The Pavard Connection
Tezman gazed at the sleeping Sua with open adoration before quietly slipping out of the bedroom. When he stepped into the study, Cact rose from the chair where he had been waiting.
Cact had sensed from the moment his master arrived at the estate that something was subtly twisting his mood. He had also anticipated that after putting Sua to bed, Tezman would come looking for him.
“Tezman, sir.”
Tezman spoke as he crossed to his desk.
“Those weren’t the eyes of a friend.”
The faint tremor in the other man’s gaze every time it landed on Sua. The way his eyes clung obsessively whenever they spoke. It had been obvious at once. Taein carried feelings for Sua. The reminder made Tezman’s brow furrow with irritation.
He supposed he should be grateful she had once dreamed of becoming a nun before she met him. If not, the mere thought of how many insects might have swarmed around her was enough to turn his stomach.
“Cact.”
At the low summons, Cact bowed his head respectfully.
“Yes, sir.”
“You said Park Taein was Sua’s friend.”
He had mentioned working as a police officer in Korea.
“Look into him. I want to know exactly how much of a nuisance he is.”
It didn’t matter who he was or where he lived. The Pavard family’s intelligence network moved faster than most national agencies. Their ancestors had laid the foundation centuries ago in Venice, building power and connections through moneylending. Every kind of information eventually flowed to the Pavards. During the Second World War they had even sold secrets to several governments. Of course the network had been limited to Italy, the rest of Europe, Hong Kong, and the United States, but Korea was hardly beyond their reach. If necessary, they could simply hack the National Police Agency and pull Taein’s records.
Yet there was no need for such effort. The city of Rome where Taein was currently staying already rested in the palm of Tezman’s hand.
“I will dispatch two capos at once.”
That made things simple. Cact continued in the same calm, professional tone.
“I will go myself. To Park Taein’s hotel.”
At that same moment, Taein had returned to his hotel room and was drinking beer without bothering to change his clothes. Several empty cans already lay crumpled on the table.
This was the first time he had ever tasted such utter helplessness. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even feel jealousy as he watched Tezman so naturally take Sua’s hand.
He had believed those feelings were long buried—left behind when Sua chose the path of a nun. But he had never truly let them go. The photograph of her tucked inside his wallet proved it every time he looked.
There was no way he could easily release someone he had carried alone in his heart for so many years. Instead he had comforted himself with the thought that no one else stood beside her, that he would be the one closest to her.
Yet everything had crumbled into nothing. The image of Tezman gently wrapping Sua in his arms and turning away kept resurfacing. So did the sight of Sua accepting those gestures as if they were the most natural thing in the world.
A harsh sigh tore from Taein’s throat.
If only he had confessed first. If only he—not that man—had been the one to pull her away from the convent. Endless longing and regret churned through his mind when—
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang. Taein rose with a frown at the unexpected sound and walked to the door. He peered through the peephole. A hotel employee stood outside holding a service cart.
“Who is it?”
When Taein asked in English, the man answered in English as well.
“Room service.”
“I didn’t order any room service.”
“It’s a courtesy the hotel extends to long-stay guests.”
Was a week considered long-stay? Taein opened the door with a puzzled expression.
“Wine, cheese, salami, and chocolate.”
“Ah… I see.”
The employee set the plate down on the table littered with crushed beer cans.
“Shall I clear the cans for you?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“If you’d like to drink the wine, I can open it for you.”
The employee lifted a bottle that looked brand new. Taein knew almost nothing about wine, so he simply nodded.
“Please.”
The man pulled the cork, set the bottle beside a glass, and began wheeling the cart away.
“Have a pleasant evening.”
“Thank you.”
Once the employee had gone and he was alone again, Taein stared at the wine and the plate of food.
“Are we supposed to share this?”
Drawn despite himself, he moved to the table, picked up the bottle, and poured the glass half full the way he had seen people do on television.
He had tried wine only two or three times before and had never cared for its bitter aftertaste. Expecting the same, he brought the glass to his lips—then blinked in surprise.
It wasn’t bitter at all. The gentle sweetness was actually pleasant. At this rate he could finish the whole bottle without trouble. He drained the glass in one swallow and refilled it.
Just as he was settling in to drink properly, something flashed across his mind.
Tezman. Tezman von Pavard.
“Pavard…?”
He shot up from his chair, yanked his laptop from his suitcase, and opened it. An uneasy instinct—the same sharp sense he felt when closing in on criminals—stood every hair on his body on end.
Pavard, Pavard. Muttering the name under his breath, Taein moved the mouse rapidly. He located a file buried behind layers of encryption and password protection. It was a classified dossier he had received during an overseas joint operation with the National Intelligence Service.
The file compiled information on drug syndicates, infamous mafia organizations, triads, and street gangs gathered through international cooperation.
He scrolled on pure instinct. His hand suddenly froze on the mouse.
ENTRY:PAVARD FAMILY
ORIGIN:Italy (Venice roots)
STATUS:Traditional mafia controlling Europe
A traditional mafia that holds Europe in its grasp. The boss is Michele von Pavard. On the surface, they have transformed into a prestigious family engaged in politics and charitable work, but in reality they are the godfather of the mafia. In the shadows they engage in arms trafficking and money laundering; in the open they vigorously expand businesses in politics, real estate, finance, and charitable work. They currently dominate European finance and are known to make active investments in China and the United States. They do not appear to engage in drug dealing.
Boss Michele’s two sons are expected to be the next successors. The known one is the first son, Mateo von Pavard. He handles all the management of the businesses operated by the Pavard family. The other one is still shrouded in mystery, but according to the Italian investigative agency, he is in charge of finance, real estate, and investments.
Taein felt as if his breath had been cut off. Disbelief rising, he slowly scrolled further. His expression hardened with every line.
It could have been a coincidence of surnames. But Tezman’s vague, evasive answer when asked about his business made the possibility feel far too convenient.
The man Sua had given her heart to was a mafia heir.
“S-Sua’s in danger.”
The moment he kicked his chair back to stand, a violent wave of dizziness slammed into him.
“Ugh…”
The room went black. Taein’s consciousness plunged into darkness. In the space of a heartbeat he collapsed to the floor.
Only minutes later the hotel door opened again. It was the same employee who had delivered the cart. He wheeled the large trolley inside and locked the door behind him.
At the same moment the white cloth covering the cart was yanked aside. Another man in hotel uniform and Cact emerged. All three wore black gloves. Cact’s calm gaze swept the room before settling on Taein’s unconscious form.
“Begin.”
At his quiet command the two men in staff uniforms moved efficiently. One connected Taein’s phone to a laptop he had brought. The lock posed no obstacle. Within seconds every piece of data—every message—was copied.
The second man began going through Taein’s wallet and belongings. He photographed the passport, identification, and anything significant, then returned each item to its exact original place.
Cact retrieved an identical bottle of wine from inside the cart. He gauged the remaining liquid by eye, pulled the cork, and drank straight from the bottle without touching his lips to the rim. After finishing, he set the new bottle down and swapped it for the original.
As he turned to leave, Taein’s open laptop caught his attention. One word stood out among the Korean text: Pavard Family. The English words were unmistakable.
Cact flicked his fingers toward the man who had just duplicated the phone.
“We’ll need that laptop as well. How many minutes?”
The man’s face flickered with alarm at the tight timeline.
“If it’s too difficult, just copy the currently open file as quickly as you can.”
The man glanced at the screen, nodded, and quickly connected his device. While he worked to transfer the data, Cact took out his own phone.
“It’s me, Tezman, sir.”
He had to report to his master. The matter had been handled with perfect cleanliness.