Passion Novel - Volume 4 - Chapter 91

If he pondered any longer, his resolve to find his brother would fade, and he would end up staying in this house, preoccupied with silencing Moro. So, Jeong Taeui opened his mouth.

“It’s sudden, but there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

Kyle nodded, as if recalling what Jeong Taeui had said when he entered the study. To Kyle, who smiled and told him to speak freely about anything, Jeong Taeui hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“I think I should be leaving soon.”

Kyle’s smile vanished. He looked at Jeong Taeui in surprise, then frowned slightly and asked.

“Why so suddenly? Was something uncomfortable?”

“No, not at all. Thanks to you, I’ve been very comfortable while I was here. It’s just that, as I told you before, I have someone to find… and I can’t stay here forever.”

As Jeong Taeui spoke with a calm smile, Kyle looked at him for a moment, then sighed regretfully. However, he must have been used to it by now. This was a house where guests always came and went, so the joy of guests arriving and the regret of them leaving must have already been part of his daily life.

“Yes, it’s a shame. Where are you planning to go?”

“Ah… I’m planning to go to the airport first.”

It was about time to call his uncle. He thought he’d call from the airport and then go somewhere else. He had no idea where his brother was, so he had no particular destination.

“The airport? You must be going far.”

“No, not really, I just need to make a call…”

“A call?”

At Jeong Taeui’s words, Kyle looked surprised. Only then did Jeong Taeui scratch his head, wondering if he had said something unnecessary.

“Um… there’s somewhere I need to call, but I don’t want to leave a trace of the caller ID. I was thinking of making a quick call from the airport and then going somewhere else…”

As Jeong Taeui mumbled, Kyle finally understood, nodding, “Ah, I see.” A smile suddenly bloomed on his face.

“If that’s the case, you don’t have to go all the way to the airport to make a call. Do it here. My study is as well-secured as my company. No matter how excellent a detector is used, it can’t track this line. If you don’t have any other reason to go to the airport besides making a call, make it from here. It’s perfect timing. I was thirsty and tired anyway, so I’ll take a break and ask Rita for some tea and drink it slowly.”

Kyle stood up. Jeong Taeui stammered, “Uh, uh-uh,” in confusion, but Kyle seemed to interpret his meaning differently, stating, “I can guarantee 100% that it can’t be traced,” and stepped out of the study.

“Then we’ll continue our conversation in a bit. About your departure date too.”

No, I was planning to leave tonight, just as I am, Jeong Taeui wanted to say, but before he could even utter the first word, Kyle closed the study door and left.

Jeong Taeui, left alone in the study rather abruptly, blinked for a moment, staring at the closed door. But the closed door showed no sign of opening again, and from beyond it, he faintly heard footsteps descending the stairs.

“…”

Jeong Taeui scratched his head. Then he glanced at the phone. What Kyle said was probably true. If it was a phone that couldn’t be traced, he couldn’t ask for more. Since Kyle had even vacated the room for him to make the call, it would be rude not to.

Jeong Taeui hesitated for a few more seconds, staring at the phone, then finally picked it up. Perhaps because he had heard Ilay’s name, he felt uneasy. His fingers were slow in dialing the number. Should he just ask his uncle? Yes. That might be better.

Moro said Ilay had become even more heinous. Well, he had every reason to be heinous. His temper was his temper. There was a bastard he wanted to tear to shreds, but his whereabouts were completely unknown, so of course, his eyes would be bloodshot….Thinking about it this way, I’ve put countless other people in distress for my own safety. But until now, I’ve been the only one to witness that temper up close, so this way, it’s a bit fair.

Jeong Taeui forcibly suppressed the faint rising sense of guilt and clicked his tongue. First, he’d call his uncle and ask how heinous that bastard was and how much he was being tracked.

After dialing the last digit, the phone began to ring. Only when the call started ringing did Jeong Taeui realize he hadn’t thought about the time difference.

Jeong Taeui glanced at the clock. It was still early evening. That meant it would be past midnight where his uncle was. He hesitated for a moment, but his uncle usually went to bed relatively late. And if he hung up now, he’d have to go back to the study later to borrow the phone, which was also awkward. Moreover, his uncle wasn’t in his room during the day, so he had to match either morning or evening, which wasn’t easy either. Oh well, if he woke up from sleep, then so be it, Jeong Taeui waited for his uncle to answer the phone, thinking, “What’s the big deal?”

The phone rang more than ten times, but no one answered. He might be in a deep sleep, or not in his room, or in the bathroom and unable to answer.

Should he call again later? If so, he’d have to go to the airport, make a quick call, and go somewhere else, Jeong Taeui thought, just as he was about to hang up.

Click. The ringing stopped. Jeong Taeui, who was about to put the receiver down, brought it back to his ear. No sound was heard. Perhaps his uncle had answered the phone just as Jeong Taeui was about to hang up.

