BYBM Chapter 2 (Part 2)

* * *

A cold breeze drifted in through the open window. Even with an extra layer on, the chill lingered. But with dust flying everywhere as he dug through old belongings, Yoo Hyun-jin couldn’t keep the window shut.

Pausing from sorting his things, he sat at the edge of the bed, taking a moment to catch his breath. The tea he had left on his desk earlier had already cooled to a lukewarm temperature.

The way the dust floats outside, glimmering in the sunlight—it’s strangely beautiful… he thought absentmindedly before sighing.

He had lived in this room since his first year at the seminary. Next year would have marked a full decade. Until a week ago, he never could have imagined being expelled like this.

Now, in just a week’s time, he would be forced to leave this room for good.

“I thought I’d rise to become a Advisor or even the High Priest one day…”

Though ambition and priesthood didn’t quite go hand in hand, he had expected to live out his life as a priest. He had never cared much about status—he had simply gone along with the flow and ended up in the clergy. He thought he had little attachment to it.

But now, standing on the verge of excommunication, he felt miserable.

After all, an entire decade had just been erased.

How did my life fall apart so quickly? Where did everything go wrong?

Yoo Hyun-jin retraced his steps.

He should have told the truth when he went to see that man.

No—he never should have joked like that in the first place.

No—he should never have fallen for that man.

No—he shouldn’t have been born—

Okay, maybe let’s not go that far, he told himself, snapping out of it.

He had no savings, no particular skills. How was he supposed to make a living now?

For now, he could probably rely on Se-jin, but he had to figure out a way to support himself. He couldn’t just keep mooching off his younger brother forever.

The only real skill he had was healing, but… I can’t use the grace of Hanaram for personal gain. Even if he could, relying on it to make a living would destroy his body.

Recalling the divine gift he had received at his ordination, Yoo Hyun-jin shook his head. His ability allowed him to heal others—but he had to take on their wounds and illnesses himself.

While he had been a priest, he had used his power in moderation, carefully controlling how much he took on. But if he turned it into a profession? He wouldn’t last half his natural lifespan before returning to Hanaram’s side.

Besides, more importantly, as someone who has officially “lost Hanaram’s blessing,” he wasn’t supposed to be able to use his abilities anymore.

If word got back to him that he could still wield divine power—

A shiver ran down Yoo Hyun-jin’s spine. His shoulders tensed.

Forget it. That option was off the table. He had to find another way.

He let out another sigh.

Then, out of nowhere, a cold, steady voice echoed in his mind.

“A private chamber will be prepared, and as soon as it’s ready, we will bring you in. …I mean the room you’ll be staying in at this house.”

“—.”

Yoo Hyun-jin flinched and violently shook his head.

The voice had been so firm—it hadn’t sounded like a joke.

No way. There’s no way he meant that seriously.

Right?

But what if… just in case… he had been serious?

“Well, isn’t this perfect? He said he’d take responsibility. Giving up the master bedroom should be the bare minimum!”

The voice of Je Sang-ah from their earlier phone call rang in his ears.

Yoo Hyun-jin shook his head again, just as frantically.

Then, exhausted from his own thoughts, he slumped his shoulders.

How did things end up like this?

It had been such a tiny joke.

He never meant for things to turn out this way.

So how had he ended up deceiving Hyun Tae-oh?

Where exactly was the line between a joke and a lie?

Lost in thought, Yoo Hyun-jin barely registered the heavy knocking that suddenly echoed through the residence.

It wasn’t his door.

The sound drifted in through the open window—it was coming from downstairs, at the thick wooden doors of the shared residence.

Someone had come to visit.

Since the residence housed dozens of people, visitors weren’t unusual. The afternoon hours, especially, were a busy time when people often came and went.

Come to think of it, Se-jin said he’d stop by later to help me pack.

But he’d mentioned having lunch plans, so he probably wouldn’t be here this early.

Which meant the guest wasn’t his.

Shrugging it off, Yoo Hyun-jin resumed sorting through his belongings.

