BYBM Chapter 1 (Part 2)

She had always wanted to venture far from home, but as a princess, she had never been allowed to leave without a proper reason.

“Anyway, you don’t need to feel guilty toward me. I genuinely have no regrets about handing that man over to you and washing my hands of the whole thing. However—”

She paused, locking eyes with him.

“There’s another reason I called you here, Hyun-jin.”

“…?”

“As your friend, I’m deeply concerned about your future.”

Je Sang-ah sighed, resting her cheek against one hand.

His younger brother, who had been fuming all this time, now looked completely drained, slumping into his chair with a grumbling voice.

“So what the hell are you going to do now? The temple must have heard about this already, and obviously, you’re going to be excommunicated. You won’t have the temple’s protection anymore. And if you tell the truth now, you’ll probably get yourself killed. Even if you somehow survive, you’ll have made an enemy of the Hyun family. And the royal family definitely won’t be pleased either.”

The bleak reality of his future was becoming clearer by the second.

Yoo Hyun-jin’s shoulders slumped.

“…What do I do, seriously…?”

“What do you do?”

Je Sang-ah leaned in, her face completely serious.

“You shut up. Do you want to die?”

She didn’t wait for him to answer before continuing.

“Hyun-jin, as your friend, I’m telling you—you cannot afford to get involved with that man. No matter how I look at it, you’re just a fool with a sharp tongue who’s soft-hearted at the core. There is no way you can handle someone like him. So, I personally think this is the worst mistake of your life—but since the damage is already done, we have no choice but to go through with it. Because no matter what happens, it’s still better than dying. Don’t you think?”

Clicking her tongue, she suddenly grabbed his hand this time, squeezing it tightly.

“You need to wake up, my friend. The world isn’t just or forgiving. We don’t know why he’s done this, but what’s done is done. You cannot go back. Your only option now is to see this through. Go to Governor Hyun Tae-oh and demand that he take responsibility. Forget about being a priest. From this moment on, your best chance of survival is to cling to him. Understand?”

Yoo Hyun-jin instinctively leaned away from her intensity, blinking rapidly as he tried to process her words.

And then—

As if the serious conversation had never happened—Je Sang-ah sat back, fanning herself lazily once again.

“So, since things have turned out this way, let’s try to see the bright side. You always liked Governor Hyun Tae-oh, didn’t you? So depending on how you look at it, this might actually be… a good thing.”

“A good thing…?”

“You liked him already, and now he’s annulled his engagement just to take responsibility for you. If you think about it… Wouldn’t you say you hit the jackpot?”

“…Huh?”

For a fleeting moment, Yoo Hyun-jin dazedly thought, ‘Oh… could she be right?’ but he quickly shook his head, snapping himself out of it.

“No, yes, I liked him. I did. But he’s not like that. I’ve never once heard anyone say that he likes men.”

“What does that matter? You like him. That’s all that matters. He’s the one who said he’d take responsibility. And besides, how do you know? Maybe he discovered the joys of men while he was in Pyeonghang.”

“The joys of—what the—hey, Je Sang-ah! Can you watch your mouth?!”

The chaste priest Yoo Hyun-jin flushed red and shouted in horror. The precious royal princess, Je Sang-ah, merely muttered, “Oops. My mistake,” and then rolled her eyes at him instead.

“But really, would he say something like that if he weren’t at least a little open to it? Would he actually annul his engagement over something he wasn’t serious about? And tell me, did I say anything incorrect? Sure, in Je-yang, same-sex marriage is legally prohibited, but Songal doesn’t have that law. And because Pyeonghang is on the Songal border—where there are plenty of Songal-born and mixed-blood people—the province has special laws recognizing same-sex unions. It’s a place where same-sex relationships are much more common than here. He lived there for seven years, so maybe his tastes broadened a little. Who knows?”

Once again, for just a second, Yoo Hyun-jin thought, ‘Wait, could that be…?’ but he shook his head again. He had never won a verbal argument against Je Sang-ah, but today, more than ever, his mind was in complete shambles.

