Passion Novel - Volume 3 - Chapter 82

His uncle didn’t apologize. He lost the opportunity to apologize forever. Perhaps that was the punishment that clever yet clumsy man had imposed on himself, Jeong Taeui thought.

“Uncle… If you don’t apologize, I’ll remember it my whole life and stubbornly bring it up every time I see you…”

Jeong Taeui mumbled with his eyes closed. He was too exhausted to get angry or vent his resentment. What was this inexplicable, unpleasant feeling?

Jeong Taeui groaned, wondering when the throbbing headache in his head would disappear, and pulled the blanket over himself.

Just then.

Footsteps seemed to approach from the opposite side of the hallway, and then the door burst open. Jeong Taeui, pulling the blanket up to his nose, glared at the person who had opened the door without knocking and walked in.

“Taei hyung.”

However, the moment he identified the person who had entered, Jeong Taeui dropped his fierce gaze. Slowly sitting up on the bed, he asked the unexpected visitor with a puzzled expression.

“Xinlu… What brings you here?”

“Hyung…”

The visitor, standing blankly blocking the doorway, only called Jeong Taeui’s name once and then fell silent. His face, staring intently at Jeong Taeui, was pale and rigid.

“Xin…”

But before Jeong Taeui could call his name again, Xinlu strode towards the bed. And he grabbed Jeong Taeui by the collar and pulled him close. Jeong Taeui’s expression hardened slightly.

“Xinlu. …What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

Xinlu’s face was less than a hand’s span away. His bloodless, blue lips twitched as if wanting to say something, then stopped.

Jeong Taeui’s expression stiffened. He had never seen Xinlu like this before. More than Xinlu grabbing him by the collar, the unfamiliar expression felt more alien. It was as if he were looking at a stranger. No… this was a stranger.

“…is not allowed.”

Xinlu whispered something. His voice was so small that Jeong Taeui couldn’t quite catch it. Jeong Taeui frowned slightly.

Xinlu’s pale face was devoid of expression. It was rigid like a wax doll, as if it had lost all vitality and emotion. Jeong Taeui knew this kind of face. It was a dangerous face.

“Xinlu. Let go of this.”

Jeong Taeui placed his hand over Xinlu’s hand, which was gripping his collar. Gently, carefully, yet firmly. But Xinlu paid no attention. It was as if he couldn’t hear Jeong Taeui’s voice. He seemed unaware that Jeong Taeui was holding his hand.

“Hyung. …With Riegrow, …with Ilay Riegrow, that man, …did you sleep with him?”

A low voice escaped from his pale blue lips. It was a thin, faint voice, like the sound of wind, but it pierced Jeong Taeui’s eardrums clearly. He didn’t know where he had heard such words, or why it had to be at this moment, when he was so exhausted he felt like he would collapse. The moment Jeong Taeui registered Xinlu’s words, his face stiffened. Suddenly, a lump of forgotten resentment blocked his chest. It was because of unpleasant memories. It wasn’t because he had slept with Ilay Riegrow. That man’s cold personality, cruel hands, indifferent eyes – all of it mixed together to create a sickening discomfort that twisted his heart.

Xinlu seemed to interpret Jeong Taeui’s stiffening expression in some way, and he fell silent. His gaze, fixed on Jeong Taeui without a single blink, gradually distorted.

“……Why did you do that?” 

“Xinlu.” 

“No, you can’t……, not that man. Why didn’t you tell me? I told you to look only at me. I said I wanted you to be only with me, didn’t I!” 

“Xinlu!”

The hand gripping his collar tightened. Jeong Taeui suddenly thought that he might even be trying to strangle him. And the next moment, a chill ran down Jeong Taeui’s spine. Xinlu was indeed trying to strangle Jeong Taeui, with eyes that looked half-crazed.

His eyes seemed to be burning red. His glistening, tear-filled eyes stared straight at Jeong Taeui, silently screaming.

“Xinlu, snap out of it! Xinlu!”

Jeong Taeui shouted, but it was no use. He seemed not to hear. Or perhaps he was pretending not to hear while hearing everything.

