/Flashback/

His life was more intense than that of others.

To inherit Tarten, simply leading a comfortable life while occupying that position was out of the question. To reach that seat, he had endured efforts unimaginable even to those who envied him.

Aside from such bone-crushing endeavors, his life wasn’t all that different from others. Like everyone else, he laughed, chatted, got angry, grieved, suffered, and rejoiced.

Yet there was one emotion he had never experienced—a feeling he had never tasted before. It was the sense of ‘misery’. And perhaps, it was an emotion he would never have encountered in his lifetime. If not for Christoph.

In that nightmare called Frankfurt, and on his way back from there, Richard was the most miserable person in the world. Was there any vagrant on earth more wretched than he was? His outstretched hand, extended in a state akin to begging, was left empty—utterly void.

Every time he recalled the man who had stepped back, vowing never to return, his chest turned black with anguish. The more he tried to understand why, the more his mind grew tangled, leaving him with nothing but suffocating despair.

It felt as though he had been thrown into a hell far worse than any nightmare.

There was nothing.

Now, there was nothing left.

Not even something to hold onto.

He had told him to come. Going wasn’t the issue—he could go to the other side of the planet if needed, even a hundred, a thousand times. But if he went…… would the man reach out to him again?

‘——Absolutely not.’

Richard knew that something between him and he had irreparably closed.

He would never open his mouth to Richard again. Never again would he speak the words Richard longed to hear. Never again would he look at him, or lend an ear to his words. And Richard knew—it was he who had made it this way.

The man would never look back at him. Even if a day came when he might look at someone else.

Never. No longer. He was gone.

“……—.”

At some point, when he came back to his senses, Richard was drenched in cold sweat. His face had turned so pale that the flight attendant brought him medicine and a blanket, her eyes filled with concern. But no such gestures could ease the torment he felt.

And in that moment, Richard realized.

At this rate, he would die. He would not survive. If things continued as they were, with his mind screaming in agony, he would inevitably perish. Whether it be his spirit or his body.

‘——Stop it. That’s enough. Let go of the man who left, vowing never to return.’

The smoldering resentment buried deep within his heart suppressed all other emotions. The bitterness crept through him, seeping into every corner, consuming him entirely until it froze him in place.

‘Enough. That’s it. What did you want? Wasn’t it to leave him with an indelible disgrace? If so, you’ve already succeeded. That’s enough. Don’t think about it anymore.’

He screamed countless times. To avoid even the thought itself, he clung desperately to anything within reach. He clung to anything he could, so fiercely that his nails peeled away and blood streamed down, yet he felt no pain.

That moment may have been when Richard was most grateful for inheriting Tarten.

The empire under the name of Tarten brought down upon him an avalanche of responsibilities—so overwhelming it felt as though even decades of relentless effort wouldn’t suffice to complete it all. Even after discarding tasks that could momentarily wait, the workload seemed endless.

The sheer volume of demands, the urgent need to learn and master new skills—he had barely managed to halt the tide for a few precarious days nearly a year after inheriting Tarten. Until then, he hadn’t taken a single day to rest or sleep in peace, burying himself in work with a desperation that bordered on madness. Some even tried to stop him, deeply concerned for his sanity.

It was thanks to this relentless labor that he was able to smother the thoughts lodged deep in his mind. Immersed in work to the brink of death, his emotions dulled.

It seemed that in the face of practical death, even the mind had its limits.

As his thoughts cooled and settled, Richard found himself able to recall the man with an unexpected calmness. He could now reflect on their past with a degree of rationality and composure, even finding space to reason with himself.

‘There’s no reason to cling to him anymore. No, in fact, it’s better not to.’

‘Think about what you originally wanted, Richard. If your goal was to see him brought to his knees before you, his proud face tainted with disgrace and trembling with humiliation, then you’ve already achieved it. That should be enough. So now, erase him from your memory and focus on the road ahead. That’s what’s best for you.’

‘——Do you still want to hold onto him? Do you want to drag him back to your side?’