“Well, if I haven’t heard any rumors about it by now, then he’s probably not into men. Even if he’s ‘taking responsibility’ for you, it might just be for show, and he could go off and start a separate family somewhere else. That’s actually very likely. But for now, you don’t have much of a choice. You need to survive first.”

Je Sang-ah spoke decisively. Her brows knit together for a moment as she seriously considered the situation, before she exhaled with a rare glint of concern in her eyes.

“Honestly? Even I don’t understand it. That man is not someone who acts recklessly. The fact that he’s doing something this extreme, completely out of nowhere—I really can’t figure out what he’s thinking. And that scares me. But regardless, you’re already caught in this mess. So you need to focus on your own survival. Got it? So no matter what happens, make sure he takes responsibility.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it firmly, driving in her point. That much, at least, seemed certain. Yoo Hyun-jin stared at her, dazed. His mind just wasn’t functioning properly anymore. From the moment he’d woken up this morning, the emotional blows had been nonstop. His ability to make rational decisions was crumbling.

And yet—everything about this situation defied logic. Yes, if he had actually slept with Hyun Tae-oh, it would be a scandal, of course. It would cause problems. The fact that his partner was both a man and a priest would definitely make the situation worse. Even for someone like Hyun Tae-oh, it wouldn’t be something he could walk away from without some level of damage. But still—if that was the case, wouldn’t the obvious course of action be to silence him with some kind of threat? Instead—Hyun Tae-oh had immediately annulled his engagement and declared he would take responsibility.

It was either the height of integrity… or complete and utter madness.

But whatever the case, as Je Sang-ah had said—it was too late to turn back now. If he tried to reverse course, the consequences for him would be far worse than anyone else’s. Execution in secret. Rotting in a dungeon. Or worse.

“So you’re really saying… I should just keep my mouth shut and pretend nothing’s wrong, and… tell him to take responsibility…?” Yoo Hyun-jin muttered, stunned.

He didn’t care about losing his position as a priest. Becoming a priest had never been his lifelong dream to begin with. He had taken that path because of his deeply devout mother—and because he had been desperately trying to suppress his own desires. And yes. He had liked Hyun Tae-oh for a long time. So in a way, just going along with the situation could actually work in his favor.

But—was this really okay? If he went along with this, if he let Hyun Tae-oh take responsibility… wasn’t that fraud—

“Sure, that’d be great if you could pull it off. But there’s one big problem.”

Just then—his younger brother, who had been standing silently with his arms crossed, suddenly scoffed and interjected.

“…Huh? What problem?”

Yoo Hyun-jin blinked blankly. His brother’s eyes flashed with an incredulous glare.

“Did you forget? You’re a priest. Your body has been blessed by Hanaram. That means if, at any point in the future, you actually do sleep with that man—” (Here, his brother visibly paled, as if he couldn’t even bear the thought.)

“—the moment that happens, your divine protection will vanish. And everyone will know you were a virgin all along. So then what? What are you gonna do when people realize you were lying the whole time?!”

Oh.

Oh, right.

That… that was a thing.

For so long, his divine status had been second nature to him—so much so that he had completely forgotten about it.

A priest is, by their very existence, proof of Hanaram’s presence.

From the moment they are ordained and receive their sacred blessing, they are granted a visible divine protection. When they ascend to the rank of Deputy Priest, this protection fully manifests, signifying their entry into priesthood. Each priest is granted a unique ability—large or small—serving as undeniable proof of their purity and dedication to Hanaram.

But that proof disappears if a priest ever loses their qualifications.

If a priest kills someone or sleeps with another person, their divine protection visibly vanishes—a faint mist briefly shrouds their body before dissipating, signifying that Hanaram’s sacred blessing has been broken.

This phenomenon is widely known and often cited as proof that Hanaram is truly alive and watching. Every priest who has ever renounced their vows and returned to secular life has experienced it.

“If he was completely wasted and unconscious when it happened, then sure, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed. But if he was sober enough to remember, then there’s no way he wouldn’t realize something was wrong! If that happens, everyone will know you were lying—then what are you going to do?!”

