BAI Ch 27

“What’s with you? Don’t let appearances fool you, I’m a guy with a younger sibling. Back in Jangjin, I used to wash him tucked under my arm.”

“Am I a kid?”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

Kwon Sehyuk pulled Ryujin toward him again. Ryujin was never going to win in a contest of strength. With a sigh, Ryujin let the tension drain from his knees and reluctantly followed Kwon Sehyuk’s lead. Watching Ryujin’s retreating figure, a bitter smile spread across Kang Inwoo’s face.

Suggesting they go bathe together had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. There was something Kang Inwoo wanted to confirm.

Regarding the individual named Jung Ryujin, the claims of two lieutenants were at odds.

Baek Sayul had said that, despite being headstrong and often clashing with comrades, Jung Ryujin was a kind-hearted kid at his core. In contrast, Cha Moeun’s hostility toward Jung Ryujin ran deep. There was something unsettling about dismissing it as a mere personality conflict.

The late Gwak Hyeonwoo had been Cha Moeun’s lover. It was Jung Ryujin who had recruited Gwak Hyeonwoo into the organization. Logically, when Gwak Hyeonwoo died, Cha Moeun and Jung Ryujin should have been close enough to lean on each other for support. Yet, reality was the complete opposite.

Kang Inwoo knew the reason. It was only a hunch, but a strong one, capable of serving as the foundation for concrete evidence. Cha Moeun’s hostility toward Jung Ryujin resembled the rage Kang Inwoo’s own father had once directed at him. Its name was anger. Anger toward a romantic rival.

Kang Inwoo shook his head, brushing off the creeping memories of the past. That wasn’t the important thing right now.

If Cha Moeun’s claims were correct, if Jung Ryujin was the kind of person who used his body to get what he wanted, then there would surely be traces of intimacy on his body. Old habits die hard, so he’d likely be doing the same things here that he did in the organization.

That’s why Kang Inwoo had suggested a bath to the two drenched men. He closed the cabinet and glanced around.

The changing room was bustling. It was crowded with suppression team members returning from their missions. Kang Inwoo approached Ryujin, who was hesitating with his back against the wall.

“Private Jung Ryujin? Why are you alone? Where’s His Highness?”

“He’s… over there.”

Ryujin pointed to a pile of pristine white towels stacked like a mountain. The area was swarming with people who had just finished showering and others about to start. Among them was Kwon Sehyuk.

The average height of the male Disciplinary Corps members was 185 centimeters. Their physiques were, needless to say, impressive. Even among such robust soldiers, Kwon Sehyuk stood out. His exceptional height, broad shoulders, and flexible, toned muscles outshone most active-duty soldiers. Ryujin hesitated even more to undress.

“What’s wrong? Feeling shy?”

“A little.”

Ryujin hunched his shoulders. He wasn’t scared because Kang Inwoo was dirty or repulsive, but purely because he was intimidating. Ryujin felt that if their bodies touched, his thoughts would be transmitted. He was uncomfortable because he had a guilty conscience.

It was astonishing that Shin Haebeom had allowed Kang Inwoo into the Disciplinary Corps, knowing his true identity. Shin Haebeom had said he was confident he could win. Where did that bold confidence come from? Faith in himself?

Kwon Sehyuk, returning with a stack of clean towels, looked like a triumphant general. He seemed puzzled that Ryujin was still fully clothed.

“Hyung, use these. But why are you still like that?”

“Sehyuk, I think I’ll just…”

“Too many people?”

Kwon Sehyuk scanned the surroundings and said.

“That’s why I said we should’ve gone to my room from the start. What, wanna head up now? I’ll put my clothes back on.”

He looked ready to reopen the cabinet. Kang Inwoo, not wanting to lose the opportunity he’d seized, flashed a friendly smile and urged Ryujin. It’s fine, he said, everyone’s too busy washing themselves to glance at others’ bodies.

“Then…”

Ryujin stood facing the wall. Kwon Sehyuk approached and subtly pushed Kang Inwoo, who had been standing beside Ryujin, out of the way. He then unfurled a towel to shield Ryujin’s body as he began to undress. Kang Inwoo’s expression hardened.

It seemed Cha Moeun’s claims were correct. Kwon Sehyuk’s attitude toward Jung Ryujin added certainty to Kang Inwoo’s suspicions. It had been like that from the first moment they met. The more he observed, the stranger it seemed. From Kwon Sehyuk’s way of addressing him to his demeanor and subtle gestures, Kwon Sehyuk was treating Jung Ryujin like a lover.

Kang Inwoo groaned inwardly. He had unconsciously hoped Baek Sayul’s claims were true, that Cha Moeun, grieving the loss of her lover, was unfairly taking it out on a younger, powerless subordinate. But it seemed that had been too much to hope for.

Kang Inwoo swallowed a sigh. As he turned his head to avoid Kwon Sehyuk’s subtle glare, he saw it. Jung Ryujin’s bare torso, revealed as he removed his shirt, was a mess.

A suffocating silence followed.

Ryujin was puzzled. Both Kwon Sehyuk and Kang Inwoo were staring at him with stiff expressions. When he turned his head in embarrassment, he understood why. His body, reflected in the mirror, was covered in vivid, dark bruises.

