Passion Novel - Volume 6 - Chapter 132

He didn’t seem like a servant. No, a man like this could not be a servant. If this man were a servant, his master would surely be decapitated and his position usurped in no time.

Then, was he a guard or a bodyguard?

Jeong Taeui glanced at the man, but saw no sword or weapon. But perhaps he had a gun concealed beneath his robes.

Suddenly, Jeong Taeui had a slightly out-of-context thought.

Indeed, if such an imposing man were glaring with the eyes of a guard, one might not even think of escaping from here. Jeong Taeui himself would undoubtedly agonize more than twice as much before attempting to escape if such a man were on guard.

The answer to Jeong Taeui’s question came quickly.

It wasn’t an answer delivered to Jeong Taeui. It was because Jeong Jaeui called the man’s name that Jeong Taeui knew who he was.

“Raman. You’ve come early.”

At Jeong Jaeui’s words, spoken with unexpected ease—though others would probably think he was as calm as ever—Jeong Taeui learned the man’s name.

Raman.

Jeong Taeui, with a startled look, briefly turned his gaze to Jeong Jaeui before looking back at the man. The man, who had by now descended the stairs and stepped into the courtyard, stopped a few steps away from them.

“This man is Ra…—”

“I am Raman Abid Al-Saud. Do you find my residence pleasing?”

Before Jeong Taeui could even finish his sentence, the man spoke in English, which sounded unfamiliar to Jeong Taeui. The thick, low voice, spoken with a British accent, held a slightly softer tone than when he had spoken to the guard just moments ago. It wasn’t just a difference in language.

His expression was the same. A calm smile appeared on his face, which had been so cold it felt chilling. It was like a different person.

“…My name is Jeong Taeui. This is a truly magnificent home.”

Which was the man’s true face? The cold, stern one, or the one that offered a soft smile to welcome guests?

“Jeong Taeui. Ah, so you’re his younger brother.”

The man, Raman, seemingly pondered for a moment, then repeated Jeong Taeui’s name with unusually clear pronunciation, before nodding and shifting his gaze to Jeong Jaeui. Jeong Jaeui nodded.

“You’ve come unusually early this time. Was there something urgent back home?”

“No, not at all. I heard an unexpected guest had arrived here, so I put my work aside and came.”

Raman’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at Jeong Taeui. Jeong Taeui mumbled, ‘Guest? I don’t recall arriving here willingly,’ and glanced at the guard behind him. To be precise, he had been dragged here after being severely punched in the solar plexus by that very man just last night and losing consciousness.

However, even if he pleaded his case, the man who had brought Jeong Jaeui here in a similar manner would surely not listen.

But…

Jeong Taeui silently watched the man exchange casual greetings with Jeong Jaeui. Then he subtly frowned.

Who in the world said this man was sickly? Was it Gable? Yes, it was Gable, wasn’t it? How could someone with such excellent intelligence, who first found the clue to my brother’s whereabouts, describe this man as sickly?!…No, then again, who knows? He might look healthy on the outside but have an internal illness. And yes, he does go to the hospital regularly, doesn’t he?

Jeong Taeui convinced himself thus, but gloomily thought that his plan to take this man hostage and escape would likely have to be abandoned.

The man, unaware of Jeong Taeui’s thoughts beside him, did not give Jeong Taeui any attention after their initial brief greetings. He looked solely at Jeong Jaeui, asking courteous questions about his health, whether he was uncomfortable, or if he needed anything. Then, as if continuing the series of greetings, he continued in a casual tone.

“Have you given any thought to accepting my offer?”

His voice was subtly, just slightly, softer. A low, gentle voice, like a wolf might use to cleverly deceive a lamb.

However, Jeong Jaeui calmly shook his head, seemingly unaffected by his tone. The man showed no sign of disappointment and continued.

“Just one type, one kind will suffice. I won’t make unreasonable demands. It just needs to be slightly better performing than the anti-tank weapons currently on the market. What we truly need is not the weapon itself—though the weapon is extremely important, of course—but a weapon ‘touched by Jeong Jaeui’s hand.’”

Since when did Jeong Jaeui become a famous weapon brand, I wonder, Jeong Taeui thought to himself. As if his thought had been conveyed, Jeong Jaeui’s gaze briefly darted his way. Jeong Taeui pretended not to notice and turned his head.

“I have no intention of making any more weapons.”

Jeong Jaeui’s answer was heard.

“Even if it means you cannot leave here until you accept my offer?”

That’s not an offer, that’s a threat. Though not a threat that would work on his brother.

Turning his head to look at the birds on the tree branches, Jeong Taeui inwardly clicked his tongue.

