BAI Ch 19
by mimiHe sprung up like a coiled spring and slammed his fist into the head of the first man charging at him. The man crumpled to the ground with a groan, his temple smashed against the chair leg.
Three more lunged at him simultaneously – front, side, and back. Ha Shinsung flipped the table, sending dishes and bottles crashing to the floor. A scream, its owner unknown, echoed through the room.
“You.”
Ha Shinsung wiped the sweat from his chin, his gaze fixed on Lee Rohan, who was shielding his face.
“You betrayed me?”
He brandished a broken soju bottle. The lead attacker flinched back a step, but he didn’t seem afraid.
“Ha Shinsung, put that down.”
“Who are you?”
“Calm down and put it down.”
Their tone, demeanor, and the impassive expressions born of training were unmistakable. They were plainclothes police or soldiers, all tall and well-built. They also looked accustomed to this kind of situation. Only the man he’d hit in the head stood back, glaring. There were five of them, or six including Lee Rohan.
“Sung-ah. Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
Lee Rohan replied.
“Surrender. It’s your only way out.”
“What?”
“Your friend’s right. It’s not too late. If you turn yourself in now…”
“Shut up!”
“Sung-ah!”
Ha Shinsung wanted to stab Lee Rohan in the eyes with his chopsticks. Why? The fundamental question gnawed at his mind, even though he knew he shouldn’t think about it.
Shin Haebeom’s smiling face superimposed itself over Lee Rohan’s contorted expression. Damn it.
Ha Shinsung kicked the table. The largest of the group yelled.
“Resist and you’ll only hurt yourself!”
“Bullshit.”
Seven grown men were crammed into a tiny five-square-meter space. Even if Lee Rohan didn’t move, the odds were stacked against Ha Shinsung.
He quickly scanned his surroundings. Had he chosen the corner table instead of one near the door or window for this very reason? The thought made him want to kill Lee Rohan for real.
There was no sign of life from the kitchen. The owner was in on it too.
Ha Shinsung kicked off a fallen chair and launched himself upwards, aiming for the fluorescent light fixture on the ceiling. The old fixture couldn’t bear his weight and tore free from its track.
“Ugh.”
The electrical wires slapped his face, knocking his glasses off. It didn’t matter. He brought the metal track down on the head of the man charging at him. Shards of fluorescent tubing scattered everywhere.
“That bastard!”
Someone grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him back. He swung his elbow, hearing the sickening crunch of breaking ribs. Taking advantage of his attacker’s loosened grip, he broke free, threw the track aside, and bolted for the door. He had to get out, fast.
Too late.
“Sung-ah!”
Lee Rohan was aiming a Desert Eagle at the back of his head.
“Don’t go!”
“Go to hell, Lee Rohan.”
“If you run, you’ll die. You’ll really die!”
“Is Shin Haebeom that terrifying to you?!”
He was grabbed by the throat and slammed against the wall. The plasterboard cracked with a loud bang. The back of his head throbbed where it had hit the wall.
It was the man he’d hit with the chair leg. Blood streamed down his face from a long gash on his forehead. He hauled Ha Shinsung up by his collar.
“Annoying bastard.”
A fist slammed into his gut. Ha Shinsung stumbled forward, losing his balance. A knee drove into his back, between his shoulder blades. He felt like his spine was breaking, but he gritted his teeth and swallowed the groan. He had to get up.
He lashed out, catching the jaw of the man coming at him from the left. He stepped over the man’s crumpled body, but his legs suddenly gave way. Taser barbs pierced his back and thigh.
“Ugh…!”
Electricity surged through his veins. He couldn’t even stand, let alone run.
He collapsed, his face pressed against the cold, hard floor. Multiple hands pinned him down, restraining his arms and legs. His shoulder screamed in protest as they twisted his arms behind his back. Cold metal clicked around his wrists.
Ha Shinsung’s lips moved soundlessly. Electricity coursed through every capillary in his body. The man with the split forehead spat a curse and gestured to his colleagues.