The long bruise marks across his shoulders and chest looked like he’d been constricted by a giant anaconda from the Amazon and then released. His neck, shoulders, and sides were littered with scars. Old wounds and relatively recent ones were scattered haphazardly across his skin.

Ryujin panicked. He hadn’t known because he avoided mirrors when bathing or changing.

Would they believe him if he said he fell? That he tumbled down some stairs? Or maybe that he got mugged in a dark alley at night?

Ryujin lowered his head. There was no point. Kwon Sehyuk was an athlete, and Kang Inwoo was an active-duty soldier. They weren’t fools who’d fall for flimsy excuses.

After a long pause, Kwon Sehyuk spoke.

“We can’t wash here.”

He spread a large towel to wrap around Ryujin’s body. Then he opened his cabinet and began putting on the damp clothes he’d taken off, saying nothing as he dressed in the still-wet garments.

Grabbing his bath caddy, Kwon Sehyuk took Ryujin’s wrist with his other hand. To Kang Inwoo, who stood there blankly, he said only one thing.

“We’re leaving.”

Kang Inwoo didn’t stop them. Kwon Sehyuk’s expression was so icy that he couldn’t bring himself to intervene.

Standing there, Kang Inwoo watched the two leave the shower room. He etched the scene he’d just witnessed into his mind.

The dark bruise marks encircling Ryujin’s gaunt torso were vivid in his memory. And that wasn’t all. In the brief moment before the towel covered him, Kang Inwoo had quickly scanned Ryujin’s body.

He knew Ryujin was thin, but he hadn’t realized how skeletal he was. Why were there so many wounds on that emaciated frame? Bruises and scratches spread like stains across his shoulders, upper arms, and sides. Permanent scars, old wounds with scabs, and relatively fresh, still-red marks were jumbled together. They were traces of torture and abuse.

Kang Inwoo’s hand, holding the bath caddy, trembled. Jung Ryujin had been tortured here.

However.

Kang Inwoo adjusted his grip on the caddy. As he walked into the shower room, he thought. There were always exceptions. If Jung Ryujin had a peculiar taste for rough treatment, and if his partner was Prince Kwon Sehyuk.

Kwon Sehyuk’s icy expression still lingered vividly in his mind.

Ryujin didn’t know how he made it back to the room. Breathing heavily, he tossed the bath caddy onto the marble floor and stared at Kwon Sehyuk’s panting back.

“Sehyuk.”

“Who was it?”

“Kwon Sehyuk.”

“Who did this to you, Hyung?”

“…”

“Was it the people at Howollu? Were you sick because you were injured? Why? Did you get on someone’s bad side because you know me?”

“No, don’t misunderstand. It’s not like that.”

“What does the owner there do? Doesn’t he know this is happening in his own place? Or is he pretending not to? Oh, that’s why he let you go so easily, isn’t it? Because keeping you around is a hassle?”

Ryujin’s face turned ashen.

“No! The owner’s a good person. Don’t talk like that when you don’t even know him!”

“Yeah, I don’t know. And not knowing is why I’m pissed off to my core right now!”

The shampoo bottle Kwon Sehyuk kicked flew and smashed against the wall. It was kicked so hard that the cap broke, and the contents splattered out. The fragrant scent of shampoo filled Kwon Sehyuk’s spacious room.

“Don’t throw stuff around.”

“Is that what matters right now?”

Kwon Sehyuk tore off his damp clothes. Steam seemed to rise from his tightly muscled shoulders. His glare was ferocious. Ryujin lowered his eyes and said.

“Sorry for ruining your bath.”

“Hyung!”

“If you go now, it’s not too late. Captain Kang might still be…”

“Are you kidding me?!”

Kwon Sehyuk strode over and grabbed Ryujin’s shoulders.

“How much of an idiot, a pushover, do you think I am, Hyung?”

His voice was almost a scream. Ryujin looked up at him, bewildered.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why! Why didn’t you say anything when you were going through this shit? Damn it, I should’ve noticed from the start!”

Ryujin didn’t understand why Kwon Sehyuk was so angry. Not knowing, he stayed silent. Meanwhile, Kwon Sehyuk stomped his feet, punched the wall, and threw whatever he could grab, causing a commotion. Ryujin could only watch in dismay as the wide, clean, stylish room turned into a war-torn scene.

Kwon Sehyuk didn’t stop for a while. His athletic stamina seemed inexhaustible. When he finally paused, sat on the bed, and buried his face in his hands, an hour had passed since they’d returned to the room.

Ryujin navigated the scattered debris on the floor to approach Kwon Sehyuk.

“Done?”

“…”

“Why, keep going. You were an athlete in school, right? Is this all you’ve got?”

A voice leaked through Kwon Sehyuk’s fingers.

“Don’t mess around. If I were serious, you’d already be dead, Hyung.”

Ryujin sat on the floor between Kwon Sehyuk’s legs, placing a hand on his knee. He tried to laugh off the situation.

“Now you’re making death threats? Is that allowed for a prince?”

“Hyung!”

“Jeez, stop yelling. My ears are ringing.”

“Seriously… you… damn it, seriously…”

“What about me?”