“…Hello?”

Jeong Taeui waited for a moment, and when no one spoke, he spoke first. Had he dialed the wrong number? He looked at the phone screen, but the number was definitely his uncle’s. Or was there a problem with the phone?

“Hello. Uncle?”

Thinking that if there was no answer again, he would hang up and call back, Jeong Taeui called his uncle again. The answer came after a few seconds.

‘Why didn’t you call two minutes earlier? Instructor Jeong Changin was just talking to me and then Maori called, so he stepped out for a moment.’

The expression vanished from Jeong Taeui’s face.

A low, indifferent voice. A little slow, but with terrifying teeth and claws hidden within.

“…”

‘It won’t take long. He’ll probably be back in about 10 minutes.’

Jeong Taeui knew this voice well. And he knew that this voice knew him.

‘In the meantime, I’ll keep you company. Or you can tell me your business. I’ll relay it.’

A faint hint of a smile even mixed into the voice. Jeong Taeui pondered that voice, slowly reaching his ears, for a long time, then finally mumbled quietly.

“…Ilay.”

Ilay Riegrow.

He never dreamed that someone else would answer at this hour. He knew his uncle might be asleep or unable to answer for some other reason, but the option of someone else answering the phone had never crossed his mind. Especially not that it would be that man.

‘Long time no see, Taei. You sound like you’re doing well. You’re so heartless, not a single call, I was worried, wondering if you were hurt somewhere, I couldn’t get any news.’

He whispered gently. Jeong Taeui had heard his voice like that many times before, yet he almost fell for it. That he was truly worried about him and looking for him.

How long had it been since he heard that voice?

Not that long. No, in fact, it felt like he had seen him just yesterday. It was the voice he heard in his dreams every day, the face he saw in his dreams every day. So there was no reason for it to feel unfamiliar, yet it felt quite strange. His heart was beating uneasily… thump… thump… very slowly.

‘Where are you?’

He asked briefly. For the first time, a faint edge sharpened in that low, gentle voice. An edge that seemed to cut just by touching. Thump, his heart felt as if it had been severed.

Jeong Taeui remained silent for a long time, then finally gave a bitter smile. While he shuddered at the sound of his voice, he also realized something at the same time. He was listening to this man’s voice, and in some corner of his heart, he felt a thrill. He didn’t know what that thrill was. Perhaps it was the exhilaration of having left this man behind, or perhaps… yes, it might simply be a feeling of welcome.

The faint sound of Jeong Taeui’s bitter smile seemed to have reached across the phone. Ilay was silent for a moment.

‘You seem to be in a good mood. I’m happy that you’re so happy. If something good happens, let me know too. I’ve been feeling like hell lately.’

Slowly, an edge entered Ilay’s voice. A dark, bluish edge. Hearing that dark, eerie voice, Jeong Taeui instinctively thought, If I were next to this man right now, I would surely be dead.

“Feeling like hell…? There’s no reason for you to feel that way, Ilay. UNHRDO must be running smoothly, and there, you’ve always acted as you pleased, done whatever you wanted. So why would you feel like hell? Is something not going well?”

Jeong Taeui slowly opened his mouth. He wanted to put more sarcasm in his voice, but as the saying goes, “the one who has eaten meat eats well,” and since he wasn’t used to it, it was difficult. But it was fine. This man wasn’t someone who wouldn’t understand Jeong Taeui’s clumsy sarcasm.

‘…You’re quite triumphant.’

Then the smile vanished from his voice. Thump, his heart pounded loudly. Jeong Taeui thought this eeriness was like pleasure. Perhaps this was the pleasure people felt watching horror movies.

‘Taei. You suffered quite a bit while you were here.’

Suddenly, Ilay uttered something a little out of context. Jeong Taeui raised an eyebrow and listened intently. He continued slowly.

‘It must have been hard being my adjutant and cleaning up after me, and it must have been hard being criticized by your colleagues because of it, and given your personality, it must have been quite unbearable that you—or someone you loved—were involved in UNHRDO’s dirty secrets.’

Jeong Taeui’s smile faded.

The time he spent there resurfaced. One by one, at Ilay’s short words, the events that happened there flashed through his mind. Those memories, not yet weathered by time, were not yet memories to recall nostalgically.

“…You speak as if you know me very well. Do you even understand people’s hearts?”

That was why. Jeong Taeui mumbled through his tightly clenched teeth. You, who scoffed at other people’s hearts and treated them as insignificant, you couldn’t possibly understand those hearts. If he understood yet still acted that way, he was even worse than Jeong Taeui had thought.

Ilay laughed. As if Jeong Taeui’s loss of smile was immensely amusing.

‘That’s too much. Taei. I’m actually about to give you some advice, for your sake, after all the hardship you went through. Very important advice for you.’

