BAI Ch 7

Military doctor Oh Jaeyun said that Jung Ryujin had gone into temporary shock. His body, weakened by torture, had received a shock too great to bear.

“It’s not chronic, is it?”

“I’ll have to check his medical records to be sure.”

Shin Haebeom handed his entire pack of cigarettes to Oh Jaeyun.

“Good work. Take a break.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Jin, you too.”

After Jin Chiwoo and Oh Jaeyun left, Shin Haebeom stood up and drew the curtain around the bed. He moved a chair to the head of Ryujin’s bed. The small face came into view. He could see Ryujin’s prominent collarbone through the loose patient gown. Shin Haebeom stared blankly at the way the taut bone rose and fell with each shallow breath. When he came to his senses, he was brushing the hair away from Ryujin’s forehead.

“Ah.”

Startled, he withdrew his hand. It happened sometimes. Shin Haebeom occasionally found himself gripped by an uncontrollable urge. Jin Chiwoo called this nameless impulse an “incurable case of the crazies,” something he hadn’t managed to shake off even after turning thirty.

This “case of the crazies” had started the year his aunt’s restaurant closed. That was the year his aunt’s tumultuous life, spent single-handedly raising him and his cousin while tenaciously carving out a living, came to an abrupt end due to acute myocardial infarction.

That year, Shin Haebeom had tried to follow his aunt into death. It was his cousin, who had taught herself CPR, who had pulled him back to the world of the living.

Shin Yena’s face overlapped with Jung Ryujin’s. Shin Haebeom flinched. It was a ludicrous pairing. Jung Ryujin and Shin Yena.

Shin Haebeom shook his head. It was no use. Even shaking his head like a madman couldn’t dislodge Ryujin’s spiteful voice from his mind.

‘I’m going to die here.’

Had those words been meant only for Ha Shinsung?

Shin Haebeom remembered the look on Ha Shinsung’s face as he watched Ryujin. A desperate look that transformed suspicion into certainty.

Ha Shinsung liked Jung Ryujin. His love was utterly one-sided and would never be reciprocated.

Shin Haebeom clenched his fist. Displeasure spread through his veins to every corner of his body.

Something the kids like these days.

That’s what Shin Haebeom ordered. The clerk at the counter, as quick-witted as he was quick-handed, rang up the most popular combo meal without asking any questions.

Shin Haebeom left the store carrying a brown paper bag. In the short walk from the store to the parking lot, he smiled and waved in the direction of cheering fans, signed seven autographs, gave five hugs, and posed for twelve photos. Getting into his car, he tossed the bag onto the passenger seat and felt drained. Acting was energy-consuming work.

Ha Shinsung, who had even thrown a punch at the chief security officer after being told visiting hours were over, now trembled at Shin Haebeom’s retort that he had given them a reason to throw him in a cell for obstruction of official duties. A feeling of triumphant pleasure surged through Shin Haebeom.

Not wanting to lose this pleasant feeling, he decided to perform a promised act of kindness.

That pleasant feeling shattered the moment he stepped out of the elevator. There was commotion in front of the infirmary. As Shin Haebeom approached, Gi Woohee, her face grim, reported that Jung Ryujin had locked himself inside.

“What?”

“Lieutenant Oh is being held hostage.”

Military doctor Oh Jaeyun. Shin Haebeom was so stunned he couldn’t even laugh.

“And you’ve been dithering around until now?”

He shoved the burger bag at Gi Woohee and grabbed a fire extinguisher.

Bang! The doorknob broke off. Shin Haebeom surveyed the chaotic infirmary. Beds and chairs were out of place, a broken monitor lay on the overturned desk. The locker doors, which should always be locked, were wide open. Medical supplies were scattered across the floor.

Shin Haebeom narrowed his eyes. Jung Ryujin stood in front of the open window, holding Oh Jaeyun hostage with a shard of glass wrapped in a bandage.

“Hey. What are you doing?”

Shin Haebeom clicked his tongue.

“Weren’t you just saying you were going to die here?”

“I never said I’d die alone.”

“Is that what this means?”

“Don’t move! I’ll slit this bastard’s throat!”

Oh Jaeyun was terrified. His face pale, he could barely breathe.

Shin Haebeom gauged the height difference between the two. Oh Jaeyun, of average height and slender build, was practically the only person in the Disciplinary Training Center whom Ryujin could realistically take hostage. Perhaps Ryujin had had his eye on Oh Jaeyun from the beginning.

Shin Haebeom inwardly cursed. His damned “case of the crazies” had made him careless. Jung Ryujin belonged to <White Lion>. Even if he wasn’t a field operative, he was still a trained member of the organization. Even hostage-taking required a certain level of know-how.

Shin Haebeom raised his hands.

“Alright. What do you want?”

“Bring Jin Chiwoo here.”

“He’s off duty. He won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”

“Cut the crap and bring him here! Do you want to see this bastard die?!”

“We’re public servants, Jung Ryujin. There’s something called legally mandated working hours. What am I supposed to say to a guy who’s gone home because it’s his time to leave? Don’t you know about work-life balance? It’s a big deal these days if your boss contacts you after work.”

“Like I care!”

“Let’s try to understand each other’s positions.”

Shin Haebeom pulled up a chair and sat down. He took the burger bag from Gi Woohee.