But thankfully, he didn’t seem to be a truly malicious kidnapper. He wasn’t resorting to harsh methods to force his demands, like locking Jeong Jaeui in a dark, damp, one-by-two-pyeong basement cell and giving him meager food.

Of course, even in the most excellent environment, if one couldn’t take a single step outside, it was still a prison. But for someone like Jeong Jaeui, it wasn’t. He wasn’t the type to want to wander widely outside, as long as his basic needs were met.

“If you accept my offer, I will release you from here immediately. And of course, I will offer a commensurate reward.”

Raman added, but no answer came. Jeong Jaeui merely shook his head silently.

Silence lingered in the space for a moment.

But as if this had been a repeated conversation, Raman nodded, as if he had expected it.

“A pity. I will wait for you to change your mind and ask again. Please let me know whenever your decision changes.”

Jeong Jaeui remained silent, only nodding ambiguously.

If he just made one weapon—and it didn’t seem they were asking for anything overly complicated or grand—he would be released from here immediately.

Depending on how one looked at it, it could be considered an excellent situation. He could enjoy this heaven-like place for as long as he wished, leisurely and luxuriously, and then, once he got tired of this life, he could draw up a suitable design and leave. Of course, that would require him to break his resolution to no longer make weapons.

“Then, regarding your younger brother…—”

Raman, who seemed to be concluding the conversation, suddenly changed the subject. And Jeong Taeui, abruptly pulled into the conversation, flinched and turned his head.

“Ah…—me?”

Jeong Taeui pointed to himself, feigning a bright smile, wondering why this man was calling him. But on second thought, he also had something to say to him. He needed to tell him he wanted to leave this place. Since he had no utilitarian value, unlike Jeong Jaeui, who could make weapons, it should be fine to let him go.

“How did you find this place?”

Raman asked with a gentle smile. It was a soft smile, no different from saying, “Welcome.”

Jeong Taeui smiled back at him. He inwardly thought, This is trouble. If he were easily fooled by such a smile, Jeong Taeui wouldn’t have survived this long. Hadn’t he survived UNHRDO and everything up to now, solely on his wits and instincts?

“I don’t know where this is.”

Jeong Taeui answered politely. Raman raised an eyebrow. Jeong Taeui continued before he could say anything.

“I went to the night market on Baheb Street, accidentally met my brother, and followed him. Then that—over there, that person hit me, and I collapsed. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up here.”

Jeong Taeui pointed a finger at the guard standing behind him. The guard’s eyes widened slightly as the arrow turned to him, but he remained silently unperturbed.

Raman glanced at the guard and exchanged a few more incomprehensible words. He seemed to be asking something. The guard bowed his head and replied. Raman nodded and turned his gaze back to Jeong Taeui.

“I see. The night market on Baheb Street, then…”

Suddenly, he smiled. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened slightly.

“Did you come to Seringe with friends?”

“Ah…—. …No. I came to find my brother. I couldn’t get in touch with him at all, you see.”

Jeong Taeui hesitated for a few seconds but answered honestly. If he were to say, ‘I accidentally came to Seringe, a little-known island off the east coast of Africa, and by chance ran into my brother there,’ no one would believe him; it would just be a transparent lie.

It was only a matter of time anyway.

It wouldn’t take more than a few hours to find out where this rare East Asian was staying on the island, with whom, and what his companions were doing. No, perhaps a report had already been compiled and was even now passing through the gates of this very residence.

Jeong Taeui’s companions.

Gable. And… Ilay.

Jeong Taeui was prepared to answer honestly if Raman asked who he came with.

He felt he could tell him he came with Ilay without any hesitation.

If Raman were to decide that anyone tracking Jeong Jaeui’s whereabouts couldn’t be left alone and tried to capture them too, Jeong Taeui wouldn’t worry about Ilay at all, though he wasn’t sure about Gable. However, Raman didn’t ask Jeong Taeui who his companions were. He just stared intently at Jeong Taeui for a while and then asked instead:

“How did you come to know he was in Seringe?”

“Well…—I just heard the word, the person who actually found him was someone else. But I heard he had quite a tough time. His tracks suddenly disappeared in Varanasi, and he was quite curious. How could someone hide their tracks so perfectly and drag him away like that?”

Raman merely raised an eyebrow slightly and didn’t answer that.

“In the forest of the world, it is many times easier to hide a person than to find one. But…”

Raman mumbled to himself like that and calmly stroked his chin. He rubbed the beard on his chin with the tip of his thumb, and with thoughtful eyes, he silently gazed at Jeong Taeui.

