Passion Novel - Chapter 1

The moment the doorbell rang, Jeong Taeui froze. The seasoned black beans he had been holding with his chopsticks slipped and rolled away. It took only seconds for the glossy black bean to roll off the plate and leave a sticky trail as it stopped, but the bell rang again, impatiently breaking the short silence.

Jeong Taeui tapped the end of his chopsticks against the table, glancing nervously toward the entrance. From the moment he faintly heard footsteps coming up the stairs, he’d had a bad feeling.

No, to be precise, his bad mood had started when the rain woke him at dawn, making his knee ache. It always hurt when the weather was bad, but on days like this, when the pain was especially sharp, his luck rarely turned out well.

He had been eating a simple breakfast in a somber mood, no different from the gloomy sky drizzling outside, when the footsteps reached his ears.

This old, over-20-year-old apartment building made it easy to hear even a cat’s movement echoing up to the rooftop floor.

So when, just past 7 a.m., he heard someone entering the building and climbing the stairs from the third floor right below him, he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding.

And when the doorbell finally rang, that bad feeling crystallized into an undeniable reality.

Almost no one visited this house. His older brother—the only person who lived here with him—had left four days ago and hadn’t been heard from since. And since his brother had a key, he wouldn’t need to ring the bell.

The firm, heavy presence outside the door rang the bell again while Jeong Taeui hesitated. A single, distinct footstep followed. The sound was sharp and heavy—like military boots.

The moment the word “military boots” crossed his mind, his sense of dread grew. The bell rang again—three, four times in quick succession. His appetite disappeared after just a few bites, and he set his chopsticks down.

Whoever was outside, bringing this ominous feeling, showed no intention of leaving. They didn’t knock or call out—just kept pressing the bell persistently. An idea of who it might be crept into his mind, making his mood even heavier.

“….”

Jeong Taeui finally walked to the door and unlatched it after the bell rang exactly twelve times. The person standing outside stepped back as the door opened. The shoes that had made those angular, heavy sounds were pristine, spotless military boots.

Above the boots, a perfectly crisp and rigid black uniform came into view. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t exactly a military uniform—it was more of a formal dress or official uniform—but the organization this man belonged to wasn’t so different from the military.

The small silver badge on his collar seemed unusually irritating. It wasn’t because there were countless people who longed to wear that badge.

But because whenever this man showed up wearing that badge—and fully dressed in his official uniform—it had never once been for good news. Even so, this was the third or fourth time Jeong Taeui had seen this man in uniform.

The man removed his black gloves and took off his black cap smoothly, then greeted Jeong Taeui with an easy smile.

“It’s been a while. How have you been?”

It had been about three years since they last met. And in that time, a lot had happened.

He had nearly died clearing landmines, almost died again from post-surgery rejection, endured the agony of three blood transfusions, and then nearly killed someone in a fit of rage. He hadn’t even completed half of his mandatory service before being discharged.

Jeong Taeui stared at the man with a complicated expression and sighed.

“What could possibly happen to me that you wouldn’t already know? Though I suppose there must be some reason for you to show up unannounced at this hour… Come in.”

He had a bad feeling about this.

It wasn’t that he disliked this man, but his visits in this particular uniform always left a bad taste. Still, Jeong Taeui reasoned the man was likely here for his brother, not him, so there shouldn’t be anything for him to worry about.

Even so, Jeong Taeui stepped aside with the uneasy feeling of inviting misfortune into his home. The man’s eyes curved pleasantly, showing no sign of displeasure, as he entered ahead of Jeong Taeui.

As he closed the door behind them, Jeong Taeui asked, “When did you arrive?”

“Two hours ago. Came straight from the airport.”

“I see… But you could have called first. My brother’s not here.”

The man, who had just thrown himself onto the sofa in a relaxed posture that didn’t match his perfectly pressed uniform, paused and narrowed his eyes at Jeong Taeui.

“He’s not? When’s he coming back?”

“No idea. He left four days ago and hasn’t been in touch. If you came all this way just to see him, you’ve had a wasted trip.”

“Is there nowhere you could try contacting him?”

“If it were that easy to reach him, he wouldn’t be Jeong Jae-ui. You know that.”

Jeong Taeui answered casually, perching on the stool across from the man. His older brother was a relatively predictable person. When he planned to stay out overnight, he usually left at least a brief notice. But sometimes, without any warning, he would disappear for days—and sometimes even months—without a word. This seemed like one of those times. Sometimes his brother returned after a few days, but other times he vanished for over two months without a trace.

This time, though, Jeong Taeui had a feeling it might be a long while before his brother came back. Before leaving four days ago, his brother had said something unsettling.

“Life gets boring when you’re too lucky all the time. I think it’s about time I experienced some misfortune.”