“Aren’t you hungry? It’s past dinner time.”

“…….”

“Let’s talk after you eat. I bought burgers. Is that okay? I didn’t know what you liked, so I just grabbed the popular one. It’s what all the cool kids are eating these days.”

“Are you crazy?! Do you not understand the situation?!”

“I do. That’s why I’m here. Otherwise, I would’ve sent those guys in.”

Shin Haebeom shrugged.

“Let the poor military doctor go. Talk to me. Civilly, while we eat something tasty. Sounds good, right?”

Jung Ryujin didn’t move. Shin Haebeom unwrapped a burger.

“Let’s be civilized. Okay? Sit down. Come here and sit down and eat.”

“Bullshit…!”

“Don’t play hard to get. You’re hungry.”

Shin Haebeom knew Ryujin wouldn’t last long. The adrenaline released in a state of excitement was similar to a stimulant. It surged and then plummeted.

“Why are you doing this to the poor military doctor? He treated you. You’re returning kindness with enmity. You shouldn’t do that. You’ll be punished in the afterlife.”

“You’ll be the one punished! Not me!”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The moment Ryujin opened his mouth to shout, Shin Haebeom spoke.

“You haven’t answered me yet.”

“…….”

“It’s awkward, isn’t it? Him being here.”

In July, Gwon Sehyuk would enlist as a public service worker at the Disciplinary Training Center. Shin Haebeom proposed two rounds of revenge matches to Ryujin.

“You’re the one who’ll be in trouble. I don’t care!”

“Hmm, is that so? Who do you think people will believe?”

The truth wasn’t important. The public trusted the side with the greater influence. By the time they tried to set the record straight, the public’s interest would have waned. Ultimately, the truth would be buried, and only the stronger side’s narrative would remain.

Shin Haebeom stood up from the chair. He placed the burger bag on the messy desk. He signaled to the military doctor. All he needed was a small opening.

“I also bought cola. Are you thirsty? You’ve been licking your lips, so you might be dehydrated. Do you have a headache? That could be really dangerous. Anyway, stop being stubborn and come here.”

“I don’t need it! Stay away from me!”

“There’s no need to be so wary…!”

Shin Haebeom’s elbow slammed into Ryujin’s jaw. In the split second that his grip loosened, Oh Jaeyun quickly slipped away.

Shin Haebeom lunged at Ryujin, who was staggering, having lost his balance. He twisted Ryujin’s wrist, forcing him to drop the shard of glass, and kicked it away. He threw Ryujin’s thin body to the floor.

“Aagh!”

“Hostage-taking? That’s the best you could come up with? What pathetic planning.”

Shin Haebeom wasn’t even out of breath.

“You should pick your fights more carefully.”

Gi Woohee, supporting Oh Jaeyun, asked what should be done with Jung Ryujin. Shin Haebeom replied lightly,

“The basement.”

The boy in the photo was smiling. Dressed in the gray uniform of a prestigious high school favored by children of the political and business elite, he held large bouquets of flowers in both arms.

Ryujin stared at the laptop monitor. His eyes went to the name tag on the uniform.

“First time seeing his face in high definition, right?”

Not many of President Gwon Ilhyuk’s children were known to the public. Most were still minors. And for some reason, his adult children had all given up their claim to the throne early on and lived lives unrelated to politics.

The next presidency hinged on two powerhouses within Shinryonggwan: Gwon Joohyuk and Yu Mihyun. Until now, they had made no overt moves, waiting as Gwon Ilhyuk’s first, second, and then third sons came of age. The public believed this was because it was still too early to discuss succession.

Prolonged staring contests lead to relaxed vigilance. Just as everyone was lulled into a false sense of political stability, Gwon Joohyuk ‘unofficially’ announced his chosen successor by recommending his third son, Gwon Sehyuk, a recent high school graduate, for public service at the Disciplinary Training Center.

“If you were to ask who Gwon Joohyuk cherishes most right now, it’s this kid.”

“Not you?”

“Let’s say he and I are in a car accident. Who do you think goes to jail? It doesn’t matter who was driving.”

“…….”

“That’s how you should think about it.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“Killing him would be ideal, but crippling him would be fine too. All that matters is the downfall of the successor Gwon Joohyuk has poured everything into. Yu Mihyun will take care of the rest. She’s lying low for now, but…it’s only a matter of time. I think I know who the Empress of Purge has her eye on.”

“Who?”

“Sign here, and I’ll tell you.”

Shin Haebeom presented an employment contract.

“What is this?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“I never said I’d do what you want.”

“You have a driver’s license, right? Even you can manage to be a chauffeur.”

Ryujin was speechless.

“You don’t?”

“I was going to buy a car first!”

“As if.”

“I never said I’d be Gwon Sehyuk’s lackey!”

“You should avenge your noona before you die, even if you die in the process.”

Shin Haebeom put his arm around Ryujin’s shoulder and pulled him closer.

“Gwon Joohyuk took away the most precious person in your life. Now it’s your turn to pay him back.”

“…….”

“You know it too, don’t you? To Gwon Joohyuk, Jin Chiwoo and I are just…expendable. But this kid here, he’s different.”

Gwon Sehyuk was a true prince. And Gwon Joohyuk’s favorite at that.

