The Snare of Symmetry C2

Chapter 2

It was an unreal scene.

Chris’s raised hand froze in midair. The man who had twisted and restrained his wrist still had a cigarette between his lips. Holding the filter with his left hand, he drew in a long breath, then slowly exhaled smoke. With each breath, his cheeks hollowed slightly, then filled again.

“I thought you were completely wasted,” he said mildly. “Apparently not.”

The corner of his mouth curved faintly upward.

Chris’s jaw began to tremble. He clearly recognized who stood before him. Seeing someone as arrogant as Chris cower like a dog with its tail between its legs was a first.

“Th-that is… why… are you here…….”

“Is that important?”

“N-no, not at all.”

“Looks like you’ve sobered up a bit.”

As Chris’s reply became clearer, the man’s voice sharpened accordingly. Yet his blue eyes were not on Chris—they were fixed on Bernard. He studied Bernard’s pale face in silence, then casually let his gaze drop all the way to his feet.

Bernard wriggled his toes, seized by the urge to press down the tightness crushing his heart. He even found himself thinking something idiotic—that it was fortunate he was wearing good shoes.

“Th-then… I’ll be going now……”

“And your statement to the police?”

“I’m sorry! I—I drank too much……!”

“You’re apologizing to me?”

“That’s amusing.”

A flash of red tongue appeared briefly between the man’s lips, then vanished. Bernard watched, spellbound. Though three people stood facing one another beneath the lone streetlight in the dark, the man’s gaze was fixed as though Bernard were the only one there.

Feeling that gaze, Bernard spoke.

“I’ll apologize in his place.”

“…For what?”

“For interrupting your smoking.”

Chris’s eyes flew open at Bernard’s answer.

Bernard had always been nothing more than a stammering mess in front of Chris. It didn’t matter that he’d gone to a good university, or had decent grades. To Chris, Bernard had been nothing but a trembling insect broken by violence. And yet now, he was acting like a perfectly respectable person.

“That’s a strange thing to say…… Like you’re drawing a line.”

“…Yes. I’m grateful for your help, but I’d like you not to report this and just let him go.”

“Why?”

“People are watching.”

His voice trembled thinly, but Bernard straightened his back and faced his fear head-on. They hadn’t gone far from the mansion; several people standing near the entrance were casting curious glances their way. Pale blue eyes swept over Bernard’s face inch by inch. Bernard suppressed the ticklish sensation brushing over his cheek.

“Pretty.”

The casually dropped word made Bernard feel as though reality had slipped loose.

“Alright.”

“Th-thank you. Thank you, Mr. Hurt!”

Chris’s hurried gratitude snapped Bernard back to reality. Bowing awkwardly, Chris fled the scene. Only then did Bernard realize the man’s surname was Hurt. The face felt vaguely familiar, yet he couldn’t recall clearly. Someone this handsome shouldn’t have been so easy to forget—and yet.

The man said nothing, merely enjoying his cigarette in silence.

“If it’s over, go back inside.”

“Ah.”

“As I said, I intend to savor my interrupted smoke.”

Just as he finished speaking, Gusto came running over from a distance, slightly out of breath. He looked excited—almost expectant. As Bernard was urged along by Gusto, the man remained where he stood, watching Bernard the entire time.

Cigarette ash scattered beneath the streetlight. Gusto’s flustered voice asking whether Bernard knew that man echoed in his ears. Bernard swallowed hard and shook his head. He knew he needed to be gentle and courteous with Gusto—but it was difficult.

A faint gloom crossed Bernard’s face, then vanished. Before the streetlight faded fully behind him and he reentered the mansion grounds, Bernard glanced back. Even then, those blue eyes were still pinned on him. He regretted not having thanked the man properly.

“Ah, impressive, isn’t he? That’s Rubens Hurt.”

Gusto, noticing Bernard’s glance, abruptly began talking about him. Bernard managed a thin smile, though he wasn’t sure it looked natural.

“The man who refuses almost everything. I never thought he’d attend a gathering like this… but who can say what goes on in his head?”

“You seem to know him well.”

“Haha! Who doesn’t know Mr. Hurt? Anyone with an interest in money knows him inside and out. Come, let’s go in. I dropped the manuscript I was working on the moment I heard I’d get to meet Mr. Elliott!”

Gusto was positively beaming. He looked delighted—unlike Liam, who stood by the mansion entrance looking thoroughly displeased.

“Oh, Liam! What a coincidence. Were you waiting for me?”

“…Of course.”