‘There’s no reason for that.’

Letting him walk his path quietly was not only an act of mercy for him but also a path to peace for Richard’s own heart.

Hundreds, thousands of times, day after day, he repeated the same questions and answers to himself, slowly bringing a calm clarity to his mind.

‘Yes, it’s enough now. My head must’ve been in a strange place for a while.’

Even thinking about Christoph now no longer unsettled him. He could recall the man like one might reflect on a scene from the past—detached and composed. He even found his own obsession with chasing after Christoph to be strange and absurd in hindsight.

And so, when an invitation arrived from Riyadh, Richard readily accepted it.

It would be a lie to say the name ‘Riyadh’ didn’t remind him of Christoph. But he felt confident he could face him without faltering.

‘Yes, this is a good opportunity.’

All he should do is confront the man who had abandoned Tarten, bury the lingering bitterness of the past, and forget him as if he had never existed in his life. From now on, he would simply continue living, shouldering the weighty glory of Tarten.

With a mind cooled by reason and a heart hardened by detachment, Richard thought arrogantly: ‘By erasing him from my memory, I’ll even grant him the mercy of oblivion.’

With that thought, he stepped foot in Riyadh.

Until then, he didn’t know.

He didn’t know that to truly move on, he should have never come to Riyadh. Not for the rest of his life.

The Al Faisal estate, unsurprisingly, was overflowing with people.

It was the first wedding to take place in the house of a man so powerful that even the birds in flight might pause in his presence. The scene resembled an exhibition of society’s most influential figures—a veritable showcase of power and fame.

Even the bride’s father, who received more congratulatory greetings than the bride and groom themselves, could spare only a few minutes to speak with Richard. Even then, the endless stream of guests constantly interrupted, so after exchanging a few pleasantries, Richard tactfully withdrew.

After all, he hadn’t come for idle chatter. He had made his appearance at the event, ensuring his face was recognized. That was enough. The rest of his time could be spent mingling with the other notable figures in this grand ‘exhibition’. Most of the other attendees had likely come with the same purpose.

“Quite the gathering of distinguished faces. Or perhaps it’d be more accurate to say finding a face that isn’t distinguished would be the real challenge.”

“Is that so? Surely, none are quite as elusive as the new head of Tarten—rumor has it securing an appointment with you even a month in advance is next to impossible.”

“Seems like the rumors are a bit exaggerated.” – Richard replied with a smile to the man standing before him. Engaging in this kind of hollow, surface-level conversation with this man would have been impossible outside a ceremonial event like this. Al Saud was hosting the guests alongside Prince Al Faisal – the bride’s father. He was someone Richard knew to be anything but a man who enjoyed humoring trivial talk. Yet, even someone like him seemed unable to escape the flood of guests and the endless torrent of congratulations in this setting.

Richard silently speculated, recalling the subtle political dynamics of the country that had reached his ears: ‘How much longer until this man, Al Faisal’s most trusted successor, ascends to reign over this land?’ Likely, not much time remained. He was a man who would stop at nothing to obtain what he desired, no matter the means or the duration.

Yes, just as he had done with the young man now weaving through the crowd to pick up a glass of water.

“I heard they’re twins, but they don’t look much alike.” 

Richard murmured as he glanced past Al Saud’s shoulder. He had heard countless stories about the young man but had never seen him in person until now. Jeong Jaeui. A genius blessed with an almost frightening amount of luck. Undoubtedly an enviable figure, yet Richard couldn’t help but question whether he was worth the immense time and effort Al Saud had invested to secure him. The opportunity cost seemed steep, perhaps even excessive, for someone who had taken so long to bring under his command.

Al Saud shifted his gaze away from Richard momentarily. He slowly turned, and found the young man’s exact location with precise ease, as if he had known all along where he was.

“They don’t look alike. Not at all.” 

The answer came back unusually crisp and straightforward. His tone was unusually sharp. Almost as if the comment had annoyed him. It reminded Richard of the fact that Al Saud had never been fond of the young man’s twin brother.