“A perfect target, right?”

“Haven’t you thought about doing it yourself?”

Shin Haebeom suddenly waxed poetic.

“I’m just noise. But you’re music. Beautiful music can blind people’s eyes and ears. It can lure them into the abyss.”

“Do you think I can do that? Against Gwon Sehyuk?”

“I told you. I’ll set you up.”

“…….”

“Gwon Sehyuk will definitely like you. Milk him dry, play him like a fiddle. And when I give the signal, aim and fire.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“I’ll give you everything I have.”

Ryujin looked up at Shin Haebeom.

“Everything you have?”

“Yes. I’ll transfer all my assets to you.”

“That’s ridiculous….”

“Why is it ridiculous? I’ve even come up with a codename for this project.”

“You’re really running the whole show by yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m playing all the instruments. This stage will be perfect once you sing the song.”

Ryujin closed his eyes. His eyelids fluttered. Shin Haebeom reached out and intertwined their fingers. His palm was rough and calloused.

“You’re too young to die.”

“…….”

“Your noona would agree.”

His hand, clasped in Shin Haebeom’s, moved towards the employment contract, its meaning lost on him. Shin Haebeom said it wouldn’t be difficult. Although Gwon Sehyuk’s personality was unknown, when it came to cunning, Ryujin was more than a match.

“I think you can easily wrap him around your finger.”

Were those letters crawling across the white paper, or musical notes, or perhaps ants frozen in place? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. As if hypnotized, Ryujin nodded.

Shin Haebeom prepared two different proposals. One to submit to his superiors, and one to circulate among his subordinates. The former was <Phaeton>, named after the sun god in Greek mythology, and the latter was <Siren>, after the beautiful sea nymph.

He took out an old cell phone. This outdated model, with only basic call, text, and alarm functions, was something Shin Haebeom had received from his aunt a long time ago. He and his younger sister had each received identical models, only differing in color.

Shin Haebeom pressed speed dial 3.

—Yeonji-dong.

“Are you busy?”

—It’s okay. What’s up?

“I’ll be there today. Prepare some drinks and snacks at the annex.”

— …

“Yena.”

—I knew you’d call during the day when you’re busy. Alright. How many people?

Shin Haebeom answered Shin Yena’s question.

— I heard about Chiwoo oppa. The news said he’s okay, but is he really? Is he really unhurt?

“Yes. He’s so fine, it’s almost scary.”

—Still, he must be in shock. The car was completely wrecked.

“He was crying and carrying on.”

—Don’t laugh! You’re not secretly thinking it serves him right, are you? Oppa, if you are, you’re a real jerk. You know that, right? Comfort him sincerely. It’s your duty as a friend.

“I’m not like that.”

—As if. Do you think I don’t know you’re hoping this will make him give up everything?

“I can’t hide anything from you.”

Shin Yena, the young owner of Howollu (Tiger Moon Tower), a mecca for political and business figures, laughed.

—Of course not. Don’t take your lifesaver for granted.

He looked up at the eighteen pillars supporting the magnificent tiled roof. From the entrance, colorful lanterns swaying in the wind caught his eye. Shin Haebeom’s Range Rover turned off the main road just before the security checkpoint, taking a side path.

He drove slowly along the dark, tree-lined road, relying on his headlights. When the gaudy lanterns disappeared and soft white lights appeared, Shin Haebeom rolled down the window and stuck his hand out. A light rain was falling.

The door to the Howollu annex opened. A slender woman in a light green hanbok walked out. A smile spread across her face as she saw Shin Haebeom getting out of the car. Shin Haebeom, instead of accepting the umbrella she offered, hugged his lifesaver tightly.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Thanks, as always.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Shin Haebeom, shown to his seat, gaped at the sight before him. A mountain of barley-mixed rice with a small dish of soy sauce, a dried, burnt mackerel, and some kkakdugi (cubed radish kimchi) awaited him.

“What’s this?”

“Eat what’s given to you.”

“Did you cook this fish? It’s burnt on both sides.”

“Oh, stop nagging!”

Shin Yena placed chopsticks and a spoon in Shin Haebeom’s hand.

“Eat before your friends arrive. Do you think I don’t know you can’t eat properly when other people are around?”

Shin Haebeom said self-deprecatingly, “A person’s taste…it doesn’t change just because you want it to.”

“Oppa, remember that time…?”

Shin Yena spoke in a deliberately bright voice.

“When we worked at Mom’s restaurant? On weekends, it was so busy that everyone was exhausted after closing. You’d scrape the bottom of the rice cooker and mix it with eggs, cheese, ham…what else was there? Anyway, you’d make fried rice for us.”

“I remember. ‘Servant’s rice.’”

“We’d share a giant bowl and end up having a huge fight because you ate too fast. Seriously, you were like a vacuum cleaner. You didn’t even chew, just swallowed. Remember?”

“You still remember that…?”

By the time Shin Haebeom finished eating, Jin Chiwoo and Gi Woohee arrived, five minutes apart. The mood lightened as they shared plum wine. Only Gi Woohee, who had to drive back, drank sparkling water instead of alcohol.

Shin Haebeom distributed the envelopes he had prepared to the three people in front of him.

“Read it.”

It was <Siren>. Shin Yena was the first to speak.