The strength in his grip was terrifying. Jeong Taeui tried with all his might to tear his hand away, but the hand gripping his collar wouldn’t let go.

“I thought it was a lie. I thought there was no way. I couldn’t understand why hyung would sleep with that man, why such an unpleasant rumor was spreading. You like me, don’t you? I like you too, don’t I? But, you didn’t even do that with me, so why with him? It doesn’t make sense!”

Xinlu’s voice was already closer to a growl, grinding his teeth. The hand gripping his collar suddenly pushed Jeong Taeui. Jeong Taeui stumbled back onto the bed directly behind him and rolled over. Xinlu, still holding his collar, fell with him.

“……!”

Jeong Taeui swallowed a groan. His legs tangled, and there was a ‘thud’ sound. For a moment, his vision blurred. It felt like fire was burning below his knee. It was where he had had surgery before.

While Jeong Taeui suppressed the pain without a sound, Xinlu climbed on top of him.

“Hyung, don’t you like me? You said you liked me. But why that man? Not that man. I told you I hated that man!”

Xinlu, sitting on Jeong Taeui’s waist, tugged at his collar. Rip, rip, the front of his shirt easily tore open. Cool air touched his skin. As Jeong Taeui’s body was revealed, Xinlu lunged at him like a beast with its prey, biting his collarbone as if truly trying to tear him apart.

“Xinlu. …Xinlu, calm down, move for a second.”

Jeong Taeui grabbed Xinlu’s head and spoke, but Xinlu didn’t reply, simply bit Jeong Taeui’s exposed body indiscriminately, as if to leave his mark. Jeong Taeui gritted his teeth. Otherwise, a sigh, a curse, or tears would escape his lips. His head throbbed with pain. This unfamiliar man on top of him was terribly heavy. His heart felt constricted, making it hard to breathe. It felt as if everything in the world was tormenting him terribly.

“Xinlu……, stop.”

Jeong Taeui whispered haltingly, with no strength in his voice. Honestly, he wanted to cry. He wanted to sob like a child and throw everything away, thinking, ‘I don’t care anymore, let whatever happens happen.’ He wished he could hide in some corner and never come out.

But he couldn’t do that because, although this man was terribly unfamiliar, he was Xinlu.

Jeong Taeui should have felt sorry for Xinlu. His body had betrayed the person he loved. He had repeatedly slept with someone else and found pleasure in it. And now, his mind was also betraying Xinlu. Jeong Taeui realized at that moment. He still loved and cherished Xinlu, but he couldn’t accept everything about Xinlu. It wasn’t the kind of affection Xinlu desired.

Hearts fade, and emotions lose their color.

Jeong Taeui quietly called Xinlu’s name, like a sigh. But Xinlu, that once lovable young man who had now become unfamiliar, bit Jeong Taeui’s shoulder and spoke, grinding his teeth.

“Not him. I hate that man. He deceived me and mocked me. Am I supposed to watch a man like that get you…? I can’t. Anyone else, maybe, but absolutely not him…!”

It was the moment those words registered in his ears. Jeong Taeui’s heart froze. His head chilled as if cold water had been poured over it.

Sometime before, he had experienced this feeling. It was much fainter and smaller then, but the color of that emotion was clearly the same as now. It was when Xinlu had made a deal with Ilay, staking Jeong Taeui’s life. When he tried to interfere with Jeong Taeui’s life, not for Jeong Taeui’s sake, but for Xinlu’s own.

“……!!”

Briefly, he thought he heard Xinlu’s scream. And in that short moment, Jeong Taeui couldn’t remember what state of mind he was in.

When he came to his senses—no, in reality, he hadn’t fully come to his senses. A white light flashed in his head, and only the loud drumming of his own heartbeat echoed in his ears—Jeong Taeui was half-sitting on the bed, looking down at Xinlu, who was sprawled on the floor.

He must have unconsciously hit Xinlu’s head. Xinlu was clutching his head, struggling to steady his swaying gaze, as if he had suffered a mild concussion. He seemed to have never imagined that Jeong Taeui would hit him. His unstable eyes stared at him in disbelief.

