They say you see as much as you know.
No matter how much treasure you give to someone who doesn’t understand, it’s useless. Pearls before swine, horseshoes for a pig.
Even if a doodle-like sketch carelessly tossed on a drafting table is actually the basic framework of the latest stealth aircraft being designed and built under top-secret conditions, it’s utterly worthless to someone who doesn’t know.
“But I can’t help but wonder, someone who comes and goes here should at least be able to tell whether this is valuable or trash…”
Jeong Tae-ui shook the drafting sheet in his hands with a dumbfounded expression, thinking that there must be plenty of places to smuggle and sell this off, enough to disappear and live comfortably for life.
No matter how you look at it, this is a top-secret document.
Though scribbled crudely like graffiti and scrawled in what looks like code, this is absolutely not something to be lying around carelessly on a study desk.
“And someone who comes here probably wouldn’t worry even if they saw our company’s fraudulent accounting books.”
Kyle, who had been carefully taking out all the books on one shelf to arrange them, turned his head, glanced at the sheet in Jeong Tae-ui’s hand, and smiled calmly.
Humming as he skillfully patched up a leather-bound book worn thin enough to tear at any moment, Kyle looked utterly delighted with the book in his hands.
“Thanks for trusting me, but still, letting it get this ragged… what if a thief breaks in?”
“If they’re someone who could recognize this, they wouldn’t be a thief.”
Kyle rubbed a small speck of dust off a corner of the leather cover with care and glanced at Jeong Tae-ui with amused eyes.
“You really know your stuff. That drawing… it’s a basic-level draft, so it’s not exactly something you can recognize at a glance.”
“You even put ‘RCS’ plainly on it, thinking no one would notice?”
Kyle laughed out loud, as if he’d lost a screw. He always acted like this when holding a precious book. Jeong Tae-ui could easily understand why James sometimes glared at the books in this study with utter disgust. He’d probably dance if this whole study burned down someday.
Jeong Tae-ui sighed and put the drafting sheet back on the desk.
“Besides, after helping Kyle all this time, I feel like I could pilot an Airhawk just from theory.”
He’d seen internal schematics of everything from submachine guns and rifles to shells, armored vehicles, and helicopters, as those blueprints were always lying around the study.
He’d learned the basics at the military academy but never imagined he’d get to study detailed schematics like this. No, before leaving the academy, he never dreamed he’d be handling military supplies again or something similar.
He thought he’d live a peaceful life with a mundane job, watering plants. Well, he still helped Peter water the garden from time to time, living quietly.
“But still, if a thief breaks in on an outside request, it could be a disaster. At least you should lock those things in drawers…”
“There’s no crazy thief who would dare enter this house.”
“Ah, true...”
Jeong Tae-ui nodded. Even setting aside the guardhouse beside the main gate, it was sad to think of a poor thief who’d mistakenly wander into this house full of wild beasts disguised as humans. But…
“They’re not here right now.”
Jeong Tae-ui stopped nodding and muttered.
The large beast who had been living here vanished about two months ago.
A few days after Peter had looked dazedly at the yard devastated by the unusually heavy downpour and clearing rain, Illey Riglow abruptly left the house.
He left without even proper luggage, lightly dressed. Jeong Tae-ui thought he might come back in a day or two as usual, but no news had come since. Whatever he was doing seemed to be dragging on.
But come to think of it, what exactly was he doing?
He seemed to be treading a fine line of illegal activities, but Jeong Tae-ui didn’t know exactly what. So—
“When there’s no news and no trace, it’s unsettling.”
“Unsettling? Worried he might get into an accident?”
“Worried he might cause one.”
Jeong Tae-ui didn’t know him well enough to think he was the kind of person who’d get into an accident. He’d never once worried about Illey having an accident or getting hurt.
Instead, whenever news of terror or massacre came on the media, unease crept in.
“Surely that wasn’t his doing. He’s already wanted internationally, so adding more charges won’t scare him off, but it’d be a problem if he starts acting recklessly.”
Jeong Tae-ui muttered worryingly, and Kyle laughed, as if understanding his concern well.
“What’s there to worry about? What worse trouble could he cause than before?”
“…Now that you mention it, that’s true.”
Recalling the many atrocities Illey had committed in the past, Jeong Tae-ui nodded again. He wondered if there was any worse trouble left.
In fact, from Jeong Tae-ui’s perspective, life was easier without Illey. Illey didn’t particularly harass or treat him coldly at home, but sometimes, as if on a whim, he would suddenly barge in and indulge his lust, making things exhausting.
How long had it been since he had relaxed like this?
“But it’s the first time he’s been gone this long… When is he coming back?”
“Kyle answered while checking the books one by one, having finished organizing them all.”
“About another month.”
Suddenly recalling something, Kyle looked at Jeong Tae-ui.
“Oh, right. Chang-in is coming this evening.”
“Huh? Uncle?”
“Yeah. He arrived in Frankfurt the day before yesterday. He said he’d visit the UNHCR Berlin branch to take care of some business, so I told him to go ahead. He said he’d be back to Hong Kong tomorrow morning, so he’s only staying tonight. It’s been a while since you last met, huh?”
“Yeah.”
