Passion: Diaphonic Symphonia Novel - Chapter 25

He was watching them calmly, as if watching a movie screen. Arms crossed, like someone waiting for the ending of a boring movie.

Ilay tilted his head, then noticed Jeong Taeui’s gaze and only turned his eyes. Their eyes met. But seeing his cold gaze, Jeong Taeui remembered that it was Riegrow, not Ilay.

Damn it. Right, there was no one on my side in this world anyway.

Jeong Taeui grimaced. Seeing that, Ilay, too, faintly frowned at Jeong Taeui with his coldly watchful eyes.

Then, Richard, who had been making a gesture of tapping his head, slowly shook his head regretfully and said, “So, of course. It’s natural that your mother abandoned you, disgusted.”

Richard’s click of the tongue followed.

And.

Christoph, who had been standing frozen, bent over, clutching his deeply hit solar plexus, moved.

It wasn’t towards Richard. Rather, it was the opposite; he took a step to his side.

He strode purposefully towards the guard, who had been watching them from about twenty paces away with a serious—and clearly curious—face, without the slightest hesitation.

With an utterly expressionless face, not even blinking, as if he had no soul, Christoph, who approached him in a straight line, was like a bizarre doll.

The guard unconsciously took two or three steps back, his hair bristling at the sight of the bloodless, pale wax doll instantly approaching him. But before he could even properly take a retreating step, Christoph, who had come right up to him, extended his hand.

The moment Jeong Taeui realized what Christoph had taken from him after he withdrew his hand, his face hardened.

The object that had been hanging from the guard’s waist and was now in Christoph’s hand was an iron baton.

“Chris! Don’t!” Jeong Taeui shouted, but his voice didn’t reach Christoph’s ears.

Christoph, moving as if controlled by someone, with unfocused eyes, turned towards Richard.

That was a weapon that could kill someone. No, in Christoph’s hand, it was a weapon meant to kill. Insignificant in the hand of an inexperienced person, but in skilled hands, it was enough to kill a person with a single blow. Even if it didn’t aim for the head, even a glancing blow anywhere could easily break bones.

Seeing Christoph, expressionless, approaching him, Richard momentarily lost his smile. But that was all; he neither moved nor dodged, he simply stood there.

“What in the world is wrong with this household…!” Jeong Taeui cursed through gritted teeth.

Anyway, he didn’t like it from the start. What’s the use of them appearing to cooperate well externally, when internally they’re fighting amongst themselves, divided into factions? And look, they’re not even competing amicably, but seriously aiming for each other’s lives. They’re crazy, Tarthen.

Jeong Taeui found himself unconsciously rushing forward. The moment he realized this, he thought, ‘Now I see, I’m crazy too. It must be contagious, damn it,’ but by the time that thought occurred, he was already in the process of intervening between them.

Come to think of it, something similar had happened recently.

Yes, at the cathedral.

There too, he had tried to stop this guy from beating up a man, only to get hit himself and pass out.

…This time, it didn’t look like it would end with just fainting, seeing that iron baton.

When Jeong Taeui plunged between them, Christoph was already a few steps ahead.

He seemed to momentarily flinch upon seeing Jeong Taeui suddenly blocking his path, but soon, like a machine, he spoke without emotion. “Get out of the way.”

“Chris—”

But he didn’t even wait for Jeong Taeui to finish calling his name, and he swung his arm down.

The iron baton was falling from above his head. The chilling sensation of air being pushed down approached him.

“…!”

Jeong Taeui clicked his tongue. At the same time, he quickly twisted his body sideways. Even though he had anticipated it, the speed was terrifying. He thought he could easily avoid it since he had already guessed, but it still grazed his forearm. A chilling sound of air being cut whistled past.

Rough footsteps seemed to be approaching from behind, but Jeong Taeui had no time to pay attention to that.

As Jeong Taeui reflexively dodged, Christoph no longer paid him any mind and moved towards Richard again. At that moment, Jeong Taeui unconsciously, on impulse, grabbed Christoph’s elbow. The moment he grabbed it, he thought, ‘Oh no!’

Christoph’s face changed like a ghost, and he swung his arm violently. As a result, Jeong Taeui was hit hard in the face by his elbow and pushed back.

“Ugh…!”

It hurt so much that it felt like his face was splitting in two. Stars appeared before his eyes, and his head felt dizzy for a while.

Christoph turned back. This time, he strode purposefully towards Richard.

There was no time to weigh or think about anything. He ran, clutching his throbbing cheek.

When Jeong Taeui caught up with Christoph again, the distance between Richard and Christoph was already less than a few steps.

“Damn it…!”

