BIA Ch. 85

The moment he lifted his head, he met Bran’s eyes, a gun pointed at his forehead.

“This thing?”

Bran pulled back the slide and asked, “Huh?”

“Is this it? Little bird?”

Isaiah swallowed hard. Bran watched Isaiah, chuckled silently, then briefly gestured with his chin. It meant to stand up. Isaiah did as he was told.

“Turn off the flashlight.”

Isaiah turned off the flashlight function on his smartphone. Next, he expected the order to turn around, but Bran said something unexpected.

“Hold out your hand.”

Isaiah, caught off guard, held out his left hand, the one not holding his smartphone. Bran grabbed that hand, examined it this way and that, then laughed as if dumbfounded.

“Isn’t a sniper’s hand their bread and butter?”

“Not really. I pull the trigger with my right hand.”

Isaiah said curtly.

“And it’s more about the eyes. And reflexes.”

“So, you don’t need this left hand? Should I cut it off then?”

Isaiah quietly shut his mouth. Bran stared at Isaiah’s face for a moment, then looked down at his hand, which was scratched and bleeding in places, and said,

“Even a three-year-old knows that if you rummage through bushes with frozen hands, they’ll get messed up. Even if you didn’t know, you’d realize it the moment the back of your hand got scratched by a bush. That it’s something you shouldn’t do.”

he wanted to say that if you hadn’t taken the gun, he would have found it sooner, and then his hands wouldn’t have gotten messed up, but the atmosphere wasn’t right. Isaiah waited silently for Bran’s anger to subside. And just as Bran’s nagging was about to end, he shook off Bran’s grip on his hand and said,

“Okay, now give it back.”

“Give what back?”

“My gun.”

“When did I say I’d give it to you?”

“……”

Isaiah looked at Bran, dumbfounded. Whether it was because his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could see Bran smiling at him very clearly.

“Here.”

Bran held out the gun he was holding. Isaiah quickly snatched it. But something was off. The gun was too light. Isaiah thought, no way, and looked at the bottom of the grip. As expected, the magazine was empty.

“Are you kidding me? There are no bullets.”

“Oh, was there not?”

Bran said nonchalantly, putting both hands in his pants pockets. He was still wearing the suit he had been wearing at dinner earlier. Like he had been watching from his room on the second floor, and as soon as the car stopped, he had just thrown on his jacket and come down.

“What do you mean, ‘was there not’? I have plenty of guns, too.”

Isaiah, angry, threw the empty gun back on the ground. Bran watched Isaiah, chuckled, then crossed his arms and asked,

“But aren’t you going to use a rifle anyway? Why are you so desperate?”

“Because someone took all the rifles.”

Isaiah said, kicking the gun on the ground with his foot. The now useless gun disappeared back into the bushes.

“You must have brought a new one from Virginia.”

Anyway, he was a man who knew everything. There was no point in trying to hide anything from a man like this. If he got caught later, it would be even more pathetic.

“It has nothing to do with the rifle.”

Isaiah said, shoving his smartphone into his back pocket.

“The pistol is just for backup. And I need it when I sleep.”

“Come to think of it, it was under your pillow.”

Bran said, putting his hand in his jacket pocket, as if he had just remembered, and nodded. Was he perhaps going to take out the magazine? Isaiah secretly hoped so, but of course, that wasn’t the case. What came out of Bran’s hand was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Are you expecting to be attacked?”

Bran asked, lighting a cigarette.

“If there wasn’t, wouldn’t that be weirder?”

Bran hmm’ed, took a long drag from the lit cigarette. And after exhaling just as long, he said,

“I heard that your identity has never been exposed to the enemy.”

“Who knows, maybe someone does. You know, too.”

Bran chuckled, a cigarette in his mouth. It was a look that said, ‘that’s true’.

“Anyway, being able to sleep soundly while doing this kind of work is just impossible.”

Isaiah said calmly. When he said that he had never wanted that, Bran, who had been listening to the story while smoking, twisted one corner of his lips and smiled.

“And yet, that’s how you live?”

“That’s how I live.”

Isaiah repeated the same words, but with a different nuance. And looking up at the man in front of him, he said,

“You live like that too. Don’t you? Pretending to be a mafia boss, which doesn’t suit you at all. Drowning in alcohol and cigarettes that you don’t even like.”