Kwon Sehyuk let out a heavy sigh.

“You don’t get it, Hyung.”

“Tell me what I don’t get. So I can fix it.”

“You don’t realize how much you’ve screwed me up right now, do you?”

Yeah, I don’t get it. How am I supposed to understand the mind of an elite royal like you?

Instead of voicing his thoughts, Ryujin silently stroked Kwon Sehyuk’s knee.

“Don’t be mad. It’s scary.”

“…”

“I’m the one who got hurt, so why are you the one angry?”

“That’s it!”

“What?”

Kwon Sehyuk’s hands reached out. He cupped Ryujin’s face, who was avoiding eye contact, and forced him to look straight at him.

“That you got hurt by someone. That I didn’t know about it. That I found out while you were changing in the shower room. That if Captain Kang hadn’t suggested we bathe, I’d still be in the dark. That’s the problem!”

Ryujin grabbed Kwon Sehyuk’s wrists to pull them away, but he didn’t budge.

“Still don’t get what I’m saying?”

Ryujin sighed.

“So what difference does it make?”

“What?”

“It’s over and done with. What are you going to do about it now?”

“Tell me who hit you. Don’t leave out a single one. I’ll storm Howollu tomorrow and drag them all out.”

All Ryujin could do was laugh hollowly. Kwon Sehyuk’s hands trembled slightly.

“You’re laughing?”

“What, it’s funny, isn’t it? Did you listen to anything I said? I told you it wasn’t the people at Howollu.”

“Then who was it?”

“…”

“Here? Did you get beaten at the Disciplinary Corps?”

Ryujin’s lips sealed shut. His resolute refusal to answer only fueled Kwon Sehyuk’s frustration. It was like looking at his younger sibling. His brother, naturally timid, had been a target of bullying by cruel peers but kept his mouth shut, afraid of burdening anyone. That small child overlapped with the Ryujin before him.

Their mother had hidden his bullied sibling inside the house. She feared hearing that her child wasn’t worthy of the Leader’s bloodline. Perhaps because she already had one outstanding son, she had no expectations for the second.

Kwon Muhyuk was homeschooled and grew to prefer reading books or watching TV alone over playing with peers. His loneliness made him cling even more to family.

Kwon Sehyuk disliked how his mother handled his brother’s issues. He wanted a fundamental solution, not a temporary escape. So he solved it. With his athletic teammates, all physically imposing, in a manner befitting the son of the nation’s Leader.

But his brother never returned to school. He developed habits too shameful to reveal. Bedwetting at night, rummaging through the house and touching family members’ belongings.

It was too late. Kwon Sehyuk thought he should have acted sooner.

“Hyung.”

Kwon Sehyuk stood from the bed. Ryujin, whose face had been held, stood too, rising onto his toes due to their height difference.

“Wash up first. Use my bathroom, and I’ll lend you some clothes to change into.”

It was a voice that allowed no refusal. Ryujin nodded.

Shin Haebeom brought out Cozy Tabellini teacups. He warmed milk, added sugar, and stirred. Two teacups, as white and clean as the milk, were placed on the table.

“Have some.”

“Sorry for dropping by suddenly, Haebeom Hyung.”

“No worries. I was just about to contact Your Highness.”

“Me? Why?”

“I apologize for not informing you earlier. I had a meeting with the Lady today.”

Kwon Sehyuk’s face stiffened. He was holding Ryujin’s shoulder, who was wearing his borrowed T-shirt. Unaware of Shin Haebeom’s gaze lingering on his hand, Kwon Sehyuk tensed at the news of Shin Haebeom meeting Jang Seunghee.

“Did Mom…?”

“She doesn’t know about Private Jung Ryujin.”

“Oh.”

“But the Lady is very interested in Your Highness’s military life. She must be worried.”

Shin Haebeom took a sip of his coffee. Inwardly, he thought of pancakes fried with plenty of squid and fermented liquor. A snack he often made during his Paohuai days. Even with roughly chopped scallions, flour, and a pinch of salt, it was delicious. On rainy days, guys would cling to his pant legs, begging for snacks. Sergeant Shin, we’re hungry. Sergeant, make us something.

“Does Mom keep bothering you, Haebeom Hyung?”

Kwon Sehyuk’s sulky voice snapped Shin Haebeom out of his reverie.

“Don’t say that. It’s only right to be grateful that the Lady takes an interest in the Disciplinary Corps.”

“Isn’t she interested in you, Haebeom Hyung? Not the Corps?”

Kwon Sehyuk said it playfully, but Shin Haebeom nearly buried his nose in his teacup. Guilty conscience.

“You say the boldest things to the Queen.”

“I wish you wouldn’t use that title anymore. It’s outdated.”

Shin Haebeom chuckled.

“Is that so?”

“Well, anyway.”

Kwon Sehyuk got to the point.

“Haebeom Hyung, have you ever seen something like this on Ryujin Hyung?”

Grabbing Ryujin’s arm and pulling him closer, Kwon Sehyuk rolled up the loose T-shirt sleeve to his shoulder. Shin Haebeom looked at Ryujin’s shoulder. Bruises, bite marks. Marks he himself had left on Ryujin’s body.