With a somewhat absurd worry about whether his face was still in human shape, Jeong Taeui once again intervened between them. Meanwhile, he resented what that damned Richard was doing, not having run away by now.

The timing was bad.

Jeong Taeui had originally thought to punch Christoph in the jaw and knock him out first, no matter what happened later. But when Jeong Taeui barely managed to squeeze in between them, Christoph was already swinging the iron baton down.

“…! Tsk…!!”

It was already too late to dodge.

Then, he had no choice but to minimize the damage.

If he grabbed that thing with his hand, his hand bones would most likely shatter. His wrist might even break. But he couldn’t think of any other way at the moment.

Jeong Taeui gritted his teeth and raised his hand to grab the iron baton.

It was then.

Clang…!

A dull metallic sound echoed.

Narrowly avoiding Jeong Taeui’s hand, which was about to grab the iron baton, a long iron bar struck the baton.

The iron baton, swinging down in a large arc, scraped against the iron bar with an irritating screech, veering off its trajectory.

Soon after, clang—, again, a louder metallic sound echoed. The iron baton, held in Christoph’s hand, hit the center of the iron bar and slipped from his hand, unable to withstand the force. Clatter…, the iron baton rolled on the stone floor and stopped.

“Crazy bastard.”

Before he could even realize what had happened, that low, chilling voice pierced his ears first. And before he could identify the owner of that voice, a tremendous sound rang near his ear, and fire erupted on his cheek. His vision flashed, then blurred to black for a while, spinning, unable to regain his senses.

It was almost ten seconds later that he realized he had been slapped on the cheek.

In front of Jeong Taeui, who was momentarily dazed, clutching his cheek which had been slapped so hard his ears rang, the man who had slapped him, even after Christoph dropped the iron baton, grabbed Christoph by the nape of his neck and stopped him. And then he mercilessly slapped Christoph’s cheek as well.

“Snap out of it, Christoph.”

With those words, he slapped the other cheek again. Christoph, violently hit so hard his head snapped back, staggered back a few steps. Blood pooled in the spittle he spat out.

Come to think of it, it tasted metallic; my mouth must be torn, Jeong Taeui thought, still dazedly watching them with his mind not quite functioning.

As his senses slowly returned and he looked around, he saw an iron bar, pulled from who knows where, lying on the floor. Beside it, the iron baton rolled.

He thought he had seen that iron bar somewhere… Then Jeong Taeui suddenly looked back at the bench. And there, he found that one of the iron bar supports that had fixed the bench’s backrest had been completely torn off.

“…He hit me with such brute force without mercy… Gasp, ow ow ow…” Jeong Taeui groaned, clutching his cheek.

But as Jeong Taeui clutched his instantly swelling cheek and complained of pain, the man of monstrous strength, standing before him, looking down at Jeong Taeui with icy eyes—Ilay Riegrow, who had helped him in the end but had given him an unforgettable pain on his cheek—muttered in a voice that seemed to drip ice.

“You’re crazy if you want to die.”

“—No, I have absolutely no desire to die… Though one of my hands would have been shattered.”

As Jeong Taeui muttered grumpily, clenching and unclenching his unharmed hand, Ilay glared at him with piercing eyes. Jeong Taeui quickly hunched his shoulders and decided to protect himself.

Ilay stared intently at Jeong Taeui, as if looking at a complete idiot, then turned his head.

Christoph stood there, his eyes unfocused.

He was no longer even looking at Richard.

He just stood there, muttering to himself in a voice too small to understand.

Ilay mercilessly slapped his cheek again. Regardless of whether Christoph’s mouth was torn and already spitting blood, Ilay’s hands were without hesitation.

“Snap out of it. …Aren’t you going to snap out of it?” he said calmly, as if greeting someone, and without waiting long, he slapped Christoph again.

“Riegrow. Stop.”

When Ilay raised his hand to strike Christoph one more time, the person who stopped him was Richard, who had been silently watching them from behind.

Richard, who had been moments away from death, yet had faced Christoph, who was approaching with an iron baton, without even blinking, shook his head at Ilay.

“This much is enough. I’ve already told him everything I wanted to say. And I got the reaction I wanted.”

Richard said calmly. As if he himself had not been involved in this brief, urgent commotion.

Ilay, who had his palm raised and was looking down at Richard, suddenly let out a faint sneer.

“You’re mistaken, Richard. I didn’t stop him for you. Whether to stop or not isn’t something for you to say.”

“Right, that’s why I’m asking. Stop it,” Richard said with an embarrassed smile. He looked directly at Ilay with a gentle smile, as if asking a close friend for a favor.