Jeong Taeui shut his mouth. The voice, lowering softly at “very important,” sounded as if it were truly whispered in his ear.

“I’m curious. What is it?”

He asked reluctantly. Then Ilay, as if grinding his teeth, whispered each word, his voice emanating from the pitch black darkness.

‘Don’t get caught.’

It sounded like it came from hell.

He had heard those words before. His uncle had said them. But it hadn’t been this chilling then. His uncle had simply given Jeong Taeui advice, meaning exactly what he said.

Jeong Taeui instantly felt goosebumps on his spine. It felt as if a white hand was reaching out from just beyond. As if it would grab him at any moment, even though it couldn’t.

“…Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind. My life is precious to me too.”

As Jeong Taeui spoke bitterly, a faint, airy laugh suddenly came from the receiver. Jeong Taeui felt a slight relief at the familiar sound, but it was short-lived as Ilay mumbled with a cold laugh.

‘Your life is precious…? Does someone whose life is precious run away like that? I thought that day you had decided not to care about your life.’

“No way. If my life wasn’t precious, I wouldn’t have endured for months, suffering like that.”

“How many times did I want to wring your neck, but I held back because my life was precious,” Jeong Taeui added, and Ilay chuckled, “Ha.” Perhaps because it was a phone call, or perhaps because he thought he had already gone too far, Jeong Taeui spoke to Ilay exactly what was on his mind. When had that guy ever been pushed around by a human? Anyway, it was a phone call, and he had already gone too far, so he might as well say what needed to be said.

‘Jeong Taei. I’m genuinely starting to worry about you… What are you going to do when you meet me later, acting so reckless?’

Ilay mumbled, feigning concern with a sigh. Thinking of a cat worrying about a mouse, Jeong Taeui, once again, replied with words from his heart.

“Of course, I’m not going to meet you, you crazy bastard. I know I’ll die if I meet you, so why would I be crazy enough to meet you? Try to catch me if you can.”

After Jeong Taeui spoke nonchalantly, Ilay was silent for a moment. Tap, tap, a faint, familiar sound came from beyond the receiver. The moment Jeong Taeui heard that sound, he could picture Ilay. He would be sitting in a chair in front of a desk, holding the receiver, and slowly tapping the armrest of the chair—or the desk—with one hand. Just as he used to.

Suddenly, the black knot in his heart loosened. He was still making that familiar gesture. Perhaps without even realizing it, he was still there, just as he was. A feeling that was perhaps nostalgic and perhaps bitter, replaced the black anger that had surged in his heart. Along with the memory of how exhausted he had been when he left that place.

Jeong Taeui suddenly had a thought. He would probably miss his UNHRDO life someday. When time passed and memories were worn down, their sharp edges rounded. But even then, he didn’t think he would miss this man. It wasn’t just because he saw him in his dreams every day. It was because he was always there in Jeong Taeui’s memories, just as he was. Jeong Taeui let out an ambiguous breath that he himself couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sigh. Ilay, who had been silent for a while after Jeong Taeui’s words, suddenly spoke.

‘Did you say you hated it so much your teeth ground?’

At his sudden words, Jeong Taeui was momentarily bewildered. But without having to search his memory, he quickly recalled that it was what he had said to Ilay on that last night, before leaving UNHRDO.

His words were slightly different. But his teeth were definitely grinding. If there was anyone whose teeth wouldn’t grind at being forcibly tied up and taken advantage of, he wanted to see their face. Jeong Taeui had no desire to correct Ilay’s words, so he remained silent. Silence was a form of affirmation. Ilay chuckled briefly, “Ha.” That absurd laugh, as if he too vividly recalled the memory of that moment after saying those words, slowly became tinged with rage.

‘Alright, since your life is so precious, I’ll spare your life.’

He said with a laugh. But it was no longer a laugh. He was furiously angry. Suppressed rage finally seeped out like venom, filling his voice.

‘—How could I let you die so easily? You said you hated being with me so terribly. Then, live terribly until you die. Live every single day hating it terribly, suffering.’

Each chilling word, seeping like frost, permeated Jeong Taeui’s heart.

‘Wherever you are, even if it takes time, do you think I can’t find you? Not a chance. I’ll drag you back in front of my eyes, no matter what it takes.’

His rage permeated his heart, just as it permeated Jeong Taeui’s.

Jeong Taeui simply shut his mouth. He had expected him to be angry. With Ilay’s personality, he never imagined him getting angry for a moment and then just letting it go. He thought he might go mad with rage or hurl insults and try to tear him to shreds. Such thoughts came easily. Because Jeong Taeui himself—or anyone—would be that angry.

However, he hadn’t imagined such a low, quiet, seething rage. That bluish, dark, perhaps even sticky, persistent resentment was gripping Jeong Taeui through the receiver.