“The injection. Hurry.”
The sensation of the needle piercing his skin felt distant. He saw Lee Rohan’s pale, terrified face. He should be terrified. He’d just sold out his friend and his boss’s son; he deserved to fear the consequences.
He lost consciousness. His eyelids grew heavy, his limbs went limp. The adrenaline that had been coursing through him faded into a distant hum. Just before his eyes closed completely, he heard his former friend’s voice whispering in his ear.
I’m sorry….
But I had no choice….
Lee Rohan squeezed his eyes shut as he watched them shove Ha Shinsung’s unconscious body into the back of a black van like a sack of potatoes.
He’d been on his way home after midnight when soldiers had jumped him in an alley and dragged him to the Disciplinary training camp. That’s where he met her.
She was Shin Haebeom’s subordinate, which meant she was insane. Her icy demeanor and chilling words left no room for doubt. She threatened to kill all remaining members of their organization in the country, along with their families, if he didn’t reveal Ha Shinsung’s location. Her chilling voice still echoed in his ears.
Water dripped from his wet hair. A rough hand forced his head up. He met Shin Haebeom’s smiling face. Shin Haebeom held a desk calendar in front of him, waving it back and forth.
“What day is it?”
“What?”
“What day is it?”
Shin Haebeom’s finger pointed directly at today’s date. The 25th, Friday.
“Friday.”
“Wrong. Today is Saturday.”
He thought Shin Haebeom had lost his mind.
“What…?”
“Today is Saturday.”
Ha Shinsung frowned. What kind of nonsense was this? The question was absurd, and his words didn’t match his actions. Shin Haebeom had finally gone crazy.
He looked up at Shin Haebeom, whose face, despite the chilling stare, feigned fear, shrinking back dramatically. But his lips were still curved into a smile.
“What day is it?”
“Are you crazy?!”
“What day is it?”
“Hey!”
“What day is it?”
Shin Haebeom’s finger tapped the 25th, Friday, on the calendar.
“Friday.”
“No!”
He roared suddenly, making Ha Shinsung flinch.
“I told you it’s Saturday!”
A fist connected with his left cheek. Two teeth flew from his mouth as his neck snapped back. Shin Haebeom sighed and shoved the calendar in front of his face again.
“What day is it?”
“You’re insane.”
“What day is it?”
“You crazy lunatic! What the hell is this?!”
Shin Haebeom smiled, as if he’d expected that response. Still smiling, he tossed the calendar aside. He pulled two railroad spikes from his back pocket and slammed them into Ha Shinsung’s thighs.
“Aaaaagh!”
The six-inch spikes tore through skin and muscle. His jeans turned crimson. Shin Haebeom pressed his palms down on Ha Shinsung’s trembling knees. He spoke again.
“What day is it, Ha Shinsung?”
“Fuck you.”
The pressure on his knees intensified. Ha Shinsung gritted his teeth against the agony. The bleeding increased. His body trembled uncontrollably. His hands, tied to the arms of the chair, twitched spasmodically. Shin Haebeom watched the sweat drip down Ha Shinsung’s face.
“What day is it?”
“F…Friday.”
With a long sigh, Shin Haebeom drove the spikes deeper. This time, Ha Shinsung couldn’t contain his scream.
“Friday! It’s Friday, you fucking asshole!”
“I told you it wasn’t.”
Shin Haebeom stood up. Humming, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a car battery, placing it on the metal desk. Red and black wires snaked across the surface. Alligator clips clacked together.
“Today is Saturday.”
“…….”
“Saturday.”
Ha Shinsung gasped. What was the point of this bizarre interrogation? What was this madman trying to achieve?
He didn’t have long to think. Electricity surged through the spikes and into his body. His screams echoed through the interrogation room. The stench of burning flesh filled the air.
The damnable question came again.
“What day is it?”
His feet, dangling in the air, trembled uncontrollably. A hot lump formed in his throat. Blood trickled from his nose, coating his upper lip. He bit down hard.
“Fuck you, you psychopath.”
