What Kang Tae-jin wanted was as plain as day. The only reason he’d taken Da Haram and gone into hiding was to drive Tae-yi into a corner—to push him past the brink of reason. But knowing Kang Tae-jin’s patience, this little game wouldn’t last long.
Ideally, Tae-yi would find Haram first. But even if he didn’t, all he had to do was wait for Kang Tae-jin to initiate the negotiation. The problem was that his own patience was just as short as Tae-jin’s.
Letting out a long sigh, Tae-yi snatched the cigarette pack from Yoon Ji-seok’s hand and stuck one between his lips. But the urge to light it wasn’t there. Ever since meeting Haram, whose sense of smell was hypersensitive, he’d almost completely quit smoking—without even realizing it had become a habit. Still holding the unlit cigarette in his mouth, he abruptly tossed it to the floor and stood.
“I’ll drive you.”
Yoon Min-ho rose as well, reaching for the car keys.
“Don’t bother. Just focus on looking after Professor Yoon.”
Thud.
The sound of the door closing left the room silent, now occupied by only the two brothers.
“So Kang Tae-yi really is in love, huh.”
He’d seemed practically catatonic, like he was cooling his head. But then he suddenly snatched his cigarette, didn’t even smoke it, tossed it away, and stormed out.
He looked like a dog who’d lost its master and didn’t know what to do with himself.
Ji-seok chuckled under his breath at the thought, but then felt a pair of eyes on him from across the room and lifted his head.
“Don’t cause trouble. Just lie low until you go back.”
Fiddling with his phone, Yoon Min-ho spoke curtly as he stood. His older brother, always flippant, had never once shown a shred of seriousness. Maybe that’s why he’d come to respect someone like Tae-yi, whose every action carried weight. He certainly hadn’t expected to end up serving as his chief aide—but here they were. Regardless, he didn’t expect help from Ji-seok. All he hoped was that he’d keep quiet and go home.
Ji-seok, used to being scolded by his two-years-younger brother, gave a nod and smiled faintly as he followed him out.
***
There were no windows, so Haram couldn’t tell whether it was day or night, but his body clock and the timing of the Sky Squirrel Beastfolk’s visits gave him a rough idea.
Twice a day, a man came to give him food and water—and it was only during those visits that he was allowed to use the bathroom. Of course, even then, he had to be escorted by guards while still in the cage. But it was the only time he could see anything beyond the warehouse. The hallways and bathroom had no windows either, but he could piece together a sense of the layout.
The man who took him from the warehouse to the bathroom always wore the same blank expression and never responded no matter what Haram said. He seemed completely emotionally dried out. Then again, a person like that working under someone as despicable as Kang Tae-jin made perfect sense.
That morning, Haram had been given a single walnut piece and two almonds for breakfast. As soon as he finished eating, the man hoisted the cage and began walking toward the bathroom. Looking up at him, Haram spoke.
“Chae, chaaek.”
It’s gonna take a while.
Just in case the man didn’t believe him, Haram clutched at his belly with his forepaw for good measure. The man glanced down briefly, then carried the cage into the bathroom, set it on the sink, and unlocked the padlock on the door.
“Once you’re done, get back inside.”
With a flick of his chin, he gestured to two large men standing guard at the door, silently warning him not to try anything stupid.
“Cheek…”
Haram replied weakly. The man shot him a lingering glare, then stepped outside.
Haram stared at the tightly shut bathroom door, then at the half-open cage, and cautiously slipped out.
Screeeak—
He stretched wide, savoring the sensation of being released, and in an instant, transformed into his human form.
“Haa…”
The bathroom had only a showerhead, a toilet, and a sink—no windows, no mirrors. But in the corner of the wall, near the shower, there was a ventilation fan humming, filling the cramped space with ambient noise.
He turned on the shower and stood under the hot water, eyes fixed on the vent. The one in the warehouse looked old—he could probably tear it off with enough effort. But this one was nearly new, whirring steadily.
Even if he could escape the cage easily, slipping past the guards and getting out safely was another matter. When he’d first slipped through the bars, it had felt like anything was possible. But the more time passed, the more fear set in.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d woken up in this place, but considering he’d eaten breakfast twice since, it had to be at least two days.
