C | Chapter 2.2 | Resumption | Crack in the Pause

“Wh… Who did you say?”

Tim Hogan’s voice wavered as Ian, with a slight smirk, answered his question.

“My babysitter.”

“What?”

Tim Hogan, momentarily distracted, spilled a bit of his beer. As he wiped the sticky foam off his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked back and forth between Ian and Matthias’s subordinate standing behind him.

“Babysitter? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Exactly that.”

Ian’s sharp tone made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate any more questions. Tim Hogan frowned, clearly annoyed but unable to push further. Ian Winchell had never been the easiest person to deal with, and arguing with him when he was openly annoyed would only backfire. Even so, he felt the need to say something, muttering reluctantly.

“But still… bringing someone you don’t even know into my studio goes against the rules.”

“Sorry, but my babysitter was the one who broke the rules, not me.”

He wanted to retort, but Ian had a point. Matthias’s subordinate had ignored Ian’s insistence that he enter Tim’s studio alone. Amidst their back-and-forth, Ian had even learned the man’s name—Georg—but hadn’t made any progress otherwise.

Would you be my babysitter then? You, with that frame?

He’d sneered, but Georg had simply replied, “Think of it as you will,” without the slightest shift in his stoic expression. Standing tall, intimidating, and refusing to be more than five steps away from Ian, Georg had proven impossible to communicate with. And, naturally, it was pointless to try overpowering him.

“Still, I—”

“Just drop it. If there’s a problem because of him, I’ll take responsibility. Good enough?”

Ian curtly cut Tim Hogan off. Tim sighed in frustration, biting back his complaints. He’d always had a soft spot for Ian, especially when his cat-like eyes narrowed and his expression turned slightly red when annoyed.

Damn it, yeah. Guess I’m the idiot here, letting this little brat get away with this.

As he watched Ian ignore Georg and carry on as usual, Tim’s worries eased, though he couldn’t completely shake off the discomfort.

“Why is your laptop so messed up?”

Turning his attention to the broken laptop, Tim tilted it side to side to examine the cracked screen.

“Might be better to just buy a new one.”

Ian nodded.

“I know. I’m more interested in how much data can be recovered from the hard drive. You know a good tech guy, don’t you?”

Even though Tim looked a bit distracted, glancing at Georg’s suit jacket repeatedly as if expecting to find a weapon, he was still a decent broker.

It also made Ian wonder. Just who was Revenant Matthias to be surrounded by people like these, people who seemed armed even when off-duty?

“Why’s it so busted up?”

Tim asked, setting the laptop aside. Ian answered, uninterested.

“It fell off a roof.”

Tim clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Tsk, tsk. What were you doing on a roof? You’re not a kid anymore.”

Ian ignored him and continued.

“About that job I took on—can you extend the deadline until the repairs are done?”

Tim stole another glance at Matthias’s subordinate. He wasn’t one to discuss illegal activities in front of strangers. But with Ian acting nonchalant, he decided to let it go.

“Yeah, well… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Is that all? Couldn’t you have just called about this? Did you really need to make me this uncomfortable in person…?”

Ian shook his head at Tim’s grumbling.

“It’s not over yet.”

“Now what? What else do you need?”

“I need to hire someone.”

Tim’s expression twisted oddly.

“A job? You’re asking me for one?”

“Yeah. Know anyone who can hack into the immigration database?”

“What? Are you nuts?!”

Tim burst out, immediately glancing at the stranger in the suit, practically leaping in shock. Ian grabbed his sleeve.

“Calm down and sit. You won’t be the one getting into trouble.”

“Then do it yourself! Why’s a hacker hiring someone else to hack?”

“Because I don’t have my tools right now. Did you forget?”

Ian gestured to his broken laptop with a look of disdain. Tim muttered back.

“Then use something else.”

“This is all I’ve got.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.”

Because everything else burned. Probably.

“Fine. It’s a real job request. You’re telling me it can’t be done?”

Tim mumbled, scratching his head.

“There are people who’ll do it, sure. But the cost… What do you need from immigration, anyway?”

Ian cast a glance at Georg.

“I need information on a recently arrived foreigner. Anything—age, address, occupation. Even just a middle name.”

Knowing full well who Ian was talking about, Georg’s expression grew more uncomfortable, while Tim’s grew more unsettled.

“You can find out someone’s full details from just a name?”

“Not exactly, but you’d be surprised how much we can find out.”

“Well, for immigration, the fee’s going to be steep. It’ll be at least twenty grand upfront. Got that kind of money?”