Shin Haebeom smiled. The needle on the battery’s gauge flickered.
Electricity seared his flesh, bursting blood vessels. Shin Haebeom grabbed his jaw and forced his mouth open, shoving a wet rag inside to prevent him from biting his tongue.
The needle on the gauge returned to zero.
“What day is it?”
Ha Shinsung mumbled.
“Today… is.”
“Yes. What day do you think it is?”
The whites of his eyes were bloodshot. Shin Haebeom’s lips curved into a smile as he looked at them.
“Ha Shinsung, answer me.”
“Friday.”
“Stubborn.”
Shin Haebeom lit a cigarette. His voice was cool, but his eyes were smiling.
“Jung Ryujin… is here, isn’t she?”
His voice was muffled, but understandable. Shin Haebeom chuckled, drawing on his cigarette.
“Jung Ryujin? You’re worried about her now?”
“Did you do this to her too?”
The electric shocks had followed a beating and waterboarding. Gi Woohee had briefly entered the room, but otherwise, Shin Haebeom had conducted the entire interrogation alone. He hadn’t taken a break, hadn’t even had a sip of water. That was Shin Haebeom.
“Remember when you first came here?”
“…….”
“It was a rainy day.”
The day they’d come to retrieve Gwak Hyeonwoo’s body. They had followed the rules that day. No eye contact, no words exchanged. As Ha Shinsung bagged the remains of a subordinate he’d never liked, he’d thought about the pain Jung Ryujin would feel. He hadn’t cared about Shin Haebeom standing behind him.
Shin Haebeom was different. He smoked, his face dark, remembering the past. Remembering fourteen-year-old Shin Hae-jun, forced to accept his betrayal. Why hadn’t he done anything back then? If he’d just taken them down with him, it wouldn’t have felt so unfair….
He dreamt about it every night. The nightmares had continued until the day Shin Hae-jun died. Only then had the pain ended.
If he’d just taken them down with him….
If he hadn’t taken Jin Chiwoo’s hand….
Shin Haebeom cursed Ha Sung-rok and his son for making him think these thoughts.
“You killed her.”
“Your people killed Gwak Hyeonwoo.”
“I’m not talking about Gwak Hyeonwoo. I’m talking about Shin Hae-jun.”
“Still!”
Ha Shinsung shouted.
“You still blame us! You know what the situation was!”
“Your father abandoned us. He abandoned me and Chiwoo, just fourteen years old, and ran off with his own son!”
“How long are you going to hold onto this?!”
“Until you and your father are dead!”
Shin Haebeom kicked the desk.
“You and your father never even considered it, did you? You ran off with my father’s money too!”
The desk toppled over, the heavy battery crashing to the floor. The alligator clips ripped free of the spikes, tearing at the wounds. Ha Shinsung screamed.
“Your father is a con man. A con man, a pig, a liar, a traitor, a thief!”
“Shut up!”
“You planned this from the beginning, didn’t you?! Your company’s money wasn’t enough to establish yourselves. So you lured us in with your slush fund, made us feel safe, made us believe you were our protectors!”
“No! That’s not it! Why would you even…!”
Shin Haebeom approached, holding new railroad spikes, a bright smile on his face, his voice gentle.
“Time to pay your debts. Even if I sell everything you own, it won’t cover the principal.”
Shin Haebeom raised his hands. The sharp spikes plunged into the backs of Ha Shinsung’s hands.
Today’s broadcast schedule included a guest appearance on an educational program aimed at middle and high school students nationwide. During a pre-interview with the production staff, Kwon Sehyuk was asked if there were any books that had particularly impressed him during his school years. They added that a popular, easy-to-read book would be preferable, given the target audience.
Kwon Sehyuk mentioned the novel that had inspired the mystery drama that took the nation by storm last year. It was a story with a good balance of crime and romance, featuring a freelance writer and a detective, and it had been a big hit with young people and even younger students. The staff member recognized the title and agreed that it would help Kwon Sehyuk appeal to a wider audience.