He stood motionless beneath the hot water until loud banging on the bathroom door startled him into rinsing off quickly.
Transforming again, Haram crawled back into the cage and settled into a corner. His tail was still damp and poorly wrapped—it clung to his skin uncomfortably, leaving him feeling sticky despite the shower.
The man entered, locked the cage with a loud click, and carried it back out of the bathroom.
Back in the musty warehouse, Haram sat in silence, staring at the nuts that were dropped into the cage. He looked up at the man and asked,
“Chik, cheeek?”
Where’s your hometown?
He didn’t expect an answer, but he wanted to start a conversation. If he could build any kind of rapport, maybe the man would eventually take pity on him and help.
“Chik, chik?”
What day is it?
Is this dinner? Are you giving it to me early? What kind of warehouse is this? Where even are we?
Despite his barrage of questions, the man said nothing—just left the water and turned away. Haram stared at the sealed door through the bars and clamped his mouth shut to keep himself from crying.
If he started crying now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He’d end up lamenting the entire situation—and that wouldn’t help.
“Chii, chiik…”
Hugging his damp, silvery-gray tail to his chest, Haram thought of Tae-yi’s hands, always carefully drying his tail after they bathed—even when he was busy. The scattered nuts on the floor reminded him of Tae-yi. Even the silence in the warehouse felt like those early morning hours just before they drifted off together.
His large eyes welled up with tears. Burying his face in his wet tail, Haram began to cry silently, shoulders shaking.
Grief hit like a crashing wave. The cage floor had never felt so cold. The chill seemed to seep up from below, wrapping around him.
Sniffling, Haram wiped his eyes with a paw and looked up at the old ventilation fan attached to the wall. He’d imagined it hundreds of times—breaking through it and flying out to freedom. But he didn’t want to just imagine anymore. He didn’t want to sit here, waiting for the perfect moment.
He could feel it—he was reaching his mental limit. And really, how much worse could it get if he got caught again? He was already locked in a cage.
“Che, chiiik.”
Let’s do it.
Clenching his tiny fist, Haram stared at the fan. The time had come—he’d fly.
***
“Vice Chairman.”
Secretary Kim gently set the wine Kang Tae-jin had requested onto the table, stealing a quick glance at the man sitting in the chair, gazing out the window.
The place Kang Tae-jin had chosen to hide was a villa left behind by his late mother. Before Tae-yi was born, he and his mother would come here alone for vacations. He’d never imagined it would become his hideout one day.
Still, this was a location Tae-yi didn’t know. The property wasn’t even under Kang Tae-jin’s name—it had been transferred to his maternal aunt, making it impossible for Tae-yi to trace. Kang Tae-jin took another swig of whiskey, the bottle already half empty, and basked in the stillness, which had grown so quiet it was nearly menacing.
Watching him from the side, Secretary Kim finally spoke.
“Wouldn’t it be safer to leave the country?”
“I said no. What’s the situation on Tae-yi’s end?”
“He’s still moving, but so far they haven’t found anything.”
But no one knew how long this calm would last. Word was that Kang Tae-yi was tearing through the country like a man possessed—searching for his family’s whereabouts and tracking every property Kang Tae-jin owned like a rat hunt. It was only a matter of time before he showed up. Hiding wouldn’t be enough—not within Korea. That’s why Secretary Kim had already sent his own family overseas.
“Don’t let anyone near the rodent.”
Secretary Kim nodded at the order.
“Yes, aside from meal and bathroom times, no one is allowed to approach. I’ll check in on him again tomorrow morning.”
The restriction wasn’t just about keeping Kang Tae-yi away. Kang Tae-jin didn’t trust anyone. Many business leaders had trust issues, but his were extreme.
Even though he’d locked Da Haram away, he didn’t trust the people guarding him. He suspected that if more than one person was nearby, they might conspire, and so he’d ordered that no one approach.
This wasn’t new. Kang Tae-jin always feared things that hadn’t happened—like a man plagued by paranoid delusions. He couldn’t trust others, often to the point of contempt. A man like that could never win the trust of a company. It was no surprise that so many executives had sided with Kang Tae-yi instead.
