Chapter 57: The Guest and The Call.
[Ren Point of View.]
I had been invited before.
Tea. Snacks. Polite greetings.
This time was different.
This time… Il-Sun told me to come alone.
And Harate came with me anyway.
Of course.
.
.
.
.
II-Sun's house wasn't grand, just old-the kind of old that hummed with memory and warning both. He sat on the engawa like he had been waiting for me for years.
"Ren," he greeted, eyes sharp behind the smile. "Still too tense."
I bowed stiffly. "Good afternoon, sir."
He clicked his tongue.
"Still stiff. Like a ruler left in ice."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Barely.
Harate settled beside me with the grace of a falling mountain boulder.
Il-Sun's eyes sparkled.
"Oh good," II-Sun said lightly. "You brought the stubborn one."
Harate grunted. "Someone has to keep him from being swallowed whole."
II-Sun sipped his tea. "Swallowed whole? My boy? Ren is more likely to bite back."
I couldn't tell if that was a compliment or a threat.
Both, probably.
.
.
.
.
II-Sun's gaze landed on me again-not heavy, but impossibly precise.
"Ren," he said, "you're sharp."
A beat.
"Too sharp."
My jaw tightened.
II-Sun continued, swirling his tea as if reading omens inside it.
"Sharp blades cut beautifully... but they also break beautifully."
Harate frowned. "He needs strength, not softness."
II-Sun chuckled. "Softness is strength. Rigidity snaps."
He turned back to me.
"Learn to bend, boy."
I hated the advice.
But the way he said it lodged in my head like a thorn refusing to dislodge.
My fingers curled slightly.
I forced them still.
.
.
.
.
The shift in the air was subtle-like temperature dropping before a storm.
II-Sun set down his cup.
Harate glared.
Both smiled.
Dangerously.
"Your granddaughter," Harate said calmly, "has been pulling strings.
II-Sun answered gently, "And grandson has been pretending those strings don't exist."
They exchanged glances-the kind that contain thirty years of history.
Harate leaned forward. "Your lineage interferes too much."
II-Sun leaned back. "Your lineage hides too much."
No raised voices. No aggression.
But each word landed like a quiet knife.
"The boy shouldn't be near your politics."
"The boy is already in them."
Harate's eyebrow twitched. "He's not ready."
II-Sun laughed softly. "Then teach him. Or he'll learn from someone else."
Harate's fingers tightened on his cane.
II-Sun noticed. Of course he did.
"You fear he'll break," II-Sun said. "So you refuse to let him bend."
Harate didn't respond.
II-Sun smiled again.
"Politics isn't about shouting, Yamamichi. It's about who can speak the softest... and still be heard."
I swallowed.
This was nothing like the books. Nothing like the stories.
Politics wasn't loud. It wasn't violent.
It was quiet sharp deadly.
And I-stupidly-thought I could walk through it untouched.
II-Sun tapped the floor twice.
"Ren," he said, "watch closely."
I was already watching.
And I was starting to understand why the world described men like them as wolves.
••••
[Narrator Point of View]
••••
Junhyeok and Ji-eun turned the corner-
Ren was on the phone, voice softer than usual, almost casual.
"Yeah, I checked the numbers," Ren said. ‹Yours were wrong. Again."
A dry voice crackled from the speaker. They were only slightly wrong.›
"Shimo, you were off by forty."
‹...Forty is a number of passion.›
Ren let out a breathless laugh.
Junhyeok blinked. "Is that... Ren?"
Ji-eun nodded slowly. "He puts his phone on loudspeaker?. And he's holding it right up to his mouth. Why does he talk like that?"
Ren ignored them. "No, I'm not coming over. Last time you made me carry six boxes."
‹You're strong.›
"I don't like pain."
‹You survived me.›
"I regretted it."
‹You love me.›
"I don't."
‹You do.›
"I don't."
Junhyeok whispered, "Why is he... so relaxed?"