Ian’s fake smile deepened. He turned to Georg, tilting his head slightly.

“You heard him. I need twenty grand. Can I ask you for that too?”

Tim looked bewildered, while Georg, with a hardened expression, pulled out his phone.

“Wait, what? Who the hell are you asking money from?”

“I’ll ask him.”

A faint dial tone echoed from the phone as Georg waited for Matthias to pick up. Once he’d explained the situation, Ian eagerly asked.

“What did he say?”

Matthias had told him to find out for himself, and Ian intended to test just how far his permission extended. If money was the only way to measure their relationship, he could set the limit by how much he spent.

“He declined.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed, but Georg continued.

“He said involving others violates the rules. He’d prefer you handle things yourself. But he also said you’re free to buy anything you need.”

“So he’s playing it that way, huh? Then, can I just buy a computer worth twenty grand instead?”

“Of course.”

“…”

Ian fell silent. Tim spoke up instead.

“Who… the hell is he? And how the hell do you know him?”

That was the question Ian wanted answered most of all.

Who was Revenant Matthias?

***

Are you out of your mind? You don’t even know who he is, and he’s spending all this money on you? And with a babysitter too?

Tim’s reaction wasn’t off the mark. Anyone would think the same.

When Ian tried to reassure him, Tim still shot worried glances at Georg.

You… damn it, you know what you’re like. You’ve had plenty of creeps bugging you before. Are you really sure this isn’t the same? Or are you that desperate for money?

Despite his frustration, Ian found it almost amusing. He thought back to Matthias’s disdainful words.

“Turned on? By you?”

If Tim had seen the look on Matthias’s face at that moment, he’d never have jumped to that conclusion.

I don’t think it’s even possible, but…

When Ian smirked and trailed off, Tim raised an exasperated eyebrow.

But what?

Still, maybe it would be easier if it was that.

His words took Georg into account. Would he report back to Matthias that Ian had hinted at something sexual? Tim exploded in protest.

What? Are you insane? You’re practically phobic!

I hate idiots, not everyone.

To you, it’s all the same! Have you ever cared about the guys who try to cling to you?

Frustrated, Tim grabbed Ian’s shoulder and spun him around. Ian immediately jerked away with a frosty expression.

Don’t touch me. Who said you could?

Tim’s usual embarrassed reaction softened to a look of pity.

Yeah. This is who you are. But what do you want to do?

Ian found the same question echoed within himself, unsettling him. Why did he view this one man differently?

Maintaining a careful distance, Ian replied.

Maybe I’d prefer if it was something like that. At least it would be easier to understand, and easier to reject without being dragged along like this.

The words sounded confused even to him. And all the more so because they were sincere.

***

Across from the hotel was a reasonably large cafe. Ian sat in a secluded corner, trying not to attract attention, with his new laptop. Compared to his previous one, which was three times lighter, he wondered if this could still be called a laptop.

The new laptop had been a stroke of luck. The repairman Tim introduced him to happened to have an ideal model in stock. The man had adamantly refused to sell it at first, claiming he’d customized the Panther 2.0 over two weeks and wouldn’t part with it. But when Ian offered twice the purchase price, the man handed it over without a second thought.

Though heavy and better suited as a server than a client device, Ian liked it for its price. Upgraded with an Intel i7-980X Extreme CPU and only two memory slots, the Panther 2.0 had cost 8,870 euros. Ian didn’t even bother asking for a receipt; he simply told Georg he needed twenty thousand in cash. Rather than question the outrageous price, Georg simply returned with a neatly bound stack of cash.

The sight of the cash brightened the repairman’s mood, and he even offered to fix Ian’s broken laptop for free.

Back at the hotel, Ian then found a nearby cafe to work in. Cafes with free Wi-Fi provided a comfortable, anonymous space for work without worrying about IP tracking.

Switching to an OpenBSD platform, Ian downloaded essential hacking tools and adjusted them to fit the operating system. It was a simple but tedious process, but he wasn’t interrupted. Ian worked quietly and efficiently, focusing on completing the tasks Tim had assigned. Hacking into the immigration database would require more preparation.

Then, midway through his second cup of coffee, a man pulled out a chair and plopped down in front of him.

“Hey, Pretty One.”

Ian looked up, glancing past his monitor. The term “Pretty One” was something he hated more than being called a “gay slur.” His curiosity about which idiot would have the audacity to say such a thing made him look up.

A moron with a grin was staring back.

“There you are, my Pretty One.”

Ian had no memory of this guy. Must be another random idiot or fool he’d seen around.