Then, from downstairs, he heard the voice of a young apprentice priest as the door creaked open.

“Who are you here to see?”

And then—

“I’ve come to see Priest Yoo Hyun-jin. Is he in?”

A low, cool voice—one he knew all too well.

Yoo Hyun-jin fumbled, dropping the book he had been pulling from under the desk.

…This voice…

“Please wait a moment,” came the response, followed by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. Soon, a young apprentice priest knocked on Yoo Hyun-jin’s door and called out in a bright voice.

“Priest Hyun-jin, Governor Hyun Tae-oh of Pyeonghang has come to see y—”

“—I’m terribly sorry, but I am currently in deep prayer… a very important prayer. Please tell him that I cannot receive visitors and that I will contact him at a later time.”

Before the voice outside could ring out any longer, Yoo Hyun-jin hastily opened the door and repeated the same excuse as yesterday. He knew it was a flimsy, pathetic lie, but there was no helping it. He simply could not face Hyun Tae-oh right now.

The apprentice priest looked troubled, clearly aware of the blatant falsehood, but perhaps out of pity for Yoo Hyun-jin—who had just been formally excommunicated that morning—he nodded quietly and went back downstairs.

Before long, the young priest’s voice echoed from below, relaying the message exactly as he had been told.

“Priest Yoo Hyun-jin is currently engaged in a very important prayer… He says he will contact you later. My apologies.”

A brief silence followed.

Holding his breath, Yoo Hyun-jin listened intently.

Then, after a pause, came the reply—calm, unreadable.

“Is that so?”

“Then, when his prayer is finished, pass along my message. Since he is to vacate this residence in a week, I will arrange accommodations for him. The lease will be finalized at my discretion, and on the day of his departure, I will send people in the morning to assist with the move. That will be all.”

“—!”

A chill shot up Yoo Hyun-jin’s spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he sprang to his feet.

No.

If he let things go like this, there would be no turning back.

Half-stumbling, he bolted down the stairs, pushing past the apprentice priest who was on his way up. He dashed out the wooden doors of the residence, just in time to see Hyun Tae-oh, moving at an unhurried pace, about to exit the inner courtyard.

“Y-Your Excellency! Please wait a moment!”

At his voice, Hyun Tae-oh came to a stop and slowly turned around.

It was almost as if he had expected this.

Standing there with his usual composed air, he simply waited as Yoo Hyun-jin rushed over and stopped at a fair distance away.

Only then, as he looked at the man before him, did the weight of reality crash down—his own reluctance to face him, the fact that he had turned him away without even looking yesterday, everything.

For a moment, he hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Are you cold?”

The question came before he could gather his thoughts.

Hyun Tae-oh had been watching him quietly, then suddenly asked, “It’s quite chilly for someone praying with the window open.”

The faintest trace of mockery laced his words.

Startled, Yoo Hyun-jin glanced back toward the residence.

His window was the only one open.

…How did he know which room was mine?

Flustered, he muttered, “When in prayer, one must remain deeply focused, free of distractions…”

He had no idea what nonsense was spilling from his mouth.

For a brief second, Hyun Tae-oh’s lips twitched—as if he was on the verge of laughing but held back.

“Of course. With such devotion, I suppose the cold wouldn’t even register. Still, as a layman, I can’t help but worry,” he said, taking a slow step forward. “Especially now that I must look after you properly.”

His deliberate pace made it seem like he was hardly moving, yet in no time at all, the distance between them closed.

At the last step, just as Yoo Hyun-jin tensed, Hyun Tae-oh came to a stop—and without hesitation, shrugged off his coat and draped it over Yoo Hyun-jin’s shoulders.

“N-no, I’m fine. There’s no need for—”

Having rushed outside in only his indoor robes, Yoo Hyun-jin started to protest, but the sharp, cool gaze that flicked toward him made him go utterly silent.

He had tried to turn him away two days in a row. He had no room to argue.

His guilt weighed heavily on him.

…But it is warm.

As belated awareness of the cold seeped into his skin, he unconsciously drew the coat tighter, tucking his chin into the collar.

