Passion Novel - Chapter 83

The South American branch members didn’t leave a bad impression. They were hot-headed and rough but not sinister; they were cheerful friends. While there were individual differences, if each branch had a unique atmosphere, South America was just like that. Carlo’s description was spot-on: hot-headed people with a flower blooming in their minds. If they had met in a non-competitive situation, Jeong Taeui would have been happy to have met such interesting friends. In fact, if things hadn’t gotten a bit twisted, Jeong Taeui might have liked life at UNHRDO. He quite enjoyed this kind of life, where all sorts of people gathered and jostled together.

Yes. If it weren’t for some monster-like bastard popping up and messing up his life, he might have even stayed here permanently, even after the initially promised six months.

He felt a little regretful, but he also thought there was nothing he could do about it. Life, after all, doesn’t always flow in the direction one desires. Regardless of effort or ability, there are things one wants but cannot have, and things one doesn’t want but must do.

“Well… ‘man proposes, God disposes’,” Jeong Taeui mumbled, twirling a beer can. Just then, he heard footsteps coming down from the floor above. Jeong Taeui craned his neck back. Xinlu’s figure appeared upside down.

“What are you trying to do that you have to wait for the will of heaven?” Xinlu said with a laugh, apparently having heard Jeong Taeui’s muttering. Jeong Taeui also laughed.

“Everything in the world.”

“Haha, Taei hyung, when you say things like that, you sound just like a fatalist.”

Jeong Taeui stopped himself from saying, “That’s Ilay, not me.” He already knew all too well how Xinlu’s face would cloud over the moment that name was uttered.

Xinlu, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time, was still the same. Fresh, fair, and lovely. But perhaps due to being busy recently or for some other reason, his pleasantly plump cheeks had thinned.

“Xinlu. You’ve lost weight,” Jeong Taeui muttered sympathetically. Xinlu asked, “Huh?”, then smiled sadly and rubbed his face with the back of his hand. As he mumbled, “It’s just that I’ve been busy lately, I’m fine,” Jeong Taeui felt a heavy weight in his chest, as if he had heard, ‘It’s because I’ve been suffering due to you, hyung.’

“Xinlu. Are you, by any chance, going to quit UNHRDO?” Jeong Taeui asked casually, as if talking about the weather. Xinlu, who was bending down to sit beside Jeong Taeui, paused briefly.

“…Where did you hear that?” Jeong Taeui felt a bitter pang of disappointment as he heard Xinlu’s hesitant voice. Was it true, then?

“It’s… not like that. I just thought about what it would be like,” Xinlu mumbled softly. Jeong Taeui waved his hand at him, who seemed troubled.

He wondered if Xinlu’s quitting was his fault. Perhaps it was. If Xinlu quit this place against his own will because of Jeong Taeui, who had no intention of staying here long, it was something that couldn’t be fully expressed even with an apology.

“If you’re doing it because of me, don’t. I’m going to leave anyway.” Jeong Taeui mumbled quietly, his beer can at his lips. He could tell Xinlu was looking at him in surprise. Jeong Taeui sighed, “Hmm,” then looked back at him.

It wasn’t something to spread around intentionally, but if his future plans involved him, it seemed right to let him know.

“It was six months from the start. I came here because I had… talked to Uncle, so I never intended to stay long in the first place.”

“Six months…” Xinlu mumbled. Jeong Taeui echoed, “Six months,” and nodded.

Xinlu seemed to be counting down those six months. Both Xinlu and Jeong Taeui knew it. There wasn’t much time left.

“So, if you’re thinking of leaving because of me, you don’t have to.”

Xinlu remained silent. Jeong Taeui pondered for a moment what more he should say, but no more words came to mind. So, he just aimlessly sipped his beer. With only a few sips left, he started worrying again about what to do after finishing it.

“Then, what will you do after you leave here?” Xinlu asked carefully after a long silence. Jeong Taeui tilted his head, “Hmm.”

“I’ll probably go back home. Go back and… figure out how to make a living, find a way to support myself.”

