Jeong Tae-ui felt as if, by Kyle being so sorry to see him leave, he himself must seem like a bad person for going.

Scratching his head, Tae-ui began descending the stairs. Then he chuckled softly. Since Kyle was the kind of person who showed genuine regret and affection like that, it made sense that people kept coming back here. Even Tae-ui himself had thought that someday, when time allowed, he would want to return.

"Honestly, if it weren’t for that bastard Morra, I’d want to stay here a bit longer… It’s a cursed fate, a cursed fate."

Grumbling, Tae-ui strode quickly up the stairs.

Then, suddenly—

"……!"

With only about five or six slippery, narrow, steep wooden steps left, Tae-ui must have taken a slightly longer step and partially missed one step. His foot slipped, leaving a hollow sensation as the steps below he should not yet have touched suddenly gave way beneath him. He tried to step on the next step but missed, losing balance and falling.

Whether he screamed or not, Tae-ui didn’t know. Without a moment to regain composure, he tumbled noisily down the stairs, the sound echoing throughout the house.

As Jeong Chang-in entered the room, he froze.

The moment he opened the door, a piercingly cold, stinging air hit his skin. Grimsson sat in front of the desk, arms crossed, resting one hand on his chin, silently lost in thought. His gaze was so chillingly cold it seemed almost blue with frost.

Damn. He’d only been out of the room for maybe 10 or 20 minutes—why was his mind twisted like that now?

Chang-in hesitated to step inside but couldn’t just turn back. He entered quietly. Grimsson, with that expressionless face and icy blue eyes, didn’t even glance at him, lost in thought.

When there was something important to discuss about work—about his brother, about himself, about Chang-in, about UNHRDO—he preferred to meet in person. When the brothers were on opposite sides of the globe, they’d spoken by phone wrapped in multiple layers of security. Even so, it wasn’t ideal. Overly strong security triggered alerts and could expose the fact of communication, even if the content was concealed. Repeated incidents of such security were undesirable. So they kept phone talks brief and superficial, handling truly important matters face-to-face or through trusted intermediaries.

That habit continued even after Grimsson moved to Hong Kong. Although UNHRDO claimed internal lines were safer than external ones, when staying in the same building, there was no need to use risky devices.

So today Grimsson had come to Chang-in’s room, partly to discuss work and partly to talk about power dynamics within the branch. Then he received a call from Mao Li—for the same reason—and left briefly.

The talk didn’t last long—ten to twenty minutes at most. Chang-in thought Grimsson would have been flipping through books while waiting. When Chang-in returned, Grimsson was sitting expressionless and deep in thought.

"……"

This was not a good sign.

Chang-in approached calmly, thinking he had never seen a good outcome from such an atmosphere. Especially if the person involved was someone as dangerous to provoke as Grimsson.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. You could’ve been reading a book or something."

He said it casually, but Grimsson didn’t react—still absorbed in thought without shifting his gaze.

What was bothering him? Something must have happened in just those few tens of minutes.

Chang-in removed the uniform he’d hurriedly donned to meet a superior and tilted his head thoughtfully. He recalled possible causes.

Lately, Grimsson hadn’t been well. Even strangers could sense the harsh aura around him. Chang-in knew when it began—that night Tae-ui left UNHRDO.

That night, Chang-in was calm. His nephew came to say goodbye but didn’t speak a word. Just as he had come, carrying a single sports bag, he gave a slight nod through the half-open door and left. Chang-in saw him off with a barely perceptible nod.

—Uncle. You seem to be abusing yourself.

His nephew had said this on the way back to his room from the fourth floor. Perhaps to the nephew’s eyes, he looked like that. ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) Even if Chang-in himself didn’t think so. But if that so-called abuse was longing, then that was true. Regardless of the nephew’s anger or resentment, Chang-in missed him. Even if it was a different kind of longing than others thought.

After Tae-ui left like that, Chang-in sat dazed for a while, then slowly stood up. He had work to do. Small matters, but those he had created himself and needed to clear away.

He went to see Grimsson—possibly his accomplice, the man who had helped him. It was late, but he didn’t care. Grimsson was the kind of man who, even if deeply asleep, would open his eyes when someone stopped in front of his room.

Chang-in knocked without hesitation. To his surprise, there was no answer. Maybe Grimsson was in the bathroom or listening to music and didn’t hear. Chang-in knocked again, a bit harder this time.

Then he heard movement inside.

"Rick? I’m coming in."

Chang-in said that, paused slightly, then opened the door.

At that moment, he stopped breathing.

An unimaginable sight lay before him—something he couldn’t even imagine in a dream.

Grimsson was tied up. Handcuffed to the bedpost, wrists held, lying immobilized. His eyes opened vaguely, as if spaced out, but his consciousness was unclear. His pupils fluttered, struggling to regain clarity.

At the same time, Chang-in caught a faint, familiar smell. Although the ventilation was good, a lingering scent of chloroform remained. That was why Grimsson’s mind was foggy.

Who could have done this?

That thought came first to Chang-in. The answer was obvious. No reason. The question immediately brought one man to mind.

This bastard… before leaving, he caused a proper incident and ran off. Chang-in clicked his tongue and approached Grimsson. The bunch of keys was placed provocatively on the nightstand. Maybe it was spite to put them just out of Grimsson’s reach, but Chang-in wasn’t sure if the dazed man’s eyes even registered the keys.

Chang-in glanced at the clock. Tae-ui should be on a ship heading to Hong Kong by now. Even if this man ran off right now, it would be impossible to catch him.

Chang-in freed Grimsson’s wrists. Then he tossed the chloroform-soaked towel from the nightstand into the bathroom and closed the door.

