IC C12

Chapter 12

“Sorry. You looked so tense I just wanted to lighten things up.”

“…No need to apologize.”

Lei Jun’s playful nature had gotten the better of him; his joke had gone a little too far. Rubbing the stiffness from his neck, Siwon admitted to himself that his own reaction had been overly sharp as well. It was the word “police” that had rattled him before anything else.

“Just make sure the questioning goes smoothly.”

“Mm. You head to work safely too. Want to leave together?”

“Sure.”

They left the dorm side by side.

In the elevator, Lei Jun suddenly asked,

“By the way, Wei. Was that wonton soup in the fridge… you made it for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. I already ate it for breakfast.”

“…Then why ask after eating it?”

For a moment, Siwon was dumbfounded. If it hadn’t been meant for him, Lei Jun would have essentially stolen it. Not that it mattered—since it really had been prepared with him in mind.

“It was delicious.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. Surprisingly good. The shrimp were bouncy, the wrappers soft. The broth especially—it cleared me right up.”

Embarrassed by such detailed praise, Siwon scratched at his cheek. Still, hearing someone enjoy food he made filled him with a warm sense of reward.

Ding. The elevator doors slid open.

“See you tonight.”

“Wait, Wei.”

Stepping after him, Lei Jun offered his phone.

“Your number. We’ve been roommates for months and I still don’t even have that.”

“….”

Siwon hesitated. Should he give him the phone number Baeksa‑pa had issued?

But no special warning had been given against it, and it would be stranger to keep refusing. Yesterday’s incident had already shown how useful it would be for them to be able to contact each other.

“…Alright. Give it here.”

He typed in his number. Lei Jun saved it and immediately showed the screen.

“Ta‑da.”

Contact saved as “万能요리사 Wei☺” (“Master Chef Wei☺”).

“…So that’s all I am to you? Just the guy who cooks?”

He acted put‑out, but secretly the word “chef” pleased him. Lei Jun had no way of knowing that was his real profession, and yet—it was.

“Should I change it to ‘Cage Staff Xie’ then?”

“…Just tell me yours.”

Siwon saved Lei Jun’s number. As he pocketed his phone, Lei Jun suddenly grabbed his wrist, checking.

“Why just ‘Lei Jun’?”

“…Because that’s your name.”

“You could’ve written ‘Roommate,’ or ‘Dealer Lei.’ Sounds a little cold, don’t you think?”

“‘Dealer Lei’ sounds even colder.”

“Still.”

Unable to stop him, Siwon revised it to “Roommate Lei Jun.” Finally satisfied, Lei Jun nodded.

“Call me if anything comes up, Wei.”

“Yeah. And… maybe let me know when you’re staying out late. So I don’t cook dishes that spoil easily.”

The awkward request tumbled out as he turned away quickly. For some reason his cheeks burned hot—not because he’d done wrong, or even because it was embarrassing.

“…Phew.”

He exhaled, uneasy. Though closer now than when they first met, somehow Lei Jun was still hard to figure out. Friendly one moment, cold and unsettling the next. He wasn’t an easy roommate after all.

Hopefully his police questioning would go smoothly. As Siwon worried for him, he also prayed trouble wouldn’t reach himself.

“Good morning.”

As Siwon entered the cage room, the staff finishing their shift looked up.

“Morning, Wei. You’re early.”

“Yeah, ended up that way.”

“Wait a little, we’ll hand over soon.”

Still arranging chips, they chatted idly.

“So the manager won’t be coming in today.”

“What, he’s being questioned too? Oh no…”

“It’s not like he’s a suspect. One of the dealers got summoned as well, didn’t he? That really good‑looking one.”

“…Lei Jun?”

“That’s the one.”

The familiar name made Siwon listen harder while feigning disinterest.

“Apparently Director Zhang collapsed almost right after arriving home. Why still a police investigation if it didn’t even happen here in the casino?”

“He was a company director. They’ll treat it differently. The board must be in chaos right now. Especially with that spy rumor going around recently too…”

A director?

Siwon’s heart lurched. He had thought Zhang Yuren was just an idle gambler with money to burn. Never imagined he was a Sovereign corporate director.

“…And the audit committee’s been at odds with Director Zhang’s faction for ages. If something suspicious happened—”

“Shh. Watch it. Don’t forget the CCTV.”

Chastised, the junior fell silent. The others barely noted Siwon’s presence, continuing their work.

“Anyway, probably just misfortune. Nothing more.”

“…Right.”

The talk tapered off, replaced by the dry clatter of chips. Siwon bit down on his lower lip.

A corporate director. A police probe. Unease at Sovereign itself.

He’d thought Zhang’s death nothing more than tragic chance. But what if Baeksa‑pa was involved?

It explained the puzzle that had always nagged him: why did they want what looked like useless information?

If the list of chip‑exchangers he supplied had included a corporate director, that information was far from worthless. Baeksa‑pa had clearly planted him in the cage for a reason.

The problem was—what was that reason?

No.

He clenched his fists on his knees—the same hands that had passed chips to Zhang only yesterday.

Whatever their objective, the fact remained: after he reported, Zhang died.

That couldn’t be a coincidence brushed aside. The dread he felt wasn’t just regret over a man he’d known by face.

If Baeksa‑pa had truly moved against him—

…Wasn’t Siwon responsible too?

“Xie Wei, ready.”

The voice calling him sounded distant, like through water. He needed to answer. But nausea churned his gut too violently. He gagged it back down.

“Xie Wei? Xie Wei!”

His body listed forward. He barely noticed when coworkers grabbed his shoulders in alarm.

“Are you okay? Do we need to call medics?”

The agony felt like dying. His insides twisted with guilt and horror. Cold sweat broke down his face as he blacked out.

For the first time, the true weight of espionage slammed down on him.

He had never thought he’d open his eyes in a hospital bed. He was the type who barely caught colds.

Yet here he was, curtained in pale blue. So much for that belief.

Painfully, he raised himself up. A figure came into focus: Lei Jun, seated in a folding chair at the foot of the bed.

“You’re awake?”

“…How are you here? What about the police?”

“Finished long ago.”

Lei Jun frowned slightly.

“That’s the first thing you ask? Not your own health?”

“…I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Like a ghost.”

His words were concern, but his gaze still raked him head to toe as though examining. Uneasy, Siwon turned away.

“At least nothing serious. Emergency staff checked your vitals—no issues.”

“….”

“If necessary they can transfer you to hospital. Should they?”

“…Isn’t this a hospital?”

Looking around, he saw curtained beds, the sting of disinfectant in the air.

“This is Sovereign’s medical ward.”

“…You brought me?”

“No. Your coworkers did. I was called as your guardian.”

He added that Jushang had been listed as his emergency contact, but with him unavailable, as roommate he had been called instead.

“…Sorry. You were dragged into this.”

“No, that’s fine. What I do want to know is why Jushang is your emergency contact. He’s surveillance team.”

“Just a senior I know, nothing more.”

The reply was curt. Siwon pressed his temples; his body was sound, but his head ached sharply. Likely the toll of stress built over weeks.

Lei Jun studied him quietly, then murmured,

“Mm. So, just seniors and juniors.”