I’m only here for a short while, but actually, I’m unemployed, Jeong Taeui added, downing the last few sips of beer. Now that he thought about it, it was true. He didn’t have any special skills beyond his military life, and he didn’t know how he would make a living. His uncle had said that simply having been here would make it easy to find a job, but all Jeong Taeui had acquired here was enough patience to accumulate relics in his body. He couldn’t think of any company that would hire someone for their patience.

“Hyung…! Then, I’ll introduce you to a good place. I’ll introduce you to a good place among those my father runs. You’ll be safe there.” Xinlu suddenly grabbed Jeong Taeui’s shoulder and shouted anxiously. Jeong Taeui, bewildered by this incomprehensible reaction, just blinked and waved his hands.

“No, I said I’m going back home. To our home. I’m not going anywhere dangerous.”

“What if that man follows you there…!” Xinlu cried, making a tearful face. Jeong Taeui closed his mouth and just blinked in confusion again. It felt like the flow of the conversation was off. He had clearly brought up the topic initially to talk about Xinlu’s future.

He thought it would be wrong for Xinlu to give up his desired path because of Jeong Taeui. However, now Xinlu was putting his own affairs aside and clinging to Jeong Taeui, saying only strange things. After understanding what Xinlu had said, Jeong Taeui sighed with a bewildered look.

“Why would that guy follow me there? What kind of scary joke is that?”

“…You don’t know, hyung,” Xinlu mumbled, looking like he was about to cry any second. Jeong Taeui was weak to that face, which looked like tears would profusely fall if he just poked his cheek with a finger. Jeong Taeui fumbled anxiously in his pockets, but no usable items like tissues or handkerchiefs came out.

“What don’t I know? I don’t hold a grudge against that guy. I don’t owe him anything. Why are you saying it’s dangerous?”

“He has impure intentions toward you, hyung! That man likes you, hyung!” Xinlu grabbed his chest as if frustrated and shouted. Then, as if startled by his own outburst, his eyes widened, and he closed his mouth with a look that suggested he regretted saying it.

Jeong Taeui stared at Xinlu with a dumbfounded expression. He felt like a similar conversation had happened before, and here it was again. That absurd misunderstanding still hadn’t changed. Or perhaps the rumor about him and Ilay “playing hopscotch” had reached Xinlu’s ears. Or maybe, through some unknown means, the story of Ilay clinging to life on the bed had spread.

Jeong Taeui felt like tearing at his hair.

“Xinlu. …Xinlu. I absolutely don’t think that’s the case. I think I know that guy a little better than you, and he’s not that kind of human being,” Jeong Taeui said like a sigh. After saying it, his mouth tasted bitter. Probably, even in the future, even if he no longer met them, and even if that man himself lived content with his own life, Jeong Taeui would still recall him with such bitterness. Still, he wished him peace.

Xinlu hung his head low. Perhaps he was crying. The cheek where Jeong Taeui’s gaze landed wasn’t wet, but his melancholic mood somehow felt palpable.

Jeong Taeui reached out his hand. He gently placed his hand on Xinlu’s soft hair. Xinlu flinched, shrinking his head. But Jeong Taeui slowly stroked his small head, which didn’t pull away or move. He was indeed a lovable child. Perhaps he was a completely different child from the impression Jeong Taeui had of him. No, he thought it was probably nine times out of ten. But still, Xinlu was fresh, soft, and lovely.

“Xinlu. Are you leaving because of me?”

Xinlu didn’t answer. He just tilted his head slightly towards Jeong Taeui. Jeong Taeui sighed. It was heavy. He thought he couldn’t help it if he was accused of being irresponsible. But thinking that another person’s life choices rested on him, he felt crushed by the weight.

“Hyung. I hate that man so much. Just the thought of that man laying a hand on you, even by chance, chokes me up.” Xinlu mumbled. Jeong Taeui’s hand paused briefly.

…It seemed that kind of rumor hadn’t reached this child’s ears yet. On one hand, he felt relieved, but on the other, thinking about how Xinlu would react if he heard such things later, another heavy stone was added to his chest.

