The room froze. The silence was so dense that the sound of the ventilation crawling across the glass was audible. Ryu Seonyeong slowly looked up—the air around Matteo seemed slightly thicker than around the others, as if he had brought something cold with him, from another space.
«Something doesn't add up.»
One of the women, who had been sitting by the wall a minute ago, wordlessly stood up and positioned herself behind Hwan. The others seemed to dissolve into his shadow.
Seonyeong looked at Park Kichul—he looked as if he was trying to remember how to breathe.
«So, this is not his doing...»
He quickly reconstructed the scene: the women checking their phones, one suddenly leaving, Matteo entering almost immediately—and now this "secretary." Everything looked like a trap, carefully set in advance.
He asked gloomily: — You didn't just come for entertainment, did you?
Matteo smiled faintly with the corners of his lips.
— You guessed it? And I tried to be subtle. — You tried... poorly.
At that moment, the door burst open, and Gyuhyeok rushed in—his gaze darted from the guards to Hwan. He instantly swapped his confusion for a gracious smile:
— Excuse me, sir, but "Vermilion" does not serve...
— It's alright, — Seonyeong interrupted. — This is an old acquaintance.
Gyuhyeok froze. Kichul, standing nearby, widened his eyes as if seeing a ghost. Matteo said softly:
— I'm glad you still remember. I was worried you might have forgotten.
— How can I forget a person who knows how to surprise.
Seonyeong's voice remained calm, but inside, everything was trembling with tension. This man was no accident. In Mariah, he had already shown his hand once. And now he had come here, clearly not for a conversation.
He recalled Kang Jihwan's words about meetings and secret rendezvous. It was good that he wasn't here.
— Perhaps we should sit down and talk calmly?
— Hwan suggested.
— I'm not in the habit of discussing business in public.
— Guards, outside.
The silent shadows disappeared behind the door. Gyuhyeok wanted to say something, but Seonyeong raised a hand: — Leave. Close the door behind you.
The door slammed shut, leaving only three in the room.
— She stays, — Hwan noted, nodding at the woman.
— My secretary.
— Or executioner.
He smirked, gestured for her to stand by the wall, and sat on the sofa like a person who owned the place.
— Are you calmer now?
— I've been calm all along. Speak.
— Why did you never reply?
— To what?
— To my letters. The phone I gave you—it was a means of contact.
Ryu Seonyeong felt a chill run down his spine. That very diamond-studded phone.
— You... tried to reach me through it?
— Several times. Not a word in response. Even calls were ignored.
He scoffed through his teeth: — Good thing I didn't turn it on.
— It pains me to hear that, — Hwan said quietly. — Because you understand the value of the "ticket" better than most.
The name was spoken clearly, with emphasis. Ryu felt everything inside turn cold. He hated it when someone used his full name without permission.
— I'm sorry, but you are definitely not my type.
— A pity. I think you could be the ideal.
The smile on Hwan's face was too long, too inhuman.
— You know, — Seonyeong said, — I don't like it when people come to me at night with guards and pretension. If you're serious, come during the day. There's a cafe nearby where the sun hits at the right angle.
For a moment, Hwan frowned.
— Sunlight?
— I have a hobby—photosynthesis.
He stared for a long time, as if deciding whether the other man was joking. Then he suddenly stood up.
— Why wait until tomorrow? Let's go now.
— What?
— I don't go out during the day. Too busy.
Ryu crossed his arms.
— And I don't follow other people's schedules.
Tension hung over the table.
— What do you think about immortality, Mr. Ryu Seonyeong?
— Hwan asked almost affectionately.
Seonyeong froze.
— What?
— Since you reached the table in Mariah and took the first prize, surely you know something?
— I was a mercenary. Just completing an order.
— You're lying, — Hwan said softly. — Synchron Biotech conducts research into immortality. The gambling dens are merely a way to fund it. And you knew this.
— Perhaps those who hired you knew it. I did not.
