HYDP C9

Chapter 9

“I guess I’ll have to put in the effort.”

“Effort for what?”

Muttering to himself, Cheonguk suddenly began to reflect. Cheon-jung glanced at Seojin and asked if he’d hit his head too.

“But did you really fail? Sanhong—he was damn good at the job… looks like he’s still got it, huh….”

“……”

Then Cheon-jung stepped closer and, out of others’ earshot, spoke carefully.

“Hey… but do you think he’s got some kind of memory issue? What’s your read?”

“Where’d you even hear that.”

“The only thing we dug up back then, after tailing him forever, was that he went to a psychiatrist, right?”

Hearing what he felt he shouldn’t have, Cheonguk’s expression soured.

“Anyway, thanks to your failure today, we’re taking a hit on our end too. Get ready to write your report.”

“……”

“Sigh… Do I need to reassemble a team and go again….”

“Lay a finger on him and I’ll kill every last one of you.”

“…What?”

At the sudden threat, both Cheon-jung and Seojin froze.

“How is a deputy so dried out? No wonder your face looks like that.”

“What did you say?”

“Before chanting kill-kill, you should’ve given me a heads-up that he’s pretty.”

“…You are talking about Yeon Sanhong, right? Sure, he’s got a pretty face. But his temperament is a bit….”

“He’s my sky.”

“……”

Catching a glint of murder in his eyes, Cheon-jung stared in disbelief. But that disbelief could be deadly—his eyes were already gone, thoroughly. Like spoiled food, even the light in them had gone bad.

He should have known. At work, Cheonguk was caustic and devoid of warmth, but once fixated, he obsessed pathologically. On other days, the object might have been food; this time, it was a person. And not just any person—the very Yeon Sanhong he’d declared he’d proudly go kill.

“Ha….”

So much for trusting him and dumping the hard parts on his plate—what was the plan if he came back smitten? The deputy’s head already throbbed at the thought of getting roasted by the owner upstairs. Surely it was just a passing fancy. Surely it wouldn’t last. He muttered to himself, reciting a private charm.

“Don’t touch Yeon Sanhong.”

“……”

“I said it.”

And because once he set his mind on something, he always carried it out, the deputy deliberately told those about to form a team—in front of Cheonguk—“Don’t do it,” nailing it down.

“…Fine, per your say, we’ve halted. But write the report.”

“It’s just a report. Big deal.”

“You think this is a joke?”

“Anyway, get out so I can get treated. If I have to keep looking at your face, I’ll puke my guts out.”

“I’m going. I’m going!”

Annoyed at being insulted for his face, the deputy hurried out of the infirmary. In the hall, he leaned against the wall, deep in thought. Of course the number would be changed by now. He lit his phone and stared blankly at a contact in his address book saved as just a “.” for a long while.

“…Ha. I don’t know either. Sanhong.”

Murmuring the name for the first time in ages, he quietly left.

“Did you really fall for him?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re telling me you felt something like love? And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Sanhong’s so damn kind.”

“And you dropped honorifics even when you met him?”

“Yeah.”

“Impressive,” Seojin said, looking down at him, and continued the treatment.

“Can a Beta be bad for an Omega?”

“Why.”

“Could I make him sick or affect him somehow.”

“Don’t kid yourself. You’re just a civilian with a big frame.”

She laid out the point calmly.

“The reverse, he could affect you.”

“What? Can we get married?”

“…How far are you going by yourself.”

She asked if he’d said that too; hearing he hadn’t, she was a bit relieved. Somehow, he felt a touch short of wits since he came back.

“Anyway, he’s so damn pretty.”

“…Do whatever you want. I’m not involved.”

“Give me your blessing, you bastard.”

Injecting a sedative quietly, she told him to rest a while and left the infirmary.

And three days later, something happened that shattered the deputy’s brief sense of relief in an instant. A day that proved “three-day resolve” exists for a reason.