“If you want me to, I can stay here, hyung. I like working here too. If you leave here, it’s okay for me to stay here. If it means getting away from that man.” Xinlu spoke out of context. He kept babbling, clutching Jeong Taeui’s clothes as if saying everything that came to mind in a hurry.

Jeong Taeui was about to say something but closed his mouth. Xinlu didn’t want to listen to Jeong Taeui. He just kept expressing his wishes, clinging tightly to Jeong Taeui as if he would lose him if he let go.

***

There are some people whose very existence is a cheat code. This can mean a few things, and Jeong Taeui already knew one such person.

His older brother had been a man of few words and seemed a bit dazed since childhood. In fact, except when he was reading a book or scribbling something, he was almost always dazed, staring at the sky or empty space. Few people knew that behind that vacant expression, thoughts that would be difficult for an ordinary person to catch up with even with a calculator were flashing like lightning. Jeong Taeui had heard people whispering many times that it was hard to believe such a child was a genius.

In another sense, his uncle could also be considered that type of person. His uncle certainly had a formidable presence at first glance, but when seen leisurely strolling in the sunlight in his usual comfortable attire, he seemed rather gentle and easygoing. Few people would know that he could unleash harsh words whenever he set his mind to it. Perhaps there were even some among his fellow instructors who still didn’t know his true nature. Jeong Taeui often thought that people with such large discrepancies were rare.

Thanks to these two people, Jeong Taeui already knew well that a person’s appearance and personality weren’t proportional, and he prided himself on being a good judge of character. But here, he realized. If that were the case, there would never be a swindler who surpassed that man.

Jeong Taeui picked up the glove Ilay had thrown and frowned. The glove, which had been bright navy blue in the morning, was now stained black and stiff, not even half a day later. Black powder, dried and crumbling, clung to Jeong Taeui’s fingertips. It was coagulated blood powder.

“It’s really a scam, a scam…” Jeong Taeui mumbled, looking disgusted, and Ilay, who was wiping his hands with a wet towel, looked back.

“What?”

Jeong Taeui wanted to point at him and say, “You, you,” right in front of his nose, but he just mumbled, “Hmm,” and closed his mouth.

The wet towel he used to wipe his hands was stained red with blood, but his hands themselves were perfectly clean, without a single scratch. The same went for his face, which he examined by clenching and unclenching his hands a couple of times. His face, as white as if he had just washed it, was clean and tidy. His neatly ironed uniform was also unwrinkled and impeccable. He was dressed in a way that left no room for criticism, even if he were called a neat and diligent young man. The way he neatly folded the towel was also composed. Looking at him like this, he was a quiet, good-looking young man. If this wasn’t a scam, what else would be? Jeong Taeui grumbled inwardly, taking out a new pair of gloves from his pocket and handing them over.

It was a principle that instructors did not participate in sparring or training. Basically, when confronting one-on-one, the subordinate usually couldn’t match the instructor, and the instructor’s role was to observe the sparring and point out weaknesses, not to engage in it themselves. If they occasionally participated, it was mostly to demonstrate.

Ilay Riegrow was an instructor. In regular duties, he was, in principle, not supposed to confront subordinates. He didn’t even gracefully demonstrate a match in a formal manner.

However, he was covered in blood now. In fact, even in regular lectures, subordinates would sometimes suddenly rush at him, so it couldn’t be said that he never had to contend with them at all. It was more accurate to call it a one-sided massacre, but at least, within formally structured work hours, it was correct to say he wouldn’t contend with subordinates. Yet, in the current free combat training, Ilay had gotten blood on his hands from the fourteenth person. (Half of them had ganged up on him.)

“It’s a bit too much…” Jeong Taeui muttered with a sigh. Ilay, who had casually tossed the wet towel onto the face of one of the fallen men, rendering his neat fold pointless, put on the new gloves, moved his hands a couple of times, then glanced back at Jeong Taeui.

“Too much? What is?”

“Well, this carnage, for one…” Jeong Taeui trailed off. He thought about continuing, but he stopped himself, feeling like it would somehow endorse Ilay’s brutal actions.