However, on the day of filming, the script Kwon Sehyuk received contained a completely different story, one he hadn’t discussed. He asked what this was about. Im Chanyeol explained that Kwon Sehyuk’s recommended book had been canceled because it wasn’t in line with the educational program’s purpose. Canceled by whom? By someone higher up. Kwon Sehyuk pressed him on who this “higher up” was, but Im Chanyeol remained evasive. Kwon Sehyuk suspected it was Kwon Joohyuk, the presidential aide.
Kwon Sehyuk was given a private waiting room separate from the main set. Many staff members flocked to see the prince. Im Chanyeol turned them away, promising photos and autographs after the filming. Just as he was about to close the door, Kwon Sehyuk heard the voice of another celebrity appearing on the program.
“He’s acting so high and mighty.”
Im Chanyeol stiffened. The makeup artist, who had been lightly dusting Kwon Sehyuk’s face with powder, also froze. The comment had been loud enough for everyone to hear.
“So gutsy.”
Im Chanyeol muttered. Kwon Sehyuk chuckled.
“Leave him be. He’s just worried about his job.”
“But, Your Highness…”
“I said leave him be.”
Kwon Sehyuk shrugged. There was a reason why an entertainer, unrelated to politics, would feel threatened by him.
“It’s a waste of his time to get worked up. I have no intention of doing variety shows.”
Kwon Sehyuk had a purpose for appearing on this program. Until now, he had only appeared on current affairs, debate, and educational programs with clear political leanings. His uncle had stated that this would continue to be the case. However, even with this limited exposure, he’d built a solid fan base, and rumors circulated among broadcasters about the need to somehow recruit the prince, particularly producers of major variety shows.
Of course, Kwon Sehyuk had no intention of appearing on entertainment programs. His uncle would never allow it, and he didn’t want to waste time and energy before his military enlistment, nor did he want to steal jobs from entertainers.
Still, it’s rude to be so openly antagonistic.
Five minutes before standby, Kwon Sehyuk was escorted to his seat by Im Chanyeol and the program’s director. The sneering remark echoed in his ears.
“He’s acting so high and mighty.”
The owner of that voice was one of the program’s regular MCs. A seven-year veteran who debuted as an idol in his teens, he was five years older than Kwon Sehyuk.
He’d been antagonistic from the start. Unscripted remarks and exaggerated reactions were the least of it. He openly scowled or looked away whenever Kwon Sehyuk spoke, clearly expressing his disinterest, and he waved to his fans in the audience, drowning out Kwon Sehyuk’s voice with their cheers.
The simple talk segment was interrupted by numerous cuts. As expected, the filming dragged on, and the female MC, in high heels, eventually collapsed into her chair, complaining of knee pain. The staff sighed, their whispered comments about her poor condition and Kwon Sehyuk’s inexperience picked up by the microphones.
The MC smirked, clearly satisfied. Kwon Sehyuk wanted to grab him by the collar and throw him to the floor.
Having so much was a problem. Those with much to lose were inevitably hesitant to act.
Filming was eventually suspended. The cast was given a thirty-minute break. Kwon Sehyuk returned to his waiting room, barely containing his anger.
“Your Highness.”
Im Chanyeol’s expression was grim.
“I think we need to talk to the producer. Let’s get that bastard fired.”
“I don’t want to go that far.”
Despite his words, the script in Kwon Sehyuk’s hand was crumpled into a ball.
He thought hard. The smirking face of the MC floated before his eyes. How could he deal with this without hearing the MC whine about losing his job over a few jokes directed at a prince?
“Your Highness, a visitor has arrived.”
“What visitor?”
“Um… it’s Disciplinary Training Commander Shin Haebeom.”
Dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans, Shin Haebeom looked eight or nine years younger than his actual age. He smiled at the surprised Kwon Sehyuk and explained that he’d had a photoshoot in the next studio. Kwon Sehyuk’s eyes widened.
“A photoshoot?”
“It’s a bit embarrassing, actually.”