He thought Grimsson might jump up immediately despite the chloroform, being the monster he was, and rush to the pier. But Grimsson stayed lying down for a while after regaining freedom.

"……. Feeling a bit better?"

Chang-in clicked his tongue and brought water. Grimsson’s gaze, fixed on the ceiling, trembled uneasily.

A monster. Chang-in muttered to himself. The chloroform-soaked towel still faintly gave off a smell. The volatility meant it hadn’t been long since it was used.

Yet Grimsson was already regaining consciousness, struggling to hold onto his fading awareness. No wonder his brother said, "That bastard’s not human," with a sigh.

"……. What time is it?"

Grimsson’s voice was low and hoarse—his first time speaking in such a tone. Chang-in quietly told him the time. Maybe Grimsson calculated that it wasn’t too late and planned to dash out. But upon hearing the time, he fell silent.

Supported by Chang-in, Grimsson sat up. Even drinking water, his gaze flickered. He leaned back against the headboard to rest. If it weren’t for his barely open eyes struggling to stay conscious, it would’ve seemed like he had fallen asleep sitting up.

Chang-in clicked his tongue, thinking it was impossible to talk now. Then he briefly thought about his nephew. The story of contradiction came to mind.

Grimsson seemed unlikely to lose his target. But Tae-ui, as far as Chang-in knew, wasn’t someone who would be easily caught if he moved deliberately.

"How on earth did you raise your nephew?"

Grimsson, silent as if asleep, suddenly muttered. Chang-in turned to look. The voice was faint and blurred, like sleep-talking.

Chang-in recalled hearing similar words from him before and sat down on a chair.

"Sometimes he’s recklessly bold, isn’t he?"

He gave a non-answer. Yes, reckless. If it were him, even if his safety were certain now, he wouldn’t take such risks thinking about the unknown future. Actually, Tae-ui was the same. Judging from his usual behavior, he avoided dangerous bridges. But sometimes, his body acted before his head—or he showed reckless bravado, with emotions running ahead. It could be frightening or even amusing to watch.

Chang-in quietly watched Grimsson. His face was swollen now, reddened as if badly punched. Chang-in didn’t ask why. He only thought that the bastard must have planned to make sure to cause real trouble this time. He hoped he escaped well.

Grimsson lazily dropped his hands, then looked at them, counting his fingers as if examining them.

"He liked this. I still don’t know why when I look again."

Grimsson muttered to himself. Chang-in had never seen him so dazed. He seemed drugged and not in his right mind. A low breath escaped—a long, deep sigh releasing a heavy weight. Grimsson closed his eyes. Even though he struggled to stay conscious, he knew closing them meant losing consciousness. He closed them anyway.

Chang-in knew Grimsson wouldn’t wake up again soon and got up from the chair. Maybe Grimsson wouldn’t even remember what he said in the morning. On the edge of consciousness, he was rapidly slipping toward unconsciousness.

Chang-in moved away, turned off the light, and stepped outside. Then a hoarse, sleepy voice whispered softly.

"He really hated that bastard, huh."

Chang-in barely heard. The voice was so low and faint he wasn’t sure if he heard correctly. He waited at the door a moment but heard nothing more. Grimsson had fallen beyond consciousness again.

Chang-in tilted his head, quietly closed the door, and left.

After that, Grimsson grew fierce and savage again. Though known as a madman, his reputation for ferocity had softened after coming to the Asian branch as an instructor. Although lightly and seriously wounded personnel were constant, only a handful had suffered irreparable injuries. No deaths had occurred.

When Grimsson was promoted to the Asian branch instructor, Kyle had seriously said, "UNHRDO must be crazy to make that guy an instructor," and was genuinely surprised when no deaths occurred for months.

But recently, Grimsson seemed to have reverted to the murderous madman he once was.

At first glance, nothing seemed different. His expression, voice, and tone were unchanged. As always, he gave a cold smile, spoke slowly and indifferently with a slightly twisted tone, muttering casually. But he was clearly rougher. No personnel dared pick fights with him anymore. Two had already died.

In just a few days, something unprecedented happened: the instructor entered a coma and returned. Though no single incident stood out, everyone felt the man had become uncomfortably tense and unstable. Even Chang-in avoided him.

Before, Grimsson would have yielded somewhat to Chang-in, but not now. Now, anyone who annoyed him by even a fraction would be strangled or torn apart without a word.

Still, he did his job properly and only used force when someone crossed the line. Chang-in knew the limits to avoid harm and kept a safe distance. Actually, that distance might never have existed if not for work. It was easy to break once freed from duty.

Today was no different. Having returned from a trip to the Hong Kong company a few days ago, Grimsson had told his brother he expected news soon. Then he came late at night after a short external call. Just as he started to speak, Chang-in was called away briefly and returned to find Grimsson exuding a chilling atmosphere.

Chang-in hung his uniform back on the rack and slowly observed Grimsson. Then Grimsson muttered suddenly,

"You had a call. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I answered since it was an external call ringing for a long time."

Chang-in raised an eyebrow slightly. He saw a clue to the source of Grimsson’s foul mood—an external call. At this hour, few outside people might call. Among them…

"…ㅡ."

Chang-in considered familiar people one by one and suddenly stiffened his face. He had a suspicion who the caller was, and why Grimsson looked at him so sharply.

"Was it you after all?"

He asked. After a pause, he sighed.

"Yes. I helped. Otherwise, I would have lost a nephew."

Grimsson stared silently at Chang-in with cold blue eyes. He seemed about to say something but stopped, only asking shortly,

"Where is he?"

"I don’t know."

Chang-in answered without hesitation. But Grimsson’s fierce gaze shot at him like a warning, and Chang-in clicked his tongue, sitting on the bed’s edge.