Suddenly, Jeong Taeui involuntarily took a step back.

Those glass-like cold eyes seemed to dig into his heart. The emotionless, detached gaze was weighing something coldly, like a piece of meat on a scale. Then he smiled. It was closer to a twisting of the lips than a genuine smile.

“It’s troublesome if the location gets known… After all, I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret indefinitely that I was holding him, but at least the location cannot be revealed carelessly. It’s best to keep the number of people who know to a minimum.”

His tone subtly changed. Jeong Taeui instinctively realized the meaning behind that emotionless voice, which felt like it was freezing him from the inside out.

At that moment.

“If Taeui dies, I will die too.”

It was Jeong Jaeui who spoke quietly.

His words, which should have been spoken with a sense of tragedy, however, lacked any tragedy, tension, or sorrow. Nor was it a threat or an appeal.

It was simply a calm, serene voice stating a fact.

Raman closed his mouth. His face, showing no discernible thoughts, was expressionless. The gentle smile he had worn moments before when looking at them was gone.

He slowly turned to Jeong Jaeui. Annoyed, yet still courteously, he asked.

“Did you say that if this man dies, you will die too?”

Jeong Jaeui nodded. His gaze briefly touched Jeong Taeui’s face before awkwardly falling away. Jeong Taeui subtly winced.

Raman looked at Jeong Taeui. A fleeting expression seemed to cross his expressionless face. It was a cruel and harsh expression.

“If this man dies, you will die too…?”

A hint of laughter mingled in Raman’s low voice. He took a long stride towards Jeong Taeui and raised his hand. He intended to grab Jeong Taeui’s chin.

Jeong Taeui instinctively took a step back. He frowned slightly and rubbed his own neck.

Why are so many people aiming for my neck lately? No, I thought the threat to my life from one of them might lessen a bit, but then another one appears aiming for my life.

Jeong Taeui sighed and mumbled words that he knew would be useless.

“No, you can’t. I can’t die here.”

Even though it wasn’t my intention, if I were to die after disappearing on my own, I’d be killed by Ilay, Jeong Taeui thought, a subtly contradictory idea, as he clicked his tongue.

Raman didn’t seem inclined to pursue and grab Jeong Taeui. He stopped walking and withdrew his hand. Then he silently looked at Jeong Taeui before turning to Jeong Jaeui. By now, he had returned to his smiling face from before.

“It would be problematic if you died. I will not lay a hand on him. …But I didn’t know you had such strong fraternal affection that you would end your own life if your brother died.”

“It’s not fraternal affection. I’m not saying I’ll take my own life.”

Jeong Jaeui shook his head, saying that wasn’t it. Then, as if remembering, he looked at Jeong Taeui and said apologetically, ‘It’s not that we have a bad relationship, though,’ and Jeong Taeui nodded as if to say he understood his brother’s hesitant words.

“Taeui is… because he is my Gilsangcheon.”

Jeong Jaeui paused briefly before finishing his sentence. A faint hint of bitterness seeped into his tone.

“Gilsangcheon.”

Raman repeated the word. But it didn’t seem he was repeating it because he didn’t understand its meaning. There was no puzzled look in his gaze directed at Jeong Taeui.

“I have heard that your younger brother brings you good fortune, but that if you kill him, you will die too…?”

“Because my very existence is the good fortune I received from him.”

At Jeong Jaeui’s words, Raman fell silent. He seemed a little displeased.

However, the next moment, Jeong Taeui suddenly saw a strange light appear on his face. It was slightly different from surprise. It was an expression that seemed to recall something important, or to realize something, perhaps even a quiet awe. Jeong Taeui stared at it, puzzled.

“…?”

He felt something was strange.

The Arab man’s frozen expression, as if he had realized something, and Jeong Jaeui, quietly silent before him. It was as if the two of them were conspiring to hide something from Jeong Taeui.

Jeong Taeui looked at him suspiciously. But it didn’t seem like a convincing explanation would come. It felt like the silence would just continue. This strange atmosphere also felt somehow unsettling and subtly bitter, so he clicked his tongue a couple of times and scratched his head.

“Listening to this, it feels awkward, or perhaps uncomfortable… It’s nice that you speak so highly of me, but…”

Jeong Taeui mumbled, not hiding his embarrassed face.

Gilsangcheon. Jeong Jaeui’s Gilsangcheon. He had heard that word several times already. Without knowing the reason, or even the truth of it, Jeong Taeui simply remembered the name as others called him.

But hearing it from Jeong Jaeui himself made him feel awkward and embarrassed. It was as if he had bestowed some immense favor upon his brother.

