Passion Novel - Chapter 95

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.