Jung Tae-ui buried his head into a thin, hardcover volume that resembled more a collection of essays than a proper book. If only he could faint by banging the corner of the hardcover against his head.
There weren’t that many books. Compared to his older brother, who once lined the entire house with bookshelves and wallpapered the walls with books, filling the spacious room with just a few shelves felt relatively light.
But when tasked with sorting all those books one by one according to library classification numbers, it was anything but light work.
“Damn it, just sort them by author already. Or at least alphabetically by title… Maybe I should just shove them all into the general section.”
Muttering endlessly while randomly shelving books, Jung Tae-ui glanced out the glass window beside him.
This private study, located on the second floor of the mansion’s west wing, faced a hill path. Not far away, he could see a forest. From that quiet, lush green forest, a spotless white horse was trotting briskly, its hooves making a light clip-clop sound. Atop the horse was a figure as dazzlingly white as the horse itself.
Apparently, after lunch, he had gone out for a light ride through the nearby woods and was just now returning.
Leaving all the work behind, he enjoyed a peaceful horseback ride…
Fists clenched on their own.
This study, located on the west side of the corridor in the west wing, rarely saw sunlight in the morning, but by afternoon, sunlight spilled in through the window.
The late afternoon sun stretched its rays from the forest toward the mansion. Christoph’s pale cheek and bright hair, bathed in golden light, gleamed as he rode his horse with the sun slanting across his shoulder.
“...Even now, that face still looks like an angel’s…”
His cheeks, once pale as if drained of blood, seemed flushed by the sunlight. Yet the expression was as blue and cool as his eyes had always been. That cool expression, so perfectly fitting his sculpted face, seemed almost frightening—as if he’d been born wearing exactly that look.
...Then again, come to think of it, he mostly showed that cold, frosty face.
At that moment, their eyes met across the glass.
Christoph, having approached fairly close to the mansion, looked at Jung Tae-ui with his usual bleak expression and silently mouthed, “Finished?”
As soon as Jung Tae-ui recognized those lips moving, he was momentarily mesmerized by that dazzling appearance and recalled the task he had nearly forgotten: whether he could finish organizing the books today.
“Ah… truly an angel’s face with a devil’s mouth.”
Jung Tae-ui stepped back from the window, sighed deeply as he stared at the still mountainous pile of unclassified books.
He had certainly only asked to see the books, but this was not what he had hoped for. How did things come to this?
While Christoph had gone to the main building to teach the kids, Jung Tae-ui wandered aimlessly through the west wing, his thoughts drifting.
When the body is idle, worries often arise in the mind.
The fact that no contact came from Illye—despite calling Berlin again, all they got was that no contact was possible both ways—felt ominous.
With each hesitant step, the thought “Better to go back soon” circled his mind.
That was why he had seriously spoken to Christoph after returning to the main building: asking for the books.
But if serious talk would make Christoph hand them over readily, Kyle wouldn’t have had to seize the books in the first place.
Christoph looked at Jung Tae-ui with an expression as if hearing a dog barking somewhere. When Jung Tae-ui stared fixedly without moving, Christoph slightly furrowed his brows and said,
“Try finding them yourself.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to at least see where they are before deciding to find them or not?”
“...”
Christoph silently stared at Jung Tae-ui, then sighed lightly and said, “Fine, do as you wish,” before leading the way.
That’s how Jung Tae-ui was brought here—Christoph’s private study on the second floor.
“Well, that’s good timing. I was just thinking I should organize some books. You know the Dewey Decimal system, right? Then take care of the sorting well.”
Christoph said flatly, as if assigning a trivial errand, pointing into the study filled with an enormous, disorganized collection of books that no one could read in a lifetime.
“What? No way I know all that... Wait, why am I sorting these anyway?!”
Jung Tae-ui almost surrendered to the request but suddenly yelled in protest.
Christoph frowned.
“Don’t know it? Why not? Tch. Then I’ll write it down for you. Don’t forget to do subcategories by author.”
“Listen to me until I finish speaking!”
“Why am I sorting these? When will I finish?! I can’t. I won’t!”
“Don’t want to find the books?”
Tearing off the memo with “900 History and Geography” written on it, Christoph said nonchalantly, as if saying “Fine if you don’t want to.”
Instantly rendered mute, Jung Tae-ui silently stared at the memo.
He really didn’t want to accept it. Accepting meant the start of a difficult ordeal.
“Can’t do it?”
“...”
“Won’t do it?”
“...I won’t take responsibility for the outcome.”
Muttering gloomily, Jung Tae-ui gripped the paper. The crisp sound of the crumpling paper was unusually clear—like a coffin folding shut.
“But… damn it, where the hell are those damn books hidden?”
Grumbling curses, he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, leaving dark dust marks.
With tired hands, he picked up a few books and began sorting them again according to classification numbers.
Suddenly, he recalled a man—not as extreme as the one returning from horseback to the stables but still someone whose personality betrayed his appearance.
Jung Tae-ui knew one such man.
On the surface, he appeared reasonably handsome and refined while strolling around the house, but beneath that veneer, he was a person best avoided.
