Passion Novel - Volume 3 - Chapter 80

But wasn’t it true? Depending on how one thought about it, all the current misfortunes Jeong Taeui was experiencing could be attributed to that man. If that damned guy wanted revenge, he should have waited until he was alone and attacked him, instead of randomly barging into a restaurant, causing Jeong Taeui to get inadvertently caught up in it—he regretted getting involved then—and becoming marked by that madman murderer, whom he should have never met, never exchanged a word with, and fled from even if he just entered his sight from a hundred miles away.

He couldn’t say it was entirely true, but Jeong Taeui thought about 90% of it was that damned guy’s fault.

For a moment, resentful anger surged like wildfire. If he had been next to him, he probably wouldn’t have actually killed him, but he might have choked him until he was on the verge of unconsciousness.

However, thinking that, Jeong Taeui sighed. People say that if you’re unlucky, you’ll break your nose even if you fall backward, so how could it all be that man’s fault?

Perhaps all the misfortune had been foretold from the moment he entered this place. Or it could have been even earlier.

Jeong Taeui habitually rubbed his pinky finger in the darkness. And he dropped his gaze, as if trying to find something invisible. A red thread was originally tied there. He had never seen or felt it, but a red thread connecting Jeong Taeui and his twin brother was tied there. His brother had said so, so it must be true.

Even after hearing that, he still couldn’t see any red thread. Perhaps it had been cut. Before his brother left home, he had snipped at the empty space where the thread would be between his fingers.

“Thinking about it, it seems my luck has been bad ever since that thread was cut…”

Jeong Taeui mumbled to himself.

In fact, the giver of good fortune must have been his brother. By sharing his luck with Jeong Taeui, his brother had brought him blessings so that he wouldn’t encounter misfortune. And what if the thread connecting him and his brother was cut, and he could no longer receive his good fortune?

“That makes more sense. It’s logical too.”

Someone as lucky as his brother was fit to be a giver of good fortune. Doesn’t it make sense to think of someone who is overflowing with luck and even shares that luck with those around them?

“That red thread was actually my luck… Ah, I really need to meet Hyung soon and tie it again.”

He thought he was mumbling quietly, but it seemed his voice was loud enough to be heard in the next room. The man, who had been cursing that madman by himself while Jeong Taeui wasn’t listening, suddenly asked, having heard Jeong Taeui’s words,

“Did you part ways with your brother?”

“Ah… well, something similar. I don’t know where he is… or what he’s doing…”

Jeong Taeui mumbled like a sigh. He wanted to meet him. But he couldn’t. It had never been like this before. His brother was always reachable. Even if not, whenever he thought of him longingly, he could meet or talk to his brother not long after.

Yes. He missed him. Even more so now.

Perhaps his sigh reached him, as the man fell silent. He seemed to be lost in thought, quiet. Or perhaps he had fallen asleep. Jeong Taeui leaned his head against the wall, quietly breathing in the silence, when he heard the man’s low voice.

“You’ll be able to meet him. If he’s still alive. …Though the friend I want to meet most is dead.”

Jeong Taeui said nothing. The man said nothing either. The man who had been so talkative just moments ago was now lost in silence, thinking of the friend he could no longer meet. It felt somehow regrettable, and Jeong Taeui hesitated for a moment before saying something, then closed his mouth again. Now was the time for that man to be silent. Perhaps that friend was the colleague who died at Ilay’s hand? Or another friend? Jeong Taeui mourned for his unnamed friend.

And for him too.

For those who remain, there is a life left that was not given to those who went ahead. Life remains with a sense of loss. Jeong Taeui had seen that loss before. He silently looked at the darkness that covered his body. Then he mumbled bitterly,

“Still, I’m going to be angry, Uncle.”

A sigh melted into the darkness. He had thought all day.

He thought back, step by step, over the events from last night—no, much longer ago than that.

Only one plausible conclusion emerged. But it was a plausible conclusion that he didn’t want. So he thought again and again. The more he did, the darker his insides became. He was utterly exhausted.