Of course, he didn’t flinch.

“This is…”

“It didn’t happen at the Disciplinary Corps, right?”

Shin Haebeom set down his teacup. Kwon Sehyuk continued.

“I know you hit Ryujin Hyung on the first day, Haebeom Hyung. Honestly, I was going to call you out, but I let it slide. Partly because I asked for him to be here. I get how things work around here, more or less.”

“…”

“Sure, some violence is needed to maintain discipline. A necessary evil, I guess. But Haebeom Hyung, Ryujin Hyung is here because I asked. He’s my person. You knew that, so you paired us up, right?”

“Yes.”

“But here’s the thing. Guess how I found out Ryujin Hyung was hurt? There’s this Captain Kang Inwoo, met him today, real friendly guy. Anyway, he suggested we bathe together, and that’s how I found out. I had no idea Ryujin Hyung was like this all this time. Can you believe it? This situation? Can you imagine how shocked, angry, embarrassed, and dumbfounded I was?”

“I can imagine.”

“Then explain.”

“Private Jung’s injuries…”

While Kwon Sehyuk spoke, Ryujin, who hadn’t breathed, lowered his head and glanced at Shin Haebeom’s face.

“I don’t know anything about it.”

Hah.

Ryujin stared at Shin Haebeom, incredulous. Look at him lying without even blinking.

Shin Haebeom placed his clasped hands between his knees. He leaned forward, dropped his head, and shook it weakly. His anguished appearance reassured Kwon Sehyuk, while Ryujin was seized by an urge to point and jump, shouting, That guy’s a total liar!

“Really? You don’t know anything, Haebeom Hyung?”

“That’s right. But if Private Jung was beaten by Corps members or staff, there’s no excuse. It’s my failure. I’ll accept any reprimand. I’m… sorry. I’m ashamed.”

Shin Haebeom bowed his head and sighed heavily, as if he wanted to sink into the floor.

Ryujin bit his lower lip. It was all an act. But Kwon Sehyuk wasn’t seasoned enough to see through it.

The Shin Haebeom Kwon Sehyuk knew was a professional. A military hound who’d worked steadfastly and professionally by his uncle’s side. Seeing such a Shin Haebeom appear weak and crumbling, Kwon Sehyuk was genuinely flustered, unaware it was a ploy to unsettle him.

Kwon Sehyuk reached out and grabbed Shin Haebeom’s shoulder.

“Haebeom Hyung.”

“I’m deeply sorry. I didn’t want to show Your Highness this side of me. I’m also sorry to the General. Incidents like this at the Corps are no different from tarnishing his reputation.”

Ryujin silently watched Shin Haebeom’s masterful performance. It was acting worthy of slapping a national treasure actor.

“I wasn’t trying to reprimand you, Haebeom Hyung. I just wanted you to know how much Ryujin Hyung means to me.”

“I’ll call a meeting tomorrow to address this. We were already planning training on preventing harsh treatment in the military. With the military police in chaos, we can’t afford to cause trouble for the General.”

Ryujin wasn’t even surprised anymore. Shin Haebeom lied more naturally than eating three meals a day, without a shred of guilt. He was perfect. The anguished voice, trembling eyes, pained expression.

Shin Haebeom raised his head. He gave Kwon Sehyuk a faint smile, then turned his gaze to Ryujin.

“Private Jung, I don’t know who did this to you, but I apologize on their behalf. Don’t worry. We’ll find the culprit and punish them severely while fully protecting your identity.”

Kwon Sehyuk’s face brightened. He grabbed Ryujin’s frail hand, saying it was all good, that Haebeom Hyung would handle it, so there was nothing to worry about, and smiled.

“It’s all good, right?”

“Uh…”

Ryujin couldn’t smile back. He couldn’t guess what Shin Haebeom was thinking. Unless he was planning to throw himself off the twelfth-floor office, who was he going to pin this assault on and punish?

Just then, Shin Haebeom stood.

He strode to an elegant mahogany desk, pulled a thick file from a drawer, and returned. The file was placed in front of Kwon Sehyuk.

“What’s this?”

“I apologize in advance, Your Highness, and Private Jung. I conducted a personal investigation on you.”

Kwon Sehyuk shouted.

“Haebeom Hyung!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why do things I didn’t ask for?!”

“I’m deeply sorry. But I have a duty to protect Your Highness’s safety. Investigating Private Jung, or rather Jung Ryujin, was essential as someone who’ll serve by Your Highness’s side.”

Kwon Sehyuk let out a heavy sigh. Holding his forehead, he didn’t move for a while.

Silence filled the spacious office. The only sounds were rain hitting the windows and the ticking of the clock’s second hand.

Finally, Kwon Sehyuk spoke.

“Really… I won’t forgive this next time.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Mom really doesn’t know? About Ryujin Hyung?”

“That’s correct.”

“What about Uncle?”

Shin Haebeom’s lips twitched. He gave a prepared response. He reassured Kwon Sehyuk by repeatedly emphasizing that while Jung Ryujin’s existence was known, military confidentiality meant such information couldn’t be carelessly shared with outsiders. As he spoke, Shin Haebeom realized something. Kwon Sehyuk was trying to protect Jung Ryujin from those around him.