However, it wasn’t just Ilay’s response that was excessive. A subordinate, knowing full well that instructors were not targets, approached as if stalking him and attacked, seemingly punching Ilay’s torso, then suddenly drew a knife hidden in his hand.

Jeong Taeui picked up the finger-sized knife, which was soaked in blood and lying on the floor. The knife, slightly shorter than an index finger and at first glance almost cute, was terrifyingly sharp. It looked like it could cut a person’s wrist with just a touch. Jeong Taeui looked at the knife with a disgusted expression, then put the blade away and slipped it into his pocket. Many men tried to kill Ilay using any means necessary. So, one could dismiss it as nothing out of the ordinary, but it seemed to be getting increasingly extreme.

It had been about four or five days since the joint training began.

The atmosphere and tension of the training were incomparably looser than the previous training, but for Jeong Taeui personally, it was not so easygoing. It was as if the number of people who suddenly tried to kill Ilay, aiming for the slightest opening, had surged.

“Ilay. You must have incurred quite a bit of resentment in South America too.” Jeong Taeui muttered, examining the faces of the blood-soaked, fallen men. There were familiar faces, but many unfamiliar ones too.

“Well, I had a few joint training sessions with the South American branch while I was in Europe. Not as much as Asia, but I did ‘loosen up a bit’ with the South American guys too,” Ilay said in a flat tone. Jeong Taeui glared at the back of Ilay’s head, trying not to be noticed. He didn’t even need to see; he knew. He must have beaten people like stray dogs under the guise of “loosening up.” There wouldn’t be another human butcher like him.

Jeong Taeui lightly nudged the man lying face down in a pool of blood with his foot. The man, who had passed out in a state that would require a long hospital stay, had his face completely smashed. In this condition, Ilay would have nothing to say even if the man held a grudge and tried to kill him.

But…

“…”

Jeong Taeui tilted his head. A disagreeable feeling clung to him, making him uncomfortable. It was illogical, no matter how he thought about it, for a subordinate from another branch to target an instructor and attack him right after the training began. Of course, given that madman, he probably had more than one or two grudges planted all over the world, so it wouldn’t be strange if he got stabbed anywhere, but there was something fishy about it.

“Ilay Riegrow!”

This was the man’s cry as he lunged at Ilay. The moment he heard that shout, Jeong Taeui flinched. For a moment, he didn’t understand why he felt a sense of incongruity, but then, seeing Ilay subtly raise an eyebrow and twist his lips into a “Haa,” he suddenly realized it.

Jeong Taeui had never before seen anyone call Ilay by his full name. This madman was always referred to as Riegrow, or Rick. Of course, his full name wasn’t a secret. But perhaps because the latter was the generally known name, even those who knew him didn’t call him Ilay. Those who knew his personality even better certainly didn’t utter that name.

Thinking about it, Jeong Taeui didn’t know why it was okay for him to say “Ilay,” but in any case, he had never heard the name Ilay uttered by anyone else besides himself. No, just once, on the first day Ilay was appointed as an instructor to the Asia branch and came here, the head of operations and his uncle had called him “Ilay Riegrow” in the formal setting of the head office. But that was all.

Jeong Taeui stared down at the man, whose South American features were plainly evident. This man didn’t know Ilay. He might have known him from scanning his personal details, but he was someone who had never directly encountered the person Ilay.

“If even a man with no personal grudge would lunge at him with a knife, he’s truly gone too far…” Jeong Taeui clicked his tongue and muttered. It was such a small voice that he thought Ilay wouldn’t hear it, but Ilay, who was even quite a distance away, somehow heard and asked back,

“Me?”

…His hearing was annoyingly good.

“Then who else in here would get knifed by someone who has no grudge against them but you?” Jeong Taeui mumbled, clicking his tongue bitterly, and Ilay chuckled. Then he mumbled enigmatically in an ambiguous tone,

“Well, there’s definitely more… Though, it’s quite rare to see such blatant and childish tactics. What exactly does he intend to do by attacking so openly?”