Shin Haebeom had been voted “Sexiest Ankles” in a reader poll for a women’s fashion magazine. This led to a slacks commercial offer. He’d initially refused, but the brand offered to adjust their entire schedule around his duties at the Disciplinary training camp and mentioned that the designer had also created the camp’s uniforms, so he’d finally agreed.
Since the scar on his left ear hadn’t fully healed, the shoot focused on his profile and full-body shots. The staff was satisfied with the results. Shin Haebeom told Kwon Sehyuk that he had gotten permission to observe the program filming for a while.
“You look great on camera. I tend to look a bit bloated.”
“That’s not the issue.”
Kwon Sehyuk sighed deeply. Im Chanyeol tactfully excused himself.
“Did something happen?”
“Actually…”
He explained the situation. Shin Haebeom smiled knowingly.
“I was the same way at first.”
“Even the Brigadier General?”
“Well, I’m a public official. There were those who looked askance at me, wondering why I was taking work away from broadcasters.”
“Ah…”
“I didn’t expect it to happen to Your Highness, though.”
Kwon Sehyuk lowered his head, his grip on the crumpled script loosening.
“I don’t know if I’m doing a good job.”
“Why would you think that?”
“If my presence here is a burden to someone, if it’s having a negative impact… Honestly, I think it’s better to quit.”
“So you want to quit?”
Kwon Sehyuk shook his head.
“No, not that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m angry.”
“What are you angry about?”
“Because I was disregarded!”
“Then it’s fine.”
Shin Haebeom spoke frankly.
“Don’t think about it as taking someone else’s place. Don’t you see what the world needs right now? You need to understand why the General wants to present you to the public, what it means to remain in the public consciousness. You can definitely become an icon.”
He pointed towards the door.
“Those people out there can easily find replacements if they want to. But Your Highness is different. You are the most noble being in this country, the one and only son of the Supreme One. Show that young fool out there, basking in his petty victory, the difference in class that personal effort cannot overcome.”
Shin Haebeom immediately added,
“Competition isn’t bad. It’s natural. It exists in every species, in every era. Those who don’t fall behind in competition are the strong ones. In the end, the survivors, the strong ones, leave their mark on history and are remembered by posterity.”
Shin Haebeom placed his hands on Kwon Sehyuk’s shoulders.
“You must become strong.”
“…….”
“Your Highness is about to enter the Disciplinary training camp. That means you’ll naturally disappear from broadcasting, even without being deliberately sidelined. The fact that he’s still wary of you means that Your Highness has a tremendous influence on the public, far greater than the career that young fool has built over the years.”
Shin Haebeom exuded the aura of a successful person. Kwon Sehyuk knew he’d risen from humble beginnings to achieve great things. One of the reasons he’d chosen Shin Haebeom as his role model was because he was a self-made man.
But what if that success came at the expense of others?
What if someone’s life was destroyed or broken on Shin Haebeom’s path to the top?
Could that truly be called “self-made”?
Kwon Sehyuk wasn’t sure. Shin Haebeom spoke again.
“Your Highness, you must become strong. Once you are seen as weak, you’re helpless. The world isn’t as beautiful as you think. There’s a reason why the Supreme One clearly distinguishes between social classes. Those of lower classes… they…”
Shin Haebeom paused for a moment before continuing forcefully.
“They covet what belongs to others, they steal, they disregard kindness, and the more you give them, the more they try to take. Their very foundation is rotten.”
“That’s a bit too…”
“I also hope that Your Highness will maintain a pure heart.”
But to do so, he must become strong. He must become someone no one would dare disregard, someone who reigns supreme.
Kwon Sehyuk sat in silence.
He didn’t move or speak until Shin Haebeom left and Im Chanyeol returned to announce the resumption of filming.
✶⋆.˚
The moment the instructor’s lips parted, Ryujin squeezed his eyes shut.
“Pass.”
“Yes!”
His tense body relaxed. Still buckled in his seat, he bowed his head towards the passenger seat.
“Thank you. Thank you so much!”
