. The first was the day Gwak Hyeonwoo was taken. Shin Haebeom, who’d tossed his precious person into a truck like luggage, had emerged from that very vehicle. Far more relaxed, even elegant. That’s how his bond with the devil began.

“Private Jung, you alright?”

Blinking through rain-soaked eyelids, Ryujin stared at Sung Jaekyung, who was supporting his arm. The smell of gunpowder lingered on his palm.

“Can you walk?”

Kwon Sehyuk, frowning, glared at Sung Jaekyung, who was holding Ryujin’s arm.

“Am I invisible, Sergeant Sung Jaekyung?”

Sung Jaekyung visibly faltered. Of course, Kwon Sehyuk didn’t wait for him to regain composure and apologize.

“Let go. Ryujin Hyung doesn’t like being touched carelessly.”

Sung Jaekyung returned to the suppression vehicle. Gi Woohee, smoking in the shooter’s seat, asked.

“How’s it look?”

“He’s wary of me.”

“Poor Kang Inwoo.”

“Sorry?”

“He’s ready to kill over one arm grab. Imagine how much he’ll guard against Kang Inwoo, sharing a room with him.”

Sung Jaekyung’s face lit up with realization.

“So that’s why the boss…”

“Distracting them from the real important stuff by focusing their attention elsewhere.”

Love triangles were like that. When it’s your drama, it’s maddening; when it’s someone else’s, it’s fun to watch.

“Let them fight it out. Whichever one falls, it’s good for us.”

“But, Major…”

“But what?”

“I think Ryujin will suffer a lot.”

“Pfft!”

Sung Jaekyung whipped his head around, unable to believe what he’d heard.

“Major?”

Gi Woohee laughed. She coughed loudly, choking on cigarette smoke. Her low voice mixed with the gray smoke she exhaled.

“Funny guy.”

“…”

“What’re you doing? Park the car.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sung Jaekyung looked at Ryujin’s back through the window as he walked away. Carried on Kwon Sehyuk’s back, he looked much smaller and frailer than Sung remembered.

Cold sweat beaded on Choi Yooshin’s neck. Kwon Sehyuk’s gaze felt suffocating. He’d read in an interview that Kwon Sehyuk named Shin Haebeom as his role model for the future. But it seemed he’d only picked up Shin Haebeom’s knack for intimidating others, not his good qualities.

Choi Yooshin tried to ignore Kwon Sehyuk’s piercing stare. Ryujin, throughout the disinfection, bit his lower lip and didn’t let out a single groan. Applying ointment to the cleaned wounds, Choi Yooshin said.

“Here, take this and apply it regularly. Don’t peel off the scabs. A lot of guys ignore minor injuries, and they get infected.”

“Yes. Thank you…”

Kwon Sehyuk, hugging Ryujin from behind and burying his face in his neck, grumbled.

“Enough lecturing…”

“Be quiet.”

“I know that stuff too.”

Ryujin elbowed Kwon Sehyuk’s side. Turning back with disinfectant and cotton, Choi Yooshin said impassively.

“I can hear you, Your Highness.”

“Don’t you usually poke and prod patients like that? Do you know how much trouble decent medical staff go through because of creeps like that?”

Ryujin’s face paled.

“Will you shut up?!”

“No, I’m saying. I’ve been watching this whole time.”

“Watching what? Don’t make up weird stuff.”

Choi Yooshin seriously considered reflecting on his gaze, voice, and subtle actions. At this point, it almost felt like he really had a problem… No way! It was the same thing Shin Haebeom did. If he weren’t a prince, Choi would’ve jabbed his tongue with tweezers.

Choi Yooshin spun around. His white coat fluttered. He pulled his cherished barley tea bottle from the fridge, poured two cups, and brought them over. Ryujin drank obediently, but Kwon Sehyuk only stared at the paper cup.

“Nothing’s in it. You can drink safely.”

To reassure the suspicious prince, Choi Yooshin took a sip first. Only then did Kwon Sehyuk touch the barley tea. He must’ve been thirsty; he downed the cup in one go.

