Why Are You Coming Out of There?
A bright little chime rang.
"Chuyeon, honey—Mom and Dad are home. You in there?"
Mi Soryeong wrestled her shoes off with a bit of a struggle and stepped inside. Dan Miryu followed, a market bag gathered carefully in both arms, easing himself through the narrow gap of the door.
"You're home early today."
Dan Chuyeon came thundering over like a dog that had been waiting on its master and took the bag. The solid weight of it made him peer inside.
"Why'd you buy so much? Are we throwing a party?"
"Not a party. We've got a guest."
"A guest?"
Mi Soryeong laughed, awkward, and glanced back. Alexei stood in the entryway, closing the door behind him. Chuyeon's eyes went round.
"Oh—Mister? You're the guest?"
"Got a problem with that?"
"N-no, it's not that..."
Dan Miryu offered a bitter little smile and ruffled his son's hair.
"We'll talk inside. Miryong's home all right, isn't he?"
"Y-yes. He's in the living room, watching TV."
Dan Miryu strode into the living room.
Dan Miryong lay tipped back in his wheelchair, eyes nailed to the screen. A variety show was on—Don't Run, Fly: Flying Man—and Korea's famously timid national MC was skydiving in faithful service to the title. A face crushed and warped by the wind filled the picture.
"Enjoying yourself...? I like this show too."
Dan Miryu sat on the sofa, watching the other man's face.
"How have you been getting on? I'm sorry I haven't looked after you more. Things kept me outside..."
"What things."
A dry mouth opened. The voice, with no clear hope of living left in it, jabbed at Dan Miryu's heart.
"There were a few things I needed to look into."
"About me?"
"......"
"Thought so."
Dan Miryong let out a short, scoffing laugh.
"I can guess well enough. You've got me in hand, so of course you wanted to know where I came from. That's why you didn't so much as show your face for days."
"That's right."
Dan Miryu answered evenly.
"Did you find anything?"
"I did."
What little sense Dan Miryong still had caught a chill. Cold anger pressed, again and again, into the skin that was still alive.
"Unexpected. I thought it would be a meaningless waste of effort."
"You already knew?"
Dan Miryu touched the bag beside him. Beneath the zipper, an old diary lay sleeping.
"I don't know. I was too young back then."
Dan Miryu didn't believe him. He didn't press any further, either. To ask the man himself would have been too cruel.
"Honey, don't just sit over there—bring Miryong. It's time to eat!"
Mi Soryeong shattered the awkward air between them.
"Shall we go eat?"
"...Just drag me."
A sharp tang of beef and soy sauce hung in the air. Tonight's dinner, it seemed, would be jangjorim—soy-braised beef.
"Wait—Mister's going to be living here for a while?"
"Yeah. Mom and Dad are going to be out a long time for work. We didn't think we could stay home, so we asked him. Look after Chuyeon for us."
Even with the talk turning to him, Alexei paid it no mind at all and quietly picked through the jangjorim. A mound of beef piled up on his spoon. Chuyeon's spine prickled at the sight of those thick fingers crushing the slender chopsticks.
"...Is this really all right?"
An assassin who had once come hunting the Stone of Resurrection, and now a companion keeping an uneasy alliance alive. Chuyeon knew Alexei only in outline. He also knew the man's relationship with his parents was hardly a warm one.
"Of course it is."
Dan Miryu reassured his son with a father's solid smile.
"Your dad already settled everything. He'll be a sturdy guardian for you."
"If anything happens, just call Mom or Dad. There's nothing at all to worry about. You rest at home. Someone's coming tomorrow to look after Miryong, too."
"...All right."
Chuyeon swallowed a bitter complaint and nodded. His parents sent him apologetic looks.
The meal wound down. While Mi Soryeong packed side dishes away in the fridge and Dan Miryu showed Alexei to the room where he would stay, Chuyeon wheeled Dan Miryong back in front of the television.
"...Haa."
Chuyeon dragged a hand down his face. Dan Miryong sneered.
"Anyone looking would think you'd already lived out a whole life."
A prickle. A keen gaze pressed into his cheek.
"Your parents being gone a few days bothers you that much? From where I sit, the freedom looks pretty good."
"Are you making fun of me?"
"I'm only stating a fact."
Chuyeon stuck his lip out.