Suddenly, Richard’s thoughts wandered briefly to that twin brother—a figure he hadn’t thought of in a long time. There was no reason for that. A man entirely unrelated to him: Jeong Taeui. Yet, it occurred to him that Christoph – who had seemed to purge himself of all emotions – had once shown raw unguarded feelings toward that very man.

A bitter taste suddenly rose in Richard’s mouth.

He frowned. Then quickly banished the thoughts threatening to surface and instead refocused his attention on Jeong Jaeui.

“You went through great lengths to bring him under your wing. How is it turning out? Is he yielding results worthy of the effort you invested?”

Richard posed his question to Al Saud in a composed manner. However, based on the information that had reached Tarten, it was clear that Jeong Jaeui had not produced any noteworthy innovations since relocating to Riyadh. While he had stirred up considerable attention last summer with a minor paper published in an academic journal, written at the request of an acquaintance, which sparked heated debates within the academic community, he had personally distanced himself from the uproar. More importantly, there had been no tangible results that could provide Al Saud with material or political advantages. This had led to quiet murmurs in the industry. People speculated that even someone as astute as Al Saud might have made a rare mistake. Some even suggested that, once Jeong Jae’s current contract expired, Al Saud might unceremoniously discard him. Such rumors hinted at a potential misstep by the otherwise shrewd strategist.

“Well…… we’ll have to wait and see for a while longer.” 

Al Saud replied nonchalantly, even though he was fully aware of the rumors. Despite any potential embarrassment over a misstep in judgment, Al Saud was far too composed to reveal such vulnerabilities. Seeing his unperturbed expression, Richard simply nodded.

“Well, just having him under your banner carries significant value in itself—The three syllables of Jeong Jae-i carry weight all on their own.”

Richard concluded diplomatically. Conversations that leaned toward tales of failure, rather than success, were better left short.

At that moment, Al Saud suddenly fell silent. Following his gaze, Richard noticed a man stepping in close to Jeong Jae. It was the head of a major defense corporation, someone who was not as influential as Al Saud, but still equally desperate to bring the prodigy Jeong Jaeui under his wing. Even now, the man was fixated on Jeong Jaeui with a gaze full of longing, eagerly striking up conversation after conversation. Of course, it was futile for now. There was still plenty of time left on Jeong Jaeui’s contract with Al Saud, and until it expired, there was nothing the man could do but wait.

‘For Al Saud, dealing with someone like that must be laughably simple—just ignore him.’

Richard thought, barely interested, as he prepared to look away. But then.

“Excuse me for a moment. Thank you for coming such a long way. I hope you enjoy your time here.”

With no hesitation, Al Saud set down his glass and strode purposefully toward Jeong Jaeui. His farewell to Richard had been abrupt and even clumsy – combining an excuse and a goodbye into one – but he didn’t seem to notice as he left without so much as a glance back. Watching Al Saud’s retreating figure, Richard couldn’t help but let out a short amused snort, part incredulity, part disbelief.

“Honestly, he looks like a man rushing to meet a lover caught in an affair. No wonder those rumors are swirling.”

“Well, there’s also speculation that it’s more than just rumors. Though there isn’t any concrete evidence—yet.”

Hans, the one who had accompanied Richard as his aide and stood by his side, added in a near whisper: “But this isn’t the kind of thing to say out loud in the middle of Al Saud’s territory. You never know who might be listening.” His voice dropped to the faintest murmur, barely audible.

“That’s true. This isn’t the place to talk openly—not in a banquet hall where half the servers carrying trays are actually bodyguards with guns tucked away.”

“Exactly, so maybe tone it down a little more……” 

Hans muttered while frowning anxiously as he lowered his voice even further. But Richard only smiled at his cousin and aide, brushing it off:

“Relax, we’re not close enough for anyone to hear us anyway.”