“I want to hear Chiwoo oppa’s opinion first…”

“I’m okay with it!”

Jin Chiwoo’s face was flushed. Shin Haebeom smiled.

“Really okay with it, Chiwoo?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I, I mean…I’m fine. Not that I like that Jung Ryujin bastard.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah, oppa. Drunk.”

“Sir, I think you’re intoxicated.”

Flustered, Jin Chiwoo spluttered, “Are you all ganging up on me?!”

Shin Haebeom said, “We don’t have much time. Gwon Sehyuk’s entrance ceremony is on July 5th. The original plan was for mid-July, but it seems Gwon Joohyuk is getting impatient.”

“That old man is decisive when he pushes for something. That decisiveness, that execution. Bravo. Bravo.”

Jin Chiwoo clapped above his head. Unlike him, who was swaying drunkenly, Gi Woohee calmly finished her calculations and spoke.

“We need to have Jung Ryujin ready by the end of June.”

“Right.”

Shin Haebeom nodded. Shin Yena’s voice cut in.

“He’s still young.”

“…”

“Wasn’t there anyone for him? Someone to tell him not to seek revenge.”

Everyone fell silent. Shin Haebeom looked at the tightly closed window. The blinds, embroidered with camellias, were drawn, obscuring the view outside. A secret room designed so that not even the sound of a mouse could escape. The place where Shin Haebeom’s <Red Tiger> was planned and born.

Shin Haebeom thought of this closed space as his life. He had decided to confront what he couldn’t avoid. He had trapped himself in a cycle of fate. There was no other way. Even with his eyes closed and his ears covered, the agonizing memories couldn’t be buried.

Shin Haebeom emptied his glass.

“Jung Ryujin…he’s like me.”

Jin Chiwoo scoffed.

“Hey! Don’t be so self-absorbed. You two are built completely differently. What nonsense are you spouting? Just because the media’s hyping him up, he thinks he’s some kind of century-level handsome.”

“But sir, isn’t it true that you’re good-looking?”

“Hey, Gi Woohee!”

“Oh my, Chiwoo oppa, why are you like this? What’s wrong with our oppa’s looks? If he took off that uniform, he’d be a movie star.”

It was a joint attack.

“No, that’s not it. When did I say he wasn’t good-looking? I’m saying they’re different types, different types.”

“Stop talking nonsense and drink. I never said Jung Ryujin and I had similar faces.”

“Then what? Do you have similar personalities, the same specs, or even the same age?”

“It’s a feeling.”

“What?”

“He reminds me of my younger self.”

“Seriously?”

Jin Chiwoo couldn’t understand Shin Haebeom. How could he beat someone up, practically rape them, and then say they reminded him of his younger self?

“I think it’s a kind of love-hate relationship,” Gi Woohee said in the car on their way back.

“Love-hate?”

“Yes.”

“What nonsense. Are they dating?”

“Not a romantic love-hate, but rather, feelings directed towards his own powerless past.”

“What does that even mean…?”

“Sir, would you want to go back in time? To your late teens, early twenties when you were much younger and stronger?”

“Are you crazy?!”

Jin Chiwoo shuddered, as if disgusted by the mere thought. “I wouldn’t go back to those hard times even if you gave me the world.”

“That’s it,” Gi Woohee said, smiling quietly.

“What the captain said about Jung Ryujin resembling him, it was probably his younger self. The powerless, deprived version of himself that he can no longer imagine. A memory he wants to deny. Himself.”

“I don’t get it. You intellectuals with your fancy degrees can understand that philosophical stuff. I’m going to sleep. Wake me up when we arrive.”

“Yes, sir. Rest well.”

Shin Yena flipped through the cover of <Siren>. A picture of a boy with red hair and a pale, slender face appeared, smiling brightly. The slightly blurry quality suggested the photo had been taken from a distance with a zoom lens.

“Who is he talking to?” she wondered.

The other person’s face was out of frame, but she had a feeling it must have been someone precious.

“Huh? What did you say?” Shin Haebeom asked, wiping his face with a towel.

“I was just curious who Ryujin is talking to in this picture.”

“…You’re curious about the strangest things.”

Shin Yena’s finger traced Ryujin’s cheek in the photograph.

“He’s pretty. He looks like Ryu Yeonbi.”

“He doesn’t look like that anymore,” Shin Haebeom said. “Because of the torture. The swelling and bruises will fade, but the burn on his temple will remain. It’s quite deep. His ankle too.”

Shin Yena frowned.

“Did you do that, oppa?”

“Yes.”

“Because of Chiwoo oppa?”

“I won’t make excuses.”

“…”

“Wash him, feed him, and dress him well. He needs to look undeniably beautiful.”

“Then you should have been gentler with him.”

“I trust you, Shin Yena.”

Shin Haebeom took out a cigarette and lit it. Now that their conversation was over, it was alright to open the window. He leaned against the windowsill and smoked. The dark sky was visible through the open window. There were a lot of stars tonight. It felt as if they might rain down like a shower of light.

The sounds of laughter, conversation, and traffic drifted in from afar…distant and hazy. It was nighttime at Howollu. The true revelry was just beginning.

“You have a way with people’s hearts. What they want, what they want to hear, the thoughts they hide…I couldn’t hide anything from you.”