Only then did the chill in Hyun Tae-oh’s expression seem to ease slightly.

“Your leg…”

Yoo Hyun-jin’s gaze dropped to the cane Hyun Tae-oh was firmly gripping. His leg, outwardly uninjured, bore the weight of his stance.

Following his gaze, Hyun Tae-oh glanced down at himself and dismissed it lightly.

“Oh, I was injured in Pyeonghang.”

I know.

Every media outlet had reported on it extensively.

The moment he had heard the news, his entire body had gone weak, as if the floor had been pulled out from under him.

“It must have been painful,” Yoo Hyun-jin murmured.

“It was bearable.”

“Did you worry for me?”

Hyun Tae-oh asked, his voice carrying the hint of a jest, though his tone remained as indifferent as ever.

“A little… I suppose,”

Yoo Hyun-jin mumbled, evading a proper answer.

There were a million things he wanted to ask—was his rehabilitation going well? Was it straining his body? Did it still hurt? But he swallowed it all. As long as he was alive, the rest didn’t matter. Besides, he didn’t have the nerve to ask something like that while staring at that cool, unreadable face.

Instead, he changed the subject.

“More importantly, about what you said earlier… About what happens after I leave here.”

“Ah, yes. I heard that as of today, your excommunication has been finalized. You are to vacate this residence within the week. Since it was my fault for breaking your vow of chastity, I deeply regret that it has come to this.”

“…No, there’s no need to apologize. What’s done is done…”

One lie leads to another. Regret comes too late to turn back.

With every word he spoke, he felt like he was sinking deeper into quicksand.

This. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to see this man.

As Yoo Hyun-jin lowered his gaze, unable to say more, Hyun Tae-oh continued, his tone light.

“Even if it’s in the past, one must take responsibility for their own mistakes and accept the consequences. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“…Yes, but…”

It feels like the ground is caving in beneath my feet. Is hell waiting just below?

“I am currently making arrangements for your residence after you leave here. It should be ready within the week. The timeframe is a bit tight, so it may not be as comfortable as you’d like, but I’ll ensure it’s a place where you can rest in peace. On the morning of your departure, I will send people to assist with the move. You need only follow them.”

“Your Excellency, about that—I don’t wish for such arrangements.”

Yoo Hyun-jin cut in firmly, forcing himself to speak before he lost his nerve.

Lifting his head, he met Hyun Tae-oh’s gaze directly. He almost flinched under the weight of that stare but held firm. He really is… handsome… No. Damn it, you fool. He mentally smacked himself.

Hyun Tae-oh regarded him in silence before nodding.

“Of course. Compared to the private chamber I am currently having renovated for you, it will be far less comfortable. However, proper accommodations require time to prepare. Would you be willing to wait a couple of months? Let’s say, until spring next year?”

“You’re… renovating a private chamber? Why— Wait. You’ll be stationed in Pyeonghang anyway, so why are you preparing living quarters in your family’s estate?”

“Ah, would you rather accompany me to Pyeonghang?” Hyun Tae-oh mused.

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to move to a faraway province, so I had planned for us to be in a long-distance arrangement for a while. But if you wish to come along, I’ll have to find a residence there instead.”

There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched Yoo Hyun-jin’s expression turn into sheer panic. …Or was there? When Yoo Hyun-jin looked again, his face was as impassive as ever.

“No, Your Excellency! That’s not what I meant! There’s no need for… our relationship to be anything like that—”

“Priest Yoo Hyun-jin.”

Hyun Tae-oh’s voice dropped a tone lower.

It was the sound of a predator, deep within its throat, just before a growl.

“Neglecting one’s duty to take proper responsibility is a stain upon my honor and that of my household. I know I have wronged you greatly, but I trust you wouldn’t disgrace me or House Hyun in such a manner. After all, House Hyun and your family share a deep connection.”

“It’s not about disgrace! There’s no need for such extreme—”

“Did I not take you that night? Is that not why things have turned out this way?”

Yoo Hyun-jin’s words died in his throat.