Jeong Taeui gave up on trying to organize his thoughts and slowly tapped the wall a couple of times with his heavy head. His tired body sagged.

He wanted to get out of here. He wanted to meet his brother. He wanted to escape these complicated relationships. His desires floated chaotically.

Then it happened.

From a distance, he heard the sound of an iron door opening. Since it was already past evening, no one would be coming from outside. Perhaps an instructor making rounds? But when he heard the sound of shoes on the stone stairs, Jeong Taeui felt he knew who it was.

The presence drew closer and closer. The footsteps approaching had no hesitation, as if he could see clearly even in this darkness. I’m lost, unable to even clear up vague suspicions, yet that man doesn’t hesitate even in this pitch-black darkness. Jeong Taeui smiled bitterly.

“Taei.”

Even when the footsteps finally stopped and a familiar voice came from just a few steps away, Jeong Taeui didn’t raise his head. He merely stared silently at his feet.

Click, a faint sound, and light pouring down from above, happened almost simultaneously. The light wasn’t very bright, but to eyes that had been accustomed to darkness for a whole day, it was more dazzling than the sun.

Jeong Taeui flinched, frowning, and covered his eyes with his hand. He remained silent until his eyes adjusted to the light and he could slowly open them. The man in front of him also waited quietly.

“Did you rest well? I’ve come to pick you up.”

When Jeong Taeui opened his eyes, Ilay was there. Opening the cell door and waiting for Jeong Taeui to come out.

Jeong Taeui stared at him without moving for a moment. He seemed to have no intention of rushing him and waited patiently for Jeong Taeui.

“Hey, are you leaving already? Someone must have come to pick you up.”

Then, from the next room, the silence broke, and the man’s voice was heard. Ilay glanced over, only his eyes moving. But from his position, he wouldn’t have been able to see who was inside the adjacent cell. Likewise, the man couldn’t see Ilay’s appearance. The man didn’t know that the person so close to him was Ilay. The moment he realized that fact, a strange feeling came over him. A feeling difficult to explain.

That man had tried to kill Ilay. Without looking around, practically throwing his own life away, he had lunged at Ilay. Perhaps it was just a moment of fury or impetuosity, but at that moment, he clearly hated Ilay more than anyone in the world. Yet, he didn’t recognize Ilay. The footsteps, the presence, even the voice were clearly Ilay’s, but just because he couldn’t see him, he didn’t know.

“It’s too fast to leave in less than a day. Haha, see you outside!”

The man greeted cheerfully. Only after hearing that greeting did Jeong Taeui slowly stand up. And he walked out next to Ilay, who was holding the door open. Jeong Taeui didn’t tell the man they would meet again. He just said, “Take care until you get out.”

Behind him, the entrance to the seventh basement floor closed. Only a door less than half a span thick separated them, yet inside was pitch-black darkness, and outside, light poured in.

Jeong Taeui looked at the clock. It was almost 10 AM. Several hours after regular work hours had ended.

“I just finished the last meeting of the day ten minutes ago and came straight here.”

Ilay said from behind Jeong Taeui, who was looking at the clock. “Don’t be angry that I’m late; I came as fast as I could,” he added, his lips curving slightly.

Jeong Taeui briefly scanned his smile then turned his head. It was the smile he disliked most among all he had seen. The same smile he had seen at dawn. Jeong Taeui openly showed his displeasure and sighed.

“I end up in Eoryeong every joint training period.”

“Didn’t you like it? I thought spending the day there would be good for you today.”

Ilay raised an eyebrow slightly, speaking as if surprised. Jeong Taeui briefly looked up at the ceiling. As he said, spending the day in Eoryeong wasn’t bad today. In his uncomfortable physical state, there was no way he would have fared well participating in sparring, and he doubted he would have gotten through the day without incident with his current state of mind. For today, being buried in a dark place for the day was better than spending the day in his usual routine.

“Yes, it was better than living as usual. Even if I don’t think you put me in Eoryeong for my sake.”

When Jeong Taeui said this indifferently, Ilay chuckled.