“I’m quite perceptive, you know.”

“I have one favor to ask.”

“What favor?”

“Be good to Jung Ryujin.”

“…….”

“He needs someone like you. Just like you were the only one for me.”

It sounded like a plea to keep Jung Ryujin alive. Just like it had been for me.

Shin Yena nodded her head.

At the mention of a physical examination required for enlistment, Ryujin threw a fit and went wild. The person who held and calmed him down was Sung Jaekyung. When he said he had gone through it too and that it wasn’t painful or scary at all, Ryujin finally settled down.

That didn’t mean he let his guard down. Sung Jaekyung tried to strike up a conversation with the tense Ryujin in any way he could. He brought up trending music, movies, dramas… but soon realized Ryujin had no interest in any of those fields and closed his mouth.

Even considering his body had been worn down by torture, Ryujin’s health was poor. He was malnourished and severely underweight. His lung capacity, muscle strength, and all physical abilities were below average. The only thing he could boast about was his 20/20 dynamic vision in both eyes.

By Gi Woohee’s standards, that was Ryujin’s only strength. His small face and long limbs might be nice to look at, but they weren’t advantages for a soldier. Still, Sung Jaekyung’s evaluation was relatively generous.

“He grew up malnourished, but reaching 178 cm is pretty impressive. And, well, having a slender, pretty kid among a bunch of burly guys could lighten the mood, right?”

“Don’t tell Jung Ryujin that compliment directly.”

“No, please, Major. He’ll think I’m some weirdo.”

“If you’re thinking of being friends with him, forget it. He’s not your type.”

“Well…”

Sung Jaekyung fidgeted with his fingers.

“I can’t stop worrying about him. He seems kind of pitiful.”

“Worry about yourself. Don’t get eaten alive by your junior and end up crying.”

“Major!”

Gi Woohee stubbed out her cigarette and looked up at the top floor of the Disciplinary Training Corps building. The sky visible behind the building was painted with vibrant hues. It was already sunset.

“To be honest.”

Shin Haebeom tossed a report in front of Ryujin with a thud.

“If you had been an applicant for the Disciplinary Training Corps, you would have failed the physical examination.”

“…It’s because my body’s not in good shape.”

Ryujin muttered, head bowed.

“My back and knees hurt so much it’s hard to walk. And in the middle of that, short-distance and long-distance running? How am I supposed to do pull-ups and push-ups? You’re screwing me over, aren’t you? If you really wanted to evaluate me objectively, you wouldn’t have done it like this.”

“No need for pathetic excuses.”

Ryujin’s face flushed red.

“It’s not an excuse!”

“You managed to pull off a hostage situation just fine with that frail body, didn’t you?”

Shin Haebeom laughed, seeing Ryujin flinch.

“But your eyesight’s pretty good.”

“My eyes… yeah, they’re pretty good.”

“Good for you. At least you’re not some run-of-the-mill driving robot.”

Shin Haebeom pulled a shopping bag from under the desk and tossed it over. Ryujin caught it reflexively and looked inside, puzzled. It was casual clothing. A black T-shirt and jeans.

“What’s this for?”

“Change into them. Our shooting range is open at night too.”

Ryujin’s face lit up.

“We’re going outside? Right now?”

“Stop yapping and get changed.”

Ryujin didn’t want to change in front of Shin Haebeom, but when Shin Haebeom threatened to call off the shooting range if he dawdled, Ryujin hurriedly turned to face the wall. His foot kept missing the pant leg as he tried to put it on. By the time Ryujin turned back around, his face red up to his neck, Shin Haebeom had no choice but to dock points from his usually reliable eyesight. Sung Jaekyung, who had bought the clothes as instructed, was blameless.

“Well… it fits, more or less.”

“Fits, my ass!”

“You’re complaining? Talk about being ungrateful.”

Shin Haebeom held back a laugh as he opened his cabinet. He picked out a leather belt.

“Come here.”

“I can do it myself. Give it.”

“Come here.”

Shin Haebeom grabbed Ryujin’s waist as he hesitantly approached. His skinny shoulders twitched.

“Even Somali pirates have more meat on them than you.”

Even when tightened to the last hole, the belt was loose enough for a finger to fit through. Shin Haebeom scanned Ryujin’s body again. How long would it take to bulk up this bag of bones into something resembling a person?

“Today’s just a test. If you show potential, Major Gi Woohee will take you on.”

“Shooting, right?”

Shin Haebeom smacked Ryujin’s head.

“Ow! Why’d you hit me!”

“Shooting, my foot. Don’t talk like a thug. It’s marksmanship.”

“Marksmanship, shooting, same thing. Why make a fuss… ow! Why’d you hit me again!”

“Manners and table etiquette are hard to fix with half-hearted effort. From now on, I’m managing every aspect of your daily life. Especially your speech. Think carefully before you open your mouth.”

Shin Haebeom was confident. He was determined to strip away the layers of poverty, loneliness, and pain that clung to Jung Ryujin’s body. He planned to polish him from head to toe until he shone.

Even if Kwon Sehyuk was a leading candidate for the presidency, he was still just a kid fresh out of high school. Swaying a prince who didn’t know the ways of the world wasn’t a difficult task for Jung Ryujin, who had grown up seeing the dark side of life from a young age.