Holding his gaze, Hyun Tae-oh continued, completely unruffled.

“Had I not claimed you that night, we wouldn’t be in this situation. If I had not laid with you, would this have happened? Am I wrong? This all transpired because I forced myself upon you and—”

“Y-Your Excellency!”

Fortunately, there was no one passing by at that moment, but they were standing right outside the clergy residence’s courtyard.

At any time, someone could walk through.

At any moment, someone inside might open a window.

Of course, there wasn’t a single person in the clergy residence who didn’t know about Yoo Hyun-jin’s current circumstances, but hearing such blunt words spoken so casually was another matter entirely. Panicked, Yoo Hyun-jin lunged forward, instinctively grabbing hold of him to stop him from speaking any further.

“…….”

“…….”

“…No, this is… I mean—”

“I would appreciate it if you let go. No one has ever grabbed me there before—it’s quite unfamiliar.”

Hyun Tae-oh spoke right in front of him, as if it were an ordinary remark, but the quiet menace seeping from his voice was anything but ordinary.

Yoo Hyun-jin, frozen stiff, could do nothing as Hyun Tae-oh slowly lowered his gaze to where his collar was being clenched in a tight grip. Without another word, he reached up and pried Yoo Hyun-jin’s fingers away, slipping free from his grasp with a single, smooth motion.

“I can see just how furious you are over this situation,” he said coolly, brushing the fabric of his collar as if shaking off invisible dust.

And indeed, it was probably true that no one had ever dared to grab him like that before. Looking slightly displeased, he straightened his coat with one hand—while the other remained locked around Yoo Hyun-jin’s wrist, as if considering dragging him away to be punished for insolence.

“…Would you please let go of my hand?”

Yoo Hyun-jin’s voice came out stiff.

Only then did Hyun Tae-oh seem to realize he was still holding onto him.

“Ah.”

A small murmur, but he did not release his grip.

It was something so trivial. Just a hand.

He had held countless hands in his life. Every day, he had held the hands of believers in prayer. He had embraced the sick and the dying to bless them.

It was just a hand.

Not even something he had willingly taken—it was a grip born out of a desperate attempt to silence him.

And yet.

Yoo Hyun-jin had never once held hands with someone he loved.

No, wait—there was that one time, during his pastoral mission in Pyeonghang, when he had briefly held his hand while praying. But that had been fleeting.

He was losing his mind.

No, that wasn’t it—he had already lost it days ago, and his foolish body wasn’t even bothering to distinguish between time and place anymore.

Liking the feel of this strong, steady grip?

You idiot. Get it together.

Even as he forced his face into a blank mask and glared at the hand holding his wrist, heat crawled up his neck and into his face.

I can’t let him notice.

Who gets flustered over something as trivial as this?

You’re pathetic. But… Hanaram, thank you.

…For this wretched fool of a believer.

As he remained frozen in place with a stiff expression, Hyun Tae-oh finally let go of his wrist, slowly drawing back. Yoo Hyun-jin immediately withdrew his hand and shoved it into his pocket.

Hyun Tae-oh’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Is there really a need to be this uncomfortable over something as minor as a brief touch?”

The question made Yoo Hyun-jin tense.

Did he notice something?

“It’s not that it was uncomfortable… I was just surprised,” he replied hastily.

“Surprised?”

“Given the situation, and what happened recently, it’s only natural to be a bit unsettled.”

Desperate, Yoo Hyun-jin clung to whatever words came to mind. He had no idea what he was saying anymore—his only goal was to keep his true thoughts hidden.

Hyun Tae-oh seemed to mull over his words. A faint furrow appeared between his brows.

“By any chance,”

The moment Hyun Tae-oh spoke again, his voice edged with suspicion, Yoo Hyun-jin flinched.

There was a brief hesitation before he continued, his tone careful.

“Did that night… leave you with psychological trauma?”

“――.”

“Naturally, it must have been a distressing experience. If that’s the case—”

“Not exactly, but… I suppose that is part of it.”

Yoo Hyun-jin immediately latched onto the excuse, grateful for the lifeline.

