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Jang Han-seo shivered as he put down his phone. Without wasting a minute, he ordered everyone out. He needed the villa clear, and he needed it now.
Hurriedly, he changed into a more casual attire—a sports shirt and slacks—before checking the building to make sure that no one was left.
He was just about to exit himself when a strong pair of hands dragged him back inside, letting the door slam shut behind them. His struggle was futile, as the other man's strength and skills were way beyond Han-seo's.
Before long, Han-seo was exhausted and cowering on the couch, staring fearfully at the intruder who calmly made himself a cup of coffee.
It was an older man, probably around his mid-thirties. The way he was dressed—three-piece suit, necktie, and polished shoes—suggested that he was of a high standing and of particular importance, whether it be political or monetary.
The man honestly reminded him of Han-seok-hyung-nim. They were both handsome, charming men from rich families and backgrounds with an aura more menacing than an army. Elegance lined their every movement.
Done with his coffee, the intruder sat himself down opposite Han-seo, crossing his legs gracefully. “I came to speak to your brother.”
He gulped. No one was supposed to know that he had a brother. Han-seok-hyung-nim was going to kill him. “How do you know that?”
The man tilted his head, precariously balancing the porcelain cup on his knee. “Know what?”
“That I have a brother.”
The man blinked, long and slow. “He told me.”
Confusion chased away his fear for a moment, and he frowned, leaning forward subconsciously. “You know my brother?”
He smiled, just a tiny curve of his lips. “We're friends.”
Han-seo swallowed, the motion harsh in his dry throat. “Is that so?” he said, sinking into himself.
Just then, as if the universe had a bone to pick with him, Han-seok-hyung-nim's car pulled into the driveway, loud and unmistakable.
Against his fear, he didn't dare run away. He was scared of his brother, but at the moment, this intruder was unknown and, therefore, terrifying. He could deal with what he knew. He couldn't prepare himself for the unknown.
Han-seok-hyung-nim paused in the doorway as he registered the odd pair sitting in his living room, his expression unreadable. “Vincenzo,” his brother greeted.
Only then did Han-seo learn the name of his captor. If he was right, it was an Italian name similar to Vincent. He wondered whether this was someone Han-seok-hyung-nim had met abroad.
Vincenzo smiled, wider this time, and yet, no less beautiful. “Joon-woo-yah.”
What?
“Why are you still here, Han-seo?”
Seized by terror, he was unable to reply.
Vincenzo came to his rescue unexpectedly. “I made him wait.”
Han-seok-hyung-nim narrowed his eyes, taking a few steps forward as if he were unsure inside his own home. “For what?”
“To talk about him to you.”
He scowled, rooted in place again. “What's there to talk about?”
The older man smirked, taking a slow sip of his coffee before answering. “High collars, heavy makeup, excessive politeness, easy terror, physical reactions—the list goes on, Jang Han-seok. The signs are there if you know where to look.”
Pressing his lips together, Han-seok-hyung-nim crossed his arms, adopting a defensive posture. “It's my business.”
“It's mine, too.”
“No.”
“Really?” A maddening eyebrow raise. “What's that under your shirt?”
His brother flushed, one hand reaching up to brush against what seemed to be a necklace. “It's yours.”
Another eyebrow joined the first.
Han-seok-hyung-nim swallowed and took the last few steps to collapse onto the couch beside Han-seo. “Point taken, Vincenzo.”
He not-so-subtly attempted to scoot over so that he wouldn't have to touch his brother.
Vincenzo's eyes were so very cold. “I took you in for a reason, Joon-woo. I taught you my family's business. I taught you our values. You don't get to spit in our faces just because you're back home. This is my home, too, Joon-woo. I was always going to know.”
Han-seok-hyung-nim hung his head and shook it wearily. “Habits are hard to break, hyung.”
He nodded in acknowledgement. “Now, I am asking you to break it.”
The true owner of Babel closed his eyes, one hand reaching out to clasp Han-seo's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Han-seo-ah. I shouldn't have treated you like I have been. It was wrong of me.”
Stuttering, he said, “Y-Yes, hyung-nim.” He did not believe this one bit.
Sure enough, the hand tightened to the point of pain, and he had to clamp down his jaw not to make a noise.
Abruptly, it was gone, and Han-seok-hyung-nim was back to smiling. “Can he go now?”
Vincenzo nodded slowly, his sharp eyes taking in everything. “For now.”
As soon as he got permission, Han-seo bolted without looking back, eager to be rid of those dangerous people. They were mad, and he wanted nothing to do with mad. If he lingered, he just might end up dead.
-
Early next morning, he was called back to the villa, with clear instructions to remove the security and staff for the day.
Han-seo gave everyone a day off and drove back home, as hunger ached in his gut and anxiety spiked in his chest. He didn't dare eat anything, for fear of throwing it back up.
He couldn't imagine what was waiting for him at the villa. With the staff dismissed, there would be no witnesses, and Han-seok-hyung-nim would be able to do anything he wanted.
Even while knowing all that, he didn't dare run away. He couldn't risk disobeying. Surely then his punishment would be worse.
If he were to be killed this sunny morning, so be it.
It was with these morbid thoughts that he pulled into the villa, fearful like a young rabbit.
There were two pairs of shoes at the entrance, one polished and formal, one dirty and casual. They were striking in their contrast.
“I'm here, hyung-nim!” he called out, toeing off his own shoes. It was weird being only in socks when they'd been wearing shoes inside for years, but there was a precedent set, and damn him, but he would follow it.
His brother appeared in the hall a brief moment later, smiling unnaturally. “Come in, dongsaeng. You haven't eaten yet, right?”
He shook his head, “I haven't, hyung-nim.” Tentatively, he approached the older man, flinching when an arm was thrown over his shoulder without warning.
Han-seok-hyung-nim leaned in to whisper into his ear, “Vincenzo insists on me not hurting you. We'll play along for now. Got it?”
He nodded without a word, knowing that his brother would kill him if he risked Vincenzo overhearing.
Suddenly, Han-seok-hyung-nim was all bright again. “Come on. Vincenzo's making breakfast. This'll be your first time eating Italian food cooked by an Italian. It'll be great! Hyung's a good cook.”
He glanced at his brother with uncertainty but decided to go ahead and ask. It sounded like this Vincenzo person was going to be staying for a while. He needed to know certain things. “Who is he, hyung?”
The man smiled. “My lover.”