Recalling his brother’s enigmatic smile as he left, Jeong Taeui fell into brief contemplation. His brother had always been a difficult person to understand, but even when he thought back on it, the meaning behind those words remained unclear.

However…

“Hmm, what should I do…”

Watching his uncle tap his forehead with his fingertips in apparent distress, Jeong Taeui muttered under his breath. Sure, he loves experiencing misfortune. A man who managed to disappear so conveniently right before this kind of misfortune struck—what bad luck is he even talking about? Someone like him would probably go his entire life without ever even seeing the ‘b’ in bad luck.

***

Jeong Taeui had an older brother who was born on the same day, at the same time.

Though they came from the same roots, his brother resembled him as little as a complete stranger would. His brother’s intelligence was terrifyingly sharp—so much so that even the term “genius” seemed inadequate.

If his brother hadn’t been so laid-back and somewhat lazy by nature—if he had even a sliver of ambition or interest in the world around him—he might well have had the power to blow an entire continent off the face of the earth.

His brother, whom the United Nations Human Resource Development Organization (UNHRDO) was eager to recruit, possessed extraordinary talents across a vast range of fields, from the humanities to science and even the arts.

In contrast, Jeong Taeui was ordinary. Perhaps a little better than average. At the very least, whatever he did, he never fell below the middle. In some fields, he was even considered exceptional. But when Jeong Taeui was praised for his excellence, it was the result of his own hard work. Unlike his brother, who could achieve the highest scores with half or even a quarter of the effort others put in. Yet Jeong Taeui never envied his brother for that. He might have found it convenient, but he never wished for his brother’s talents.

What Jeong Taeui did envy was not his brother’s intelligence, abilities, or skills. What he envied was his brother’s luck.

Jeong Jaeui, his older brother, had luck so exceptional that even his celebrated genius paled in comparison. It wasn’t enough to say he was born under a lucky star—his fortune was truly extreme.

Even when caught in major accidents, Jeong Jaeui would emerge completely unscathed, without so much as a scratch. His luck went so far beyond the norm that even as a student, he never needed a proper allowance. He simply didn’t have to.

Partly because he was naturally free of material desires and rarely needed money—but when the occasional unexpected expense did arise and he found himself without cash, Jeong Jaeui would borrow a few coins from someone nearby and buy a lottery ticket.

And without fail, that ticket would bring him exactly the amount of money he needed.

Everything in his life worked like that.

While Jeong Jaeui’s life was filled with such unbelievable and absolute good fortune, Jeong Taeui lived a life of ordinary luck, experiencing a typical balance of fortune and misfortune. To say he never envied his brother’s extraordinary luck would have been a lie.

As a child, his envy had been intense enough to cause him stomach pains, though as he grew older, it became more manageable—just a general longing for something fascinating and wonderful he knew he could never have.

Even so, for someone who rarely envied others, his brother’s luck remained the one thing he coveted.

He envied it and, at times, even felt jealous. But despite everything, Jeong Taeui liked his brother.

That infuriatingly brilliant man, whose mind and talents were second to none and who was blessed with extraordinary luck, wasn’t even that unbearable. He might have been indifferent, capricious, and difficult to read, but as a brother, he was fairly normal. Normal in his warmth, normal in his reliability.

Jeong Taeui thought they had a decent sibling relationship. Even if, after more than twenty years together, his brother still remained a mystery in many ways. Perhaps that’s just how geniuses were. Or maybe his brother hadn’t liked him as much as he had thought.

Four days ago, the night before his brother left.

As he often did, Jeong Jaeui was absorbed in studying an incomprehensible and intricate blueprint. Occasionally, he would scribble down chemical formulas and molecular models next to it, only to lapse back into deep thought. Even when Jeong Taeui approached and stared at the blueprint over his shoulder, his brother remained oblivious for quite some time.

Looking at the unfamiliar chemical formulas and strings of numbers, Jeong Taeui thought, “He’s off exploring another incomprehensible world again.” Sighing, he climbed onto the sofa and opened a humanities book—the kind of thing he could actually understand.

It was a quiet and comfortable evening, just like any other. Eventually, Jeong Jaeui seemed to grow tired of staring at the papers, pushing them aside and lying on the wooden floor, gazing blankly at the ceiling.

Maybe he had sighed then, a sound of weariness escaping him. Suddenly, he sat up, moved to the sofa, and sat beside Jeong Taeui. Without warning, he grabbed Jeong Taeui’s pinky finger and spoke.

“Here…”

Then, opening his own pinky, he continued.

‘Here, there’s supposed to be a red thread between us. Born on the same day, at the same time, on the same ship — it’s only natural, inevitable even… But let’s cut it off now.’

‘…What?’

