As he stared blankly out the window, he felt a weight settle on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw a crown of black hair first. The hair, thick without a single sparse spot, a sign of youth, drew his gaze. His eyes then traveled down the strands, which looked soft even at a glance, to the bridge of a nose. It was the kind of profile that sparked an impulse to trace its line with a finger.

Sa-yoon shifted his angle slightly, taking in the gently closed eyelids. The long lashes were like a curtain. When they lifted, the performance began; when they fell, he wore this innocent face. He was a strange type of person.

“He looks like a cunning fox when his eyes are open.”

He should just pick a side. One moment he was like a child, the next he was affable. It was impossible to keep up. He’s probably the world champion of doing whatever the hell he wants, Sa-yoon sneered to himself and reached out a hand out of pure spite.

Or rather, he tried to.

If only the hand he was about to raise hadn’t been caught by someone.

He was still holding it.

He hadn’t even realized it, but another’s hand was resting on his own, which hung at his side. Their fingers were faintly intertwined, having found the spaces between each other. Sa-yoon’s fingertips twitched, but he relaxed his body again, worried he might wake Han Geon-joo. Instead, he used his free hand to gently push at Geon-joo’s forehead.

“You’re sleeping? Really?”

Just a moment ago, he had been looking out at the scenery beyond the plane with considerable wonder, but now he was fast asleep. He must have been terribly sleep-deprived inside the gate. Then again, he had said he couldn’t even eat.

After pushing him two or three more times and watching Han Geon-joo grumble in his sleep, his brow furrowing, Sa-yoon lowered his hand. The inside of the plane, heading toward a place that would soon become a scene of utter chaos, was ironically peaceful.

And so, he was given time to think.

Whether it was Yen, Gyeongjin, or Jaehee, everyone seemed to be asleep. In the quiet of the plane, only Sa-yoon blinked his eyes open. He replayed his conversation with Geon-joo and remembered the feeling he’d had when Geon-joo had slipped away into the gate with just Lee Jaehee. The cage, crafted from the anxiety and vengeance he had felt then, was still in his inventory, but looking at Han Geon-joo now, he couldn’t bring himself to take it out.

He didn’t know when he should take it out, or how he should even use it.

He had spent millions on it, but it seemed he would never get to use it.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t take it out because Geon-joo would be horrified. As if he hadn’t anticipated that when he had it made. In fact, he had wanted him to turn pale with fright,¹ even considering lining the floor with leeches. So, the simple reason that ‘Han Geon-joo would hate it’ was not why Sa-yoon couldn’t use the cage.

The reason Sa-yoon couldn’t even try was because he was afraid of what would happen if even the cage failed to keep Han Geon-joo by his side.

The specially made cage was, in its own way, Sa-yoon’s last resort.

If Han Geon-joo managed to escape even that and run away from him, would he be able to catch him again?

Could he keep him by his side again?

Every time he thought about taking out the cage, that anxiety surged within him. He would act nonchalant, pretending the situation just wasn’t right, and brush it off. But Sa-yoon knew the truth deep down.

That was why he couldn’t take it out.

No, why he didn’t.

Because as long as he didn’t take out the cage, he could find solace in the thought that their relationship hadn’t deteriorated to such a precarious and hostile point.

“I’ve become a total coward.”²

His gaze drifted, wondering when he had become such a pathetic excuse-maker. Though he was on a plane, his vision seemed to sway as if on a boat, and his eyes landed on the man who was the cause of all his turmoil.

He remembered what he always said.

Did he say that Sa-yoon pissed him off?

Han Geon-joo always made him pathetic.

So pathetic that if others saw him, they would whisper, asking if that was really Kwon Sa-yoon. No, they were already whispering.

The rumors about Han Geon-joo would have already spread far and wide. The next time he took him to a festival, he would surely draw the attention of the entire crowd and face threats from many. Imagining this future, Sa-yoon squeezed Geon-joo’s hand tighter.

Because despite all the worries, the satisfaction was greater.

Taking Han Geon-joo to the festival of harmony, a place he had been secretly bitter about not being able to attend with him before, would be more satisfying than he could imagine. He would take this man, who hadn’t often traveled abroad, to places ordinary university students couldn’t even dream of. He would introduce him to famous Hunters and help him build connections.

If he paved the way for his success like that and placed trustworthy people by his side…

Sa-yoon imagined Han Geon-joo surrounded by people, laughing, and scowled. Honestly, he didn’t like it. He didn’t really want to do that for him. He wanted to be the only one by his side, or at most, the members of the Night Rats Guild.

“But I can’t do that.”

…If you pick something up, you have to take responsibility for it, don’t you?