Hearing his brother’s harshly precise words, Yoo Hyun-jin turned pale.

That was…

That was something he absolutely did not want to imagine.

“Ah… I… I just won’t sleep with him.”

Until now, Yoo Hyun-jin had never even considered the possibility of actually lying in bed with that man.

With Hyun Tae-oh?

He had spent his entire life harboring feelings for him, but never once had his thoughts strayed toward anything physical.

The truth was, while he theoretically understood how those things worked, he had never actually seriously thought about it.

Looking back now, he truly had lived a pure and chaste life as a priest.

“But he said he’d take responsibility. And you think that doesn’t mean sleeping with him?”

“Just because he said that doesn’t mean it has to be that kind of responsibility.”

“He broke off his engagement for this!”

His younger brother’s eyes blazed as he glared at him.

Yoo Hyun-jin felt his mind go blank again.

“Sure, fine. You’ve never heard any rumors about Hyun Tae-oh being into men. So maybe he’s not. But what if he is? What if he’s so set on ‘taking responsibility’ that he decides to go all the way—then what are you going to do?!”

Yoo Hyun-jin couldn’t answer.

Even Je Sang-ah, who usually had something to say about everything, looked away, lazily waving her fan as if to avoid thinking about it.

“I mean, he probably isn’t, sure. Most likely, he’ll just ‘take responsibility’ in name only and satisfy his needs elsewhere.

But.

There’s still a chance. No matter how small. Even if it’s 0.0001%.”

His younger brother banged the table hard, then groaned, clutching his head in frustration.

And finally, as Yoo Hyun-jin sat there speechless, his brother let out a wretched howl.

“Why the hell did you have to make everything so ridiculously complicated?!”

* * *

In the end, there was no clear answer.

Yoo Hyun-jin walked down the stone-walled path, head buried deep into his collar. Avoiding people’s gazes as he moved, he felt like a condemned criminal. The snow, which he had thought would stop soon, only fell harder, weighing down his already sunken mood.

“Fine, whatever. Even if I don’t like it, I can understand that my brother likes men. Whether he gets excommunicated, steals someone else’s fiancé, or rolls around in bed with another man—he’s still my brother, so I’d deal with it. And sure, I get it. He grew up in that household during rough times, so maybe he ended up developing feelings for someone who treated him kindly. But why that man?! Huh?! If it were one of the other brothers, maybe I’d get it, but why in the world does it have to be Hyun Tae-oh?!”

His younger brother had been muttering complaints in a hushed voice as they left Jeonghye Palace together, but his simmering frustration finally exploded, making him clutch his head as he yelled.

“…It would have been fine if it were the other brothers?”

“It wouldn’t have been fine, but! At least out of all of them, that one has the most complicated background, reputation, and worst personality! Seriously, hyung, why—why in the world did it have to be him?! You don’t even have any good memories of him, do you?!”

Genuinely bewildered now, his younger brother turned to him with a look of exasperation, as if he truly couldn’t fathom it. Yoo Hyun-jin lowered his head with a sullen murmur.

“I never chose him….”

If he had been able to choose, he never would have picked Hyun Tae-oh. It wasn’t as though he was unaware that Hyun Tae-oh was the least suitable person to have lingering feelings for.

If he had been capable of letting go, he would have done so a long time ago.

Why, despite all the years he had tried so hard, was he unable to forget? If only someone else could have caught his attention instead—why hadn’t that ever happened?

For years, he had prayed for others, blessed others, watching over countless people at the temple. But who had ever prayed for him? Who had ever blessed him? Who had ever encouraged him to follow his own heart?

Had he ever even wanted to live like this?

Yoo Hyun-jin stared down at his feet as he walked, deep in thought. His younger brother, seeing the tangled mess of emotions on his face, opened his mouth as if to say something—but in the end, he closed it again.

At the entrance of the royal palace, they parted ways. Yoo Hyun-jin walked alone down the familiar stone path, deep in thought.