Jeong Taeui headed towards the stairs not far from the entrance. Ilay, who seemed about to stop in front of the elevator next to it, followed Jeong Taeui a couple of steps below as he began to climb the stairs, and asked,

“Going by stairs? Isn’t it hard?”

“It’s hard. My migraine just started.”

Jeong Taeui answered curtly, not stopping his steps. His body was feeling better, at least. He hadn’t moved at all in Eoryeong all day, so now he had no discomfort.

However, his head had just started throbbing a while ago. It had always been like this. If he moved too much and his body became exhausted, or if he overworked his mind excessively, he would get a migraine. Migraines didn’t respond well to medicine either. The only solution was to sleep it off. Ilay followed Jeong Taeui climbing the stairs, gesturing backward with his head.

“There’s an elevator right there.”

“You want to take the elevator to go up one floor?”

“It’ll take longer waiting,” Jeong Taeui added, snorting. Ilay was silent for a moment.

“One floor. Are you going to your room?”

This time, Jeong Taeui was silent.

It was only then that they realized their intended destinations were different. Ilay’s obvious destination was his room on the first basement floor. And Jeong Taeui was headed to his own room, just one floor above. Jeong Taeui stopped, Ilay stopped behind him too.

The headache wasn’t going to subside on its own. At this rate, it would only get worse, and he didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep easily. He wanted to go to his room and rest. But clearly, Jeong Taeui had something to confirm. Although he vaguely knew and didn’t want to confirm, he had to address it.

“Let’s go to my room. I stocked the fridge full of beer this afternoon.”

“…Shall we?”

He didn’t know how much was stocked, but he might as well empty it all out. Jeong Taeui gave Ilay a resentful look, then followed him towards the elevator, letting him lead the way this time. Even beer didn’t appeal to him much.

He thought about stopping by the infirmary for some headache medicine before going to his room later, then remembered the late hour, and clicked his tongue. If he went to the Adjutant’s room at this hour asking for medicine, he’d undoubtedly get an earful.

He could only hope the conversation wouldn’t make his headache worse. Jeong Taeui didn’t say a word until they got on the elevator and reached Ilay’s room on the first basement floor. Ilay glanced at Jeong Taeui but didn’t bother to speak. He just chuckled. It was natural that seeing that expression wouldn’t improve Jeong Taeui’s mood.

“…It’s like watching a sulking child.”

As Jeong Taeui grumbled unpleasantly next to Ilay, who was taking out his keys, Ilay subtly raised an eyebrow. Jeong Taeui realized after speaking that his words themselves were no different from a sulking child, but the words were already out.

“Not at all. A sulking child usually feels better after a night’s sleep, but you don’t seem like you will. Though you do tend to cheer up on your own.”

Jeong Taeui fell silent. This was why you shouldn’t get off on the wrong foot. It was bothersome to get angry, and if he just let things slide with a “what’s good is good” attitude, it became an expected behavior in other people’s perception of him.

He sighed inwardly. Because what he said wasn’t entirely wrong. Even if something made him incredibly twisted up and furious, how many days would it really last? When he was angry at someone, his own energy was drained even more severely, so he could never keep up with it, always just burying it with an “oh well.” But it wasn’t that he forgot what he was angry about, or what bothered him.

“It seems you did something to upset me…”

Jeong Taeui muttered to himself. The conclusion he had reached after being in Eoryeong all day pointed to almost one thing. It was a deeply displeasing conclusion.

Ilay didn’t answer this time. He simply opened the door and gestured for Jeong Taeui to enter.

Jeong Taeui stepped into the silent room, stood for a moment, then went to the chair in front of the desk and sat down. Normally, he would have perched on the bed, but now, he didn’t feel like doing even the smallest thing.

“…Uncle?” Jeong Taeui asked.

Ilay shrugged, tossing his jacket carelessly onto the bed. “If you mean Instructor Jeong Changin, he’s in Canberra.”

“That’s not what I mean. He didn’t answer his phone this morning, so is he answering now?”

Ilay chuckled. From that laugh and brief silence, Jeong Taeui realized that his uncle not answering the phone was no accident. And Ilay knew that Jeong Taeui had realized. He didn’t feel the need to answer and went to the refrigerator, taking out beer for both himself and Jeong Taeui.