So, even though he didn’t want to, Sa-yoon was planning to give him everything. He planned to show him and give him all the privileges he would never have enjoyed if he had simply been a university student, an ordinary Hunter, or a Hunter who had grown to S-rank on his own.

After doing so, even if his heart felt heavy while doing it, he would feel at peace once it was done.

Because Han Geon-joo would remember him as the person who gave him all of that.

He didn’t even hope to be remembered as the best. As long as it wasn’t the worst. So, after making him feel a certain degree of indebtedness, he would execute his plan.

His plan to die by his hands.

His fingertips tingled. A lump formed in his throat, and a heavy weight settled near his heart. A thrill of ecstasy, so powerful it was hard to suppress, washed over him. And this was just from imagining it.

In the past, Sa-yoon had often envisioned his own death.

He had pictured his final moments many, many times. There was an end where he was trampled to death by people, a death where he was imprisoned by those who held a grudge against him and burned to death in a building, an assassination, a drowning. He had imagined so many deaths, and not one of them was an ending he disliked. After imagining them to his heart’s content, a profound emptiness, as if he were left alone in a vast room, would strike him.

Because he knew it was a wish that would never come true.

After doing that a few times, Sa-yoon had stopped the foolish act of imagining his death.

But after meeting Han Geon-joo, he began to have such moments every day.

Thanks to him, he pictured his future death. In his past imaginings, the future Sa-yoon was always a pitiful sight, but when Han Geon-joo was involved, he died in a rather fine state. In his imagination, he was always smiling.

It was the happiest expression Sa-yoon had ever seen on his own face in his entire life.

Seeing that every day, how many people could possibly give it up?

Let’s admit it. What Sa-yoon had gained when he found him again was not just the fun of living, but a hope for the end. That was why when Han Geon-joo said he wanted to save him, he felt like he was falling into a bottomless abyss.³ He had been lost, not knowing what to do, but now Sa-yoon knew the way.

Everything he possessed.

He would promise him all of it, and then ask him to kill him.

People are easily swayed by material things, and also easily swayed by people who harbor sad emotions. If he promised Han Geon-joo wealth and fame and begged him, close to pleading, to kill him, the man, who was surprisingly soft-hearted and affectionate, might just kill him. He had already prepared plenty of ways for him to lessen his guilt.

First, he himself had begged to be killed. Second, his life had been a tragedy. And third, it was too much money to refuse.

Han Geon-joo could kill him and live on with those three excuses, easing his guilt.

Of course, it would be hard at first, but Sa-yoon planned to leave Jongsik by his side. The loyal Jongsik was dependable. He would be able to support a crumbling Han Geon-joo time and time again.

Just as he had done for me.

I should leave Gyeongjin too.

Chanhee is a diligent kid, so he’s great. He’ll work well if I leave him.

Yen is… a madman, but you need one lunatic like him in a guild so you don’t lose in a battle of wills. Let’s leave Yen too.

He felt that after handing over all his precious people to the one who was most precious, his already ecstatic heart would feel even more at peace. Sa-yoon raised the corners of his lips and pictured that future. His breathing grew calm. The future was so sweet that sometimes, he was struck with anxiety.

What if none of it came true?

In reality, it was a future with a low probability.

Sa-yoon knew he probably wouldn’t be able to kill him, but he wanted to overturn that outcome.

Opening his eyes, Sa-yoon looked at Geon-joo. His soft, rhythmic breathing reminded him of a year ago. Sa-yoon remembered himself entering his room a year ago. The scene from back then overlapped with the present. The only difference was that now, Han Geon-joo was leaning on him to sleep.

Right. It was a long way around, but we’ve grown quite close. The chances of his plan failing were still high, but the probability of success had increased compared to the past.

Sa-yoon squeezed their joined hands once more and, without realizing it, opened his mouth.

“We’ll have to see who wins, but…”

His knuckles brushed against the part where his pair ring⁴ was. Sa-yoon closed his eyes, savoring the sharp sensation, then took a breath.

“I don’t fight losing battles, pretty boy.”

If he was planning to save him, then conversely, he just had to provide him with enough reasons to kill him.

His time of wandering without a rudder was brief. The time when he consulted Lee Jaehee, not knowing what to do, was in the past. Having decided on his path, Sa-yoon fell asleep, still holding Han Geon-joo’s hand.

A familiar scent mixed with his inhaled breath.

And so, while everyone slept, the plane flew steadily toward its destination.

The place where the Desert’s Punishment was.

The home base of those Scorpion bastards.

To the place where Scorpion was, a place that would become the worst kind of pandemonium on the day of the auction.

It wasn’t long before they arrived.