“Get lost.”

“What? Oh, come on. It’s been a while.”

The man, who looked slightly older than Ian, reached over and patted Ian on the head.

“I just got out yesterday. Came straight to find you. Thought I’d die, I missed you so much.”

“…What?”

Ian looked at him incredulously, sizing up the stranger again.

The man, seemingly in a good mood, smiled at him as if nothing was wrong. His gold-tinted curls, crow’s feet, and decent-looking features might have seemed endearing, but his thin lips hinted at a less-than-pleasant personality.

His face had a certain boyish handsomeness, if you ignored his ill-fitting Superman logo T-shirt, weirdly patterned wool scarf, and bobble hat.

But he was still a stranger.

“Get lost. I’ve had enough of guys like you trying to pull something.”

Ian returned his gaze to the monitor.

“Hey, Pretty One.”

The guy made a snapping sound in front of Ian’s forehead with his fingers. Ian frowned and turned sharply.

“Get lost.”

“Are you kidding? You really don’t know who I am?”

“I don’t.”

“…What?”

The man got up and sat in the seat next to him. Their shoulders brushed. Ian sighed and slapped the man across the face. Dealing with idiots who wouldn’t take no for an answer was best done this way.

“Don’t you get what ‘get lost’ means?”

The smack was loud enough for other patrons to glance their way. By this point, things usually went one of two ways: the guy would slink away in embarrassment, or he’d try to retaliate with violence. The latter was more annoying, but the result was always the same. Whoever got hit would stop bothering Ian.

“Ian Winchell.”

But this guy did neither. Rubbing his red cheek with disbelief, he pointed at Ian.

“Leo Sebastian.”

He then pointed to himself. It was a one-sided introduction, implying he already knew Ian. Ian raised an eyebrow.

“Knowing my name doesn’t mean much. So what?”

Since the introduction didn’t go as expected, Leo Sebastian blinked at Ian, then his face twisted in frustration.

“No… you’re messing with me, right? You really don’t remember?”

Seeing no point in answering, Ian turned his gaze away. His actions clearly signaled that he was done with the guy. But rather than leave, Leo pointed to the monitor.

“You’ve accessed SA. Time to dump SAM. Going to use JTR?”

Leo’s sharp eye, catching on to his hacking sequence, surprised Ian. Leo nudged him aside and placed his fingers on the keyboard, typing furiously.

“Don’t have JTR, huh? Alright. UNIX then… no, pwdump3e. Okay, file creation complete.

Ian stared at the man, and the man glanced at his wristwatch. For four minutes, neither said a word.

“…3 minutes, 57 seconds, 58 seconds, 59 seconds—count complete. The password is… here, admin_peter448.”

The man turned the monitor toward Ian, where the system admin password popped up in the LC4 window log. It was fast. And skillful. It was as if this level of server cracking was part of his daily routine, like having a meal.

“Satisfied?”
“How do you know all the tools I use?”
“Because everything you know, I taught you. Did you forget that?”
“…! Who the hell are you?”

Ian slammed the monitor shut and glared at the man, who flinched slightly, as if surprised Ian would make that kind of face.

“Leo… Sebastian. Leo Sebastian.”

The man repeated his own name, as if it was essential for Ian to remember it.

“Who’s Leo Sebastian?”
“Me, Leo…”

Ian waited for more, but the man said nothing beyond his own name. Watching his confused, vacant expression, Ian realized it wouldn’t be useful to ask further. By age, he seemed like a college student, maybe someone who might have even taken the same classes, chatting about assignments together. But Ian’s interest faded; no one had been significant enough to remember from his short college life. Ian wasn’t the type to remember meaningless things. Unimportant details slipped from his memory effortlessly, and sometimes he only realized it when unfamiliar faces approached him or talked about things he didn’t recognize.

Ian picked up his laptop and stood up.

“If it’s not shutting down, I’m leaving.”
“No!”

Leo Sebastian snatched Ian’s laptop with a swift motion. When Ian reached for it, Leo pulled him close by the waist, catching Ian off guard and pulling him into his arms. At some point, Leo set the laptop down haphazardly, holding Ian’s face with both hands and pressing their lips together.

“…”

Ian realized what was happening a bit too late, so his resistance came late too.

“Mph! Let… go…”

Ian barely managed to get the words out, trying to avoid the lips pressing against his. Just as he felt a sudden release, freeing him from the force holding him—

Bam! Crack!