"It's not that I'm upset. I'm uneasy. Mom and Dad are out there working themselves to death, and I'm loafing around the house wondering if I'm even doing any of this right. If I at least went to school I'd feel better, but it's all remote, so it doesn't even feel like I'm doing anything."
"What a luxurious worry."
Dan Miryong found the brat who had lived a life nothing like his own thoroughly loathsome.
"At your age, I was worrying about how to kill people. You're worrying about whether or not to slack off."
"Is that something to brag about?"
"It means your head is rotten clean through."
"Rotten or not, it's a worry worth having."
A sigh escaped Dan Miryong. In a fight the boy put out a brutal, refined presence, and at home he was a hapless fool—exactly like his father. The only difference was that the father's body was covered in scars, and this one barely had any.
"If you hate feeling uneasy that much, go study. You're going to be the next head of the Dan clan. Three languages ought to be the bare minimum, no?"
"...What the hell are you talking about. How is a Korean high schooler supposed to speak three languages?"
"Did Dan Miryu just turn his kid loose into the wild?"
A proper heir of the Dan clan ought to come in with five foreign languages already under his belt.
"And you can?"
"To a point."
"Which ones?"
"Japanese and Chinese I finished at five. Russian, English, and French, I can get by living there. I was studying Arabic."
"Don't bullshit me. Mastering Japanese and Chinese at five? That doesn't even make sense."
"Why wouldn't it?"
Dan Miryong's voice went chilling.
"If I hadn't, my mother would have killed me."
"......"
In the hatred and the affection held in Dan Miryong's eyes, Chuyeon realized he had touched a reverse scale.
"Lucky bastard."
He had said something useless. Dan Miryong muttered it inwardly and clicked his tongue.
"Fighting?"
"...Ah—Mister?! Since when?"
Chuyeon jumped at the presence that had appeared out of nowhere. Alexei was sitting on the sofa like a ghost.
"Just now."
"Just now?"
"Yeah."
Alexei looked at Chuyeon and Dan Miryong.
Dan Miryong's dragon-sense recognized a single sword. A blade absurdly vast, dark as the deep sea, cold as a midwinter field. And yet the sense said this: beneath the sword that looked so cold, a flame slept that could boil even the ocean away. At the appearance of the genuine article—not some half-formed boy like Chuyeon—Dan Miryong swallowed.
"Uh... Mister, I'll be in your care. I'm Dan Chuyeon."
Chuyeon stammered through the greeting. Alexei answered by holding out a slip of paper.
"If something happens, call this number."
"Yes, sir..."
Alexei turned and left without another word.
"...Why did he even come?"
He had shown up with such presence, and then he was gone.
This is suffocating. Can I really get through the days without Mom and Dad in one piece?
On one side, a fully paralyzed man with revenge in him. On the other, a terrifying Russian swordsman. Three men under a single roof—would there ever be a peaceful day? Chuyeon felt the road ahead go pitch-black.
The next day, Dan Miryu and Mi Soryeong left early, just as planned.
After seeing his parents off, Chuyeon waited for the person who was supposed to look after Dan Miryong.
"Dad said he called someone trustworthy..."
Remembering the peculiar little smile his father had worn on the way out, Chuyeon fidgeted from foot to foot in front of the entryway.
Then the doorbell rang. Ding-dong. Chuyeon checked the intercom.
"......???"
A woman—no, a man—had shoved his face into the intercom. Na Wangrang bounced in place, wild hair flying like a rake.
"Why are you coming out of there?"
"What guy?"
"You?"
"Get lost. This isn't a job for a pipsqueak."
"Just two high schoolers looking after a fully paralyzed patient?"
"...Uh."
His mind went blank. Was this even right? He couldn't begin to read his father's thinking. Shouldn't Dan Miryong's existence have been kept hidden in the first place?
"Just come in."
Chuyeon scratched his head, unable to make sense of any of it.
"Something's off. Something's really off."
Nature's senses whispered to him. Someone was orchestrating this.
By any common sense, putting Na Wangrang face to face with Dan Miryong was absurd. Of course it was—Wangrang had seen Miryong! It wouldn't even have been strange if his friend freaked out and called the police on the spot. And they had called that same friend in as a volunteer? It didn't add up.
A knock.
"Hold on!"
Chuyeon decided the fallout could wait. It would work out somehow!
Wolf and nature. Dragon and sword.
By the rights of fate, the four of them should never have belonged together. Their life under one roof began all the same.
Somewhere, the Phantom Thief swept a thumb beneath his nose.