— And I designed this system, — Hwan said. His eyes sparkled.
— I wanted to see which humans were worthy of eternal life.
Now there was no doubt. Before him stood Im Chintae, without a mask, without pseudonyms.
Ryu laughed shortly:
— Are you serious? Maybe you're just the director of a cheap production?
— I'll be direct. You, Mr. Ryu, have already ceased to be human. And I want to ascertain that personally.
Seonyeong felt his jaw involuntarily clench.
— I don't know what you're talking about.
— I think you do.
Hwan's tone became almost benevolent, which only made it colder.
— In Mariah, you interfered with the game, removing one of my employees from control. They said they were hypnotized. That was you, wasn't it?
Ryu maintained an indifferent face.
— Are you looking for a culprit?
— I'm looking for confirmation.
— You haven't found it.
— Then show me that I'm wrong. Come with me.
— No.
— A mistake.
Hwan's eyes flashed red.
— We will go. I will kill the people outside myself, so they don't interfere.
— ...Are you completely insane?
He didn't finish speaking—an alien force, thick as poison, pressed down on him. But it didn't work on Ryu. Instead of submission, rage came.
He exhaled and said evenly:
— If you mention killing again, I'll start with you.
Hwan laughed quietly.
— So, I was right. You protect humans.
He turned to the woman:
— Girl, show our guest what loyalty is.
She approached, took a fruit knife, and, without blinking, slashed her own arm. Blood streamed down her skin. The woman held out a cup, filling it halfway.
Ryu recoiled.
— Are you crazy?!
Hwan watched with a satisfied smile.
— No mortal can resist charm.
A ringing sound went off inside Seonyeong. He understood: he was being tested. First hypnosis, now blood.
His fangs instinctively lowered, but he held back. Not here. Not now.
Hwan extended the glass to him. — Try it. You want to.
— No.
— You don't want to?
— Get out. You disgust me.
— Are you hiding your nature? Are you afraid? Or do you pity these little humans? — Hwan leaned closer.
— If you are human, you will die. If not—you are mine.
At that moment, the door exploded. The impact was so strong that the hinges tore off. Standing in the doorway was Kang Jihwan—tall, masked, with eyes gleaming like a blade.
— What are you spouting here, you lunatic?
Hwan turned around, stunned. And Seonyeong barely held back a gasp of his name.
Jihwan calmly walked over and shielded him with his body.
— Who are you to threaten an employee?
Hwan stared with bewilderment.
— What did you do to my men?
— Sent them to sleep. They were too noisy.
A muffled groan was heard from behind the door.
— Amusing, — Hwan said.
— I don't think so. Get out before I call the police.
— Boy, you don't understand what you've stepped into.
— I understand that I don't like you.
A look of recognition appeared on Hwan's face.
— The bodyguard... so it's you. Funny. Working for the owner is commendable, but not at your level.
Seonyeong quietly tugged at his sleeve—let's go. But Jihwan stood firm.
— I've seen people like you, — he said coldly.
— With eyes I want to scratch out.
Hwan's white face colored with anger.
— Get out of here.
— You get out, — Jihwan retorted and stepped forward.
A crack. The blow came from the side, a fist slicing through the air. Hwan flew back, hitting the wall, blood splattering onto the floor. The woman screamed and caught him.
— He... hit me? — Hwan whispered.
Seonyeong watched silently, feeling a mix of fear and admiration in his chest.
Hwan looked up, bewildered, with a smear of blood on his cheek.
— Are you also...?
— Get ready, — Jihwan replied. — Next time, I won't miss.
He grabbed Seonyeong's hand and pulled him toward the exit. The door slammed shut behind them.
Hwan stood, leaning on the woman, and trembled. Then he suddenly laughed. First quietly, then louder, until the laughter turned into a rasp.
— There are two of them, — he whispered. — So there really are two...
And in his laughter, there was not madness—but the delight of a hunter who had finally smelled blood.