"Why not go all the way and say we should live together."
"..."
"Why no answer? You said I'd die without you. Then since we're already doing the whole honey, babe thing, can't we just combine households too?"
I don’t sit there and get teased—it’s not in my nature—so I threw that out to land a hit.
I heard a sharp inhale beside me.
"I'm joking."
Normally, given his personality, he would have followed “I’m joking” with something like “You’re wicked.” But Caesar couldn’t get a single word out.
I won.
Right. I’m not the kind of guy who loses in a war of words.
How’s it feel now that you’re on the receiving end? Got your tongue tied too?
Just as I was drunk on victory, Caesar muttered a beat late.
"...It hadn’t occurred to me."
I snapped my eyes wide and looked over, flustered, but Caesar’s face was exactly the same as before.
"I like that."
…I lost.
Who could ever beat this crazy bastard.
After “I’m joking,” silence fell in the car.
Caesar didn’t open his mouth rashly. He drove quietly and started organizing his thoughts.
Right, our places are way too far apart. If something happens, it’s hard for me to get to him fast...
Now that the stalking has begun, I can’t swear Jeheon Han will keep being safe. It could be like last time—a lunatic with a gun getting close.
…Yeah, ordinary houses aren’t much of a barricade. Even if it’s poured concrete, all it takes is busting the front door or breaking a window to get in.
And there’s no real way to prevent an address leak ahead of time. Stick a tracker on the car, tail him with a little drone—there’s no good way to stop that.
They could get his address in a heartbeat.
Done thinking, Caesar answered softly.
"I hadn’t thought of that. I like it."
Jeheon stared at him, incredulous.
"What did you say?"
"I said merging houses sounds good."
"I told you I was joking."
"I'm not. It’s a genuinely dangerous situation—please consider it."
Jeheon clutched his head like a man in shock, then looked at Caesar in disbelief. He muttered, almost to himself, “Do I really look that endangered?” and then corrected the question.
"Are your extreme fans the type to go so off the rails they’d start a shootout in a rich neighborhood crawling with cops? I mean, they did it at the department store, so there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t do it in a residential area. I’m asking if they’re really an opponent we have to guard against that hard."
At the question, Caesar’s vision flickered like a faulty light.
The instant he recognized the image that flashed by, his expression went stiff. He knew exactly how Jeheon would react once he explained.
…Looks like I’m about to get an earful.
But if I’m going to get scolded anyway, better to confess fast and be done. Dragging it out just makes it worse and only rubs him the wrong way.
With that, Caesar began.
"What do we call the poor neighborhoods in this country?"
"Slums."
"Who lives in slums?"
"Gangs… headed by families, right?"
"Right. There are gangs. Then do you know why they end up going illegal?"
Thrown into a twenty-questions game out of nowhere, Jeheon wore a puzzled look. With a face that seemed to ask why he was asking this, he answered Caesar.
"Because they don’t have money, so they can’t get an education; without education, they can’t get hired by companies with good terms; without that, they can’t use employer-provided health insurance. When they get hurt they can’t go to the hospital, so when it comes to a robbery they fight back with a ‘kill before I get killed’ mindset—"
Color drained from Jeheon’s face mid-explanation. He’d realized why Caesar started the game.
Jeheon seized Caesar’s forearm with one hand.
"You’re saying most of the fanatics are gang members?!"
"…"
"You bastard! Why are you only telling me this now!"
Murder glinted in his eyes. One wrong word and his fist would fly straight at Caesar’s face.
If I’d told him earlier, he wouldn’t have had anything to do with me…
He felt wronged, sure, but Caesar started watching Jeheon’s mood like a guilty puppy so as not to provoke him. Half of it was theater, but luckily, the act worked on Jeheon.
"I only found out recently. We didn’t pay gangs on purpose. We were giving money to support rehabilitation. We started without knowing it would end up like this."
That much was true. It just happened to come with a different ulterior motive.
I wanted an unshakable base—a concrete bloc of supporters who would stand by me no matter what.
Public support turns into money and prestige; with all that overflowing wealth, he’d tried to build a concrete support base.
"It’s just… I didn’t realize how desperate they were."