When had he first started noticing Hyun Tae-oh? And why?

His steps led him down a road he had walked many times before.

The number of vehicles decreased. The crowds thinned. The path became quiet, lined with large, elegant mansions enclosed by high walls.

The further he walked, the grander the houses became.

He was the only one out in the cold, wrapped in an old coat, trudging forward against the wind. Not a single person, not even a stray cigarette butt, disturbed the pristine, silent road.

It had been years since he had last come here, yet nothing had changed.

Nothing ever would.

Even if decades passed, this place would stay exactly the same.

Until he entered the seminary over a decade ago, this was the path he walked every single day. If he kept going, the mansions would grow more sparse, and eventually, he would reach the base of the mountains where a towering wall stretched endlessly—a barrier enclosing an enormous estate.

It was the ancestral home of the Hyun family, one of the most powerful and prestigious noble houses in Je-yang, a clan that had upheld centuries of tradition and influence.

Although the current head of the family, Prime Minister Hyun Sang-won, resided at the Prime Minister’s residence along this very road, he and his wife would return to the main estate on weekends. The sons who had moved out, along with other extended family members, would inevitably gather for holidays and important family events.

In the late autumn of the year Yoo Hyun-jin turned twelve, the man who delivered the news of his father’s death was none other than Brigadier General Hyun Sang-won—the very same man who was now Prime Minister of Je-yang.

His father had died protecting Hyun Sang-won on the battlefield, shielding him from a storm of bullets at the cost of his own life. The man whose life had been spared by his father had, in turn, taken in the three left behind—his mother, his younger brother, and himself—bringing them into the Hyun family’s home.

The day he, his mother, and his brother walked up this very road toward the Hyun estate, snow had fallen just like today.

Under the hazy veil of softly falling snowflakes, the walls had seemed endless, the mansion beyond them immense.

The three of them had stood frozen before the towering wooden gate, utterly overwhelmed.

Perhaps the gatekeeper had stepped away for a moment.

By the time the snow had begun piling up on their hair and clothes, the gatekeeper had returned. Just as he noticed them and was about to approach, he suddenly turned toward the sound of footsteps descending from the mountain path.

“You’ve returned, sir.”

The gatekeeper greeted the newcomer with polite respect and moved to open the gate. The one he was addressing was a tall boy.

Dressed casually as if he had just come from a walk, the boy was about to step through the open gate—but then he paused and turned.

And for the first time, Yoo Hyun-jin locked eyes with him.

It felt like an arrow piercing through him.

The gaze was so direct, so unwavering, that Yoo Hyun-jin felt as if something had seized him by the throat.

The boy looked to be about four or five years older than him—perhaps sixteen or seventeen. He was handsome, but at that moment, Yoo Hyun-jin was too overwhelmed to even register that. The boy’s stark features, the intensity of his gaze, were the only things that struck him.

His face was sharp and defined. His eyes, pitch black.

Up until that moment, Yoo Hyun-jin had never been afraid of anyone before.

But that day, for the first time, he felt an unfamiliar fear—one he couldn’t even begin to name.

He stood there, frozen, unable to move.

The boy, too, continued staring back at him.

How long had they stood like that?

It must have been only a few seconds in reality, but it had felt like an eternity.

Eventually, the boy’s gaze shifted—from Yoo Hyun-jin, to his mother, to his younger brother.

Then, without a word, he turned to the gatekeeper and spoke briefly. The gatekeeper, in turn, responded with a nod before the boy walked through the gates and disappeared inside.

The gatekeeper then approached them. Perhaps he had already been informed in advance, as he asked, “Are you the family of Lieutenant Yoo Jin-cheol?” and then led them inside.

They were taken to a separate wing of the mansion.

And from that day onward, they lived there.

That moment had been the very first time Yoo Hyun-jin had ever seen Hyun Tae-oh.

Even though the Hyun estate was massive, with countless halls and rooms, and despite the fact that he rarely ever crossed paths with that boy afterward—

That one moment had seared itself into his memory.

The way his gaze had pinned him in place.