“Did I seem that ridiculous?”

Jeong Taeui realized then, for the first time, how dry his voice could be. A crisp, parched, rough voice seeped through his bloodless lips. Suddenly, he wanted to laugh. But that bitter laugh vanished before it could even form on his mouth.

“What in the world is wrong with everyone…? Did everyone think so little of me? Do I seem to have no will of my own? That you can manipulate me as you please and treat me as you like, and I’ll have no feelings? No anger, no hurt? …I’m not that strong.”

His voice gradually lost strength. The last word almost melted away, lingering only in his mouth. But even as his strength drained, strangely, his anger didn’t subside. Inside his quietly withered body, resentment slowly burned the surrounding emotions like an ember.

“……This won’t do. I don’t want to be here anymore. I need to leave.”

Jeong Taeui muttered bitterly to himself. Xinlu stared at Jeong Taeui with a pale, frozen face. As if Jeong Taeui’s words had turned a terrible dream into reality, his face crumbled into a ghostly white. His lips, which had been trying to move, stilled, then whispered in a barely audible voice.

“You can’t leave… You can’t go. You haven’t received the Director General’s permission… So you can’t leave. There’s no way to unilaterally quit as a UNHRDO member on your own.”

His voice, clinging like a child’s, could only manage such words. Jeong Taeui smiled wryly.

Director General. Permission. UNHRDO. What did any of that mean? His heart had already left this place, so what could possibly bind him?

“Is that so…? Then I’ll just tell the Director General directly. Then I can leave immediately.”

“Taei hyung!”

Xinlu’s voice sounded like a scream. Leaving that voice behind, Jeong Taeui stormed out of his room without a single glance back.

***

The fact that he was furious to the point of exploding wasn’t entirely Xinlu’s fault. Often, when a person suddenly vents their anger, it’s not due to a single reason. It’s when accumulated frustrations finally burst forth from a very small trigger. The few times Jeong Taeui had exploded in his life had mostly been like that.

When things that had been endured for a long time accumulated to the point where they could no longer be suppressed, at some point, that anger would erupt over something truly trivial and even ridiculous. Later, he would think back and find it absurd. People who didn’t know would ask why he got angry over such a minor thing. Because the trigger that unleashed his pent-up frustration was truly insignificant.

Perhaps this was one of those times. In truth, he wasn’t angry enough at Xinlu to explode like that. That anger wasn’t built up by Xinlu. Nor was it solely due to Ilay, or his other colleagues, or his uncle. But at the same time, it was all of their fault. Jeong Taeui was too impatient to wait for the elevator, so he strode up the stairs, muttering through gritted teeth. The headache, which had seemed to subside with medicine, surged back. His leg, which had tangled when he fell on the bed earlier, throbbed with every step, as if he had sprained his ankle.

At this point, it was beyond anger; it was almost laughable.

What is this? Nothing is right. His mind was a mess, and his body was a mess. He couldn’t even compose himself. And there was no one to compose him for him. Jeong Taeui was abandoned here alone.

“Ha. Jeong Taeui. What is this…? Just throwing tantrums, unable to pull myself together. Still a long way to go to be human.”

But no matter how much one tries to be human and endures for a hundred days, if it accumulates, it will eventually burst. The point is that it’s best not to accumulate things in the first place, but that’s not something that can be controlled. Limping, Jeong Taeui climbed to the ground floor in one go without stopping, then paused and sighed. He shouldn’t have been out of breath from only climbing a few floors, but Jeong Taeui took several deep breaths. Suddenly, he muttered, “Ah.”

That’s right. Now I understand. Now I know the name of this feeling. Unpleasant and infuriating, yet without the strength to appeal anywhere, wanting to scream or yell but lacking the energy. He wanted to hide somewhere no one could find him and never come out. Jeong Taeui was exhausted.

He was truly, utterly exhausted.

If someone were to blame him for complaining about such trivial matters, he might, after regaining his strength, grab his own damned collar and punch himself in the face.