“Another?”

“No thanks.”

Choi Yooshin was a mature adult. He could distinguish between polite refusal and genuine dislike. He handed the entire barley tea bottle to Kwon Sehyuk.

“Take it.”

Kwon Sehyuk silently poured more into his cup.

“Don’t like doctors?”

“Not really.”

“Then it’s me you don’t like. May I ask why?”

Kwon Sehyuk shrugged. Even that gesture was eerily identical to Shin Haebeom’s.

“I’m not into beating around the bush either. It makes people seem narrow-minded. So I’ll ask straight. What’s your deal with Ryujin Hyung, Captain Choi Yooshin?”

Ryujin, drinking barley tea, choked and collapsed. Choi Yooshin, incredulous, retorted.

“Excuse me?”

“You seem closer to Ryujin Hyung than necessary. Like you’ve known him forever.”

Ryujin flinched, but Choi Yooshin brushed it off casually.

“That’s just my style.”

“Your style?”

“I don’t treat Private Jung specially. I’m friendly with all Disciplinary Corps members. Everyone who comes to the infirmary is my patient, and patients shouldn’t feel uneasy about hospitals or doctors. Of course, some medical professionals take issue with this approach…”

Choi Yooshin gave a slight smile.

“I value communication between doctor and patient. When the situation allows, that is.”

Choi Yooshin said this and sipped his barley tea. Ryujin, wiping his face with a towel, gave Kwon Sehyuk an “I told you so” look. Kwon Sehyuk cleared his throat awkwardly.

Truthfully, Kwon Sehyuk didn’t particularly like doctors. A psychiatrist he’d seen as a child for therapy had criticized his carelessness and innocence. His younger sibling’s current physician, who frequented their Singyedong home, was strict and dogmatic. Far from the doctor-patient communication Choi Yooshin spoke of, he scribbled prescriptions with a tired, indifferent face.

Kwon Sehyuk hated those doctors. He thought they were incompetent. He’d lived believing it was better to search online and buy medicine than waste time with them.

Kwon Sehyuk sighed and said.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding. I apologize.”

“Thank you for understanding. I’ll serve Your Highness with utmost care. Feel free to visit anytime.”

Watching their clasped hands, Ryujin let out a sigh of relief.

Kwon Sehyuk insisted on carrying Ryujin on his back. No amount of protest worked. Walking down the hallway, Ryujin felt like he’d go insane from the stares. In the elevator, a circular space formed around Kwon Sehyuk and Ryujin on his back. Kwon Sehyuk thought it was his princely presence, but it was actually the musty smell from his half-dried body.

Kwon Sehyuk found Ryujin, burying his face in his back, adorable. He couldn’t help but smile. An employee who’d been sneaking glances at Kwon Sehyuk’s face looked puzzled by his smile, but he didn’t notice. Right now, Ryujin was all that filled Kwon Sehyuk’s mind. His weight, his warmth, his breath.

When the elevator reached the second floor, Kwon Sehyuk walked out with an almost entranced expression.

“Put me down now.”

Ryujin spoke in front of two facing doors, his voice heavy.

“Why? Rest in my room.”

“Sehyuk, please… I’m really tired.”

“That’s why I said rest in my room. Your bathroom’s tiny.”

Ignoring him, Kwon Sehyuk opened his door. Ryujin, seizing a moment when his grip loosened, wriggled free and hit the floor. As he tried to dart into his room, Kwon Sehyuk grabbed his arm.

“Why’re you running?”

“I’m not running…”

“Then what?”

Ryujin lowered his head. It wasn’t fear of Kwon Sehyuk but exhaustion. He was bone-tired. The medicine Choi Yooshin gave him for a possible cold made him even sleepier. He just wanted to wash up and collapse onto his small assigned bed. Ryujin pried Kwon Sehyuk’s hand off his arm.

“Let’s meet tomorrow. Okay? I’ll come early.”