A loud noise echoed. Ian reflexively turned his head, blinking in surprise. A simple chair with a wooden back was half shattered, and Leo Sebastian lay on the floor beneath it, groaning in pain.

People nearby screamed and scattered, creating a brief empty space.

“You okay?”

Ian lifted his gaze from Leo Sebastian to see the towering figure of Revenant blocking the warm ceiling light with his height. Behind him stood Georg and other subordinates, who seemed slightly frozen with surprise. Judging by their expressions, it was clear Revenant was responsible for the rough intervention with Leo Sebastian.

“Did you do that?”

Revenant responded by brushing Ian’s cheek with his fingers.

“You’ve got a mark.”

A handprint was visible where Leo had grabbed him. His lips, which had been pressed against, were slightly swollen and damp.

“Is he someone you know?”
“No, I don’t. But how did you even know to come here—”

Before Ian could finish his sentence, Revenant seemed to have only needed a “no” and immediately bent down to grab Leo Sebastian’s arm. As Leo struggled, Revenant lifted him slightly into the air, then moved his arm.

Crack!

A solid sound echoed.

“Urgh!”

When Revenant let Leo go unceremoniously, his shoulder hung at an unnatural angle. Ian gasped and instinctively grabbed Revenant’s arm.

“What are you doing? You hurt him!”

Revenant looked at Ian, slowly pulling his arm free.

“You were hurt first.”
“What?”
“Here.”

Revenant’s fingers brushed Ian’s cheek again. Ian was at a loss for words. It was just a handprint, nothing serious. Ian hadn’t even realized he had one. But what stunned him most was Revenant’s attitude. Ian still couldn’t fully grasp what had just happened. Revenant had already given him a $20,000 laptop, a pile of clothes worth far more, and now he’d dealt with the jerk harassing him. And now he was brushing Ian’s cheek tenderly, checking the handprint.

This wasn’t charity, nor was it the act of someone hopelessly infatuated. No matter how you looked at it, Revenant’s actions were extreme.

“Don’t get hurt.”

With a tone that made it sound like the most natural advice, Revenant pulled Ian close by the shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

Ian looked back at Leo Sebastian groaning on the floor and pulled away from Revenant’s arm, which was draped around his shoulder.

“Isn’t it wrong to just leave like this? What if he calls the police…?”
“You said you didn’t know him.”
“That’s not the point! You just dislocated his arm and can’t just walk away like this. There are people around who—”

Once again, Revenant cut Ian off.

“I didn’t break it. Just dislocated his shoulder. He can figure out how to get to a hospital.”

Revenant’s grip as he turned Ian around was firm. His subordinates, dressed in suits, moved ahead to open the café door. Georg approached the counter, politely handing over a business card, his intimidating face softened as he offered to cover the damages Revenant had caused.

Revenant guided Ian forward, though Leo Sebastian, sprawled on the floor, clutched at Ian’s ankle.

“Ian… Don’t… don’t go… I… I…”

He really shouldn’t have done that. Revenant tightened his hold on Ian’s shoulder and, with a simple motion, stepped on Leo Sebastian’s wrist.

“Argh!”

A scream echoed predictably. Revenant tilted his head slightly, directing a low voice at Leo Sebastian, whose face twisted in pain.

“Don’t touch him.”

The sound of something cracking came from under his foot, mixing with Leo Sebastian’s half-suppressed scream. Revenant paused, easing up slightly.

“If I see you again, I’ll break them—all ten fingers.”

Snap!

The sound that followed was the kind you’d expect right before a bone snaps.

“…”

As they stepped out of the café under Revenant’s guidance, Ian suddenly remembered his laptop. He instinctively turned, but before he could take a single step, Revenant’s arm wrapped firmly around his waist.

“Where are you going?”
“Oh, I left my laptop…”
“Georg will bring it.”

Revenant showed no intention of loosening his hold around Ian’s waist. Though he appeared to be holding him gently, Ian could hardly move. This was the third time Revenant had come to his aid in a crisis. He felt like their connection was tightening, like the arms around his waist, forming an unbreakable bond. The solid muscle pressing against him felt less like protection and more like an intense fixation.

Ian gazed quietly at Revenant’s chiseled face.

“If only… if only it were like that, it’d be easier to reject.”

Hearing Ian mutter to himself, Revenant asked.

“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Just let go. I don’t like guys touching me.”

“…”

Revenant paused, contemplating for a moment, before releasing Ian. His touch left a lingering warmth. Ian felt as though that area would still bear a mark even if he rolled up his shirt—a mark far deeper than the faint handprint on his cheek.