“Do as you wish. If you can.”

Jeong Taeui said quietly. All the while, his breath, his rage, his movements flowed through the receiver.

Suddenly, he felt afraid. It was a fear whose reason he couldn’t pinpoint. It wasn’t the fear of the pain and suffering he would face if he were caught by him. It was something a little different. He couldn’t understand what that rage of his was, that blue, dark, persistent rage. He suddenly felt that he didn’t know what was in that darkness. That was what he feared.

“Give my regards to my uncle. Just tell him everything’s fine.”

Jeong Taeui said briefly. He didn’t want to hold the receiver for long, with his heart throbbing in fear. He wanted to block out this man’s voice. The breathing seeping into his ears was chilling. This man was dangerous. He had known it from the beginning. He had felt it from the first time he saw his video. This man was dangerous. He had been too close for too long. He had been too close, and his vision had blurred. He had become too accustomed to that dangerous aura, dulled to how dangerous he truly was. Foolishly.

‘—Wait.’

Just as Jeong Taeui was about to hang up, a voice, perhaps a little urgent, suddenly came from inside the receiver. Anxiously, he called out to Jeong Taeui, stopping him. Jeong Taeui, who had been lowering the receiver from his ear, gripped it again. And he waited for Ilay to speak.

But Ilay remained silent for a long time, saying nothing. As if he himself didn’t know why he had called, he simply kept his mouth shut. Jeong Taeui waited silently.

Silence stretched for a long time. Only low breathing was transmitted through the receiver and transmitter. That was the only sound that told him there was someone on the other end of the line. Without a word, without speaking first, they listened to each other’s silence.

How much time had passed?

Jeong Taeui faintly heard footsteps from below. It wasn’t the sound of someone coming up to the study. Footsteps passing through the hallway grew closer, then passed by and receded again.

Hearing that sound, Jeong Taeui awoke from the silence as if waking from a dream. This was not a place where Jeong Taeui could stay indefinitely. He suddenly noticed the clock. Kyle had probably finished his tea and then some.

“…Goodbye.”

Jeong Taeui said briefly and hung up the receiver. Click, the call disconnected.

Even after hanging up, Jeong Taeui stared at the phone for a moment. He slowly tilted his head. It was a strange feeling. Even after talking to Ilay, it wasn’t as terrible as he had worried it would be in his imagination.

“Have my memories weathered already…? The parts that should be worn down are worn down, and the parts that should shine are shining.”

Jeong Taeui mumbled to himself like a sigh. He knew that it took much longer than he thought for memories to be worn down and polished, but he mumbled it anyway.

He scratched his head. He tried to figure out what this vague feeling was, then said it out loud.

“Do I want to meet that guy?”

But as soon as he spoke, the answer came immediately. Jeong Taeui shook his head vehemently. The words that he wouldn’t be killed but would suffer for life were no joke. It was obvious that his life would become terrible the moment they met. No, he definitely didn’t want to meet him. Jeong Taeui shook his head several times. Then he sighed and turned around. Kyle, who had said he would be back after a cup of black tea, still hadn’t returned. He probably considered that Jeong Taeui might still be on the phone when he returned. In that case, it was right to go out first and let him know the call was over and he had used the phone well.

Yes, thank him, and then leave. Leave this place—where should he go? Where could he meet his brother? He had no leads at all.

Jeong Taeui let out a light sigh, “Hmm.” Suddenly, his heart felt at ease. What did it matter where he went?

“By the way, he really is a person who likes people…”

Jeong Taeui mumbled as he quietly closed the heavy wooden door of the study and turned around. Earlier, when Jeong Taeui said he was leaving, Kyle had looked genuinely disappointed. Even though guests coming and going had become a familiar part of his life, he always felt regretful when parting with friends he liked.

He was so disappointed that it made him feel like a bad person for leaving.

Jeong Taeui scratched his head and began to descend the stairs. Then he chuckled. It was probably because he was the kind of person who showed such disappointment and affection that guests never stopped coming. Even Jeong Taeui himself thought that he would want to visit this place again someday when time passed and conditions allowed.

“Actually, if it weren’t for that Moro bastard, I would have liked to stay here longer… It really is an ill-fated connection, an ill-fated connection.”

Jeong Taeui grumbled discontentedly, taking large strides down the stairs.

It was then.

“…!”

When he had about five or six steps left on the narrow, high-riser, polished wooden stairs, Jeong Taeui, perhaps taking too large a stride, slipped on a step he had half-missed. His foot slipped, and the steps below, which shouldn’t have been reached yet, rushed up to meet him. And then, his foot, which was about to step onto the next stair but couldn’t, lost its balance and he fell.

He didn’t know if he screamed or not. Before he could even collect himself, Jeong Taeui tumbled down the stairs with a loud noise that seemed to echo through the entire house.