“Why thank me? You did well.”
Before leaving Howollu, Ryujin had brushed off Shin Yena’s offer of calming pills with a laugh. But while waiting his turn in the waiting room, his legs had trembled with regret. The practical exam was more difficult than he’d anticipated, and many applicants were failing.
“They say the driving test gets harder every year. That’s why my family is pushing me to get it over with quickly.”
The speaker was a girl who had sat behind Ryujin during the training sessions.
“Why?”
“Because of the high crime rate among drivers. If you get a job as a driver for a noble or a rich person, you have access to their homes.”
Ryujin sighed. The girl grumbled,
“Honestly, I kind of understand. They work you like a dog twenty-four hours a day and don’t pay you enough. I’d probably pick up any cash lying around too.”
“Yeah…”
“In noble houses, even picking up a dropped banana is considered theft. And since they have plenty of replacement staff, they don’t hesitate to fire people.”
Most of the trainees failed. The girl who’d spoken to Ryujin also failed, by two points. Ryujin sighed when he heard the news. If a genius girl who aced the written exam could fail, what hope did he have?
His name was called. His heart pounded as he walked to the test vehicle. His palms, gripping the steering wheel, were slick with sweat.
The instructor operated the controls and told him to start. The test had begun; there was no turning back. Ryujin fastened his seatbelt firmly.
He passed. The genius girl was still there, waiting. He tried to control his expression, but a smile kept creeping onto his face. Seeing him, the girl approached and spoke first.
“Congratulations, Oppa.”
“It was so hard. I was so nervous I almost died.”
“I’ll have to try again.”
“You’ll pass next time.”
“I hope so.”
“Want me to buy you a drink to celebrate?”
Ryujin pointed to the vending machine in the hallway, pulling a crumpled bill from his pocket.
“It’s okay.”
“No, I’ll buy you one. It’s really nothing… and for good luck next time. Plus, you lent me a pen during the training.”
“Why do you think I did that?”
“Huh?”
Ryujin turned to look at her. She was small, barely over five feet tall, but her voice was clear and her eyes held a certain strength. They stared at each other for a moment, until the vending machine prompted him to make a selection.
“Ah! What do you want?”
“Really, it’s fine.”
“I already put the money in. Don’t be shy.”
The girl smiled faintly.
“Melon soda.”
Shin Yena had promised to pick him up when the test was over. Ryujin saw the girl off to the bus stop and returned to the front of the testing center.
But it wasn’t a gray Ferrari waiting for him.
It was a black Range Rover.
He hesitated as he approached. He’d hoped, until the very last moment, that it wouldn’t be him. But the person who appeared in the window was Shin Haebeom.
“Get in.”
“Where’s Noona?”
“I said get in.”
Ryujin’s shoulders slumped. He’d wanted to tell Shin Yena about passing his test first….
Shin Haebeom held out his hand.
“Why?”
“Give me your license.”
“…….”
“Don’t tell me you failed? Oh, you idiot!”
“Who failed?! I passed!”
“Then why the long face?”
Ryujin closed his mouth. Shin Haebeom pressed him.
“Aren’t you going to give it to me?”
“No.”
“Who paid for your lessons and the test fee?”
“Don’t be so petty…!”
Shin Haebeom’s hand slapped his cheek. Ryujin’s head reeled from the impact. While he was still disoriented, Shin Haebeom reached into his pocket and snatched the license.
“Look at this picture.”
“Give it back!”
Ryujin lunged for it, but Shin Haebeom didn’t budge. He chuckled, mocking him relentlessly. You look terrible in this picture. You’re not as handsome as Noona.
“Give it back when you’re done.”
“No.”
“Stop messing around! It’s mine!”
“I need it for your registration. Unless you have a passport or other ID?”
“You didn’t say anything about that.”
“I’m telling you now.”
Ryujin relinquished his license. He didn’t want to get hit for being stubborn. Shin Haebeom, seemingly thrilled, hummed a tune while tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Put on your seatbelt.”