“From now on, don’t call Kwon Sehyuk by his real name. The title we’ve been given is MVP.”

“What, is he some kind of athlete?”

“An athlete, sure. The top racehorse in the succession war. The Kwon Joohyuk faction is betting everything on him.”

The brightly lit shooting range was empty. The fact that no one was around put Ryujin at ease, but for some reason, Shin Haebeom seemed annoyed.

“Damn slackers…”

Ryujin looked around. The display of firearms lining one wall caught his eye.

“Are these all real?”

“What, you think we’d put up fakes?”

“I like this one.”

Ryujin pointed at a Desert Eagle. It was a gun owned by Ha Shinsung. It was also a frequent feature in war movies and fighting games.

“That one?”

Shin Haebeom stepped closer. Ryujin took a step to the side to avoid brushing arms with him.

“Yeah…”

“Kid’s taste.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shin Haebeom handed Ryujin a bulletproof vest and headgear.

“Gear up before you handle a gun.”

“I want this one.”

“It’s not about what you like. It’s about what suits you. This isn’t a arcade.”

Shin Haebeom chose a Beretta 92A1. It was the standard-issue pistol. It had the advantage of being the most suitable for beginners. The Desert Eagle Ryujin had picked was a large-caliber pistol, powerful but not appropriate for a novice. At least, that’s what Shin Haebeom thought.

There was one variable, though. Ryujin wasn’t as green as Shin Haebeom assumed.

The target was fixed in the center for one round, then moved side to side for two more. Shin Haebeom watched from behind as Ryujin fired. After the final shot, Ryujin turned around.

“How’s that?”

Not bad. Shin Haebeom was certain someone from <White Lion> had recognized Ryujin’s dynamic vision. But they hadn’t thought to develop and utilize that talent.

Shin Haebeom approached Ryujin. A spent casing crunched under his boot.

“Mediocre.”

“Still, that’s pretty good…!”

“Your stance is a mess.”

Shin Haebeom grabbed Ryujin’s shoulders and waist.

“Eyes forward.”

“Don’t touch there…!”

“Quiet down before I start groping your ass.”

Shin Haebeom was certain. Jung Ryujin had never received proper training. He was an amateur who mimicked others’ forms by eye. His high accuracy was thanks to natural talent. But no matter how accurate he was, a sloppy stance didn’t make him a sharpshooter.

Training manuals existed for a reason. A comfortable stance might feel good now, but long-term shooting with improper form would wreck his body in no time.

Shin Haebeom tapped Ryujin’s knees, waist, and shoulders with the back of his hand.

“Stop wobbling and stand firm. Spread your legs more. Why are your shoulders so hunched? Lift your arms higher!”

Ryujin followed Shin Haebeom’s instructions. He distinguished between being groped and being touched to correct his posture.

“It’s uncomfortable…”

“Now you see how wrong your stance was?”

Even if it felt awkward now, Shin Haebeom said, in the long run, his accuracy would improve significantly.

“Got it.”

“Who’d you learn that awful form from?”

“No one really taught me. I was just interested…”

“Still, you must’ve had a role model.”

Ryujin hesitated before answering.

“Terror Leader.”

“Not on good terms, huh?”

“You investigated that too? Impressive.”

“No need to investigate. Your basic stance is a mess, and they didn’t bother correcting it. That means they either disliked you or didn’t care enough. It’s easy to figure out.”

Ryujin’s expression darkened.

“Maybe. The only reason they taught me about guns… was because of Hyeonwoo hyung.”

“What’s Gwak Hyeonwoo got to do with it?”

“They were close.”

“Don’t be vague. Explain clearly.”

Ryujin set down the empty Beretta magazine. He licked his dry lower lip. Thinking about Gwak Hyeonwoo made his throat tighten and his eyes burn.

Ryujin spoke haltingly.

“Terror Leader… liked Hyeonwoo hyung. Not just as a colleague, but romantically. Hyung felt the same way. But they were in different units… so they didn’t have much time or excuse to be together.”

“So you played Cupid?”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Just my honest take.”

“Terror Leader said my eyes were good. He told me if I became a sniper, I could join the Terror Unit.”

“But you didn’t make it.”

“It wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough!”

Shin Haebeom nodded inwardly. Even if Cha Moeun had wanted Jung Ryujin, Ha Shinsung wouldn’t have let him go easily. By the way, Terror Leader from <White Lion> and Gwak Hyeonwoo? Quite an unexpected pair. Gwak Hyeonwoo didn’t seem like he could even look Cha Moeun in the eye… but as they say, even a rotten fish is still a fish. Must be because he’s Gwak Jaeheon’s son.

“Wait a sec. Sniper?”

“What about it?”

“Was a rifle your main weapon? What type?”

“A modified lever-action.”

“Old-school.”

Ryujin bristled at Shin Haebeom’s jab.

“What’s wrong with that! I can even do a spin load!”

“Oh, that’s advanced stuff.”

“You know it?”

“Show me.”

Shin Haebeom handed him a long-barreled rifle.

The spin load, alongside revolver fanning, wasn’t exactly practical in real combat. It was hard to aim accurately, and the heavy rifle was tough to handle with one hand.