But in the next moment, a terrible realization hit him.

I just took another step into the abyss.

This wasn’t just dodging the truth—this was an outright, intentional lie.

There was no turning back now.

Despair settled in.

Hyun Tae-oh studied him quietly.

A weighty silence stretched between them.

If I could disappear from this place, I wouldn’t mind being summoned to Hanaram’s side right this instant.

“I apologize. I know an apology won’t change anything, but I have committed a grave wrongdoing.”

Hyun Tae-oh started to bow his head, but Yoo Hyun-jin instinctively reached out and pushed against his shoulder.

“N-no, please don’t. It’s already in the past, so don’t apologize anymore. It makes me uncomfortable. I… I just want to forget about it, so please don’t bring it up again. And for the sake of what’s ahead, I think it would be best if you didn’t continue apologizing.”

With every word, he felt himself crossing a river that could never be un-crossed. But he forced the words out anyway, his voice taut with urgency.

Hyun Tae-oh stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly.

“I see. For the sake of what’s ahead.”

Muttering as if to himself, he exhaled heavily, lost in thought for a moment.

“As someone who has lived as a priest, you must have had very few deeply personal interactions with others. And now, after going through such an experience, it’s only natural that even the smallest touch would startle you.”

His gaze lowered to the ground, his expression heavy with regret.

This isn’t right…

Just as Yoo Hyun-jin’s heart clenched, Hyun Tae-oh lifted his head and met his eyes.

“From now on, I will never force myself upon you. I will do everything in my power to help you overcome this. Let’s start with something small—just a hand. Will you allow me that much?”

With those words, Hyun Tae-oh extended his hand, palm up, waiting silently.

Yoo Hyun-jin stared at it, blinking in confusion.

He means… if I forgive him, I should take his hand.

There’s no choice, is there? Given the situation, I have to take it.

This hand…

“…….”

His lips pressed into a thin line. His face grew warm again.

Slowly, very slowly, he reached out, praying that his hand wouldn’t tremble.

And at last, his fingertips brushed against Hyun Tae-oh’s palm—

“Hyung!”

A familiar voice rang out loudly from behind Hyun Tae-oh.

Yoo Hyun-jin flinched, instinctively pulling his hand back, but before he could, Hyun Tae-oh clamped down.

His fingers wrapped around his hand with a firm, unwavering grip.

“Uh, um—”

Startled, Yoo Hyun-jin wriggled his fingers against the hold and glanced up in a panic.

But Hyun Tae-oh’s face was perfectly composed, and his grip was as steady as a locked trap.

“Hyung, why are you standing outside in this cold—oh, you have a visitor… ah… um…”

Bounding toward them with an easy wave was Yoo Se-jin.

His expression wasn’t exactly sunny—well, given that he had come here to help his brother pack up and leave, that was understandable—but he had been making an effort to approach with energy.

That is, until he really took in the scene before him.

The moment his eyes landed on Hyun Tae-oh—who turned slightly to meet his gaze—Se-jin’s steps slowed dramatically, his tongue momentarily failing him.

“Governor… Hyun Tae-oh… Your Excellency…”

“Officer Yoo Se-jin. A pleasure to see you here.”

Hyun Tae-oh turned toward Se-jin but still didn’t let go of Yoo Hyun-jin’s hand.

Se-jin’s eyes darted between their clasped hands and both of their faces, shifting between confusion, alarm, and an increasing degree of suspicion.

“Yes, I… I came to see my brother. But, um… Your Excellency, what brings you here…?”

“I had matters to discuss with Priest Yoo Hyun-jin.”

“What kind of…”

There was a flicker in Se-jin’s gaze—an uneasy wariness, a hint of protectiveness.

Like a young pup growling in front of a tiger, attempting to shield its own.

“I came because it is my fault that the priest can no longer remain here. As you know, I committed a great offense against your brother.”

“Ah… yes… that did happen…”

Se-jin mumbled awkwardly.