As he fastened the buckle, his gaze fell on the car stereo. He asked cautiously,
“Don’t you listen to music?”
“It’s distracting.”
It’s better than your humming, he thought, but kept quiet, turning to look out the window. The streets were bustling with daytime activity. The scenery changed rapidly.
Shin Haebeom spoke condescendingly,
“Turn it on if you’re bored.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Can’t you even read ‘on’ and ‘off’?”
Ryujin sulkily touched the touchscreen. A radio program came on, hosted by an older man. The topic of conversation was, of all things, physiognomy. This isn’t it, he thought, just as Shin Haebeom sneered,
“Such refined taste.”
“How do I change the channel?”
“I don’t know. As you can see, I’m driving.”
Ryujin glared at Shin Haebeom before sighing and leaning back against the seat.
“Let’s just listen. It’s educational, just like you said.”
“Sophisticated Mr. Ryujin.”
“Yes, I’m sophisticated. You, uncultured as you are, should listen to this and educate yourself if you want to talk to people of higher standing.”
“Of course, of course. Someone with little education should diligently listen to educational programs if he wants to mingle with high society.”
“Does it make you happy to be so sarcastic?”
“Yes. Immensely. Didn’t I tell you last time? Your reactions…”
Ryujin raised his hand to stop him.
“What?”
“Wait a minute.”
“What?”
“Isn’t that you they’re talking about?”
Shin Haebeom listened to the voices coming from the speakers.
It was a program where a physiognomy expert analyzed the faces of public figures, including celebrities, and discussed them with the DJ. The topic wasn’t particularly original, but the person currently being discussed was Shin Haebeom of the Disciplinary training camp.
This gentleman’s defining characteristic, aside from his excellent bone structure, is the intensity in his eyes in every photo. This signifies strong energy, which means he’s enterprising and proactive. He enjoys competition, takes on challenges, and above all, is always full of confidence. These are essential qualities for a leader. Of course, it’s important not to be overly oppressive towards subordinates.
“Hmm.”
His features are also well-balanced. Individually, they might appear intense or harsh, but when you look at them as a whole… nothing clashes. The proportions are good.
“Haha.”
I particularly notice his eyebrows. These thick eyebrows with sharp ends are called geommi (sword eyebrows). This signifies charisma and an ability to achieve wealth and fame early in life. Many successful businessmen and politicians have these kinds of eyebrows.
Ryujin was dumbfounded. It was all positive.
“You look displeased, Jung Ryujin.”
“You bribed him, didn’t you?”
Shin Haebeom chuckled.
“Bribe? It’s obvious he’s just making things up based on someone’s picture.”
“Still, it’s praise. I’d be happy…”
“Don’t believe what fortune tellers say, Jung Ryujin. They always say someone had the face of success after they become famous.”
Shin Haebeom pointed his chin at a child crossing the street.
“Even that kid over there could make those kinds of after-the-fact pronouncements.”
“Really?”
“And then there are graphologists.”
“What are those?”
“They analyze personality based on handwriting.”
“Have you had yours analyzed?”
“They said I had the handwriting of a world-conquering hero.”
“That’s funny. The hero froze to death.”
“Want me to show you?”
Before Ryujin could answer, Shin Haebeom turned the wheel, stopping in front of a shopping center with a popular coffee shop on the ground floor.
“Get out.”
“No. Why would I go there with you?”
“I’ll buy you cake.”
“Do you think I’m a child?! You think I’ll fall for that?!”
“I’ll buy you a lot of cake.”
Shin Haebeom said, shaking his fist.
The shop was crowded. Ryujin admired the stylish interior and the fragrant aroma of coffee. But the noise was overwhelming, and the staff rushed around taking orders and making drinks.
A display case filled an entire wall, showcasing the shop’s branded tumblers, cold cups, and mugs. They were all stylish and attractive.
As he was admiring them, Shin Haebeom’s hand suddenly reached out.
“This is from the new season.”
“You scared me…! Make some noise when you move around.”