Ji-eun whispered back, "I don't know, but I'm scared."
Ren sighed. "I'll call you later."
‹You always say that.›
"And I always hang up."
‹Rude.›
*click.*
Ren lowered the phone.
Ji-eun stepped forward. "You looked different."
Ren blinked. "What?"
"The stiffness. It disappeared." She pointed at his hand. "And you talk into the loudspeaker like it's a microphone."
Junhyeok crossed his arms. "Who even holds a phone like that?"
Ren frowned. "Both of you shut up."
Footsteps approached. Luther leaned in.
"Ren," he said. "Your friend is here."
Ren's eyes shifted. "Which one?"
"The one with the red hair."
Ren exhaled. "Tarazune…"
Junhyeok froze. "That Akeshi? The one on whom I was supposed to gather info on but was told to give all the info I got to Luther as well as this mission that was assigned to me?"
Ren put the phone in his pocket.
"Unfortunately, yes."
And he walked toward the door.
.
.
.
.
Akeshi stood at the entrance, red hair catching the light like a flame.
Calm. Straight-backed. Lean frame.
He looked like someone who'd been exhausted for years but refused to let the world see it.
Ren approached him.
Akeshi lifted a hand. "You look alive."
Ren snorted. "You look like you haven't slept since Monday."
"It's Wednesday."
"Exactly."
Akeshi huffed a quiet laugh, the kind that slipped out before he could stop it.
"Didn't expect to visit so soon," Akeshi said.
"You never expect anything. You just appear."
"Is that a complaint?"
"Yes."
Akeshi tilted his head. "Missed me?"
"No."
"Yes," IL-sun muttered from behind them.
Ren almost choked. "Why are you here?"
IL-sun waved a hand. "I want to see the boy who keeps you from dying."
Harate stood beside him, arms crossed, expression carved from stone.
Harate's eyes swept over Akeshi.
"...So this is him," Harate said. A beat. "The cockroach who slipped into the default class during the lucky draw."
Akeshi blinked once. "I prefer the term 'resilient organism."
IL-sun snorted. "He's funny."
Harate's gaze sharpened. "Stand straight."
Akeshi already was.
"Good," Harate said. "At least you have posture."
Akeshi bowed slightly. "Sir."
Ren whispered sideways, "Don't bow too much. They'll think you're polite."
Akeshi whispered back, "I am polite."
"No, you're exhausted."
"Same thing at this point."
IL-sun stepped closer, circling Akeshi-the way wolves circle something interesting.
"You walk like someone carrying something heavy," IL-sun said.
Akeshi answered plainly. "Because I am."
"What?"
"...Life."
IL-sun burst into laughter. "He's perfect."
Harate, however, didn't smile.
He studied Akeshi like a judge overlooking a trial.
"You talk gently," Harate said. "But your presence is not gentle."
Akeshi bowed again. "I don't know how to hide anything."
"Good," Harate replied. "Ren hides too much."
Ren's jaw tightened. "I am right here."
IL-sun ignored him. "You two are similar."
Harate nodded slowly. "Same exhaustion. Same backbone. Same stubborn calm."
Akeshi glanced at Ren.
Ren narrowed his eyes. "Don't look at me like that."
Harate turned away. "I see why you two get along."
Ren deadpanned. "We don't."
Akeshi added, "We do."
"We don't."
"We do."
IL-sun clapped his hands. "Enough. I like him."
Harate gave a final appraisal-the coldest, most precise one yet.
"Boy," Harate said, "you aren't special."
"I know," Akeshi replied quietly.
"But you make people around you better."
Akeshi blinked. "...I just try not to make things worse."
"Exactly," Harate said. "That is rare."
IL-sun smiled. "Welcome to the circle, kid."
Akeshi looked confused. "I didn't know I entered a circle."
"You did," Ren muttered. "And there's no escape."
Akeshi sighed. "...Figures."