The stark, handsome features.

The way those dark eyes had felt like they could see through him.

It hadn’t even been a week since they moved into the estate when Yoo Hyun-jin realized he could never allow himself to be drawn to that boy.

Because that was the week his younger brother, Yoo Se-jin, caused trouble.

At the time, the Hyun estate kept several Tosa dogs—massive, powerful hunting dogs. But Yoo Se-jin, being a reckless child, had decided it would be fun to tease one of the chained dogs. He had taunted and provoked it until, with one powerful yank, the dog snapped its leash and charged straight for him.

He had nearly been killed.

Yoo Hyun-jin had gone looking for him because he’d been too quiet—and whenever his brother was that quiet, it usually meant he was up to no good. He had been right.

By the time he found him, his younger brother was already deathly pale, sprinting for his life with a raging war dog at his heels.

He was fast, but the gap was closing rapidly. He was seconds away from being ripped apart.

Yoo Hyun-jin moved before he could think.

Throwing himself between the dog and his brother, he braced himself.

The massive beast, its jaws wide open, lunged for him.

And in that split second—

Ping—

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Then—Thud.

A sickening impact.

Something flashed in his vision, and suddenly—the gaping jaws that had been just inches from his throat were gone.

‘—’

The corpse of the dog collapsed onto the ground.

A thick iron arrow, thicker than a grown man’s finger, was lodged deep in its neck. Blood pooled rapidly, and the dog twitched in its final moments.

Still shielding his younger brother behind him, Yoo Hyun-jin could only stare in shock.

Then, he sensed someone approaching.

He turned his head—and there he was.

The boy from the mansion’s entrance.

Holding a bow as tall as himself, he walked toward them.

His expression was unreadable.

For a brief moment, his black eyes flicked toward Yoo Hyun-jin—but then he simply walked past him and toward the dying dog.

Another boy followed behind him. “How was it?” he asked.

The archer frowned slightly, dissatisfied.

“I aimed for the center, but I was a little off. If I missed this much, it wouldn’t have died instantly.”

His tone was flat—almost bored.

Then, without hesitation, he drew another arrow from his quiver and drove it directly into the exact spot he had intended to hit the first time.

Thud.

A deep, wet sound.

The iron arrow pierced cleanly through the dog’s throat.

This time, it died instantly.

That was it.

The moment was over.

A servant rushed in, dragging the dog’s lifeless body away. Yoo Hyun-jin’s mother, having heard the commotion, rushed over and hurried her sons back to the annex.

That night, after his brother had cried himself hoarse from the beating he received, Yoo Hyun-jin silently applied medicine to his wounds.

And all the while—

He couldn’t stop thinking about that boy.

Those black eyes, exactly as he had seen them on the first day.

The way he had looked at a dying animal with such a detached, indifferent gaze.

The emotionless voice as he corrected his mistake.

Only then did Yoo Hyun-jin finally understand why everyone warned him to be careful around the fourth son of the Hyun family.

And he realized something else, too.

That was someone he should never get close to.

He had to stay far away.

But still, he couldn’t get him out of his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about him.

As he kept being conscious of him and recalling him over and over, at some point, Yoo Hyun-jin began to follow him with his eyes. And during that time, the intense emotions he had felt started to mix with different shades, and—eventually—it led to this moment.

He thought, What does it matter if I like him in my heart alone?

As long as he kept it to himself, as long as he carried it alone, that was enough.

He believed that time would pass like this, that his life would continue, that Hyun Tae-oh’s life would continue, and that they would move forward in completely separate directions without ever crossing paths. And then, eventually, these feelings would be buried. That was how he had lived.

But then.

“……”

Yoo Hyun-jin stopped walking when he saw the heavy wooden gates looming ahead.

In the silent street, where only the streetlights flickered to life after sunset, the gate cast a dark, elongated shadow, making it look even more immense.

His heart shrank, and the cold seeped deeper into him, making him clutch his collar tightly once more.

