Passion Novel - Volume 6 - Chapter 131 - A Place Close to Heaven

…—Currently, Saudi Arabia’s Minister of Foreign Affairs is Prince Bandar Al-Fad. He is a wise man, but his health hasn’t been good since birth. That’s why Prince Rashid and Prince Ali have been locked in a fierce power struggle over diplomatic influence. Prince Al-Faisal is Ali’s younger brother, born of the same mother, and they are very close siblings. He wisely stayed out of the power struggle early on and started his own business…—

It was a messy story, one you could find anywhere.

Where there is power, bugs gather. And where there’s money, even more so. As these bugs multiplied, the situation became even dirtier and more complex.

Bugs are more likely to be found inside than in places visible to outsiders. If someone was talking about it like this, the inside must reek to an unimaginable extent.

“Good heavens… there’s never a moment of peace in that part of the world, is there?”

Jeong Taeui mumbled, chewing on a dried plum. The soft, dried fruit was incredibly sweet. Jeong Taeui fiddled with the fruit, which must have been like honey to those living in the scorching heat, and continued.

“If they want to get involved in that mess themselves, what can I say? But I just wish they wouldn’t drag innocent people into it.”

Jeong Taeui had been grumbling continuously for a while now.

But no one answered his grumbling. There was a person sitting in front of him, but they were turning pages in a book and not listening to Jeong Taeui’s words—though he knew that if he said something important, they’d somehow listen to everything and respond calmly. And the veiled young lady in white, walking down the corridor with careful movements, hugging a vase to change its water, couldn’t understand him. Even if she could, they probably couldn’t have a conversation. The space inside this building was Arabic, not Seringe, Tanzania.

Recalling an old high school friend who once told him about a near-disaster when he got lost in Iran on a business trip and ignorantly spoke to a passing woman, Jeong Taeui looked at her with regret.

He didn’t necessarily want to talk to her. In fact, Jeong Taeui hadn’t looked at women in that way for a long time now; men, perhaps, but not women. While he could purely admire “a woman’s beauty,” women weren’t objects of desire for him.

…But he didn’t think the Arab man, standing silently with a sword at the corner of the corridor, watching them as if on guard, would understand Jeong Taeui’s pure intentions.

“If only I had a beer, it’d be perfect.”

Jeong Taeui mumbled with a sigh and lay down on the floor.

Outside the elegantly paved central courtyard, at the end of the corridor, a small side door led to a refined garden. Lush with trees and bushes, it was like a miniature botanical garden, with various beautiful flowers and grasses swaying gently.

Inside, leaning against a rubber tree, Jeong Jaeui silently turned the pages of his book. And in the rustling grass shade in front of him, Jeong Taeui pulled the fruit basket that the young lady in white had left beside Jeong Jaeui and munched on snacks.

It was a beautiful place, perhaps a place closest to heaven was precisely like this.

No bustling sounds could be heard, only endless peace and quiet, the whisper of the wind, the rustle of leaves, birds occasionally chirping or flapping their wings in the bushes, and the faint, distant laughter of girls in white dresses. That was all.

Before his eyes was a sky so intensely blue it was almost blinding, drawing him in.

And beside him was his most beloved kin. The familiar sound of pages turning occasionally brought a profound sense of calm to his heart.

“It’s kind of funny. That someone with one foot in that messy, dirty business has a private residence so close to heaven.”

Jeong Taeui mumbled languidly. Indeed, he felt like he understood Jeong Jaeui’s heart.

‘Why have you been cooped up here all this time? Everyone’s been looking for you. Even if they locked you up, couldn’t you have left if you really wanted to?’

When Jeong Taeui asked him, he answered calmly.

‘It’s comfortable. And there’s nowhere in particular I want to go.’

Jeong Taeui was speechless at Jeong Jaeui’s reply. He supposed they must be treating him well, as he was a valuable person held here for a specific purpose. Just the fact that he was given a separate residence in a place where people didn’t come and go, and looking at his living space, there were no signs of harsh treatment. Rather, there were meticulous touches everywhere, subtly arranged to ensure maximum comfort.

‘Don’t I have to greet the owner of the house? After all, I’ve just arrived at someone else’s home.’

The thought of meeting the culprit who kidnapped his brother and saying, ‘Hello, thank you for having me,’ was amusing, but aside from the greeting, he figured he should at least see his face.

However, Jeong Jaeui shook his head.

‘He went back to his home country four days ago. He has regular hospital visits, so he leaves once a month. He usually stays for about a week, so he should be back in three or four more days. Plus…—’

Jeong Jaeui paused, seemingly lost in thought. After a moment, he mumbled to himself.