The only advantage was the ability to reload with one hand while riding something, but that was rare these days. Still, the flashy move had a certain “manly romance” appeal, keeping it alive as a show-off skill. Shin Haebeom had seen such performances at the Shinryonggwan honor guard’s changing-of-the-guard ceremony.

With a click, the long barrel spun impressively. Ryujin turned to Shin Haebeom with a triumphant look.

“How’s that?”

“You’re all about flash, aren’t you?”

“What kind of critique is that!”

“It’s like watching a kid’s talent show.”

Shin Haebeom waved his hand dismissively.

“I get your level. Clean up.”

Ryujin aimed the empty gun at the back of Shin Haebeom’s head as he walked away. Of course, the magazine was empty. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to move his finger carelessly. Instead of pulling the trigger, Ryujin silently mouthed the words.

Gun, aim… fire.

The boy lay in bed with his eyes closed. Noise-canceling earphones blocked out external sounds to a satisfactory degree. He had chosen a tiny, discreet Bluetooth design for two reasons: convenience and the ability to endure hours at the adults’ table with a smiling face.

If his uncle found out, he’d get a slap, but for Kwon Sehyuk, music was a survival strategy. Taylor Swift’s diss tracks always calmed his nerves.

I don’t like your little games

I don’t like your tilted stage

The role you made me play

Of the fool, no, I don’t like you

The graduation party was the worst. He couldn’t invite a single close friend. The volleyball team, which had been active for three years and even made it to nationals, had been thrown into chaos after their ace tested positive for doping.

While everyone on the team was summoned as a person of interest, Kwon Sehyuk was dragged out by a man claiming to be his uncle’s secretary. When Kwon Sehyuk protested that he wouldn’t go alone, the man repeated like a parrot that this wasn’t a place for a prince like him.

The party at the five-star hotel’s event hall was extravagant. But Kwon Sehyuk didn’t feel like the star of the show. The real protagonist was his uncle, who was using his nephew’s graduation as an excuse to solidify his own position with bloodshot ambition.

Kwon Sehyuk was dragged around by his uncle without resistance. He crisscrossed the vast hall until his feet swelled. Smiling and chatting with unfamiliar politicians, journalists, and prominent intellectuals from various fields left him with facial paralysis.

Nothing felt right. The bespoke suit everyone praised as a perfect fit in its bluish-gray hue made Kwon Sehyuk feel like a giant mackerel in the mirror. And don’t get him started on the ridiculous bowtie.

The worst was the shoes. The tightly laced dress shoes numbed his feet as time dragged on. As the party hit its peak, Kwon Sehyuk fled to the bathroom and flung off his shoes.

He pulled his phone from his suit’s inner pocket. No replies. He called one person, but after a few rings, the line cut off abruptly.

Kwon Sehyuk tried other contacts. One phone was off, another was a disconnected number. The group chat with the entire volleyball team? He was the only one left. Everyone else had bailed. When did that happen? They’d cut him out completely?

Those jerks…

They’d graduated, so they figured they’d never see him again?

Kwon Sehyuk was floored. Betrayal stung. For three years, he’d worked hard to fit in with friends who built their lives without leaning on family or connections.

Enduring harassment from the “upper crust” who failed to pull him in while trying to blend with the “lower crowd” who kept him at arm’s length was no easy feat. But he swore he never regretted it. He believed it was the right thing to do. To be a great politician, you had to develop an eye for character, regardless of background, from a young age.

A leader needed loyal advisors who spoke hard truths. If you only listened to flattery from childhood, you’d never grow. Kwon Sehyuk genuinely believed that.

Buried in the music, he missed the knock. Only when the doorknob rattled violently did he realize someone was outside his door. And that someone was furious.

“What?”

He pulled out one earphone. The sound of the doorknob shaking and fists pounding the door was deafening. Kwon Sehyuk sprang out of bed.

“Why!”

“What are you doing locking the door!”

“Just chilling!”

“You gonna open this door or not?!”

“What’s the deal?!”

Jang Seunghee quickly stepped back. As expected, her reckless son flung the door open with enough force to crack someone’s forehead.

“What now.”

Her once-cute son was now a towering man. His tousled brown hair fell over his pale forehead. Jang Seunghee crossed her arms and looked up at the grumbling Kwon Sehyuk.

“What were you doing behind a locked door?”

“Nothing. Just lying in bed.”

“You open the door this late for nothing?”

“I was listening to music. Ugh, why are you interrogating me?”

Kwon Sehyuk held out his palm. The Bluetooth earphone rolled around in it. But Jang Seunghee didn’t drop her suspicious glare.

“Are you still in touch with those kids?”

“Mom!”

“Your uncle’s really worried about you. Since we’ve settled the military issue, just stay quietly at home until you enter the Disciplinary Corps. Don’t go wandering around.”

“God, this is driving me nuts…”

“I’m the one going nuts because of you. That damn sports team—thought I’d finally get a break after graduation, and then this mess at the last minute?”

Kwon Sehyuk scratched his hair furiously. He wished dandruff would shower down, but his brown locks only gave off a pleasant shampoo scent.

“I told you a million times to make proper friends. Three years of being dragged around by that sports team, and now you’re caught up in this doping scandal. Can you even sleep at night? Can you?”

“If I can’t sleep, what, should I throw a tantrum?”