It had been about two and a half years since they last met—almost three. Time flew like a river, so it didn’t feel strange, but still, it was nice to see him after so long.
Jeong Tae-ui helped Kyle put all the books back on the shelves. Some of the books were over a hundred years old, yet they shone as if they had only been used for a few years because of such good care.
Maybe it was familiarity, but Jeong Tae-ui saw Kyle not as a CEO of a major corporation but as a local middle-aged man dreaming of opening an old-book library after early retirement.
He didn’t know when that day would come, but he envied that Kyle had clear future plans.
Looking at Kyle’s contented smile just from seeing the books, Jeong Tae-ui thought deeply about what he himself wanted to do in the future.
He had once asked those around him after hearing Kyle’s dream of an old-book library.
“Rita, what do you want to do later?”
Rita looked at him with lowered eyes and answered straightforwardly, “What I’m doing now.”
Jeong Tae-ui thought, “Ah, right.” Rita was proud to work in this house and take care of its family. To want to do what you’re doing now—that’s a happy life.
“Peter, what do you want to do later?”
“Hmm...? Later...? I don’t know... Maybe when I’m older, I’d like to be a quiet forest caretaker.”
Peter, who had carefully transplanted a tiny wildflower sprouted between the bricks, murmured with narrowed eyes. Peter as a forest caretaker—he seemed perfect for it. Unless some madman suddenly broke into the forest one day, doused it in gasoline, and set it on fire, Peter would be a happy forest keeper.
“What about James later...? …Never mind.”
When Jeong Tae-ui asked, James, who had canceled a prior appointment to fly off to France for an old book fair and was supposed to bring apology gifts and attend a company dinner instead, slowly turned his head and glared at Jeong Tae-ui like a ghost. Jeong Tae-ui escaped quickly in front of him, who looked like he could be the happiest person alive the moment he handed in his resignation.
After that journey, Jeong Tae-ui reached Illey and pondered, watching him swim vigorously in the pool. Illey Riglow’s future hope—Jeong Tae-ui couldn’t imagine it. He even felt uneasy about asking such a thing.
Sitting on the bench by the pool, staring at him blankly, Illey emerged from the pool after swimming who knows how many laps without any sign of exhaustion. Jeong Tae-ui wondered when he’d ever break his habit of swimming naked.
“You went in too, right? It’s refreshing.”
“Hmm... later.”
Thinking how few people would happily swim in water where others were naked, Jeong Tae-ui vaguely refused. As he wiped water from his body carelessly with a towel draped over the bench’s armrest, heavy footsteps sat beside him.
“So, what did you want to ask?”
Illey suddenly asked. Jeong Tae-ui flinched inside but tried to act calm, shifting his gaze the other way. Sometimes he wondered if this guy was a ghost or a human.
“Nothing much, just wanted to know what you want to do later. Future hopes survey.”
“Future hopes?”
A snort of laughter was heard. Yeah, I asked something useless.
“So, what did others say?”
“What do you think they said?”
“Hmm... You probably want to build a library and hold books close, Rita wants to keep living like now, Peter would happily work as a gardener or farm or forest manager. James seems too busy with reality to have time to think about the future. —Who else did you ask?”
This ghostly guy…
Jeong Tae-ui’s expression gave away his answer, and Illey chuckled again. But he didn’t seem to want to hide it, looking thoughtful as he rubbed his head with a towel.
“I guess… if I’m still alive then, I’ll think about it then.”
Jeong Tae-ui glanced at Illey. The glassy eyes met his. He shrugged as if asking why.
If I’m still alive then.
Jeong Tae-ui was surprised that this man surprisingly knew well about his tough social relations and was also not particularly planning to survive safely through the dangerous ones until old age.
But before that, hearing those words, Jeong Tae-ui frowned slightly and muttered quietly,
“That’s not a very pleasant thing to hear.”
Illey raised his eyebrows with a look of puzzlement and surprise but Jeong Tae-ui ignored it.
“Why?”
A playful remark came. This guy must still be half-human. He seemed to enjoy the reaction.
Jeong Tae-ui wanted to grab him by the collar or cheek and shake him, shouting how could he say such things and think so little of those around him, but thinking realistically, he just quietly tried to explain humanization.
“There’s a common misunderstanding. A person’s life isn’t entirely theirs alone. It’s also the lives of the people close around them...”
Jeong Tae-ui stopped speaking abruptly, realizing a terrifying truth.
He wasn’t sure if he himself belonged in that category of close people, but the thought of carrying even a little of Illey’s life on his shoulders weighed heavily on him, almost crushing him.
“...Anyway, it’s uncomfortable to hear someone treat their own life so lightly.”
Jeong Tae-ui muttered gruffly. Illey seemed to understand without further explanation, only raising his eyebrows slightly before giving a subtle smile.
“I don’t care much when I die, but I don’t know when someone will come and artificially cut my breath.”
Hearing that, Jeong Tae-ui recalled the phrase “the path is rugged” regarding the humanization plan. But since he sympathized deeply with the saying, he kept silent.
Illey chuckled quietly for some unknown reason, carelessly threw the towel at his feet, and asked,
“So, what do you want to do?”