“What the hell… this bastard even turned in his trackers—where did he go!”

“……”

“……”

Cheonguk had returned all department-issued trackers and deserted his team.

“Hey. What happened here?”

“Oh. You’re here?”

Bursting into the tangled mess of the pawnshop, Hui-gang skidded to a halt. Eyes widening as he took in the wreckage, he saw Sanhong wiping up a pool of blood on the floor and recoiled. There had clearly been a fierce fight.

“Did you kill him?”

“No. I took him back.”

“You did what?”

“I took him back to the bureau.”

“…You’ve finally lost it.”

Face tighter than usual, Hui-gang snapped at him as he cleaned.

“Are you sane? After years of running like a dog, you want to get caught in a heartbeat and die?”

“I know I screwed up. I’m sorry.”

“You said you’d go crazy if you couldn’t see the kids for long. And you went there, knowing that? You’re crazy. Truly insane.”

“I really regret it. I think I lost my mind for a bit.”

Sweeping the scattered shards, Hui-gang’s neck veins stood out. He took the scolding like pelting rain. Nothing he could say.

“So who the hell was that clown who came to catch you, got his clock cleaned, and then asked for a ride?”

“I offered to take him.”

“Bravo. Shut your mouth, will you?”

“…Yeah.”

He told Hui-gang to sit on the sofa. Quietly, he kept cleaning. Until Hui-gang’s temper cooled a bit, he worked. He could hardly bear filth on a good day—seeing the pawnshop this dirty was hell for him.

When the mopping was finally done, he set a coffee down in front of Hui-gang and spoke.

“The department’s team leader came himself.”

“…Sons of bitches. They really meant to finish you in one stroke.”

“I fought with my life, too. But the kid is a bit….”

“What.”

He hesitated, then said it.

“He’s young… and seems a little short.”

“Not some temp they hired?”

“Not a temp. I got too curious before you came, so I looked him up.”

He slid the printed profile across to Hui-gang.

“Team Leader Cheon Guk, Assassin Supervision Department,” the line stamped in bold. Age twenty-two—high rank for his years. Already a team lead, and so young….

“I’ve heard snatches from retired guys. He’s the top-priced hitter these days, isn’t he.”

“Ah. The bourgeois.”

In the bureau, the “top price” was nicknamed “Bourgeois.”

He himself had once borne that title, but thinking back, it was nothing but embarrassing. What a cringeworthy label—it still made him want to bite his tongue.

“They won’t give up. At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before they know where I am—and the kids.”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure nothing splashes on them.”

“We’ll move soon. I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey. Come here a sec.”

Seeing his swollen cheek, Hui-gang sighed long. And he’d been clutching his side since earlier, which was suspicious.

“Feels like a hairline fracture.”

“…Ah.”

When hui-gang pressed gently at his side, he yelped reflexively and clapped a hand over his mouth. Too late.

“I’m calling ‘Iori.’ Get treated.”

“No need.”

“Yeon Sanhong. Think about your age. We’re not what we used to be.”

“Yeah.”

He fussed over his health partly by nature, partly because Sanhong, uniquely, put his own body last.

After laying him down in the room and taking in the now-sparkling pawnshop, he let out an admiring breath. To have cleaned in that state—mad dedication.

“But if that blood from earlier was his, he took a good beating.”

“You know… he—”

“Yeah?”

“He shot his own thigh.”

“…How does that make sense? Unless he’s crazy—why?”

“I don’t know either. He fired like a man possessed… it was a little scary.”

He pulled the neatly folded blanket from a corner and wrapped himself. Weariness washed over him; sleep crept in. He felt strangely exhausted. He should’ve rested properly at Cheonbaek Bathhouse… The missed routine left a hollow that words couldn’t fill.

“For the time being, I’ll leave the twins and stay here too. I’m too on edge otherwise.”

“No need.”

“I told you—don’t rush ahead alone.”

“That’s not it… He won’t be coming for a while.”