Though it had been nearly two months since he last saw him, that person remained vividly etched in memory—a lifelong scar.
He had no idea where that man was or what he was doing, having had no contact for months.
Actually, he had contacted him recently—if that could be called contact.
Recalling the last contact made his head burn again. He sighed.
Anyway, he had to return home as soon as possible, or at least sooner than that.
Otherwise, the man who’d received an ambiguous reply from Rita—who could easily misunderstand—might wreak havoc.
Hopefully, that ghostly figure wouldn’t suddenly appear, telling him not to run away again and threatening to kill him outright, leaving no time for excuses.
That scared him, but even more frightening was his vivid imagination of Illye devouring his corpse, which he quickly tried to erase.
No. He had never run away.
Although Rita hadn’t explained the whole story, Jung Tae-ui could use what he had told Kyle as proof.
He had no intention of risking his life again over a trivial misunderstanding.
“Kyle assured me he’s not stupid enough to think you ran off.”
Feeling sorry for him, Kyle had said this.
Jung Tae-ui also knew well Illye Rigrow—a madman nicknamed “Rick the Lunatic,” unpredictable yet frighteningly rational and logical.
Since Illye knew him as well as he knew Illye, he surely understood that Jung Tae-ui was not someone who cared that much for his own life.
So, even if he wasn’t stupid enough to kill on sight,...Still, if he found out Jung Tae-ui left the house, he’d surely rage like a storm.
He had warned him repeatedly to stay put at home.
If Illye discovered Jung Tae-ui had sneaked out, he wouldn’t calmly accept “Oh, really?” but might go full hunt-and-catch mode again.
“Ah, whatever. Let him throw a fit or act up—I don’t care. One death or two, what’s the difference? ...I just have to find the books quickly and be back before he returns so it passes without incident...”
Shouting fiercely, then falling into quiet thought, Jung Tae-ui sadly started shelving books.
And already, things were so turbulent.
Jung Tae-ui sorted books mechanically—having learned to at least throw uncertain books into general classification carelessly—then after finishing a pile, stretched with a groan.
Looking at the clock, it was almost five.
Though he had worked all afternoon, a mountain of unsorted books still waited. But he’d managed to sort about a third.
Having worked so hard yet still with a third remaining, he couldn’t decide whether to feel discouraged or proud.
Wiping sweat from his brow and nose, he suddenly realized his shirt was soaked.
“Took a bath in sweat…”
Jung Tae-ui flapped the chest of his damp shirt.
Though the room was not cramped, being surrounded tightly by shelves full of books, working hard carrying books back and forth, it was understandable.
Looking down at his blackened hands mixed with sweat and dust, he clicked his tongue.
Among these books, some surely cost hundreds or thousands of dollars. If he touched them with these hands, they’d be smudged with black fingerprints.
“No, can’t do that… Maybe I should shower first.”
Rubbing the palms of his hands habitually on his pants, Jung Tae-ui stepped out between the shelves.
Walking heavily through the golden sunlight slanting in, scattering dust in the air, he glanced back once.
Dust danced quietly in the yellow light, books scattered messily inside. Without knowing the painstaking effort behind it all, it might look fairly decent. He felt his mood soften a little.
Maybe he should tidy Kyle’s study as well when he got back. Kyle’s collection was as vast as this, but with Rita’s care, at least no dust.
Yeah, if Kyle was okay with it, he’d spend a day tidying it nicely.
But first, he had to find the books.
Jung Tae-ui stared helplessly at the piles.
Among the books he’d sorted, none were the ones Kyle mentioned. He’d skimmed through the unsorted piles but still found nothing.
Surely, they wouldn’t have been left carelessly.
Where could they be? Here or maybe in the bedroom. But he’d already searched Christoph’s bedroom without finding them. Unless hidden in a drawer, they weren’t visible anywhere.
Jung Tae-ui scratched his head. If necessary, he might become a thief sneaking into the bedroom, rifling through drawers or wardrobes.
Anyway, he didn’t have much time left.
Though he had confidently shouted earlier, he wanted to get back home as soon as possible.
Before Illye returned—who disappeared two months ago with barely any contact, though occasionally reaching out—he needed to be home first to reduce trouble. The problem was, no one knew when Illye would come back.
“But, you know… human nature rarely changes without reason…”
Jung Tae-ui muttered, twisting his neck oddly.
Actually, what truly troubled him was not that.
Of course, it was a matter of life and personal safety, so he couldn’t say he wasn’t concerned, but something else subtly nagged at him.
Jung Tae-ui himself didn’t go outside much, and when he did, it was only to stroll around the neighborhood.
Illye hadn’t been much involved with Jung Tae-ui’s outings.
Jung Tae-ui wasn’t a prisoner under surveillance locked inside the house; like Illye who went out freely, he wasn’t greatly restricted either. He simply chose not to go far.
But two months ago, without warning, just before leaving the house, Illye looked straight at Jung Tae-ui and told him to quietly guard the house for a while.
When days and weeks passed without return, Jung Tae-ui assumed it was just a casual farewell.
But he still remembered the vague unease that washed over him upon hearing those words.
“...”
Jung Tae-ui tilted his head slightly to the side.