The cunning mind of a fighter, schemer, and flatterer who’d clawed his way up from the mud to the twelfth floor whirred fiercely. Shin Haebeom observed every element of Kwon Sehyuk’s feelings for Jung Ryujin. His gaze, expression, voice, actions.

He didn’t need to look long. It was so blatant it was strange he hadn’t noticed sooner. Kwon Sehyuk liked Jung Ryujin. Not as a casual friend. His desire to secure a place for his confidant was almost innocent. Kwon Sehyuk wanted to maintain a longer, closer relationship with Jung Ryujin. The reason was clear. He wants to sleep with him.

Shin Haebeom didn’t believe in platonic love. That was just a flimsy excuse for old perverts who didn’t want to sound lecherous while chasing young people. Unless there was some serious flaw, pursuing someone you’re attracted to, someone you want to sleep with, was only natural. And right now, Kwon Sehyuk was courting Jung Ryujin in the way he thought was effective. By showing the power he could wield as a prince.

It was like a scene from a Cinderella story. A love story of the century, transcending vast class differences. But Prince Kwon Sehyuk’s love story had its ending predetermined from the start.

Kwon Sehyuk opened the file. His heart pounded. Holding Ryujin’s hand on his lap, he looked at the file with a curious expression.

Shin Haebeom spoke to Ryujin, not Kwon Sehyuk.

“Private Jung, about what happened in your hometown. Three years ago, wasn’t it?”

The Siren Project had gone awry from the start. It was because Jung Ryujin, overstepping his place, had approached Kwon Sehyuk prematurely. The design faltered before it even began. But Shin Haebeom wasn’t shaken. He wasn’t the rigid type who stuck to one path. He was a skilled schemer, flexible enough to twist, turn, and pivot as needed.

Perhaps Kwon Sehyuk had already opened his heart to Jung Ryujin without realizing it. If so, Shin Haebeom needed to set the stage, lay the groundwork, and nudge things along to make Kwon Sehyuk fall completely for Jung Ryujin.

There was no need to delay further. Shin Haebeom moved straight to the second phase of the Siren Project.

To evolve from mere affection to lovers, recognizing one’s feelings for the other was crucial. And often, the catalyst was adversity.

When humans face obstacles they can’t overcome alone, they instinctively seek someone to rely on. Those who overcome hardship together form a bond stronger than mere camaraderie.

Shin Haebeom had participated in several operations to suppress hostage crises by <White Lion>, targeting public institutions symbolizing the state with heavy foot traffic. He’d learned something. Survivors of such incidents often developed special relationships. The longer the captivity, the higher the likelihood, especially if there were injuries or deaths among the hostages.

The reason was obvious. It was dramatic.

A beautiful lover facing hardship, overcoming it, and reaching a happy ending together. There’s a reason such clichéd stories are loved across eras. Everyone wants to be the protagonist of such a tale. At least once in their life. At least once in their youth.

For a naive kid like Kwon Sehyuk, he’d surely burn everything for Jung Ryujin. Shin Haebeom was certain.

He placed a photo of a man in front of Ryujin.

“Ham Youngjae. Do you recognize him?”

The blood drained from Ryujin’s face as he confirmed the man’s features. A trembling voice escaped his parted lips.

“What… what are you doing?”

Ryujin tried not to snap at Shin Haebeom in front of Kwon Sehyuk. His insides churned. He’d told him not to do this. Not to dig up someone’s past like this…

Ryujin’s fist trembled.

Fundamentally, Shin Haebeom was someone who didn’t need to consider others. A soldier with more subordinates than superiors. To think someone whose job was to dominate and control situations would heed the pleas of a weakling appealing to compassion was foolish.

“Ryujin Hyung?”

Kwon Sehyuk’s voice didn’t register. Ryujin shot to his feet. His clenched fist spasmed.

“What are you doing, I asked.”

“Don’t get worked up. Sit down, Private.”

Ryujin glared at Shin Haebeom. He studied the well-shaped forehead, the high nose bridge that hinted at foreign ancestry, the sharp eyes and cold gaze, the firm lips exuding resolve. No matter how he looked, he couldn’t read him. He couldn’t even guess the true intentions behind the mask. But one thing was certain. Shin Haebeom was enjoying this. This situation.

“Hyung!”

Only when Kwon Sehyuk shouted did Ryujin realize he was crying. He hurriedly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Shin Haebeom’s sharp features blurred. Kwon Sehyuk steadied the stumbling Ryujin.

“Hyung, sit down. Just sit.”

Shin Haebeom remained expressionless. Kwon Sehyuk, flustered, looked between the sobbing Ryujin, the unflinching Shin Haebeom, and the problematic photo, then asked Shin Haebeom.

“Who’s this guy?”

“The main instigator of the Hampung 2-do group assault case three years ago.”

To Kwon Sehyuk, who’d only lived in the port city of Jangjin and the metropolitan city of Kwangseong, the name was unfamiliar. But he was sure he’d heard it somewhere.

“Hampung 2-do, that’s…?”