After parting ways with his brother, his steps had wandered aimlessly. His thoughts were in disarray, and even if he returned to the temple, it would already be in chaos by now. If he went back, he would be summoned by the High Priest immediately. But he didn’t even know what he could say in front of him.

No, no matter who he met.

He had no idea what to say, or how to explain it, or to whom. His thoughts were scattered, and his mind swayed like a ship lost at sea.

Je Sang-ah had told him to shut his eyes and stay silent. To deceive Hyun Tae-oh. To let things unfold as they were.

His younger brother had been full of complaints and anxiety, but even he couldn’t suggest a better path.

But was this really okay? Was it really?

Could he deceive his own heart and his own conscience and just stay silent?

Even if he was going to be excommunicated, even if he had never been particularly attached to priesthood, had he not, until now, lived as a priest who spread truth and sincerity?

And then, suddenly.

――One must take responsibility for what they have done. …Isn’t that right?

Hyun Tae-oh’s whisper echoed in his ears.

At that moment, it felt like cold water had been poured over his head, and his thoughts cleared.

No. He couldn’t do this.

That man had done nothing wrong. If so, then he deserved to know the truth, and whatever he decided afterward, Yoo Hyun-jin had to accept it. He was the one who had spoken carelessly, and he had to take responsibility for what he had done.

That was why Yoo Hyun-jin decided to find him and tell him the truth.

He could still hear Je Sang-ah’s concerns and his brother’s frantic voice like an echo in his head, but he pushed them away.

Afraid that his resolve would waver, Yoo Hyun-jin walked faster toward the Hyun estate.

Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, the distance from the palace to the Hyun family’s home was far but still walkable.

His determined steps gradually slowed the closer he got. And now that the towering gate was right in front of him, his feet seemed glued to the ground.

…He wouldn’t die, would he?

…Maybe it would be better to apologize first and ask to be thrown in prison. That might actually be safer.

The more he thought about it, the colder he felt, and he hunched his shoulders.

But he quickly shook his head, as if trying to shake off his fears and anxiety.

No matter what, he had to tell the truth.

At this point, things had already escalated beyond the point of being neatly or smoothly resolved. Still, before it was too late, he had to tell the truth and apologize.

There was still a chance to undo this.

Even though Hyun Tae-oh would be furious, even though the world would be in an uproar for a while, even though, in the worst case, he might be thrown in prison or even lose his life—still, there was a chance.

Step by heavy step, Yoo Hyun-jin dragged himself forward until he finally reached the gate. As he approached, the guard in the watch post took notice and stepped outside.

“How may I he—… Ah, Priest Yoo.”

The guard, who had initially approached with a strict demeanor, halted in recognition. His posture relaxed slightly as he offered a polite greeting, though his expression was peculiar—a mixture of awkwardness, tension, and unease. Clearly, he had already heard the news. How could he not? The special editions had spread everywhere.

Yoo Hyun-jin felt ashamed even in front of the guard and bowed his head heavily.

“I apologize for the late hour. May I ask if Governor Hyun Tae-oh has returned?”

“Yes, he is here… but please wait a moment.”

The guard returned to the post, made a call, and shortly after, he emerged again to open the gate, gesturing for him to enter.

“He is in the study. He has a guest at the moment, but it should not take long. If you wait in the reception room, he will see you shortly. Would you like someone to escort you—?”

“No, I can find my way. Thank you.”

Hurriedly declining the offer, Yoo Hyun-jin quickened his steps. He already knew exactly where everything was in this mansion. And more importantly, he didn’t want to run into anyone right now.

But no matter how much he tried to avoid people, the estate was simply too large, and too many people worked here. Along the way, he inevitably crossed paths with several servants. He kept his head down, barely offering a nod in acknowledgment, and all but sprinted toward the reception room.

There were three reception rooms in the mansion, but if Hyun Tae-oh was meeting someone, it would be in the one attached to his private study.

Fortunately, once he stepped inside the mansion, he didn’t run into anyone else. He darted toward the reception room like a flash, but at the last threshold, he encountered his final obstacle.