“What about this one? Do you think it would look good on my desk?”
Shin Haebeom picked up a mug with a purple and blue gradient floral pattern. The rim was uniquely designed to resemble flower petals.
Ryujin remembered the huge display cabinet in the 12th-floor office, filled with plates, teacups, saucers, and bowls.
“Buy it if you like it…”
“At least pretend to be interested when someone asks for your opinion.”
Ryujin muttered. He’ll just hit me if I’m honest.
A uniformed employee approached. Recognizing Shin Haebeom, he asked for a photo. He explained the features of the mug Shin Haebeom was holding, then took his card and membership information to the counter.
The employee returned with a shopping bag adorned with a purple satin ribbon. He explained the location of the business lounge on the second floor, promising to bring coffee and cake there. Ryujin was bewildered. Normally, you ordered yourself in these places…
“I’m special.”
Shin Haebeom looked undeniably smug.
The coffee Shin Haebeom ordered was terrible. Ryujin grimaced after a single sip. How many shots did he put in this thing? He looked at Shin Haebeom, who had his eyes closed, seemingly savoring the aroma. It was a ridiculous sight.
“Why did you stop after one sip?”
“It’s too bitter.”
“You’re like a child. Coffee should be this strong.”
Shin Haebeom drank the bitter coffee without changing his expression. A plate of cake was placed in front of Ryujin.
“Eat this.”
“What are you going to do after I eat it…?”
“Suit yourself.”
“When did I…!”
Ryujin dug his fork into the cake. Shin Haebeom kicked his shin.
“Eat slowly.”
He then tossed the shopping bag with the purple ribbon at Ryujin.
“Here.”
“Why are you giving this to me?”
“A congratulatory gift.”
Ryujin looked like he’d just heard that a mouse had eaten an elephant.
“You bought it because you liked it.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Then go get a refund. Don’t waste your money.”
“Are you worried about my wallet now?”
Ryujin silently clutched the shopping bag. Just you wait. When I’m your age…
When I’m his age?
Ryujin lowered his gaze, unable to believe he was envious of Shin Haebeom.
“Jung Ryujin, look here.”
He looked up at Shin Haebeom’s voice. A notepad lay open on the table, one of the complimentary items provided in the business lounge. Shin Haebeom clicked his pen and said,
“Here. The writing.”
“What… you want me to read it?”
“Look at the handwriting, you idiot.”
“Don’t call me that. It’s offensive.”
“Then get smarter so you don’t have to hear it. And develop some sense. Remember, it’s not just me and the MVP you’ll be dealing with in the Disciplinary training camp.”
Shin Haebeom’s handwriting had upward strokes that slanted aggressively. The letters were small, but widely spaced. Above all, it was neat, almost as if printed. Ryujin remembered some classmates who suddenly became popular during exam periods. They were mostly girls, and they all had neat, pretty handwriting. Had Shin Haebeom been that kind of student? Diligent, with good notes?
“Well?”
“You want me… to… critique it?”
“Honestly.”
He was at a loss. He didn’t want to hurt Shin Haebeom’s pride by saying exactly what he thought, but he wasn’t confident enough to tease him freely either. He hesitated, then said,
“It’s well-written.”
Shin Haebeom frowned.
“That’s all?”
“What else is there to say?”
“…….”
“I… I must be an idiot, just like you said.”
“You admit it? Then cluck like a chicken. Cluck, cluck.”
It was so childish he was speechless. He pitied those who didn’t know the real Shin Haebeom. Shin Haebeom checked for a smoking room logo inside the lounge and pulled out a cigarette.
“Kwon Joohyuk was very interested in graphology.”
“So?”
“The MVP might be interested too, so practice this handwriting.”
“Do I have to go that far?”
“Small habits are important.”
“…….”
“This is the 47th Supreme One’s handwriting. You must have learned some modern history, even if you only finished middle school.”
“I know.”
Ryujin racked his brain, but nothing came to mind. Shin Haebeom clicked his tongue, watching him struggle.
“What were your grades in school?”