His expression was just as affectionate and pleasant as when Jeong Taeui first saw him, not an inch different.

…Right. Right, Ilay. You were right. What Christoph said was right. That bastard is a total pervert, a human being not to be associated with. That man is the one whose mind is messed up.

Jeong Taeui barely swallowed the words that surged to his throat, looking at Richard with eyes close to horror.

Ilay clicked his tongue and lowered his hand, and Richard smiled and thanked him.

And only then, the man who had parked the car a little distance away and was waiting for him hesitantly spoke to him. Richard nodded at him and moved to leave.

“Then I’ll head to the hospital now. Oliver will be undergoing examinations.”

Leaving those words instead of a greeting, Richard lightly raised his hand to Ilay, then turned his gaze to Jeong Taeui.

He scrutinizingly scanned Jeong Taeui with subtle eyes, as if observing him, then smiled and greeted him.

“Thank you for trying to help me. You saved my life.”

“…Don’t mention it. I didn’t do anything.”

Jeong Taeui had just blindly tried to block it with his body, and it was actually Ilay who stopped him, and he hadn’t necessarily tried to sacrifice himself for Richard.

Rather, the reason Jeong Taeui did so was—

“The west wing will be noisy tonight,” Richard muttered to himself, his gaze resting on Christoph.

Christoph stood there, as if seeing nothing and hearing nothing, a blank stare.

Suddenly, something surged up in Jeong Taeui’s chest.

He didn’t want to expose Christoph, so helplessly lost in thought, to the eyes of the people who were already encircling them from a distance, observing like mere bystanders.

It hurt his chest, like seeing an old, tired man on the street who had lost his mind and exposed his vulnerability.

“Christoph. Let’s go in,” Jeong Taeui approached him. He stood there dazed, like a doll, with blurry eyes. His lips were trembling faintly.

Soon, the sound of a car door closing was heard. From the car departing for the hospital, Richard, looking out, came into Jeong Taeui’s view. He was watching Christoph with narrowed eyes, as if amused.

Eventually, the car moved away from the building and soon disappeared from sight.

“Do you think he would have just taken it if you hadn’t intervened?” Ilay’s voice was heard. Jeong Taeui simply stared silently in the direction the car had disappeared.

Then, from among the people gathered far away, an older man with a troubled face wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and approached them. Judging by his respectful address of “Mr. Riegrow” to Ilay and his impeccable attire even at this hour, he seemed to be a senior servant, perhaps one of the four or five butlers Jeong Taeui had heard lived in this house.

Ignoring his words as he began to ask to speak about what had happened, asking them to come to the main building for a moment, Jeong Taeui examined Christoph.

His faintly trembling shoulders and bluish, bloodless lips showed no sign of improvement.

“Christoph. …Go inside. Let’s go to your room first,” Jeong Taeui said quietly. Even at a time like this—no, perhaps precisely because it was a time like this—he inwardly clicked his tongue at the fact that no one seemed to want to approach Christoph.

He was frozen in place, refusing to move, so Jeong Taeui eventually grabbed his clothes and slowly began to lead him away.

It was then.

“Kim Youngsoo?”

At the familiar voice calling an unfamiliar name, Jeong Taeui paused for a moment before turning to look at Ilay.

Ilay, who had been about to go to the main building with the servant, threw something at Jeong Taeui as soon as he turned around. Jeong Taeui instinctively caught the object, which fit in his fist, and looked down at his palm with a bewildered expression.

It was a glass bottle. A small, brown glass bottle about the size of a couple of fingers bound together. There was some liquid inside. The sloshing sensation was conveyed through the thin glass.

“This is…?” 

Jeong Taeui asked, tilting his head in puzzlement.

However, Ilay, having confirmed that Jeong Taeui had received the object, had already turned away without any explanation, and Jeong Taeui could only see his back, which offered no answer.

Jeong Taeui raised an eyebrow and looked at the glass bottle again, then shrugged and put the object in his pocket. And to solve the most pressing problem at hand, he approached Christoph.

He thought that once they returned to the room, the quiet atmosphere would slowly calm him down.

As Jeong Taeui dragged Christoph by his clothes back to the room, Christoph, following Jeong Taeui as if his soul had left his body, did not stop his faint tremors.

Jeong Taeui, who had entered the west wing building, turned to adjust his grip on Christoph’s clothes and flinched in surprise.

Outside, it had been dark, so he hadn’t noticed. He had only thought Christoph looked paler than usual, assuming it was due to the dim lighting.

However, when he faced Christoph indoors under the bright light, his complexion was not just white, but bluish. The word “pale” wasn’t even enough.