The banquet hall was packed with high-profile guests, and to ensure no mishaps occurred, more than half of the servers weaving through the crowd were disguised bodyguards. It wasn’t unusual. Tarten often employed similar tactics during events with external invitees. The only difference now was the heightened security, resulting in an unusually large number of guards, enough to be noticeable.

Hans, scanning the banquet hall and its many servers, let out a small hum and mumbled almost to himself: “Hmm, Christoph must be among them too, huh?”

As soon as he said it, he seemed to regret bringing it up, his expression awkward as he glanced at Richard to gauge his reaction. But Richard merely raised an eyebrow and responded with a short, dismissive laugh.

“That guy? Playing the role of a server? I can imagine that..”

“……Yeah, true.” 

Hans nodded, apparently unable to imagine Christoph serving anyone either. At the same time, he felt a sense of relief seeing Richard so unfazed by the mention of Christoph’s name. Hans even let out a small reassured smile, as if to say: ‘I knew you’d be fine.’

However, Richard glanced at Hans with a slightly exasperated look, as though calling him foolish for even testing the waters. Then, as if deliberately avoiding dwelling on the name, Richard looked down at his watch.

“That’s enough for tonight. I’ve met everyone I needed to. I think it’s time to call it a night—I’d like to be back at the hotel by eleven.”

“Understood. I’ll have the car prepared.” 

Hans said, taking out his phone and beginning to head toward the edge of the banquet hall. Before he got far, Richard called him back.

“Ah, Hans. Change our return flight to the first flight tomorrow morning. I booked an evening flight just in case, but since everything has gone smoothly and there’s no further reason to stay, we’ll leave earlier.”

Hans froze mid-step, his expression briefly resembling that of someone about to cry. He stared at Richard, who raised an eyebrow in response.

“What’s the matter?” – Richard asked.

“……If we take the first flight, you’ll go straight to the office after landing, won’t you?”

“Naturally.”

“……I see. Understood.” 

Hans muttered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He had been hoping for at least half a day free from work, a rare chance to unwind, but now it seemed those hopes were dashed. Muttering complaints just loud enough to be heard: “Workaholic, time miser.” He resigned himself to his fate. With a long sigh, he turned and pulled out his phone. “Hello, Hannah? About the flight tomorrow……” – He said gloomily, his voice fading as he stepped out into the hall.

Richard turned his head. Though he had spent the evening deftly navigating and trading words among the crowd, he rarely felt the weight of social fatigue. Yet now, as he resolved to finally leave, he found himself longing for a brief respite. His eyes landed on a balcony stretching out toward the garden, mercifully spacious and nearly empty.

The balcony was large enough to accommodate 4 or 5 people, and was occupied only by a pair of guests. A man and a woman quietly engaged in conversation. Richard offered them a polite nod before leaning against the railing. With just a single step over the threshold, the noise and chaos of the banquet hall faded significantly.

Though this extravagant and ostentatious mansion was far removed from the desert, the warm humid night breeze carried the faint scent of sand. It mingled with the sounds of soft voices. The murmurs of people chatting in the shadowy garden below and others speaking in low tones along the string of terraces nearby.

‘Once I return to the hotel, I can review the various conversations from tonight, cross-check the information, and follow up with the necessary reports.’ – Richard thought, his mind automatically organizing the tasks ahead. I’ll get a few hours of sleep before heading to the airport. Back in the office, the first thing I need to do is……

As his mind instinctively sorted through the tasks ahead with mechanical precision. Suddenly, a voice broke through the stillness of the quiet night air, disrupting the calm that had settled in the silence.

“Why do you keep locking people up in places like this?”

The tone was sharp yet soft, carried over from the terrace next to his.

At a distance just shy of a touch, a man sat with his back partially turned toward Richard. The pale blonde of his platinum hair caught the light spilling out from the banquet hall, and below it, the curve of a porcelain-pale cheek and the sharp line of his nose were just visible.

Richard froze, as though struck by lightning.

Richard turned his gaze toward the source of the voice. His face was devoid of expression, his eyes unblinking.