“Welcome, Priest Yoo Hyun-jin. We received word from the guards and have been expecting you. His Excellency is attending to some matters at the moment, so please wait inside.”

The man who spoke politely, even holding the door open for him, was Jin Mun-seong—Hyun Tae-oh’s adjutant and cousin.

(He was also the same boy who had been standing next to Hyun Tae-oh when he shot the dog years ago.)

Jin Mun-seong, the Prime Minister’s nephew by marriage, had originally been born to a powerful provincial noble family, but he had been sent to the Hyun estate from a young age to be raised in the capital. From the time he could barely walk, he had grown up in this house, trained alongside the Hyun brothers, and had long served at Hyun Tae-oh’s side.

Yoo Hyun-jin always found him somewhat difficult to deal with, though in a completely different way from Hyun Tae-oh.

Hyun Tae-oh was like a beast, impossible to ignore—his presence alone dominated the space around him, his sharp gaze like a predator revealing its claws.

Jin Mun-seong, on the other hand, was different.

He always stood one step behind, but nothing escaped his notice.

He didn’t speak much. He was always soft-spoken and polite. But for some reason, standing before him, one always felt as though they had been seen through completely, as if some unseen weakness had already been discovered.

Like now.

Sitting uncomfortably on the sofa, staring at the closed study door, Yoo Hyun-jin suddenly made eye contact with Jin Mun-seong, who was watching him with a knowing expression—and then, ever so slightly, smiled.

A brief, unreadable smile.

“Have you been well? Last time we met, I didn’t get the chance to greet you properly.”

“…Yes, you must have had a hard time in the far provinces. Welcome back.”

Yoo Hyun-jin returned the greeting with as much formality as he could muster.

He remembered immediately when their last meeting had been.

After all, since Hyun Tae-oh’s return from Pyeonghang after seven years, they had only crossed paths once.

It had been on the Prime Minister’s wife’s birthday.

Even though Yoo Hyun-jin had long since lived separately from this family, he had spent several years here in his youth, and the Prime Minister’s wife, Hyun Tae-oh’s mother, had looked after him in those days. So every year on her birthday, he visited to present a small gift.

That day, as always, he had brought a simple scarf he thought she might like.

And there—

He had run into them.

Hyun Tae-oh.

Standing beside Jin Mun-seong.

He had heard that Hyun Tae-oh had returned from Pyeonghang, but this was the first time he had actually seen him in person.

Since it was early in the afternoon, he had assumed Hyun Tae-oh would be out, never imagining that he would be sitting with his mother, drinking tea so peacefully.

The moment he saw him, his heart lurched.

How long had it been?

Even though it had been so long, even though he had thought his feelings had cooled somewhat, they swelled back up so vividly that even he was shocked by how overwhelmingly happy he felt.

‘Oh my, Hyun-jin, you’re here. Come in.’

‘…Yes, ma’am. Happy birthday.’

‘To think you never forget to come each year. Even my own sons completely forgot until they were reminded this morning, yet here you are, remembering. You’re better than my own children. Thank you, Hyun-jin.’

The Prime Minister’s wife had thrown a sideways glare at the son sitting beside her before smiling and reaching out for Yoo Hyun-jin’s hand. Her wrinkled fingers gently grasped his, pulling him closer.

‘Come to think of it, have you and Tae-oh seen each other since he got back?’

At his mother’s question, the son, who had remained silent, simply replied in a clipped tone.

‘This is the first time.’

His voice was cold, as if he considered Yoo Hyun-jin nothing more than an intrusion into his time with his mother. At that, the warmth swelling in Yoo Hyun-jin deflated instantly.

‘Is that so? Hyun-jin, Tae-oh had a terrible accident in Pyeonghang a while ago, so he’ll be staying in the capital for some time. He was just discharged a few days ago and has come home.’

His long recovery and rehabilitation might have been a burden, but his mother was simply thrilled to have her youngest son at home. Yoo Hyun-jin nodded.

‘Yes, I heard the news.’

