Passion: Diaphonic Symphonia Novel - Chapter 32

Jeong Taeui looked down at his arm, which was perfectly bandaged and compresses applied without needing any further attention. These were probably the medicines he had prepared and brought with him before he even came to this room.

“…”

Jeong Taeui glanced at Christoph. Christoph was still glaring at the bruise around Jeong Taeui’s eye. Along with the red eye next to it.

“This person is truly unpredictable too…”

Jeong Taeui sighed and muttered softly to himself. Christoph, seemingly not hearing him as he was glaring at Jeong Taeui’s eye, gave him a questioning look, but Jeong Taeui shook his head, saying it was nothing.

Come to think of it…

He felt it was a bit unfair to bring this up at a time like this, but Jeong Taeui had a task to accomplish.

Jeong Taeui pretended to rub the bruise near his eye and subtly asked,

“By the way, when will Kyle’s book be…”

“Huh? Oh. That’s for later, when I feel like it.”

As expected, it didn’t work at all.

He had hoped that appealing to his guilt and sympathy might get him somewhere.

Jeong Taeui smacked his lips, saying “Okay,” and took his hand away from his eyes.

Thanks to applying the ointment and quickly wiping it off, the burning sensation had largely subsided. Now, his eyes just felt a bit warm. The tears had stopped too.

Christoph looked at Jeong Taeui for a moment, then stood up readily. And, just as he had entered—though Jeong Taeui hadn’t seen him enter because he was asleep—he walked towards the door without hesitation.

“Well, I’ve said all I need to say, so I’m leaving. Don’t ever interfere when I’m taking down someone else again. Because then, I can’t guarantee your safety either.”

Jeong Taeui answered with a slightly dazed voice, “Oh, okay,” and watched his retreating back.

The Christoph from yesterday was nowhere to be found.

The man who had lost even the focus in his eyes, whose face had turned leaden, and whose entire body had convulsed faintly, was now back to his usual self, confident and seemingly bored with everything, as if nothing had happened.

“…Chris.”

Jeong Taeui suddenly called out to him. He was about to open the door and leave, but he raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Jeong Taeui.

Although he didn’t explicitly ask, from his demeanor and words, Jeong Taeui knew that he remembered everything that had happened yesterday.

He remembered all those moments when he lost his reason, was consumed by madness, and surrendered himself entirely to emotion.

What would that feeling be like?

The feeling of remembering and acknowledging all of one’s own madness.

“…That ointment, it said it’s also good for swelling. You should put it on your face too. But not near your eyes.”

Jeong Taeui told him calmly. He frowned slightly, then turned his head away as if Jeong Taeui was talking nonsense.

However, just as he was about to step out the door, he suddenly stopped and turned around. And he stared silently at Jeong Taeui.

Jeong Taeui also met his gaze, seeing a face that seemed to have something to say but was hesitating.

It was always like that. There were words you wanted to ask but couldn’t, and words you wanted to say but didn’t. His father had once told him that as such unspoken words accumulated with time, they would eventually melt away and disappear in the distant future. That was why time was precious in human relationships.

At that time, Jeong Taeui didn’t understand the meaning of those words. He still didn’t fully understand it now. He just occasionally, suddenly, thought, “Ah, is this what it means?”

…Would he accumulate such time with this man too? Or would he not?

He couldn’t know. Relationships between people didn’t last solely on one’s own wishes, and sometimes, even if both wished for it, things didn’t progress as desired.

But at least, he hoped he could watch until this man crossed that precarious, tightrope-like path.

“Why? Do you want to put more ointment near my eyes?”

Jeong Taeui said to him, who was silently staring at him. Christoph grimaced, as if to say, “Don’t be silly.”

He remained silent for a moment longer, then finally opened his mouth.

“Speaking of which, Rick, didn’t he tell you to go back to Berlin?”

Jeong Taeui fell silent.

He met an expressionless face that showed no hint of what he was thinking.

“He did say that. But I’ve decided to stay here for a while… I have to get Kyle’s book back.”

“So, hurry up and return the book,” Jeong Taeui added with a feigned sigh.

Christoph nodded a couple of times, lost in thought, then gave the same answer as before.

“Yes, later, when I feel like it.”

The atmosphere in the West Wing was even more hostile.

Well, it would be strange if it weren’t hostile. It was only yesterday that Oliver – Richard’s young son – was injured on the head by Christoph and rushed to the hospital.

According to the rumors, fortunately, Oliver was not seriously hurt. The test results came back normal, and he was now heard to be walking around perfectly fine in the East Wing.