‘It’s probably not good to run into him.’

‘Why?’

‘He brought me here so others wouldn’t know my location. Your presence here means that at least you, among others, know. Which means…’

‘…They’ll either lock me up too, or torture me to find out who else knows, or both?’

‘There’s a possibility.’

‘Then what do I do?’

‘It’d be better if you left here before he returns.’

‘What about you, brother?’

When Jeong Taeui asked, Jeong Jaeui looked puzzled. Seeing his face, Jeong Taeui soon realized. Jeong Jaeui wasn’t locked up. He was staying here of his own free will, because he liked this gentle, quiet place.

Jeong Taeui scratched his head.

‘Right… then I’ll go back alone. I’ve seen your face, after all.’

Many, including their uncle, would be disappointed if he returned alone, but Jeong Taeui hadn’t set out to find Jeong Jaeui to bring him back to them. He simply wanted to see him himself.

However, Jeong Taeui’s steps, ready to say, ‘Well, goodbye, brother,’ were halted halfway.

He couldn’t leave this annex—said to be a separate dwelling located in a corner of the vast estate. He couldn’t even go outside the estate, let alone to the main residence or other buildings within it. This annex was completely isolated.

There was only one door leading outside, at the end of the west corridor, and it was guarded by a man with a large sword. Jeong Taeui glanced at the sword, which clearly showed signs of frequent use, and immediately recognized the gatekeeper. It was the Arab man who had struck Jeong Taeui in the solar plexus last night.

‘I want to leave. …Could you let me out?’

Jeong Taeui said, but the man merely stared blankly, not moving. Thinking he didn’t understand, Jeong Taeui tried to step aside and open the door, but as Jeong Taeui reached for the doorknob, the man lifted his sword and blocked him, tapping Jeong Taeui’s wrist with the flat of the blade.

Jeong Taeui, helplessly, returned to Jeong Jaeui and explained the situation. Jeong Jaeui calmly nodded. Just as I thought, his demeanor implied.

‘I haven’t really tried to leave, so I don’t know much, but it seems that access to this annex is strictly restricted. Still, if you say you want to go to the night market, they readily permit it. Though they make you cover yourself completely with a chador.’

‘But why am I being blocked? Is it not time for the night market? Because I’m not wearing a chador?’

‘They’ve probably already reported about you, and some instructions must have come down. …That night market only opens once a week, Tae-ui. And a chador, I don’t think it would suit you.’

There were several points Jeong Taeui wanted to counter—like how a chador that covers everything could either suit or not suit someone, or that it wouldn’t suit his brother either, or that a chador wasn’t originally made for men to wear—but Jeong Taeui closed his mouth. That wasn’t what was important. Jeong Taeui sighed and scratched his head.

‘What? So, I’m trapped too? I can’t leave?’

‘It seems so for now. Talk to Raman when he returns in a few days. He might surprisingly let you go willingly.’

‘You said it wouldn’t be good to run into him.’

‘In this situation, there’s no other way.’

‘What if I get trapped too, or tortured?’

‘Hmm…—something will work out.’

Jeong Jaeui remained utterly calm. Jeong Taeui stared intently at his brother before finally sighing. Well, something will work out. After all, his bad luck wasn’t something new. Furthermore, in the worst-case scenario, he even considered taking the Arab man hostage to get out.

The Arab man, Raman Abid Al-Saud, was rumored to be in poor health. Due to his frailness, he mostly stayed at his private residence and rarely appeared publicly.

Jeong Taeui felt a slight pang of guilt thinking about this. To even consider taking someone hostage who regularly goes to the hospital and is currently back in his home country for treatment, he thought it was quite cowardly and dirty of himself.

But surviving is my priority.

Jeong Taeui, having no choice, settled down in the annex where Jeong Jaeui was staying.

And so, one full day passed.

Jeong Taeui came to understand Jeong Jaeui’s heart. He understood perfectly why Jeong Jaeui felt no need to leave this place after just one day there.

This quiet, peaceful space was like heaven. Moreover, it was probably an even better fit for Jeong Jaeui.

For Jeong Jaeui, who naturally preferred to be alone and quiet rather than in crowded places, this place was as if tailor-made for him.

Jeong Taeui, squinting slightly against the dazzling blue sky, suddenly looked at Jeong Jaeui.

His brother’s only dwelling was this annex. But this wide-open prison was no prison to him. In this peaceful haven, he must have spent his days calmly, reading books, meditating, or lost in more complex thoughts.