"…"
"When I put the ordinary life they longed for into their hands, I didn’t predict what they’d feel toward me. Not at all."
Anyone who’d finished compulsory education would look at Caesar’s giving and think, “Why donate that much—working a tax dodge?”
But the poor don’t know tax law well. Plenty never finished even elementary school. Some only realize they owe taxes when they get the bill.
To people like that, Caesar—who handed out material support for no apparent reason—would have looked no different than the human who feeds a stray dog on the street.
As a dog worships the person who gives it food like a god, the gangs came to like and follow whoever benefited them.
That’s where the warped loyalty was born.
Caesar added, shrinking a little.
"I really didn’t know."
Jeheon, who had majored in sociology in college, had no trouble grasping the implications.
"So if something happens to you, every gang buddy you’ve got bursts out with guns. That it?"
"…"
"And this time the trigger was me? Ha. That’ll drive a man insane."
Jeheon let go of Caesar’s arm and sighed.
"You went around dispensing benevolence like you were a god, and you thought a religion wouldn’t form?"
"I didn’t think it met the three elements of religion…"
"These days, you don’t need to meet those for a religion to form."
He should have approached more carefully, especially in a place that’s already so closed off...
Grumbling, Jeheon sank deeper into the passenger seat.
"If you gave a national address… No, that won’t work. Then we’ll get crazies who treat slum residents like demons and try some mass slaughter while posing as crusaders…"
Worse, the poor you actually want to reach might not even see it. The internet still takes money—smartphones, Wi-Fi, the works.
So a speech via internet or TV is likely to do more harm than good.
"Most people will judge by the result—‘the gang did something bad.’ Few are wise enough to grasp the causes. And the media will probably be biased."
A familiar streetscape slid into view. They were almost home.
As Caesar eased off the gas, he spoke.
"Even so, it’s fine."
"Huh?"
"Whether the slum gets hurt or not—if witch-hunting them makes you safe… I can ignore whoever dies. You’re what matters most to me."
"…Is that a threat?"
"No. Did it sound like one?"
Jeheon glared, eyes wide and dangerous.
"Are you telling me to choose between moving in together and the twenty-first-century version of a Holocaust—and pick the Holocaust?!"
"But it wouldn’t be your responsibility. You have the right to choose the easier path."
"Are you serious?"
If he said honestly, Yes, I am, he’d be branded a psychopath. Caesar gave the answer he knew Jeheon wanted.
"Honestly, I don’t want to use that method either. I was just positing the worst case."
Only then did Jeheon relax back into the seat. In a dying-patient groan, he asked:
"Is there no other way?"
"If we move and you start living in seclusion…"
"How do I get groceries and earn money? When do we even buy the house?"
"I could—"
"Say you’ll buy it and I’ll hit you."
…Caesar knew exactly how strong Jeheon was, so he shut his mouth.
Meanwhile, Jeheon sighed over and over and started thinking.
"…"
Soon he spoke again, face complicated.
"At the very beginning, you told me it would take time but you could solve it."
"Yes."
"Meaning… it’ll take time, but there’s a way to end this without hurting anyone, right?"
"That’s right."
"What is it?"
"Literally, we arrest the ringleader who serves as the focal point and put them in prison. Once the ringleader disappears, the group naturally loses strength."
And until then, the best place to shelter is Caesar’s house. To them, Caesar’s home is quite literally a sanctuary, a holy place.
"So until that ringleader is really caught, I have to freeload at your place."
As they talked, Caesar’s car rolled into Jeheon’s yard.
Jeheon used the key he carries to open the garage, and Caesar slid the SUV smoothly inside.
"But how did you pick out our house right away? In a neighborhood of cookie-cutter homes, I figured you’d wander a bit."
"There’s navigation."
"Hmm."
Jeheon suddenly started mulling something over.
When the parking finished and the garage door closed again, Jeheon—after a brief hesitation—spoke.
"How convenient. When it’s about me, you pick up anything without me having to explain…"
The next second, Jeheon’s hand clamped fast around the back of Caesar’s neck. He stroked the hollow at the base of his throat with his index finger and murmured:
"You’ve lied to me about something, haven’t you."