“Yes, that’s a relief.”

Jeong Taeui answered perfunctorily, glaring at the chessboard.

Damn it, no matter which piece he moved, either his rook or his knight would be captured within a few moves.

Jeong Taeui groaned, having stared motionlessly at the chessboard for over 10 minutes. In front of him, Johan tossed and caught Jeong Taeui’s pawn, which he had captured two moves ago, and continued talking.

“Right. Imagine if there had been a problem. The whole house would be a war zone by now.”

“Hmm… But Oliver lives in the East Wing, so why is Richard in the West Wing? Why is there a separated family in the same house?”

Should he take the bishop with the knight? …No, don’t. If he did that, it would be checkmate in ten moves.

After pondering for over 10 minutes, Jeong Taeui carefully pushed his knight diagonally.

“Ah, normally, if you get married or have a family, you move out or live in a detached annex. But Richard is divorced. Oliver is being raised by his grandmother now. So Oliver lives in the East Wing with his grandmother, but Richard, as a successor candidate, can’t live in the East Wing yet. …Your turn.”

Johan briefly scanned the chessboard in the short time he spoke, then moved a pawn as soon as he finished speaking. Jeong Taeui quickly checked the position of the pawn he moved. It didn’t look very threatening, but he pondered hard, wondering if there was a hidden move.

“Hmm… So your grandmother would be Richard’s grandmother too.”

“That’s right. And Christoph’s grandmother too.”

“Hmm… Then she must be quite old.”

“That’s right. She’s been over eighty for a few years now. But she’s still very robust.”

“Then is she the eldest senior in Tarten?”

“By lineage, yes. Practically, the Elder is treated as the most senior… Oh, you moved that!”

“I didn’t move it! I just touched it for a second!”

“What kind of nonsense is that! The world of chess is ruthless! There’s no such thing as moving and then canceling! Now, it’s my turn.”

“Hey, hey! No, it’s my turn! I didn’t move it, I didn’t!”

Jeong Taeui quickly put down the pawn he had been fiddling with and covered the chessboard with his body, careful not to knock over any pieces.

“You cheap… Ugh, I’ll let it slide this once. Alright, what’s your move? Hurry up.”

Johan grumbled and leaned back. Only then did Jeong Taeui straighten up from the chessboard.

Hmm, Jeong Taeui smoothed his ruffled collar and sat upright, then resumed his staring contest with the chessboard. In front of him, Johan took a sip of beer and, apparently bored of just waiting, continued talking.

“The highest person in Tarten is the Elder. He’s the eldest grand-uncle, and there’s quite an age difference between him and my father, and the other grand-uncles and uncles.”

“Hmm… And it’s that successor who follows that eldest grand-uncle, right? Instead of causing a hostile atmosphere with unnecessary competition, why can’t they just comfortably pass it down to his children and divide the shares among themselves?”

“Ah, the Elder isn’t married. Besides, it’s a tradition in Tarten to select the successor through competition. It does make the atmosphere a bit hostile, but it also has its advantages.”

“…Your turn…”

Jeong Taeui cautiously moved his bishop. Then he subtly glanced at Johan. Johan, saying “Huh? You moved the bishop?”, looked at it casually and took another sip of beer. Jeong Taeui also drank his own beer placed beside him.

Then he realized he had been frowning and rubbed his wrinkled brow.

Honestly, he was surprised.

Jeong Taeui had enjoyed playing Janggi and chess since he was young. Generally, he spent his time playing outside, but on rainy days or days when he didn’t feel like going out, he would read books at home or play Go, Janggi (Korean chess) or chess with his brother.

He couldn’t say he was exceptionally skilled, but he overwhelmingly won more often than he lost when competing against others.

But now.

He was being unilaterally — not as utterly crushed, but noticeably — pushed back.

Did this guy only play chess his whole life…?

It seemed he was going to lose this bet. He had been filled with dreams of eating a five-star full-course meal, but instead, he was about to lose. Jeong Taeui’s expression was heavy, while Johan was gleefully delighted.

On the day he first arrived here, when Christoph explained the layout of the West Wing, he had said that games like chess and billiard tables were available, but it was better not to go because there were many idiots there. Yet, contrary to his words, quite a few people were coming and going in the West Wing’s basement hall.

Even now, as Jeong Taeui and Johan sat facing each other across the chessboard, there were three or four men gripping cue sticks around the billiard table, men holding cards and enjoying poker next to them, and even men playing Jenga in a secluded corner behind them.