“Alright then.”

Ilay said, lightly tossing a beer to Jeong Taeui. Jeong Taeui didn’t feel like drinking, but he fiddled with the beer in his hand for a moment before tearing open the tab. The moment he tore it, foam boiled over and splattered onto the floor. He clicked his tongue, set the can on the desk, and shook his hand dry.

Since he hadn’t really intended to drink it anyway, he didn’t pick up the beer.

Ilay, watching Jeong Taeui with amusement, took a sip of his own beer, then leaned against the wall and tilted his head.

“Shall I tell you the cause first, or the result?”

“Only about my uncle.” Jeong Taeui said curtly. He had thought and thought all day, but that was the most important thing.

Ilay watched Jeong Taeui for a moment, then laughed and suddenly asked, “You said you were Instructor Jeong Changin’s son, didn’t you? …Ah, genetically.”

Ilay added, as if he thought it might be misunderstood. Jeong Taeui frowned slightly. He quickly understood what he was talking about. It wasn’t exactly a secret. But it wasn’t a story someone outside the family would likely know either.

“…Uncle must have said so.”

What he said didn’t really mean anything. It didn’t matter to Jeong Taeui who had passed down his blood and flesh. His father was in heaven, and his uncle was his uncle.

“He never said it directly. I just happened to find out. …But you really don’t resemble him. Well, neither does Jeong Jaeui, but your personality is completely different from his.”

Ilay chuckled as if it were amusing. Jeong Taeui sighed, slowly tapping the armrest of the chair with his palm.

“You seem to know him very well. So, you and Uncle teamed up for this?”

Ilay laughed and waved his hand. “No, no,” he said, shaking his head.

“You’re making it sound unpleasant, ‘teamed up.’ Of course, it’s not entirely wrong. …It’s true that he and I know each other well. More accurately, he and my brother know each other well. We do several things together, so among the instructors, I suppose we could say we know each other best. But when it comes to this particular matter, I was merely his assistant. I just slightly helped him with what he wanted.”

Ilay showed a very small gesture with his fingers.

Assistant.

Jeong Taeui smiled bitterly.

“So, you knew beforehand that I would see that file and make such a mess of things?” Jeong Taeui spoke immediately, not wanting to hear any more. Ilay was silent for a moment, then shrugged indifferently.

“More than half the probability. But I also fully considered the possibility that it wouldn’t turn out as perfectly as I wanted.”

“If that had happened, were you planning to drag me in with you and trip up McKin?”

Ilay chuckled softly. “Taei, you’re already dragged in. Although this particular matter will be known by the guards and reported to other branches or headquarters, it’s a dirty secret that shouldn’t be widely known, so it won’t spread much and will be handled internally. But you’ll most likely be held responsible, in some way or another.”

Jeong Taeui silently watched Ilay, who said, “Don’t worry too much. I’ll make sure it doesn’t lead to your expulsion.” That didn’t matter. The original deadline he was given was almost up anyway.

Suddenly, he wondered if his uncle had set the deadline that way because of this. Jeong Taeui leaned his head weakly against the chair.

“…So, the result?”

His voice was tinged with fatigue. Ilay emptied his beer, tossed the can into the trash, and went to sit on the bed. Then he shook his head dismissively.

“Nothing special.”

“What?”

“Nothing special. This incident is just one of ‘various unpleasant events caused by Jangtil and those under Jangtil’s management.’ This one thing alone won’t cause significant damage. This is, in fact, superficially an ‘impossible accident’ but practically an ‘unluckily exposed incident.’ Just like anywhere else. Of course—McKin will have to give up on promotion. Depending on how you look at it, leaving UNHRDO might even be better for him.”

Jeong Taeui listened to him silently, and when he paused, he quietly said, “It’s not just McKin, is it?”

“Hmm…?”

“Uncle also helped with this. Whatever you call ‘practicality,’ Uncle helped McKin. Or rather, did McKin help Uncle?”

And I, like a fool, danced like a puppet. Jeong Taeui smiled bitterly.