Liam clenched his teeth as he took the hand Gusto casually extended. Gusto laughed loudly, asking what he was so angry about—but Bernard couldn’t laugh. Liam’s murderous gaze was fixed squarely on him. Liam undoubtedly believed Bernard had ruined everything.

“…You were under the streetlight for quite a while, Elliott.”

“Ah, well. Seemed like he got caught up in some trivial trouble. I ran out and brought him back, so no need to worry.”

“…Didn’t look like a pleasant situation.”

“Seemed like a drunk.”

Gusto smoothly deflected the warning aimed at Bernard. Liam exhaled sharply, then shook Gusto’s hand again. Bernard stood beside them, smiling like a well-arranged ornament. It was the best he could do.

“Shall we step aside and talk? I’d like to hear your thoughts on the manuscript I’m working on. Elliott is particularly sharp when it comes to these things.”

“He’s just an unworthy son, yet you treat him far too kindly, Mr. Gusto.”

“Oh, come now. You were bragging about your son endlessly before—now you pull back because he’s right here?”

At Gusto’s hearty laughter, Bernard dipped his head shyly. Liam likely meant what he said. Had he heard about the commotion under the streetlight? Cold sweat ran down Bernard’s back, but there was no way to know.

The moment it was revealed that the person here was Bernard—not Elliott—Liam would change completely. And Chris had already seemed to notice. He’d been too drunk to think clearly, but rumors would surely spread across campus soon.

Bernard bit the inside of his cheek and smiled as pleasantly as he could. Somehow, he had to manage this.

Liam and Gusto were already deep in discussion about the new manuscript, occasionally asking Bernard for his opinion. Each time, Bernard responded obediently, playing his role to the end.

“My son has a very sharp eye for stories. You remember—your previous work, the opening. The first paragraph. The part Elliott advised you on.”

“How could I forget? The moment I heard that suggestion, I knew that was it. Writing from a third-person perspective. Unfortunately, that piece was already under contract, so it was difficult to scrap it, but……”

“Haha, what does it matter? There’s a new manuscript.”

Bernard drowned a sigh in champagne as he watched Liam subtly extend his hand like a seasoned snake. Just then, a faint stir rippled behind them. Bernard, facing away, didn’t see it—but Liam, who glanced toward the entrance, immediately narrowed his eyes.

“…Rubens Hurt? No—I thought I was mistaken earlier.”

“Ah, I heard Mrs. Hudson invited him this time. Looks like it’s true.”

“He must like books.”

Bernard slipped gently into their conversation. Liam’s eyes sharpened instantly, but he hid his clenched fist behind his back. Bernard could already picture Liam raising his hand the moment they returned home. Even so, curiosity scratched at his chest.

Gusto, pleased by Bernard’s interest, rambled on.

Rubens Hurt—known in investment circles as the man with the Midas touch, always at the center of attention. A flawless upper-class elite who had walked the textbook path of success. Though not a celebrity, his looks alone drew attention, discreet paparazzi trailing him.

And that man’s gaze had not left Bernard since earlier.

Despite being surrounded by people greeting him, Rubens kept glancing over their shoulders. Fine blond hair shimmered under the fluorescent lights. The corner of Rubens’s mouth lifted slightly. Attending such a boring event had felt like a waste of time—until an unexpected encounter changed everything.

Assuming Rubens’s interest lay with Gusto, those around him began chatting about Gusto’s previous works. Amid the dull conversation, Rubens lifted his champagne glass to his lips. Bernard’s reflection flickered across the surface—then was swallowed down his throat.

After remaining for only as long as politeness demanded, Rubens glanced at his watch.

“Sir, your meeting is soon.”

His secretary, Dale Roman, murmured the reminder at his side. The response he received was lukewarm at best. Rubens’s gaze slid back to Bernard’s face. A bright smile bloomed over that pale, immature-looking face. Though slightly lacking for his usual tastes, Rubens found himself unable to look away.

“…Is something bothering you?”

“No.”

It took effort for Rubens to tear his gaze away. He then turned to those gathered around him, offering polite regrets before excusing himself.

“Do you know his name?”

“He introduced himself as Elliott Whale.”

Dale answered smoothly, without needing clarification. Then he hurried off to bring the car around.

“Bothering me, you ask……”

It felt like gravel grinding together in the back of his mind. Lighting a cigarette, Rubens inhaled deeply. His eyes narrowed as a familiar car body pulled smoothly to a stop at the entrance.

“Well… strip everything else away, and he’s the kind of face that’d look even more obscene laid out on a bed.”

Watching cigarette smoke scatter into the warm night air, Rubens’s eyes narrowed.

Night was deepening.