Chapter 82: The Price of Patience

#82

Han Dokyeom fixed his gaze on the sky visible beyond the pavilion’s roof. Four hours had already passed since this whole debacle started.

During that time, he had received hundreds of calls. Most were from the gate managers Dokyeom had previously rejected, along with Instructor Lee Sanghyeon. The rest were complete strangers whose names he didn’t even know.

Adding to that, even Saheon Guild’s legal and management teams had joined the fray. Beom Yeonhu’s friend had long since turned off their phone and was now sitting beside him, idly swinging their legs.

When calls failed, communication shifted to texts and messenger apps. Initially, the messages began with a seemingly gentle, coaxing tone.

However, as time wore on, they devolved into desperate pleas, and now, they were spewing threatening insults as if ready to devour him.

[You bastards. I don’t know what connections you used to bribe those damn reporters and stir up this hellish mess, but isn’t it time you stopped? Do you really think you’ll be safe if you keep acting like this? Just take the compensation when it’s offered, you crazy bastards.]

While others fretted, clinging to their phones as if their very lives were on the line, Dokyeom lay stretched out in a secluded pavilion with a clear view of a convenience store, merely crunching on an ice cream.

Beside him sat Beom Yeonhu, holding the drink he’d been given, and behind him, his friend, who was already downing beer in broad daylight out of sheer frustration.

Only after taking in Dali, who was asleep on one side of the pavilion after gorging on rice balls, and Agon, who was glaring at the water bottle in his hand with a furrowed brow, did Dokyeom turn to the crestfallen Beom Yeonhu.

“Hyung, could you give me your hand for a moment?”

Dokyeom took a decisive bite from his ice cream stick, then extended his hand toward Beom Yeonhu. His gnarled, rough hand hesitantly met Dokyeom’s pale palm.

Dokyeom gripped the feverish hand firmly. Then, with a soft exhale, he closed his eyes.

‘‘

The bony hand twitched within Dokyeom’s grasp. As if to soothe him, Dokyeom’s thumb gently stroked the veined back of the hand, assessing the tangled network of his qi and blood.

Yet, he could only let out a sigh of utter futility. Beom Yeonhu’s body was even more twisted than when Dokyeom had last seen him.

How severely he must have been pushed; every tissue and qi-blood structure was utterly ravaged. It was astonishing that he was even able to sit there, wide-eyed.

Despite the probable agony, the anxiety, the torment, and the utter distrust he must have felt, Beom Yeonhu didn’t blame Dokyeom, not even in this moment.

Instead, it was his friend, Kim Seongyun, who crushed a beer can and tossed it into the trash, berating Dokyeom on Beom Yeonhu’s behalf.

Kim Seongyun was the scar-faced man from the first gate meeting where they’d become acquainted. As the one among their group who treated Beom Yeonhu most like a true friend, he had left a lasting impression.

“Hah, why are you pretending to care now? You, Hunter, who neglected him all this time, are no different from those bastards.”

“You sweet-talked him into coming with you, then tossed him aside as useless. Now, have you suddenly found some use for him? Why are you so cunning, huh?”

“Seongyun.”

“You shut your mouth. Did that person ever come to see you, even once, while you were in that state? And you, you pathetic fool, what makes you so happy to wag your tail while limping?”

“You kept trying to convince me, saying we should trust him one last time, that he was the last person you’d believe in. Is *this* what it led to? Am I the only one who sees how utterly messed up this situation is?”

The veins on the back of Beom Yeonhu’s hand, still in Dokyeom’s grasp, bulged sharply. The muscles in his clenched jaw tightened, and his eyes, sharp as blades, desperately tried to stop his friend.

‘Don’t say that, it’s not like that,’ his gaze pleaded. Yet, Kim Seongyun continued, pouring out his sorrowful, frustrated heart.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, for the tips of his ears were red, and his eyes drooped unattractively. Yet, his gaze remained fiercely sharp.

“While other guys are living high and mighty, why are you like this? You finally became a player after so much struggle, and just when I thought your luck would turn, your life just keeps getting twisted.”

“It’s infuriating how it’s always just you. When did I ever say I wanted to see you hit it big? I just wanted to see you live a normal life. But why is it so hard for only you? Why do you have to live like this, it’s so frustrating!”

Even those who constantly claimed to be good friends often harbored malicious intentions beneath the surface. But Kim Seongyun was so devoid of such feelings that he embraced Beom Yeonhu’s plight as his own, seething with anger.

Though he offered no grand encouragement, he was the one who stubbornly remained by Beom Yeonhu’s side when everyone else had left, supporting him. And now, he was revealing his burning frustration, lashing out.

This was likely the extent of the resentment he could express. “Hunter-nim, you shouldn’t have done this. Of all things, you handed Yeonhu your business card right in front of all those kids.”

“How could you do something like this? He’s already the daily gossip for those bastards he calls friends; what more could you possibly do to him?”