Then, suddenly, Ilay burst into laughter. It was a cheerful laugh, as if he had heard something incredibly amusing.

“Ahaha, hahahaha, that’s right, McKin and Jeong Changin were definitely holding hands one way or another. You could gather as much evidence as you wanted. But you know, Taei,”

Ilay, still with a lingering smile on his face, suddenly lowered his voice.

“Instructor Jeong can’t quit UNHRDO. He’s an absolutely essential person.”

“…To Vice Director General Maori?”

He hadn’t intended to sneer, but it came out that way. Ilay shook his head.

“Wrong. He’s essential to UNHRDO.”

Hearing those words, seemingly casual yet tinged with a subtle light, Jeong Taeui let out a long breath.

He had felt like he was being led in circles for a while now.

Yes, this wasn’t it.

Whether his uncle was Maori’s man, Gentil’s man, or neither, Jeong Taeui didn’t care. How the internal situation unfolded was also none of Jeong Taeui’s business. What he wanted to know wasn’t how this situation would progress, or how the power dynamics would shift.

Jeong Taeui simply wanted to know that his uncle hadn’t considered him someone who could be roughly cut off if need be. That was all he needed. That alone would be enough. His headache was getting worse. His head throbbed, making him nauseous. Jeong Taeui clenched his fists.

Just then.

As if tearing through his headache, a mechanical hum began to fill the quiet space. The phone was ringing.

Ilay raised an eyebrow, glanced at his watch, and murmured, “Ah.” He chuckled, as if he knew who it was, then got up from the bed and approached the desk. He checked the caller ID on the phone screen next to Jeong Taeui and gestured to Jeong Taeui. Jeong Taeui looked at the screen. After the international dialing code, the numbers 61-2 followed. Canberra. At this hour, there was only one person who would call from Canberra. Suddenly, the color drained from Jeong Taeui’s lips. Biting his lip nervously, he picked up the phone.

“…”

He tried to say, “Hello,” or something, but the words wouldn’t come out. So he just held the receiver silently, and after a moment of similar silence, a voice came back from the other end.

‘Rick?’

“…It’s Taeui, Uncle.”

‘Ah. It’s Taeui. Why are you there? Did I dial the wrong number… no.’

The voice briefly moved away as if checking the number, then returned. It was nonchalant. His uncle was no different from usual. He called Jeong Taeui’s name as casually as ever. Perhaps his uncle didn’t know. No, perhaps it wasn’t his uncle’s intention from the start.

Jeong Taeui knew it couldn’t be, yet he desperately clung to the sudden thought.

“When are you coming? I’ve been stuck here all day, you know.”

Like a child whining, Jeong Taeui grumbled softly to his uncle.

His uncle chuckled over the phone.

‘Did Ilay tell you the story?’

His uncle said. His voice was as calm as it had been on the phone earlier. But the moment Jeong Taeui heard those words, the expression vanished from his face. He bit his lip nervously once more.

“…Uncle. Was it like this from the beginning?”

Jeong Taeui asked quietly. His uncle paused for a moment and then asked back, “What?” It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what Jeong Taeui was saying. It meant, “Regarding what aspect of this situation?”

Jeong Taeui fell silent. As he slowly inhaled and exhaled several times, no sound came from the other end of the receiver either. His uncle would know. There was no way he wouldn’t. Not only the current situation, but even that it would come to this, he must have already anticipated. And he knew how Jeong Taeui was feeling right now. The moment that thought reached him, a fiery lump surged up in his chest and choked his throat.

He was so angry he could barely breathe. The desperate hope he had felt just moments ago had all turned into resentment. It was such a small thing he had wished for from his uncle. Perhaps his uncle had also wished for something small from him. But what they each considered small was different.

“From the beginning.”

‘…’

“…Why didn’t you just say so from the beginning? That you wanted to create a difficult situation for McKin or Gentil, or whoever. You could have just said so from the start. Do you think I would have interfered with your work? No matter what means you used, do you think I would have hindered you? Why do you make a person feel like this—”

Words burst out like an explosion.