It was a rural area classified as remote among the twelve districts under the special zone’s jurisdiction. It had no notable specialties or tourist attractions. But there was a time when it was called the “land of possibility” and the “region of beauties,” drawing public attention. Hampung 2-do was the hometown of former idol star Ryu Yeonbi.

Shin Haebeom nodded readily.

“I can’t speak the sinner’s name in Your Highness’s presence, but you’re correct.”

“I don’t care about that. I don’t mind. But Ryujin Hyung…”

“It happened three years ago, and it wasn’t widely covered even locally, so Your Highness likely wouldn’t know. A delinquent gang, average age eighteen, got drunk and high on glue and thinner, then collectively assaulted a peer.”

Shin Haebeom paused briefly and spat out quickly.

“Private Jung Ryujin, sitting next to Your Highness, was the victim of that incident.”

The strength drained from Kwon Sehyuk’s hand.

“What?”

Shin Haebeom flipped through the file. This time, a photo of a woman was placed before Kwon Sehyuk and Ryujin.

It contrasted with Ham Youngjae’s polished suit and smiling ID photo.

A young woman walking with a baby carrier strapped to her chest was photographed from a distance. The shot was taken from far away, and the focus was off, but identifying her features was no trouble. She held a wallet in one hand, a plastic bag in the other, and a diaper bag, likely filled with baby supplies, over her shoulder. Kwon Sehyuk felt a pang of bitterness. The load looked too heavy for her frail frame.

“Private Jung, do you recognize her?”

Ryujin lifted his head, his eyes red. He was clearly holding back tears. Shin Haebeom swallowed a sigh and tensed his thigh. Damn Jung Ryujin. That crying face drives me crazy with desire.

Shin Haebeom forced a neutral expression and turned to Kwon Sehyuk, pointing at the photo.

“The only person whose testimony matched the physical evidence at the time was this woman. Han Dahee, twenty-one years old.”

It was Shin Haebeom who tracked down Han Dahee, but it was the reliable investigator Goo Eunha who got her to open up. Growing up constantly reading others’ moods, Goo Eunha had a special talent for peering into people’s thoughts and hearts. Her love for chatting about various topics while touching people’s hair was surely due to that talent.

Shin Haebeom turned his head to look at Ryujin.

“Maybe because she married young, she already has a child.”

“Is she… doing well…?”

“She looked healthy.”

Not that he met her in person, but still.

Shin Haebeom smiled inwardly. Ryujin, who looked like he might burst into tears at any moment, was strikingly beautiful.

Han Dahee was Ham Youngjae’s girlfriend. If you could call it a relationship when they rode motorcycles together, smoked, drank, used thinner and glue, roamed the streets at night, and engaged in theft, extortion, and muggings.

Han Dahee’s family ran a small food company. It barely avoided losses each year, but as an only daughter, Han Dahee grew up wanting for nothing. Among the girls in the gang, she was the only one who owned her own motorcycle, tuned to match Ham Youngjae’s, and she rode it around with a loud, roaring muffler.

Ryujin had met Han Dahee only once. It was a brief conversation, less than five minutes, while she was drunk. But he remembered that conversation to this day.

Han Dahee wanted to cut ties with the delinquent gang and enroll in a vocational school. However, Ham Youngjae threatened to expose her weaknesses if she left the group. That wasn’t the only problem. She mentioned a school she wanted to apply to, but given her past actions, no teacher would likely write her a recommendation letter. She mocked herself, saying it was her own fault.

At the time, Ryujin told Han Dahee not to give up. He added that there was still time before high school graduation, so she should show she’d changed. If she wanted to improve her grades, he even offered to ask his studious older brother for study tips.

Of course, Han Dahee didn’t take it seriously. She giggled, blowing gray smoke toward the ceiling with a cigarette clipped in a lighter to avoid the smell on her fingers, telling him to mind his own business.

When Ryujin learned that Han Dahee had given testimony defending him, and that her family’s company had gone bankrupt due to retaliation from Ham Youngjae’s family, forcing them to move away as if chased out, he was filled with regret.

He shouldn’t have spoken as if he understood her. When she asked if he thought she could do it, he shouldn’t have said yes. He should have harshly told her that a biker gang leader’s “thing” like her shouldn’t even dream of washing her slate clean. He shouldn’t have touched her heart.

If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have betrayed Ham Youngjae. She could have kept riding her roaring motorcycle until graduation, bribed a teacher for a recommendation letter, and enrolled in vocational school.

Ryujin didn’t want to hear news about Han Dahee. But words without feet were cruel. He heard that she couldn’t adjust to the new area she moved to. There were also stories that she’d been beaten by Ham Youngjae’s gang and needed plastic surgery. He couldn’t tell what was true or how much was exaggerated rumor, but one thing was certain. Ryujin felt sorry for Han Dahee.

And he was grateful. For telling the truth.

When he was accused of being a liar like his Noona and was rolling on the cold granite floor of the local police station’s interrogation room, when he was so disoriented he couldn’t tell where he was or who he was, the reason he didn’t bite his tongue off was because of Gwak Hyeonwoo, who kept visiting despite being turned away, and Han Dahee, who spoke the truth.

Ryujin hoped Han Dahee was living well. He sincerely wished that, somewhere in the world, she was doing work she found meaningful, forgetting past wounds and living an ordinary life.