Bran, instead of answering, just smiled with a cigarette in his mouth. It was annoying that he didn’t respond to things that made him uncomfortable, and Isaiah, without realizing it, asked a bit accusingly.

“You can’t escape your own cage either, so why are you only doing this to me?”

“Because I can’t escape.”

Bran said, as if he had been waiting for it. As if he had been waiting for this question, he looked directly at Isaiah and said,

“I want you to escape, at least.”

Whether it was because his eyes had completely adjusted to the darkness, his golden eyes, softly shining under the moonlight, were clearer than ever before. As the moonlight shifted with the movement of the clouds, it felt like a bug was moving in his eyes. Isaiah, without realizing it, held his breath and stared at it. As if he knew that, Bran said with a smile,

“Otherwise, there’s no point in me bringing a bug here, right?”

Isaiah’s face instantly hardened. Why bring up that story at this timing? It could only be seen as deliberate.

But more than Bran’s cowardice, he was more disgusted by his own pathetic self for having been mesmerized even in this situation. Isaiah bit his lip and turned away.

“Hey, wait.”

Bran’s voice came from behind. Ignoring it, he started walking, but Bran shouted again.

“I said wait. There’s a switch on that side—”

Before Bran could finish speaking, Isaiah stepped on something. The next moment, with a whoosh, water gushed up from below with tremendous force. Isaiah, flustered, moved to the side. But it was no use. Water was spraying from all directions.

“It’s a sprinkler. Step on that one more time.”

Bran said, throwing away the cigarette he was holding.

Isaiah, in the midst of the chaos, reached out his foot and stepped on the foot switch again. Fortunately, the water stopped quickly. But Isaiah was already soaked to the bone.

“Damn it.”

Isaiah cursed, taking off his wet jacket. Bran grabbed him as he was about to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go home.”

“In that state?”

“I’ll take a taxi.”

“Do you think a taxi driver would let you in?”

“I’ll pay for the seat cleaning.”

Isaiah roughly shook off Bran’s hand that was holding him. But he was grabbed again. Bran, holding Isaiah’s arm even more tightly than before, said,

“Dry your clothes and go.”

“It’s okay.”

“Listen to me!”

Bran raised his voice, which was rare.

“I’m sure you heard Hailey earlier. It was just a week ago that you collapsed at a funeral because you caught a cold. And now you’re going to take a taxi in this state? If so, just take an ambulance right away. You’re going to get pneumonia anyway.”

Bran was now holding Isaiah with both hands. The force with which he was holding his arms was as strong as his firm tone. It was so tight it was even painful.

There was no point in asking him to let go, he wasn’t going to. Then it was better to do as he said. It was wiser to change into any clothes and quickly return to the apartment.

“Okay.”

Isaiah said in a subdued voice.

“But I don’t want to go to your room. Chester is there.”

“I don’t intend to go that far.”

Bran took off his own jacket and put it on Isaiah. And, as if taking it away, he took the wet jacket in Isaiah’s hand and said,

“Come on. Watch your step.”

With his wrist held by Bran, Isaiah was dragged, as if being taken into custody, to a glass greenhouse in one corner of the garden. But when he went inside, there were hardly any plants, only a few pieces of furniture such as a wooden table and chairs, and a stove. It seemed that it was being used as a sunroom rather than a greenhouse, as it was decorated with some care and even had a small kitchen facility where water could be boiled.

Sure enough, there were teacups and a teapot on the table, and neatly folded blankets and cushions on the chairs, leaving traces that someone had been enjoying tea time recently.

“Take off your clothes.”

Bran said, turning on the electric stove placed next to the table. It seemed that it was originally made to be used only during the day, as there were no separate lighting facilities. It was fortunate because he didn’t want to show the tattoo on his back. If Bran asked to see it, he could use that excuse to go home. Thinking of ways to escape quickly, he took off Bran’s jacket and then his own shirt.

“Take off your pants, too.”

Isaiah hesitated for a moment, then took off his pants as well. As he sat on the chair wrapped in a thick blanket, Bran, who had dragged the radiator that was placed by the entrance, spread the wet clothes on the chair and said, letting the hot air blow on them,

“They’ll be mostly dry in about two hours.”