However, Jeong Taeui’s words trailed off before he could finish. He didn’t know how to continue.

Raman looked at Jeong Taeui with an erased expression. His cold, glass-like eyes seemed to penetrate every corner of Jeong Taeui, even his mind, before finally turning away.

He turned and walked away without a word. Without a greeting or even a glance, he strode up the stairs and into the corridor, followed by the guard who had been standing behind him.

Only Jeong Taeui and Jeong Jaeui remained in the courtyard.

Nothing had changed from before he burst in. The breeze was still pleasantly cool, and the blue sky was dazzling. The birds flitting among the branches, the flowers scattering faint or strong scents with every gust of wind, all remained as they were.

In this quiet, peaceful place, they were alone together for the first time.

But it was no longer the same as before. It wasn’t a tranquil calm. It was a heavy, suffocating silence.

Jeong Taeui quietly looked down at his feet. They were bare. He had been walking barefoot, following Jeong Jaeui, who strolled barefoot everywhere—from his room to the corridor, to the courtyard, to the inner garden.

There was nowhere his feet could be harmed. The central courtyard, paved with flat, smooth stones, the corridors, the rooms with soft rugs, and even the inner garden where lush greenery grew on soft soil—nothing could hurt his feet. Perhaps it was meticulously cared for even there, as there wasn’t even a tiny pebble hidden beneath the grass.

He wiggled his toes. The soil beneath the grass tickled his toes softly. As he savored the sensation of the earth, Jeong Taeui slowly turned around.

Behind Jeong Taeui, Jeong Jaeui was sitting where he had been before, opening his book again.

“……”

Suddenly, the strength drained from his body. The tension that had tightly bound his heart suddenly released.

“What? Was I the only one who felt heavy and suffocated?”

Jeong Taeui mumbled like a sigh and slumped down onto the ground. He sat on the grass a few steps from Jeong Jaeui, uncaring if his clothes got stained. Hugging his knees and resting one arm on them, he gazed languidly at Jeong Jaeui.

Watching his brother, who sat there as if nothing had happened, always remaining in that same calm state, like still water, his heart relaxed. So, he blurted out, without any hesitation.

“Am I really your Gilsangcheon?”

Jeong Jaeui’s gaze, which had been scanning the book, briefly touched him and then fell away. Jeong Jaeui nodded silently. Rustle, a page turned.

“Why?”

This time, his gaze didn’t come. As if he hadn’t heard, concentrating on his book, no answer came. But Jeong Taeui waited quietly. He knew that an answer would come soon enough.

Not long after, Jeong Jaeui opened his mouth.

“Just because.”

“……”

Only a single word came back.

The strength drained from Jeong Taeui’s shoulders. He barely managed to steady his body, which felt like it would collapse onto the ground, and mumbled, “Hey, bro…”

But Jeong Jaeui returned to his silent state. This time, Jeong Taeui felt that if he waited patiently, an answer might never come, so he threw out things he had heard before.

“Is it because every time I was sick when we were little, you got sick too?”

“That could be evidence, but it’s not the reason.”

“Then what is the reason? That you give me luck because you get sick when I get sick? That’s too unscientific.”

“Science is merely a collection of common results from countless experiences.”

“…No, what I mean is…”

Jeong Taeui clicked his tongue.

His brother wasn’t someone who couldn’t understand. On the contrary, if Jeong Taeui uttered a single word, his brother would pick up on details he hadn’t wanted to reveal.

But…

Jeong Taeui suddenly sighed.

Still crouched, he merely lifted his head to look at the sky. The sun had passed its highest point and was slowly beginning to descend. In a few hours, it would be dark again, and this day would sink into darkness. As every day did.

There was nothing grand. Nothing would change. In the end, there were no grand problems in this world. And what did it matter if Jeong Taeui was Gilsangcheon or not? If misfortune came because of him, that would be one thing, but if good fortune came, that was fine. It was nothing to worry about. If his brother didn’t want to talk about it, it wasn’t important enough to force an answer.

Jeong Taeui nodded to himself. And then, with a sigh, he chuckled.

“Taeui, you’re quick-witted. You’ve been like that since you were little. Should I say you have good intuition?”

At that moment, Jeong Jaeui opened his mouth. He placed a bookmark in his book, closed it, and looked at Jeong Taeui. Jeong Taeui’s smiling face wrinkled slightly. Just when I was thinking I didn’t care to know.

“I am too.”

Jeong Jaeui said that and then closed his mouth again. And as if looking at a stranger he was seeing for the first time, he slowly scrutinized Jeong Taeui. From head to toe, slowly, thoroughly. As if trying to find someone he didn’t know hidden within him.