What kind of incomprehensible nonsense was this all of a sudden? His brother often swam in realms beyond his understanding, but he had never before spoken such inexplicable words.

He had long known that his brother wasn’t exactly the owner of an ordinary mind, but for a brief moment, Jeong Taeui wondered if his brother might not even possess a normal brain at all.

But his brother, with his usual calm gaze, simply spread his fingers in the shape of scissors and made a snipping motion between their pinky fingers — as if cutting an invisible red thread of fate that connected them.

Then, as if nothing had happened, his brother went back to staring at the ceiling. Jeong Taeui kept his pinky finger raised, staring blankly at his brother. After a while, he suddenly asked,

‘Hyung… Did you actually hate me?’

Or had he done something recently to upset him? He searched his memory, but nothing came to mind. What was the problem? Had some issue arisen without his knowledge, serious enough to warrant severing their bond?

When Jeong Taeui asked, his brother made a face as if wondering what kind of absurdity he was spouting.

‘Why would I?’

That was all his brother said. Jeong Taeui tilted his head and stared intently at his brother’s face. Though he couldn’t tell what his brother was thinking, there was no trace of falsehood in his expression, so he dropped the subject and returned his gaze to his book.

But thinking back, maybe those words had actually been a shortened version of ‘Then why would I like you?’

Now, even if the curiosity remained, the only person who could answer that question had left without promise of return — leaving only the words, ‘I guess I’ll go see what misfortune feels like.’

Jeong Taeui had thought it was a ridiculous thing to say, but looking back, his brother had been incredibly lucky to leave before this troublesome guest arrived.

***

He wasn’t at all pleased by the visit, but since the rare guest had come all the way to his home and was now hungry, he couldn’t very well ignore the request for food. So, Jeong Taeui simply added one more bowl of rice to the table where his half-eaten meal sat. His own appetite had long since vanished, but he sat down across from his uncle.

‘What’s with this frugal spread?’

Seeing the barley rice, clear soup, and the two or three side dishes laid out, his uncle chuckled.

‘What do you expect from a poor young man trying to get by? Do they serve gourmet meals in the military or something?’

‘Of course. Life’s already tough enough — if the food were rough too, there’d be an internal uprising. But this isn’t the military.’

‘Well, from what I hear, it’s not much different. Some say it’s even stricter than the army.’

‘And yet, people are lining up from the other side of the globe, eager to get in. The name alone is impressive — the United Nations Human Resource Development Organization.’

‘I can’t even remember a name that long.’

Watching his uncle eat, making ambiguous remarks like ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had such a simple meal — it’s nice,’ Jeong Taeui sighed and picked up his spoon again. Having set his utensils down once, his appetite hadn’t returned. He decided he’d just sip a few spoonfuls of soup and call it a day.

As he sipped the clear soup, his gaze fell on the chopsticks moving across the table. He had noticed it long ago — his uncle had a graceful way of holding chopsticks. His delicate, precise movements resembled his brother’s.

That thought led his eyes upward to his uncle’s face. Neat and, in a way, gentle-looking. He resembled his brother.

Well, it made sense. Genetically, he was their biological father — even if Jeong Taeui himself didn’t take after him.

‘Hyung’s third death anniversary is next month, right?’

Though his uncle couldn’t possibly know what was on his mind, he suddenly brought it up.

‘Yeah. The 20th on the lunar calendar. Are you coming?’

‘That might be difficult.’

Come to think of it, the last time Jeong Taeui had seen his uncle was at his father’s funeral. After that, he hadn’t shown up for any memorial rites — but knowing how busy the man was, it wasn’t surprising.

To the world, his uncle was a man of importance and prestige, welcomed with open arms wherever he went — but to Jeong Taeui, he was just an inconvenient guest.

‘Not sure when Hyung will be back, but should I tell him to contact you when he does?’

Even knowing that if it were truly urgent, his uncle would probably send someone to track his brother down, he asked anyway. Of course, his lucky brother would likely remain unfound if the results were going to be unfavorable for him.

‘No… I don’t have that much time.’

Having swiftly finished his bowl of rice, his uncle wiped his mouth with his fingertips and stared intently at Jeong Taeui.

And in that moment, the ominous feeling he had forgotten began creeping back up his spine.

‘Jeong Taeui.’

‘Uncle… Whatever the reason you’re looking for my brother, you do know that he and I are completely different, right? Even if you showed me the chemical formula he solved when he was five, I wouldn’t even begin to understand it.’

Jeong Taeui quickly spoke in a blunt tone, but his uncle’s eyes crinkled with amusement.

‘You know one of you two is actually my biological child, right?’

The words his uncle spoke were so unexpected that Jeong Taeui was momentarily stunned. No matter what his uncle said, it would have been unexpected — but in this context, he never imagined he’d hear this.