Jeong Taeui smiled. This man was never unlucky, no matter where he was. That was a profound relief. No matter where Jeong Taeui was, or how long he went without news of Jeong Jaeui, his brother was always alright.

“By the way, brother.”

Jeong Taeui suddenly spoke. A thought had come to him, something he felt he had to say. Perhaps it was unnecessary, but he needed to let his brother know that he was aware of a certain fact. Not with accusation, but simply because he felt his brother should know. Jeong Taeui looked up at the dazzling blue sky again, narrowing his eyes.

Though his gaze didn’t leave the book, a quiet reply came. “Hmm?”

“What do the people who have you locked up want?”

“……”

No answer came. But instead of an answer, a gaze fell on him. Jeong Jaeui’s eyes traced Jeong Taeui’s face, which was staring intently at the sky.

Feeling that the answer might remain buried if he didn’t press, Jeong Taeui spoke again. After a brief hesitation on his tongue, a quiet question emerged.

“Do they want you to make weapons?”

“…You knew?”

Thud, a faint sound of a book closing. And Jeong Jaeui fell silent for a long moment, seemingly lost in thought.

Jeong Taeui knew that Jeong Jaeui always knew more than he expected. Jeong Jaeui was probably now recalling the person who helped Jeong Taeui track him down to this place, or the things he might have heard from that person.

And he was probably thinking of things that Jeong Taeui couldn’t even fathom.

“I saw it underground at UNHRDO. They said it was the last thing you made. It was beautiful.”

“That’s you.”

Jeong Taeui stopped speaking. He tilted his head back and looked at Jeong Jaeui’s inverted face. Jeong Jaeui said calmly.

“Didn’t Uncle tell you its name? It’s Tay. It’s not complete, but its design formula can be modified to create anything. I put the most effort into making it. It was the last one.”

“Oh…” Jeong Taeui mumbled. Then he slowly sat up. He fumbled in the fruit basket, picked up whatever he found, and chewed on it, lost in thought. This is an apricot. It wouldn’t grow around here, but they managed to get it.

“…There was nothing to hide. If you deliberately kept it a secret, you didn’t need to keep it a secret from me.”

Jeong Taeui mumbled to himself.

He actually wanted to say that. If Jeong Jaeui harbored any reluctance or felt uncomfortable about something towards him, Jeong Taeui couldn’t bear it.

He would protect Jeong Jaeui to the very end, no matter where he was or what he did. Just as Jeong Jaeui would do for him. No matter the relationship, one couldn’t confide everything. Jeong Taeui, too, had a few things he didn’t want to tell Jeong Jaeui if he looked hard enough.

So, it was okay if his brother didn’t tell him everything. It didn’t matter if he was hiding more.

But if his brother felt sorry for him because of it, that was not what Jeong Taeui wanted.

“Actually, there’s no need to feel sorry or uncomfortable with me…”

Jeong Taeui was sure he wouldn’t be pleased about his brother making weapons, but it wasn’t something his brother needed to apologize for. Perhaps a more fundamental sense of guilt. And precisely for that reason, Jeong Taeui disliked him making weapons.

Jeong Taeui heard Jeong Jaeui sigh.

“I won’t make any more. I don’t feel like it. …And what else did you hear from Uncle?”

Jeong Jaeui said quietly. It was a question, implying something he could guess but couldn’t be certain of.

Jeong Taeui realized then. What Jeong Jaeui truly didn’t want to talk about wasn’t the weapon development, but rather what he was asking about now. And Jeong Taeui quickly understood what he was asking.

A lucky genius. The source of that astonishing luck. But Jeong Taeui still couldn’t understand—and perhaps no one could—whether the root of that luck remained quietly buried in the soil or if someone had already dug it up.

“That I…”

As he opened his mouth to speak, it suddenly felt awkward, so Jeong Taeui cleared his throat softly. By now, Jeong Jaeui must have already realized what Jeong Taeui was about to say. Jeong Taeui remained silent for a bit longer before continuing.

“That I bring you good fortune. I heard that. Though not from Uncle.”

After finishing his sentence, Jeong Taeui lifted his gaze from the fruit basket. He expected his brother’s usual calm face. There was a faint blur, yet an unperturbed expression.

“…Then from whom?”

“Ah. Ilay…—A man named Ilay Riegrow. He said you’ve met him before.”

Jeong Taeui didn’t want to see Jeong Jaeui’s face like that, so he quickly tried to change the subject. Jeong Jaeui didn’t think long and seemed to recall the name immediately.