‘I nearly fainted when I heard about it myself. Pyeonghang has always been dangerous, and I worried constantly, but to think something like this would happen. His eldest brother is temporarily overseeing things in his place, but I worry myself sick every day.’

The Prime Minister’s wife sighed heavily, her expression darkening as she thought about her eldest son now stationed at the border. But, realizing there was a guest present, she quickly brightened her face.

‘Still, it was a terrible accident—an entire building collapsed—but at least he only injured his leg. That alone is a blessing. I prayed so earnestly every time I visited the temple, and Hyun-jin, I heard you prayed for him too. Maybe that’s why he was able to return alive and well. Thank you, Hyun-jin.’

Yoo Hyun-jin flinched inwardly.

Hyun Tae-oh’s gaze was on him.

It was a neutral look, merely observing—yet somehow, it felt as though it pierced through him, as if it had unraveled every thought he had ever buried. He felt exposed, his skin crawling from the scrutiny.

Praying for someone stationed at the border wasn’t unusual for a priest, but his own guilt made him feel as though he had been caught doing something wrong.

Because he had not prayed for Hyun Tae-oh as a priest—

He had prayed as a man.

‘Surely not. It was only thanks to your own devoted prayers, ma’am. I did nothing for him.’

He kept his expression firm, deliberately emphasizing “nothing” as he spoke. Then, hesitantly, he stole a glance at Hyun Tae-oh.

The moment their eyes met, he saw the narrowing of those dark eyes.

Had he sensed something?

Yoo Hyun-jin quickly looked away.

‘Oh, what are you saying, Hyun-jin? You must have—’

‘Happy birthday, Mother. I should be going now—I have matters to attend to in the afternoon.’

‘What? You just got here.’

The Prime Minister’s wife frowned, startled by the abrupt departure.

But Yoo Hyun-jin didn’t give her a chance to stop him—he quickly bowed and stood up.

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a faint smirk on Hyun Tae-oh’s lips.

Was he pleased to see him leaving so quickly?

The truth was—he had wanted to stay longer.

Even if they didn’t exchange words, he had wanted to sit there, even just to watch him, to listen to his voice.

But if he stayed too long, his face might soften too much. He might smile without realizing it.

And Hyun Tae-oh had not looked particularly pleased to see him. He didn’t want to overstep and make himself a nuisance.

So he bowed deeply to the Prime Minister’s wife, gave only a brief nod to Hyun Tae-oh, and turned to leave.

As he stepped out, he thought he heard, in a low, almost amused voice—

‘That priest is just the same as ever.’

But he shut the door behind him too quickly to hear it clearly.

And yes—Jin Mun-seong had been there too, watching everything from the side.

“…For an impulse, five years is far too long, don’t you think?”

Yoo Hyun-jin stood frozen, staring at the half-open study door. The air was heavy—humid, thick with something metallic.

“Let’s see. In those five years, Secretary Kim, you’ve embezzled a mere five billion. On top of that, the number of achievements you’ve stolen from your subordinates—seven cases, at least, according to this report. And then, there’s the assault of women, the attempted murders—the number of crimes you’ve committed is beyond counting. And mind you, you’ve only been in the capital with me for two or three months, and in that short time, you’ve already accepted multiple bribes.”

“You must be very talented.”

The voice was calm, almost conversational before it gave a short, dry laugh.

Then, just as Jin Mun-seong reached for the study door to shut it, that same voice called out—

“Mun-seong, get me another golf club. This one bent after the last hit.”

There was a clatter as something was casually tossed aside.

Jin Mun-seong paused with his hand on the door, his expression briefly flickering into one of mild trouble before he sighed and turned, walking toward a display case at the far end of the reception room.

Yoo Hyun-jin could hardly move.

His head wouldn’t turn. His body felt locked in place.

So, with great effort, he twisted his entire body to look.

Through the half-open door, he could see a man collapsed on the floor.

His stocky body was sprawled, his clothes soaked—not just in sweat but in something darker.

Had he pissed himself? Maybe. But what stood out more was the way his clothes were soaked in blood.

And standing over him—