The proof of that was now before Ryujin’s eyes.

He felt like he might cry.

Watching Ryujin trace Han Dahee’s photo with his fingers, Kwon Sehyuk was overwhelmed with dismay. He felt like he was going insane. How had he not known until now? How had he not even suspected? He hadn’t thought that having Ryu Yeonbi as a Noona meant Ryujin lived an easy life. But he never imagined he’d gone through something like that. At just eighteen.

In Kwon Sehyuk’s mind, the clock turned back. Three years ago, he was happy. He entered a prestigious high school without much effort, took various classes, and participated in sports club activities. On days off, he spent money freely, going out to have fun, eating delicious food, seeing interesting things, and gaining diverse experiences while enjoying his youth.

Ryujin hadn’t.

Kwon Sehyuk reached out, pulling the trembling Ryujin, still holding Han Dahee’s photo, into his arms. The scent of shampoo lingered in his still-damp hair.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispered softly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I couldn’t even guess. Hyung… I’m sorry.”

He could understand why Ryujin hid that he’d been hurt. He now knew why he stayed silent despite being a victim. Ryujin didn’t want to be in the spotlight as a victim of a military assault case. The world is cruel to the weak. People try to find reasons in the weak. They dig into the victim’s past, fabricate reasons, and think that the victim must have deserved it, instinctively reassuring themselves that such a thing wouldn’t happen to them.

Kwon Sehyuk asked Shin Haebeom.

“Why did you show us this?”

“There’s a saying that old habits die hard. Ham Youngjae was arrested for violence.”

“Arrested?”

“We caught wind that the local police tried to brush it off as a simple lovers’ quarrel. They’re claiming the victim is a femme fatale, but it’s essentially a cover-up. The victim was pregnant and is currently in critical condition. Her chances of survival are low, they say.”

“How does Haebeom Hyung know this?”

“As Your Highness knows, the Disciplinary Corps recruits from some local police forces. We currently have a member on our investigation team from the Hampung 2-do local police.”

His name was Seo Jiwoon. Sergeant Seo Jiwoon.

Shin Haebeom continued in a calm voice.

“Since long ago, remote areas like Hampung 2-do have been dominated by local powers. During the Republican Party’s rule, the push to respect local traditions and customs led to the activation of local autonomous organizations, which allowed those powers to reorganize more systematically.”

Shin Haebeom’s voice was bitter.

“They call them local autonomous organizations, but they’re essentially no different from local gangs. They block population movement, exacerbate regional tensions, and practically build their own fortresses, acting like leaders within them. Can you believe it? Nobodies who buy fake noble genealogies, exploit and threaten locals, and dare to challenge His Excellency the Leader’s authority. Your Highness, I couldn’t stand by and watch their behavior.”

Kwon Sehyuk felt like he’d been hit over the head.

“Sergeant Seo formed an investigation team and visited Hampung 2-do. While investigating the overreaching Ham family and their eldest son, we also learned of the harm Private Jung Ryujin suffered.”

Shin Haebeom gazed at Ryujin, who was looking at him with frightened eyes.

“I’m sorry for making you relive painful memories, Private Jung. But this is a golden opportunity to uproot them once and for all.”

A perfect finishing touch.

“I’ll make sure your grievances are addressed.”

Ryujin couldn’t hide his dismay. It was a statement so unlike Shin Haebeom.

Some people are forged by overcoming challenges. People who find a way through even the most extreme situations. People who don’t give up when they hit a wall. People who, even when battered and torn, rise from the mud, bare their teeth, and bite their enemies. Fighters. Warriors. Such people don’t sit waiting for opportunities to come. They seek them out. In the process, they don’t hesitate to seize opportunities held by others. That’s why Shin Haebeom was strong.

Entering his second year at the Disciplinary Corps, Sergeant Seo Jiwoon earned the honor of stepping into the twelfth-floor office. He saw Prince Kwon Sehyuk’s face up close, a man he’d only seen on television, in photos, or from a distance at best. That wasn’t all. Shin Haebeom informed him that Prince Kwon Sehyuk was curious about the Hampung 2-do local police, which Seo Jiwoon had investigated.

Seo Jiwoon knelt on one knee before Kwon Sehyuk and began his story.

His background was humble. Seo Jiwoon was born the youngest son of a poor laborer family. Naturally gentle and diligent, he was considered an honor student during his school years. The military academy was an institution that trained students from less privileged backgrounds, who couldn’t enter the officer academy, into soldiers. Naturally, the admission cutoff was high, and even with good grades, it was hard to get in without a recommendation letter from someone influential in that world. Shin Haebeom had entered with a recommendation from Kwon Joohyuk, and Choi Yooshin with one from his father. Gi Woohee, who entered the women’s military academy at the same time as Shin Haebeom, also had a recommendation in the name of Kwon Joohyuk, the Leader’s aide.

Seo Jiwoon entered the military academy with a recommendation from the manager of the factory where his father worked. After graduation, he was assigned to the Hampung 2-do local police as a military police officer.

“When that incident happened…”

At the time, Seo Jiwoon was a rookie just starting his career, tasked with routine neighborhood patrols or handling minor complaints.