Knowing the full story, he wasn’t sure whether he should feel guilty, nervous, or just outright angry. His expression twisted into something unreadable.

Meanwhile, Yoo Hyun-jin tried once again to free his hand, but Hyun Tae-oh’s grip remained firm.

“Um… Your Excellency… if you could, perhaps, release my hand…”

After several failed attempts to wriggle free, Yoo Hyun-jin was beginning to sweat.

Se-jin seemed to snap out of his daze, quickly stepping forward. Without hesitation, he reached out and clasped Hyun Tae-oh’s hand, disguising the movement as an enthusiastic handshake—while simultaneously prying his brother’s hand away.

“Your Excellency! It’s wonderful to meet you like this. With all the recent commotion, I’m sure this situation must have been a great burden on you!”

With a bright, exaggerated voice, Se-jin vigorously shook Hyun Tae-oh’s hand while side-eyeing the hell out of his brother.

And then—his gaze landed on the coat.

The coat his brother was wearing.

Even without looking at the embroidered insignia on the collar, it was clear just from the size of it.

It belonged to Hyun Tae-oh.

Are you out of your goddamn mind?

Se-jin’s eyes screamed the words across the distance as he strode up and immediately yanked the coat off his brother, thrusting it back into Hyun Tae-oh’s arms.

“Your Excellency, it’s quite cold. You’ll catch a chill.”

As he smoothly retrieved the coat, he took off his own outer jacket and draped it over Yoo Hyun-jin’s shoulders instead.

All the while, he made sure to shoot him a warning glare, sharp as a dagger.

“You must be cold, Officer Yoo,” Hyun Tae-oh commented slowly, watching his actions with something unreadable in his expression.

“Oh, we’ll be heading inside soon, so I’ll be fine. Your Excellency, weren’t you on your way out?”

Se-jin beamed as he politely but firmly dismissed him.

Hyun Tae-oh studied him for a moment, then let out a quiet chuckle.

Se-jin shuddered visibly at the sound but held his ground.

“You and your brother share quite a resemblance,” Hyun Tae-oh murmured.

There was something distinctly cold in the way he said it.

Even the glance he threw at Yoo Hyun-jin carried a sharper chill.

But in the next moment, he checked his watch and seemed to decide he had lingered long enough.

“Then, I will leave you two to talk. I’ll be seeing Priest Yoo Hyun-jin again soon.”

“Wait—why?”

Yoo Hyun-jin had been about to bid him a relieved farewell, only to choke on his words.

Why on earth would he be coming back?

Hyun Tae-oh’s eyes glinted as they met his.

“Because we are courting, are we not? And courting requires frequent meetings.”

“C-Courting…?!”

The one who nearly jumped out of his skin and yelled was Yoo Se-jin.

His outburst nearly drowned out Yoo Hyun-jin, whose own eyes had gone round with disbelief as he gawked at Hyun Tae-oh.

Surely, he must have misheard.

But no—Se-jin had definitely just repeated the exact word that had left Hyun Tae-oh’s lips.

“Priest Yoo Hyun-jin and I still do not know each other well. Before he moves into the inner chambers, we need time to understand one another.”

“N-no, Your Exc—”

“Moreover, since Priest Yoo has little experience with deep, personal relationships beyond standard companionship, and considering the unfortunate nature of how our first intimacy occurred… he must be carrying a great deal of unease and fear. That is why we must take things step by step, growing closer at a steady pace. And to do that, we will need to meet frequently, wouldn’t you agree?”

Hyun Tae-oh spoke as if stating an undeniable fact, leaving Yoo Hyun-jin utterly speechless.

Next to him, Se-jin’s eyes bulged so wide it looked painful.

“Your Excellency, courting… I…”

“I have no intention of treating Priest Yoo as one would a mere concubine and carelessly bringing him into my household. House Hyun has always observed the proper rites when welcoming someone into the inner chambers. I intend to do the same. And since time is short, we must see each other frequently to deepen our relationship, must we not?”

He advanced forward like an unstoppable force, a relentless bulldozer.