“Ah, I see. From T&R…”

Jeong Jaeui nodded. Watching him, Jeong Taeui suddenly recalled the man whose name he’d just uttered.

Ilay Riegrow.

Was he looking for him now? Furious that Jeong Taeui had inexplicably disappeared during his brief absence?

But it wouldn’t take long. It was easy for him to guess Jeong Taeui’s whereabouts. East Asians like Jeong Taeui were rare in Seringe. Unless he was covered in a chador like Jeong Jaeui, there would be a truckload of Seringe locals who remembered seeing Jeong Taeui walking around as he was.

So, would he come looking for him here?

Jeong Taeui frowned at the thought. Even if Ilay managed to deduce that Jeong Taeui was with Jeong Jaeui at an Arab’s private residence, he wouldn’t be able to come for him. The situation remained unchanged. It was the same reason they hadn’t been able to find Jeong Jaeui.

Even though they suspected Jeong Jaeui was at Raman Abid Al-Saud’s private residence in the southeastern part of Seringe, an area filled with the estates of the wealthy, they hadn’t been able to find him.

They quickly found out where the private residences of Saudi Arabian royalty and magnates were clustered in the Middle East, but they couldn’t tell which of the many main and annex buildings within the huge wall he was in.

Jeong Taeui had once joked, “Why don’t we just hire some mercenaries, put on masks, and break into every house by force?” Of course, it was a joke.

However, even to such a wild joke, the answer was negative.

The private residences where royalty stayed naturally had numerous armed guards, and unless all of them were absent, it was impossible to break in from the outside. And even if they hired mercenaries, it would be difficult for anyone but the most skilled ones to penetrate all the way to the annex, which was quite a distance from the entrance.

“Speaking of which, I guess I’m trapped with you, brother… my whereabouts are also unknown now.”

Jeong Taeui mumbled, scratching his head as if he had just realized it. This, he thought, was beyond merely worrying that “that guy” would devour him when he returned; it might actually be a serious problem.

If rescue from outside was impossible, he had no choice but to get out from the inside, but he was trapped like this.

What to do? Jeong Taeui considered quite seriously. If, by some stroke of bad luck, Ilay thought Jeong Taeui had bolted during his absence—and there would be a truckload of witnesses who saw him with Xinlu at the night market last night—then this time, he might actually die if caught.

No, no, I wasn’t with Xinlu, Jeong Taeui mumbled to himself, tearing at his hair, when he suddenly felt a quiet gaze and stopped. Jeong Jaeui was silently looking at him.

Jeong Taeui awkwardly lowered his hands. What if he asks why I’m doing this? The story was too complicated and long to explain. Moreover, he didn’t want to admit that his life was in danger due to a romantic entanglement between men. (Yes, this was one of the things Jeong Taeui didn’t particularly want to tell Jeong Jaeui.)

However, Jeong Jaeui didn’t ask such things. He just stared silently at Jeong Taeui with thoughtful eyes. Then, he slowly opened his mouth.

“Taeui. When you heard that you were my Gilsangcheon—”

But his words, uttered after a long silence, were cut short.

Jeong Taeui couldn’t recognize him at first. He couldn’t even guess.

Naturally. It was someone he was seeing for the first time.

The man was standing on the stairs, above the annex’s back corridor.

Jeong Taeui realized that Jeong Jaeui’s gaze had shifted over Jeong Taeui’s shoulder, and he turned around, puzzled. And there, he saw an unfamiliar face.

The Arab man, dressed in sand-colored white robes that looked as if they would stir up dust if brushed, gazed down at them, seated in the courtyard below the five steps.

Behind him, another man hastily followed. It was the man who had been standing at the door. It seemed the Arab man had walked in without waiting for the other to catch up.

It was hard to guess his age from his sharply chiseled face. Only his cold, impenetrable black eyes revealed that he was no young apprentice.

He opened his mouth. A deep, thick bass voice emerged. The man beside him, who understood what Jeong Taeui couldn’t, nodded and said something back to him.

The expressionless, jet-black eyes that had been on Jeong Taeui then shifted to Jeong Taeui’s back. Perhaps his gaze lingered there for a moment, on Jeong Jaeui.

The man slowly descended the stairs. With each slow, heavy step, a suffocating pressure, as if the air was freezing, accompanied him.

Jeong Taeui didn’t take his eyes off him, turning his head slightly to ask Jeong Jaeui.

“Who is this man?”

As Jeong Taeui whispered, the man raised an eyebrow slightly, as if displeased. Perhaps he disliked the language Jeong Taeui spoke, which the man couldn’t understand.