Physical exhaustion is bearable, but mental exhaustion is hard to endure. Moreover, now that he was exhausted and returned home, there was no brother to silently greet him and sit down with him to drink alcohol he couldn’t even handle. There was no one to lean on, no one to confide in, no one to sit reliably beside him.

Jeong Taeui took a few deep breaths, then wiped his dry eyes with the back of his hand and started walking. It didn’t matter anymore. Whatever his uncle said, whoever became the next Director General, whoever transferred to which branch, it was no longer Jeong Taeui’s concern. People’s lives and work are bound to flow in the direction they are meant to. If it was meant to happen that way, it would happen, regardless of who helped or who hindered. Just as things that aren’t meant to be won’t be, no matter how much help there is.

“Uncle, he’s the kind of person who would survive safely alone, even if the person he serves is demoted somewhere far away. …So why do I need him?”

Jeong Taeui muttered to himself, though no one was listening. Suddenly, he thought about it, and it was true. His uncle wasn’t the kind of person whose life path would be disturbed by whether someone helped him or not. He was someone who would admirably navigate any new path he found. As he dragged his throbbing ankle down the hallway, the Director General’s office came into view in the distance.

He had only been here once before, during Ilay’s commissioning ceremony. It wasn’t a place where an ordinary member could just barge in, but Jeong Taeui wasn’t thinking about that anymore.

His promise with his uncle was over. The remaining trivial deadline no longer mattered. It wouldn’t matter to his uncle either. If the Director General had the authority to give him that ‘permission’ to leave this place, he would meet the Director General and tell him directly. That he would quit UNHRDO and leave this place.

Normally, Jeong Taeui wouldn’t meet the Director General directly. If a member made a request, the instructor above them would convey their wishes, and the Director General would only give a formal approval. But now, such procedures didn’t even cross his mind.

Jeong Taeui paused for a moment in front of the Director General’s office. He took a breath and knocked on the door. The thick, heavy wooden door resonated with a low, weighty sound.

Jeong Taeui listened intently in front of it. He waited for a sound inviting him in, but after a moment, no sound came. He knocked again. Still, there was no sign of anyone inside. Only then did Jeong Taeui consider the possibility that no one might be in the Director General’s office. No, in fact, it might be natural for no one to be there. The day’s work had not yet begun. It was natural that no one would be in the Director General’s office this early in the morning, yet he hadn’t even thought of it. He had simply rushed there, filled with pent-up frustration.

Jeong Taeui let out a frustrated sigh. He felt ridiculous and foolish.

He stood there for a while, just staring at the doorknob of the Director General’s office, then quietly pushed it. He thought it might be locked, but the door opened easily.

“……Excuse me. This is Adjutant Jeong Taeui.”

He spoke softly from outside the door, thinking no one would be there, but just in case. Since the door was open, his words must have echoed inside the room, but as expected, no answer came. It seemed no one was there.

Jeong Taeui hesitated, then stepped inside. At any rate, he was prepared to meet the Director General, and if necessary, grab him by the collar and get happily kicked out of this branch. He could even burst into the Director General’s bedroom, not just his office. Come to think of it, wasn’t the Director General’s living quarters connected to his office?

Indeed, there was no one in the Director General’s office. However, as if someone had just stepped out, the lamp on the large desk was lit. Did they leave that lamp on all night when no one was there? Come to think of it, he had heard that the Director General was such a workaholic that he was engrossed in work day and night. Perhaps he hadn’t left yet, but had just stepped out nearby.

Jeong Taeui hesitated for a moment. Then his eyes caught sight of two doors side-by-side in the back of the Director General’s office. One was the bathroom door, and the other led to the Director General’s private quarters.

Walking towards the door without hesitation, Jeong Taeui briefly wondered if it would be problematic to go this far, but having come this far, he couldn’t turn back. By then, his head had cooled slightly, and he wasn’t entirely without regret, but turning back now and encountering someone else would only make him look more ridiculous.

In fact, it was absurd for a mere member to barge into the Director General’s office for a trivial personal request. He would have no right to complain if he were fired on the spot. Of course, what Jeong Taeui wanted was to be fired, so that would actually be good, but he was well aware that this situation was abnormal and rude.