If he stayed longer, he’d fall asleep standing. But Kwon Sehyuk stubbornly pulled Ryujin back. As they tussled in the hallway, Ryujin’s door creaked open. A stranger appeared in the gap.

“Huh.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

The man was tall and sturdy, with dark skin and short hair, dressed in casual clothes. He held a plastic bath caddy in one hand, clearly marked with “Disciplinary Corps” in bold letters. Ryujin spotted the name on his chest. Kang Inwoo.

Kang Inwoo’s eyes locked onto Ryujin, who stood with his wrist held by Kwon Sehyuk. Ryujin couldn’t look away either.

For a moment, he thought Ha Shinsung had appeared. On closer inspection, it wasn’t him. Their features were so different it was strange he’d mistaken them. Maybe it was the dark skin and sharp features.

Ryujin stared blankly at Kang Inwoo. Then Kwon Sehyuk spoke.

“Captain Kang Inwoo?”

Kang Inwoo’s gaze shifted. His salute to Kwon Sehyuk was crisp, despite his casual attire, reflecting years of military discipline.

Ryujin hid his wrist, red from Kwon Sehyuk’s grip, behind his back. Shin Haebeom had said Kang Inwoo was a <White Lion> mole. That meant every move Ryujin made would reach his former comrades through him. Faces of people like Ha Sungrok, Baek Sayul, and Cha Moeun, comrades for better or worse, flashed in his mind and vanished.

Ryujin couldn’t tear his eyes from Kang Inwoo’s face. He wondered about his purpose. What had he been doing until now? How long had he been with the organization, and what had the boss or lieutenants told him?

What does he think of me?

Lost in thought, Ryujin didn’t notice. Beyond his shoulder, Kwon Sehyuk was glaring at Kang Inwoo with a chilling intensity he’d never shown before.

The man had an appealing voice. Calm yet resolute. Kang Inwoo was also sociable. Not everyone could casually invite a stranger to bathe together. Especially since Kwon Sehyuk was a prince. He might not vie for the top spot in the national hierarchy, but he was currently the most likely candidate to become the next Leader, a person of significant interest.

Kang Inwoo was friendly even with such a figure. Respectful but not servile, he found common ground to steer the conversation without being condescending. It was the seasoned communication skill of an adult. Kwon Sehyuk initially guarded against Kang Inwoo but soon called him Captain Kang comfortably.

While heading to the communal shower with bath supplies, Ryujin learned that Kang Inwoo was a talented graduate of the military academy, assigned to the military police right after graduation, and had steadily risen through the ranks. Sung Jaekyung had dropped out of that academy to join <Red Tiger>. Looking at Kang Inwoo’s smooth jawline, Ryujin thought. This guy graduated.

Kwon Sehyuk asked Kang Inwoo a few questions about the academy. About cadet life and training. Kang Inwoo satisfied Kwon Sehyuk’s curiosity with relatively detailed explanations. But listening closely, it was all formal talk. He spoke only about the academy and military as institutions, not about himself or personal experiences.

When Kwon Sehyuk tried to probe deeper, they reached their destination. Kang Inwoo held the door open. Kwon Sehyuk took Ryujin’s hand to lead him in, but Ryujin hesitated at the entrance, reluctant to enter.

“Hyung? What’s wrong?”

The communal shower was the same one Shin Haebeom had dragged him to before. Not by choice but by force. Dunked head-first into hot water mixed with ethanol. Kicked down and beaten with a wet towel.

Ryujin looked up at Kwon Sehyuk. He twisted his hand free from his grip.

“I think… I’ll just go.”

“Why? Tired? You came all this way, though. To avoid a cold, it’s better to soak in hot water.”

“I’ve got wounds.”

“They’re well-bandaged.”

“Still, it feels tough. I’m just gonna go. You shower.”

“Hyung!”

Kwon Sehyuk grabbed Ryujin’s arm as he turned to leave.

“Then I’ll wash you.”

“What?”

“Just lie there. I’ll take care of everything from head to toe.”

Kwon Sehyuk shook his bath caddy, grinning. Ryujin shook off his hand.

“No way. What are you—”