It was a rural area with few major incidents to begin with. Even when something happened, it was usually settled by village elders rather than the local police. Seo Jiwoon grew increasingly bored. Born and raised in Hampung 2-do but educated at a military academy in the metropolitan city, the quiet rural life was unbearably dull.

But like most locals, Seo Jiwoon couldn’t imagine leaving Hampung 2-do. As the pillar of his family, he couldn’t bear to betray his parents’ expectations. The most rebellious thing he could do back then was take a long leave as a rookie and go backpacking in nearby areas.

Ryujin’s “incident” occurred during Seo Jiwoon’s leave. He was appalled by the haphazard investigation of the Hampung 2-do local police and the way residents dissected the victim.

Seo Jiwoon requested an early return to his senior officer. But his senior snapped, telling him not to meddle and to return when things quieted down. Seo Jiwoon instinctively realized that something was happening in that place, something a rookie unfamiliar with the local police “culture” was better off not knowing.

“When the Brigadier General mentioned my hometown and former workplace, I realized I bore a heavy responsibility.”

Seo Jiwoon said.

“Your Highness, Hampung 2-do was originally a region known for its thriving vineyards, even supplying specialties to the metropolitan city. But at some point, local elites, under the guise of economic revitalization, began constructing various facilities, exploiting agricultural workers without pay, framing protesters with absurd charges to detain them, and ruining farmers’ livelihoods to seize their land through predatory loans. They imposed exorbitant taxes on factories headquartered elsewhere, forcing them to leave. My father lost his job that way, and I was branded a traitor for joining the Disciplinary Corps. Because of their incitement of regional tensions, my family can’t even hold their heads up in the community.”

He wouldn’t have known any of this if he hadn’t formed an investigation team and returned to his hometown. Seo Jiwoon had hoped for a triumphant homecoming, but he was chased out without setting foot inside his family’s gate. The cold reception in Hampung 2-do was beyond imagination. One frustrated team member demanded if they were confident they could handle the consequences of mistreating Brigadier General Shin Haebeom’s people, but they were only mocked and expelled.

As Seo Jiwoon’s story continued, Kwon Sehyuk’s expression hardened. Ryujin noticed that the hand resting on his shoulder was trembling. Looking up, he saw a face on Kwon Sehyuk he’d never seen before. It was as if… Shin Haebeom had taken over Kwon Sehyuk’s body.

“Hyung, sleep in my room tonight.”

Ryujin knew what kind of argument would ensue if he refused. Silently, he followed Kwon Sehyuk into his room.

Throwing himself onto the bed, Kwon Sehyuk said.

“Come here.”

Ryujin did as told. He was so exhausted that he didn’t even feel resistance to the commanding tone. He didn’t want to do anything, didn’t want to think about anything. He’d dragged his broken body this far, piecing it together with glue, but he had no strength left to keep going. Ryujin sat on the edge of the bed.

“Lie down next to me. Look at me.”

The moment he buried his face in Kwon Sehyuk’s firm chest, tears poured out.

Kwon Sehyuk’s large hand enveloped Ryujin’s sobbing shoulders.

“Tell me how you want them killed.”

“…”

“Think about it. The cruelest way you can imagine.”

“Can you do it?”

Ryujin spoke in a suppressed voice.

“Can you do anything for me?”

“I can.”

Kwon Sehyuk’s hands moved diligently. He stroked Ryujin’s head, neck, shoulders, and back. As if his touch could magically erase all wounds and scars. As if he believed he could heal Ryujin’s body and soul.

Burying his face in Kwon Sehyuk’s chest, Ryujin sobbed for a long time. An overwhelming fear surged within him. Fear that he might end up grateful to Shin Haebeom, that he might not be able to hate Kwon Sehyuk. The line between enemy and benefactor was blurring.

What would Noona have done?

He’d always thought that way whenever he faced difficulties. But he’d never gotten a clear answer. The Noona he remembered was sharp and smart. Wise and capable. Someone who seemed unlikely to end up in the worst situations to begin with. If it weren’t for Gwak Jaeheon.

If Noona hadn’t met that man…

Ryujin shook his head. He’d sworn not to think that way. He’d promised Gwak Hyeonwoo, too. They, the weak, wouldn’t tear at each other’s wounds. The truth would surely come to light someday.

He missed Gwak Hyeonwoo. He wished he were still alive. But Gwak Hyeonwoo was gone, and Shin Haebeom, who should be hated, was ironically playing the role of benefactor. His words still echoed vividly in Ryujin’s ears.

“I’ll make sure your grievances are addressed.”

Noona would probably say something like this.

“Take care of yourself.”

Ryujin laughed. He laughed while crying in Kwon Sehyuk’s arms. After stroking Ryujin’s head for a while, Kwon Sehyuk noticed a vivid scar on his temple.

“Hyung, this…”

About to say something, he closed his mouth. Instead, he lowered his head and kissed it. He hadn’t lived such an innocent life that he couldn’t recognize a burn mark from a cigarette.

Kwon Sehyuk listened closely. At this moment, he etched Ryujin’s sobs into his mind, into his heart. Anger was the most powerful emotion, driving humans to act decisively.