…He could ignore the others, but looking at the men sitting across from each other in that corner, grimly tapping Jenga blocks, he somewhat sympathized with Christoph’s words…

Jeong Taeui imagined them getting angry, thinking, “You’re enjoying games just like us, anyway,” and shook his head.

Looking at them like this, it seemed like a bunch of idlers, but it was hard to describe the feeling that these were all respectable individuals when they went outside.

“Hmm, a bishop, huh…? …Ehehe, are you trying to capture the knight?”

Johan, who had been looking at the chessboard for a moment, let out a sinister chuckle. Jeong Taeui flinched. Damn it, full course meal… Damn it, my money…

Jeong Taeui glared at the rook Johan moved and fell into thought again.

“Anyway, even if the atmosphere has gotten more hostile, it must have turned out well for you.”

“What about me?”

His reply wasn’t kind, even with Johan’s cheerful voice.

“You blocked Christoph, who was heading towards Richard with a steel baton at the scene yesterday, didn’t you? So, the guys under Richard were muttering, ‘Maybe he’s not so bad after all.'”

“Hahaha, how simple-minded.”

“If I tell them that, they’ll probably withdraw that thought.”

“…No, don’t tell them. I want to live comfortably.”

Jeong Taeui propped his chin on his hand and muttered, looking at the chessboard.

Now he saw that a pawn had already advanced this far; he needed to capture it quickly before it turned into a queen, and he fell into serious contemplation.

“But you know…”

Jeong Taeui, deep in thought and staring blankly at the chessboard, suddenly asked in a languid voice. Johan, asking “Huh?”, was also inspecting the chessboard.

“Did Richard have a younger sibling? Someone who resembled Oliver?”

“Hmm…? Who said that?”

Johan lifted his gaze from the chessboard and glanced at Jeong Taeui. He was scratching his chest with a displeased look, indicating that it wasn’t a pleasant topic. Jeong Taeui just mumbled, “Oh, nothing.”

“He did. He died over 10 years ago. But he didn’t resemble Oliver much. Oliver resembles Richard. The only thing similar to Oliver was his name, Olivia.”

Johan spoke calmly, as if it wasn’t a secret to hide.

“Hmm…”

“Why, did that story come up in that fight yesterday?”

“Uh, something like that.”

“Then the story of Chris’s mother must have come up too.”

“Oh, you know well.”

“Honestly, those guys, why do they have to drive nails into each other’s hearts when they could just punch each other?”

Johan clicked his tongue.

Jeong Taeui pondered silently for a few minutes, then retreated his knight and looked at Johan.

“The atmosphere in this family is really bad, though.”

“Those two, especially. The others just see each other as more or less rivals, but those two are the detonators.”

“That’s why I try so hard to remain neutral,” Johan said proudly, moving a pawn.

“…Agh! Just two more squares and it’s a queen! Damn it, so the rook…!”

“Ehehe, that’s one of my special moves.”

Jeong Taeui tore at his hair.

The free full-course meal was getting further and further away.

Johan, barely looking at Jeong Taeui, who had started glaring at the chessboard, muttering about baseball’s ninth inning, two outs, saw that his beer was running low and came back with a new can from the mini-bar. In the meantime, he scanned the chessboard with sharp eyes, checking if any tricks had been pulled.

“Anyway, their personalities were originally so different that their relationship was quite bad, and as you can see, Christoph’s face is like that. There were occasionally fools who, not knowing any better, would happily cling to him, and one of those fools was Richard’s younger sister, Olivia. Christoph really detested her. He openly mistreated her whenever she followed him around. She was a sister Richard cherished and pitied especially because she was weak from birth, couldn’t go to school, and spent half the year confined to a hospital bed, but well…”

“…Please, just don’t tell me Christoph killed that girl…”

“If he had, one of them would have been in big trouble by now. I told you, she was a weak child from birth. She was a child who worried about whether she would survive until the next season change every time the season changed. She was sixteen, I think… but she lived longer than the doctors said. …She was a good kid.”

Johan narrowed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, as if recalling a good girl who died young, and mumbled. His voice grew a little somber.

Jeong Taeui briefly took his eyes off the chessboard and looked at him. He, too, felt a little down. All things that die young are poignant.

“Well… if she was such a cherished sister, then I can’t blame him for his grief.”

Jeong Taeui said, fiddling with a chess piece.

Suddenly, that calm yet chilling voice he had heard last night brushed against his ears.