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    Chapter 142

    As soon as they had brought him outside, the beast behaved surprisingly quietly. That it was nestled in Dohwa’s arms grated on Jae-i’s nerves, so he seized the moment and reached out to take it. But just then, the beast clamped both small hands onto Dohwa’s chest and stretched one arm outward, lips parting with a soft, breathy sound.

    “Ahw
 ah—.”

    “

.”

    The beast lifted its head and looked straight up at Jae-i.

    He had no idea what it was trying to say, but he could tell what it wanted. Jae-i slowly withdrew his hand. At once, the beast slid down from the chair, glancing between Dohwa and Jae-i before inching backward. It drifted toward the shoreline, step by hesitant step, but Jae-i didn’t stop it.

    Even so, it didn’t go far. After about five steps, it halted and looked back at him—its posture cautious, as though checking whether it was allowed to wander.

    Jae-i strode toward it, crouched down, and lowered his head so their eyes would meet. His build was so large that he had to bend even further to match the beast’s height. Without blinking once, Jae-i spoke quietly.

    “If someone looks like they might figure you out, you come straight back.”

    The beast blinked.

    “And absolutely do not let those kids get hurt. Not even a little.”

    A tiny nod. Then the beast turned, hands clasped in front of its stomach, eyes flitting around as if unsure where to go.

    Jae-i lifted his head and glanced toward the children—pretending not to notice but clearly watching him. Among them were the village kids from the previous day. Children bonded quickly over anything remotely fun; today was no different.

    He rose and tapped the beast lightly on the head.

    “Come.”

    With the beast trotting after him, Jae-i walked over to the group of children.

    They were digging channels in the sand for seawater when they noticed him approaching; their eyes widened. Ignoring their startled stares, Jae-i placed a hand on the beast’s head and asked calmly,

    “Can you play with him for a while?”

    “Who is he?”

    “

.”

    A fair question. A stranger appearing out of nowhere asking them to “play with this kid” naturally demanded clarification.

    Caught off guard, Jae-i looked at the beast—then said the first name that came to mind.

    “Jaemin.”

    “

.”

    “He’s under my care. It looks like he wants to play with you.”

    It was an awkward excuse, flimsy at best. If the children refused, he’d simply take the beast back immediately.

    But the oldest girl opened her arms.

    “Jaemin-ah, come here.”

    Again the beast lifted its head, visibly puzzled—as if unsure whether this new name truly belonged to it. After a moment of hesitation, it waddled over and plopped itself onto the girl’s lap. She wrapped her arms around him with a delighted, “How cute,” and tugged the mask down from his face.

    “This must be so stuffy. I’ll hold this for you—take it off, okay?”

    “

.”

    “Here, take this.”

    The sudden removal of the mask made the beast jump; even Jae-i instinctively lurched forward before catching himself. But when the girl placed a toy shovel in its little hand, Jae-i froze.

    The beast touched its bare mouth, confused, then grasped the shovel with its other hand and dug a scoop of sand. Watching it mimic the other children’s motions, Jae-i’s expression stiffened.

    What was he doing? Allowing a beast—a beast—to mingle among children as if it were harmless. He must have made a foolish decision, swayed by the chaotic atmosphere.

    Should he drag it back to the building right now?

    Just then, the beast buried its feet into the soft sand. Feeling the grains brush over the tops of its feet, it faintly lifted the corners of its mouth. Then it plunged the shovel deeper.

    The moment it began to play, the children stopped paying attention to Jae-i entirely. Not wanting to intrude, he stepped back, turned around, and headed toward Dohwa—only to sense something strange.

    “

.”

    People were staring at him.

    Guild members, no less—people who should’ve been used to him, who usually didn’t spare him a glance no matter what he did. Why did they look so oddly at him? Something wrong with his clothes? He was only wearing a simple shirt with slacks.

    He looked down at himself, then glanced sideways—and spotted Yohan nearby.

    Perfect. A convenient target to interrogate.

    “What are you looking at.”

    “

.”

    Even with Jae-i glaring, Yohan didn’t reply. Instead, he glanced between Jae-i, Dohwa, and the small child-sized figure playing with the others—his expression drooping with a strange mixture of resignation and surprise.

    “

Congratulations.”

    Jae-i’s eyebrow twitched up. What nonsense was that supposed to mean?

    Yohan quickly muttered, “Just saying,” and hurried away.

    In his place came Ahn Yuna. She smiled brightly.

    “They’re staring because it looks cute. Like
 a little family.”

    “It isn’t.”

    “I know it isn’t. It just looks that way. You, Dohwa-ssi, and the child
 that picture is definitely new. Our guild leader never had anyone by his side, and now suddenly you’re always with Dohwa-ssi—and now even a kid.”

    “

.”

    “We all want to ask what’s going on, but you’d never answer, so staring is the only option. Don’t overreact; they’ll get used to it soon.”

    Jae-i lowered his voice warningly.

    “You know what that kid is. Don’t start rumors.”

    “

.”

    Her eyes narrowed—scanning his face in an uncomfortably thorough way, reading every expression. Jae-i unconsciously drew back.

    “You know it’s a beast,” she murmured, “and yet you’re bringing it around freely?”

    “

.”

    “Dohwa-ssi seems attached to him, sure. But you, Guild Leader? That’s surprising.”

    If the truth leaked outside, it would be chaos. A guild that moved its entire base on short notice could not afford another scandal, especially not this one.

    Ahn Yuna sighed, then—suddenly—smiled again and waved toward someone.

    Jae-i turned.

    There sat Dohwa, knees hugged to his chest, watching him with those quiet, attentive eyes.

    Ahn Yuna’s voice lowered.

    “I think Pungjin is connected to Lee Myunghwan.”

    Jae-i’s expression darkened instantly.

    “And I think the one who released the beast to follow you
 was Pungjin too.”

    She dropped her hand and kept smiling, too brightly.

    “So if Dohwa-ssi was with Lee Myeonghwan, and that little beast came from Pungjin, maybe
 they share a connection we don’t understand.”

    She said it lightly, but her gaze was sharp—testing, measuring.

    Then she slapped Jae-i lightly on the arm.

    “Don’t look so scary. I’m helping you. I like Dohwa-ssi. He’s adorable—and he even managed to put a leash on our guild leader.”

    “There is no leash. Stop saying weird things.”

    “Call it what you want. But you’ve changed, and I like this version better. So whatever happens, I’m on Dohwa-ssi’s side.”

    With that, she walked off.

    Jae-i remained standing there, looking first at Dohwa, then at the beast—now splashing in the shallow waves with the children.

    “

.”

    A soft breath escaped him as the sea breeze ruffled his hair.

    Everyone was enjoying their rare moment of rest in their own way—bright, relaxed, and alive.

    He couldn’t live his whole life wound tight. Sometimes, moments like this were necessary. Only now did he understand that.

    And that was why he noticed it so clearly.

    Dohwa’s profile, gazing out to the ocean—calm, distant.

    The eyes behind his glasses, quietly sinking into thought.

     

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