“You call that an answer! I can’t even face your uncle because of you.”

“Stop talking about Uncle!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“That damn party or whatever, I’m exhausted from coming back at dawn. Let me sleep!”

“You little!”

Kwon Sehyuk threw himself onto the bed. The door slammed shut but swung open again from the draft. Jang Seunghee spoke loudly, making sure Kwon Sehyuk heard.

“If you keep hanging out with those weird kids, I won’t let it slide. Your uncle pulled strings to get you into public service, but originally, I was going to send you straight to the Marines.”

Kwon Sehyuk buried his face in the pillow.

“You messed up your knees, tweaked your back, and sprained your ankle playing volleyball with those lowlifes. I let it slide back then. But now that this scandal’s blown up, it’s a miracle your uncle acted fast. If word had gotten out, I’d be jumping out of bed in a panic. That damn special talent system needs to be scrapped. Their backgrounds alone…”

Kwon Sehyuk shouted.

“Mom!”

“I’m upset, okay, upset!”

“Stop it! I’m frustrated too!”

Jang Seunghee didn’t back down. She was the first lady of the regime. For the past 20 years, since giving birth to her precious eldest son, Jang Seunghee had fought tooth and nail to put the world in Kwon Sehyuk’s hands.

She looked down at her son, buried under the blankets.

“Get your act together. You’re an adult now.”

“…….”

“You need to know who you are and who’s supporting you.”

“…….”

Jang Seunghee sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’re special.”

Kwon Sehyuk clenched his fists. He didn’t need to be told. He’d heard it so many times over the past three years that it was drilled into his skull. He’d denied it so fiercely it bruised his heart.

He didn’t think he was special. He was just born with a slightly better background. That’s all.

Every human deserved respect as an individual, and no one should be worshipped as an idol.

Kwon Sehyuk closed his eyes, recalling Albert Einstein’s words.

Besides the ceremonial dress uniform issued to officers, Disciplinary Training Corps members received various uniforms. They also got a peaked cap and polished boots. But there were no rank insignia, badges, or armbands that other soldiers wore proudly. Ryujin had nothing to indicate his status or position. Not even a name tag. Shin Haebeom warned that since he wasn’t yet authorized for an access pass, he had to stick close to him.

“Feels like I’m being watched. I hate it.”

“Then starve. You can’t get into the staff cafeteria without this.”

Shin Haebeom twirled the key card between his fingers. It was infuriatingly smug.

“Don’t get cocky when you haven’t even memorized the building layout.”

“There’s too much to remember.”

“Code words are the basics of radio communication. If you can’t do this, you can’t communicate. If you’re going to stick by MVP’s side, it’s one of the things you absolutely need to know.”

“…….”

“I’m giving you exactly three days. If you don’t cram all this into that tiny head by then, you’re going straight to the basement.”

“There’s over a hundred! How am I supposed to memorize them in three days!”

“I’ll test you with flashcards every night. For every one you get wrong, you’ll get ten smacks.”

“You’re threatening me!”

Shin Haebeom laughed.

“That’s military-style training.”

Ryujin gritted his teeth. He gripped the pencil Shin Haebeom had tossed him like a favor. He had no choice. He didn’t want to be dragged to the basement.

Jin Chiwoo was back. Of everyone in the Disciplinary Training Corps, he was the most unsettling. The feeling was mutual, yet Jin Chiwoo rejected Shin Haebeom’s offer to set up a partition to separate their space. Instead, he constantly hovered around Ryujin. His goal was to meddle.

“Look at that handwriting. Like worms crawling.”

“…….”

“You’re a middle school dropout, right? Can you even write your name in English?”

Jin Chiwoo picked fights like this.

“What’s with the glare?! I’ll knock you out!”

A box of tissues came flying. Ryujin sighed heavily. Shin Haebeom was clearly the superior, but Jin Chiwoo acted the same whether he was around or not—completely shameless.

It wasn’t like Shin Haebeom put him in his place either. He enjoyed watching Ryujin get picked on by Jin Chiwoo. They were both utter trash. No wonder they were childhood friends.

Jin Chiwoo specialized in fieldwork. He was unusually enthusiastic about rehabilitation activities. He attended events, took photos, gave interviews, and volunteered under the Disciplinary Training Corps’ name. He claimed showing his happy side reassured the public. Ryujin didn’t buy it. Jin Chiwoo just wanted to goof off.

It was the same in the office. Jin Chiwoo spent more time eating, watching TV, or napping on the couch than working. There was one surprising thing, though. Jin Chiwoo didn’t hog the food he bought. He always portioned some out onto a small plate for Ryujin. Of course, he never invited him to eat together.

Compared to Jin Chiwoo, Shin Haebeom was at least more like a proper public servant. Dozens of documents for approval landed on his desk every morning. He reviewed reports, planned projects, and even went on nighttime patrols. He wasn’t entirely absent from external activities, but compared to Jin Chiwoo, it was minimal, and his volunteering wasn’t just for show. Unlike Jin Chiwoo, who scrambled to get in front of cameras, Shin Haebeom had some integrity.

Gi Woohee had two titles: Major and First Director. At first, Ryujin was so confused he couldn’t even address her properly. It turned out Major was her military rank, while First Director was her position within the Disciplinary Training Corps.