“I heard you don’t like wandering around in servant uniforms.” – Said the man standing by the terrace door, stationed like a guard. Christoph, too, was dressed as a server and delivered his response without even glancing back at the other man.

“Why not just dress me in a suit and let me pretend to be a guest? It’s bad enough having to handle security without serving people on top of it.”

“If someone in a crowded place like this saw you dressed up in a suit, they’d flock to you like flies to a pitcher plant. And then, wouldn’t you just ruin everything on the spot?”

“As long as they don’t touch me, I wouldn’t.”

“Look at the density of people here before saying that. You want to cause chaos at the banquet?”

From the tone of their exchange, it was evident that the guard was both a colleague and subordinate of the seated man. The guard let out a scoff, as if the man’s complaints were utterly futile. The seated man’s expression darkened, clearly displeased by the dismissive response.

“Then why not just let me rest instead of locking me up in here?”

“If, by any chance, something serious happens where the security team is truly needed, the higher-ups think having you around is reassuring. What can we do? That’s their directive.”

The guard muttered under his breath: “If it were me, I’d be more worried about you shooting the guests in a situation like that.” It was clear that his role wasn’t so much about secretly protecting the guests as it was about keeping the man isolated from them. Despite his brazen and cheeky remarks, the guard couldn’t help but steal cautious glances at the seated man, wary of whether his infamous temper might flare and cost him his head at any moment.

“Shut up and bring me something to drink. I’m thirsty.”

“Hold on. Your shift ends in 10 minutes. Just wait.”

“Do I have to endure being thirsty, too? Get it now.” 

The seated man’s voice dropped slightly. Though still calm and cold, there was an unmistakable edge to it—a warning. A signal that he wouldn’t hesitate to lash out if pushed any further. The guard seemed to recognize it as well.

After a moment’s hesitation, the guard relented. “Fine. Stay here. Don’t move.” – He said, before walking away. Left alone, the seated man let out a short scoff but made no move to leave his spot. Instead, he tilted his head back, and gazed up at the night sky. Revealing more of his face in the dim light.

A faintly furrowed brow, a sharply defined jawline as if sculpted, and vivid blue eyes gleaming beneath blinking lids.

Richard’s gaze fixed on all of it. He was unable to tear himself away. He didn’t even notice that his own complexion had turned ghostly pale.

He knew this man.

Christoph.

Christoph Tarten.

As the name surfaced in his mind, Richard found himself muttering a curse under his breath, almost unconsciously…….Damn it.

The quiet expletive must have carried beyond the terrace. For the man that was gazing at the sky, he paused. And slowly, he lowered his head and turned to look in Richard’s direction.

Their eyes met across the terrace.

“……”

Christoph’s gaze was like that of someone seeing a ghost. He stared at Richard as though he were a phantom—an impossible sight, someone who shouldn’t exist in that space. His unblinking eyes bore into him, filled with disbelief. Then, as if slowly concluding that the figure before him was no mirage, Christoph tilted his head ever so slightly, his expression still tinged with confusion.

And.

In that moment, when he stood mere steps away from him, every thought wiped clean, every expression erased, leaving only Christoph imprinted on his vision. But then, slowly, Richard’s mind began to function again. And with it came a crushing wave of regret.

‘Damn it…….Damn it.’

He wanted to gouge out his eyes for looking at him, to crush his mind with a rock for recognizing him. If only he could turn back time to before he boarded the plane. He would never have come here.

He shouldn’t have come.

If he hadn’t come, if he hadn’t seen him, then time was just like fine sandpaper that might have gradually eroded the memory, wearing it down to the point where he could fool himself into believing it didn’t matter. Just as he had done mere seconds ago.

That man didn’t need to exist in his life. He could have been fine without him.

“……”

Christoph’s lips parted as if he were about to say something, only to close again. Even that faint movement, the barely perceptible shifting of his lips, burned itself into Richard’s vision with painful clarity.