Suddenly, Dokyeom realized his buzzing phone had fallen silent. Kim Seongyun, pressing his eyelids as if drunk, mumbled something like babbling behind him.

Most of it was lamentation: ‘Don’t do that,’ ‘How could Hunter-nim do this,’ ‘How will we live now,’ and so on.

“Indeed. I’ve truly done something terrible,” Dokyeom opened his mouth, echoing the sentiment. Numerous words tumbled on his tongue, yet when he tried to speak, they wouldn’t come out.

Though it might sound like an excuse, he wanted to tell Beom Yeonhu this: that after this incident, there would be no more worries concerning Beom Yeonhu.

Whirr—

The disconnected phone began to vibrate loudly once more. However, unlike before, it felt as though the awaited call had finally arrived.

Dokyeom picked up the phone, which he’d kept face down, and checked the number. The familiar eleven digits brought to mind someone with an aloof demeanor, devoid of a smile.

Only after gazing at it for a long moment did Dokyeom’s lips curl into a smile. His gaze shifted from the numbers to Beom Yeonhu.

“So, from this moment on, I intend to set things right.”

The call he had patiently waited for, for nearly four hours, had finally arrived. From the outset, the only call Dokyeom had been waiting for was from one person.

The person best equipped to handle this situation. For instance, Taeseongyeon’s private direct line.

Dokyeom cut off the heavy vibration and, without hesitation, answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear. A languid breath heightened the tension.

“Yes, Mr. Taeseongyeon.”

Yet, only Dokyeom’s voice managed to transcend that tension.

****

“Dali, eat this bread with your hyung. Just watch him eat and wait for a little while, and Hyung will be back quickly with milk. You have to keep an eye on your hyung while he eats, okay?”

Peep—

Dali, her mouth full of cream bread, replied with a small chirp. Dokyeom wiped the cream from Dali’s mouth with a handkerchief, then pushed a pile of bread toward Beom Yeonhu.

It was the guild’s swimming pool, a place he frequented as if it were his own home. Outside the lounge, Agon was already in the pool, glaring intently, claiming to keep an eye on Beom Yeonhu.

Dali, meanwhile, had settled right by the door, taking big bites of bread while watching Beom Yeonhu.

“Dokyeom, I’ll go with you. It’s my business, and for you to….”

“Hyung, if any of this bread is left when I get back, I’ll really be angry. If there’s bread left, just know my handprint will be on your back. And you don’t need to come. Was it you who caused this mess, or was it me?”

Dokyeom hadn’t exchanged a single word with Beom Yeonhu during their entire journey to the guild. He didn’t press him on why he hadn’t called even once until now, nor did he scold him for allowing himself to get into such a state.

Of course, many words had climbed to his throat. Questions like: how long he intended to keep silent, whether he thought an powerless E-rank couldn’t solve the problem even if he spoke up, or if he believed this was Dokyeom’s intention.

Among them, what he most wanted to ask was—

‘Did you just endure this alone, keeping silent, because the manager was throwing his weight around, citing customs, and you thought an powerless E-rank couldn’t handle it? Did you believe that if you suffered in silence, it would make things easier for those around you?’

He wanted to ask why he had endured and held on like a pathetic dog. Of course, these were words he would likely never utter.

Dokyeom left Beom Yeonhu behind, exited the pool area, and headed for the elevator. He checked the sign for the top floor, 25, and pressed the call button.

Soon, the elevator, which had ascended from the first floor, stopped at the sixth floor.

[Sixth floor. Doors opening.]

As Dokyeom extended his foot, he was forced to halt his movement mid-stride. Inside the elevator, two familiar figures were already present.

It was Instructor Lee Sanghyeon, the instigator of this incident, and the gate manager who had exchanged sharp words with Dokyeom earlier that day.

Dokyeom casually slipped his hands into his coat pockets, stepped into the elevator, and took a stand. The doors closed silently.

In a silence as prickly as a bed of thorns, the elevator slowly ascended to their shared destination: the 25th floor.

It was just as the numbers on the display passed the ninth floor that someone’s voice resonated within the static-filled elevator. A scoff accompanied the words that pierced Dokyeom’s back.

“Mr. Han Dokyeom, you truly are something else. Who do you think will look favorably upon you for deliberately stirring up such trouble? Is this how you repay the consideration the guild has shown you, Mr. Han Dokyeom?”

Hunter Lee Sanghyeon said, his voice eerie, as if scolding a child. Yet, his tone was magnanimous, suitably stern as if reproaching a child.

“After all, that trivial article will be taken down within a day, so it’s truly regrettable to see you struggle so desperately. It would be problematic if you thought being summoned to the Representative’s office meant you’d done well.”

“Regardless, given my years of service here, do you truly believe the Representative would side with you, Mr. Han Dokyeom?”

Even during the Eulwangri Gate incident, Lee Sanghyeon had merely received a token disciplinary suspension, with no significant measures taken. Such leniency undoubtedly contributed to his inflated sense of arrogance.