Yoo Hyun-jin, staring at him in sheer disbelief, scrambled to regain his composure.

“Your Excellency, please wait. This… all of this is deeply unsettling for me… and frankly, it makes me uncomfortable. Have you considered my perspective in all this?”

Hyun Tae-oh’s gaze settled on him.

Those dark eyes revealed nothing, unreadable as ever.

Yoo Hyun-jin held his breath.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if there was a flicker of amusement in his expression, but his face remained impassive as he nodded.

“Very well. We can discuss this matter further, in due time.”

His voice was as composed as ever, and just as he was about to turn and leave—

“Your Excellency! Please wait!”

The voice that rang out was Yoo Se-jin’s, who had been silently screaming at his brother with his eyes for the past several minutes.

Finally realizing that his older brother had no intention of handling this disaster, Se-jin turned to Hyun Tae-oh and spoke up.

“This situation is entirely inappropriate!”

For the first time, Hyun Tae-oh showed the smallest sign of reaction—one eyebrow lifted ever so slightly.

“Inappropriate, you say?”

“Your Excellency, I believe there has been… some misunderstanding between you and my brother.”

“A misunderstanding…? What exactly do you mean by that?”

Hyun Tae-oh turned fully toward him, his tone dropping ever so slightly.

His voice carried a chilling edge.

Faced with that sharp gaze, Se-jin hiccupped.

His entire body tensed, as if it had locked up under the weight of that scrutinizing stare.

“I-I mean to say, um… a misunderstanding, as in—”

Stammering under the pressure, Se-jin barely managed to form a sentence before—

Yoo Hyun-jin swiftly shoved him aside and stepped in front of him.

“It’s fine, Your Excellency.”

He spoke louder than necessary, his pulse hammering in his ears.

The brutal images of Hancheon Prison—images he had just seen in records yesterday—flashed through his mind like a warning.

Not a word more from you. Do you want me to bring out the switch again?

He shot a sharp, warning glance at Se-jin.

His younger brother looked utterly frustrated, his expression full of resentment, but—

When he followed Hyun Tae-oh’s gaze and met his cold stare, he hesitated and grudgingly clamped his mouth shut.

“My brother is simply… upset. It’s nothing of concern.”

Yoo Hyun-jin turned back to Hyun Tae-oh and spoke carefully.

For a moment, Hyun Tae-oh studied him, then his lips curved—just slightly.

“I understand. I will extend an invitation to Officer Yoo soon. After all, we will need to grow closer as well.”

“Oh, and one more thing—since I happened to remember.”

His tone remained casual, as if only now recalling something.

“Priest Yoo Hyun-jin is no longer a priest. Addressing him as such is no longer accurate. We should change how we refer to him.

Additionally, it feels unnatural to be addressed formally by someone I will be personally involved with—or rather, someone I must become close with.

There is no need for Yoo Hyun-jin to call me ‘Your Excellency.’ He should find another way to address me.”

The shift was abrupt.

For a moment, Yoo Hyun-jin was too stunned to respond.

But then, realizing there was little point in arguing over something so trivial, he nodded.

“Then… what should I call you?”

“Hmm. Call me whatever you wish.”

“…….”

Once again, words failed him.

Watching his silence, Hyun Tae-oh’s lips quirked almost imperceptibly.

“You can take your time to decide. From our next meeting, you may call me as you see fit.

Then, I will take my leave now. Please, continue your conversation.”

With that, he turned to go—

But just as Yoo Hyun-jin let out a quiet sigh of relief, he stopped and extended his hand.

His large palm opened toward him, just like before.

The same hand that had clasped his so firmly just moments ago.

“——.”

Yoo Hyun-jin hesitated, but finally, he lowered his head and took the offered hand.

He could not meet his eyes.

If he did, his entire face would heat up again.

The hand enclosing his was large and firm.

It lingered for a moment—

Then, ever so slightly, the grip tightened.

Like a trap catching its prey.

And just as he realized what was happening—

The fingers slid away, but not before dragging slowly across his palm.

A slow, deliberate motion.

An unmistakable gesture.