He’d have to apologize first if he encountered him, but what if he went into the room and found him undressed or in some other awkward situation? With such natural concerns, Jeong Taeui stood in front of the door. And then he knocked again. This time, a little more cautiously.

“Director General, this is Adjutant Jeong Taeui. I’ve taken the liberty of entering as I wished to see you.”

He knocked and spoke politely. He waited for a moment, but again, there was no answer. Jeong Taeui frowned. Was he not in his private quarters either? Well, since the light was on, he might have just stepped out somewhere else. Suddenly, he felt his strength drain. Exhausted, he had suddenly exploded in anger and rushed here in one breath, but the Director General was nowhere to be seen. Could there be anything more disheartening than this?

Jeong Taeui sighed and knocked on the unresponsive wooden door again. “Director General…” he murmured weakly, calling out the name that received no reply, then his gaze fell on the button next to the door. Until a moment ago, his head had been so bloodshot that he hadn’t had the leisure to look around, but now he saw a button next to the door. At first, he thought it was a doorbell. Jeong Taeui pressed the button. But the moment he pressed it, he cocked his head. No sound was heard, and the sensation was more like…

Before Jeong Taeui could finish that thought, the door opened silently. The door, which had looked like wood, slid sideways, revealing what was inside.

It was an elevator.

Jeong Taeui stood still, blinking once, twice. Why was there an elevator here?

But then he thought about it again. This was the Director General’s room. It wouldn’t be strange for there to be a direct elevator connecting to other floors. Moreover, this elevator might lead directly to the Director General’s private quarters below.

While Jeong Taeui tilted his head, the wooden door, which looked like an ordinary room door, quietly closed again.

Jeong Taeui frowned.

Something was off.

He didn’t know what it was. But something was off. It wasn’t a good feeling.

He wanted to go back. Somehow, this elevator, this wooden door itself, felt ominous. It felt as if something that shouldn’t be ridden was inside.

“……”

But even as he thought that, Jeong Taeui pressed the button again. Just like before, the wooden door slid open, revealing the elevator.

It was quiet. Jeong Taeui suddenly heard the silence at that moment. There was no one else in the room; only Jeong Taeui was there.

The wooden door slid again, trying to close. Jeong Taeui instinctively blocked the door with his hand. The door, caught by the obstruction, opened its mouth again.

Jeong Taeui stepped inside. And then he took one step further in. At that moment, the elevator closed behind him as if it had been waiting.

Jeong Taeui turned to look at the elevator. It was no different from any other elevator. There was a fluorescent panel indicating the floor, and a button to press for the destination floor. The only difference was that there was only one button. It was an elevator that only went to one place. This elevator could not go anywhere else within the branch. It was a machine that only traveled between one destination floor and the Director General’s office. Jeong Taeui, lost in thought for a moment, pressed the button, which had no numbers or anything written on it. Soon, a floating sensation briefly enveloped his feet, and the elevator began to move downwards.

Although there were no numbers on the button, numbers appeared on the fluorescent panel indicating the total number of floors. As the elevator descended, the numbers went up one by one. Starting from the letter G, which represented the ground floor, it went 1, 2, 3, heading underground. And the number stopped at 4.

As the number stopped, the elevator also stopped. A heavy sensation briefly came and went under his feet.

Jeong Taeui stared intently at the number on the fluorescent panel.

It was the fourth basement floor. A place said to be blocked off without an entrance. The entrance from the stairs was closed with a ‘No Entry’ sign, and it was a floor where the elevator didn’t stop. The elevator stopped there. Soon, the door opened.

“This is troublesome,” he thought. Instinctively, Jeong Taeui felt he shouldn’t get off here.

There were things in the world that were better left unknown. And Jeong Taeui’s intuition was clearly telling him: this was one of those places.

A few steps in front of the elevator, the path was blocked by a wall. If he didn’t get off the elevator, he could see nothing but the wall. Yes, he could see nothing. If he went back up now, he could pretend it never happened. Jeong Taeui waited for the door to close. After some time, when the door closed by itself, he intended to press the button for the ground floor. Something in his mind was whispering, telling him not to get off here.