CRT Ch 24

💎

“There are a lot of visitors. How are you feeling?”

The voice was infinitely gentle and warm. It passed over Seok Ryu’s head, reaching Yejun beyond. Seok Ryu had always wondered what Cha Yilhyun would look like under the garnet effect. He couldn’t recall a single detail of how he used to look at him or how he smiled. He even questioned whether those moments had truly existed.

Clutching a stubborn resolve, Seok Ryu lifted his gaze. His heart pounded so fiercely it felt like his stomach was turning inside out. Cha Yilhyun’s eyes fell on Seok Ryu abruptly. Like ice shards scattering, Seok Ryu’s eyelids twitched. The emotion in Cha Yilhyun’s gaze had dried up, resembling the indifferent glance one might give a pebble on the street. It was the same look he used to give Yejun.

Cha Yilhyun casually averted his eyes and strode inside. His steps were confident, as if heading to his rightful place. Seok Ryu felt his heart being torn out by the roots.

Yejun, with a bewildered expression, belatedly greeted Cha Yilhyun. Manager Byun rushed over, making a fuss as if wearing slippers.

“Goodness, CEO! The film festival isn’t even over yet—how…!!”

Outside the door, Secretary Yang was visible, holding a travel bag. It seemed Cha Yilhyun had come straight from the airport to see Yejun. Unlike the half-brother glaring at Cha Yilhyun, the stepmother’s voice pitched higher.

“Such a young man is the CEO? Hello, I’m Yejun’s mother~. I’ve been wanting to thank you personally for taking such good care of our Yejun!”

Cha Yilhyun gave the mother and son a brief glance before heading straight to Yejun.

“Are you managing okay?”

“Yes, thanks to your care… You just returned, didn’t you?”

It was Yejun’s first time seeing Cha Yilhyun as a follower in person. His eyes, assessing the new devotee, held a mix of wariness and fear.

“I was surprised you came without calling. I heard you were unwell…”

“It was just a mild cold. I wanted to visit, but I couldn’t cancel the festival schedule. How’s your arm?”

“It’s much better.”

“Have you eaten lunch?”

“Not yet…”

Cha Yilhyun closely examined Yejun’s casted arm before arranging the lunchbox he’d brought on the table. Handing over neatly split chopsticks, Yejun’s eyes wavered. Astonished, his eyes widened, and his lips twitched as if on the verge of a smile.

At that moment, Yejun glanced at Seok Ryu. His eyes gleamed with anticipation, eager to see Seok Ryu’s reaction. It was as if he were praising a guardian stone for conquering an iron fortress or flaunting that Cha Yilhyun belonged to him. Yejun often put his guardian stone to the test like this, out of the blue.

Seok Ryu desperately forced the corners of his mouth upward. As Yejun took the chopsticks, Cha Yilhyun’s eyes curved, offering a champagne-like smile. No one could intrude on the touching reunion of the protagonists.

Seok Ryu turned his gaze away. The floor seemed to ripple like liquid, so he leaned all his weight on the doorknob. He’d longed for the day Cha Yilhyun would become a follower. Now that it had arrived, he was utterly unprepared. If he didn’t do something immediately, he felt he’d truly collapse. Desperately searching for a task, the half-brother and stepmother appeared in his vision like a ray of light.

“If your visit’s over, please leave.”

Jinguk shoved Seok Ryu’s shoulder as he exited, followed by the stepmother and Byun. Finally, Seok Ryu stepped out. The moment he closed the door, his legs gave out, and he leaned against the wall. He clenched his trembling hands. The cold gaze Cha Yilhyun had directed at him moments ago lingered in his mind.

“Assistant Manager, have you been well? You’ve grown much thinner since we last met.”

Secretary Yang greeted Seok Ryu in the hallway. Dazed, Seok Ryu mumbled something resembling a response and moved on.

A few steps ahead, the half-brother and stepmother waited for the VIP elevator. Byun held the elevator, seeing Yejun’s family off. Jinguk’s large eyes darted about.

“I don’t like that CEO guy. Acting all high and mighty in front of hyung!”

“Calling the CEO ‘guy’? He’s got a kind personality and striking looks—definitely impressive. Parents with a son like that must feel full without eating.”

“Oh, full, huh?”

“Very full~ How does someone so young achieve such success?”

As the stepmother chattered praises for Cha Yilhyun, Jinguk’s breathing grew rougher.

“The CEO’s impressive because he was born to impressive parents. I’m living like crap because I got stuck with crappy ones! Damn it!! Is that something you say to my face?!!”

Unable to contain his rage, Jinguk kicked a nearby signboard and hurled a potted plant. The plant scattered dirt as it crashed into a display of wheelchairs. Byun screamed, fleeing with others. The stepmother stood frozen, pale. Jinguk, huffing, stormed into the elevator alone.

Cha Yilhyun’s brilliance wasn’t solely due to growing up in fertile soil. With his innate vitality, he’d have built his kingdom even in a desert.

Leaving the chaos behind, Seok Ryu headed to the end of the hallway. Sitting on a chair, he clutched his chest and gulped air. Perhaps due to the bandages around his chest, he couldn’t breathe easily. The pain striking his heart came at shorter intervals. It seemed the core stone in his heart had cracked during the transfer to Cha Yilhyun. If not, it wouldn’t throb relentlessly like this.

Once cracked, it was like living with a ticking bomb, never knowing when it might shatter. To check for cracks, he’d need to return to the workshop and open his chest. Opening his chest was fine, but he feared not returning if he went to the workshop.

When the pain subsided, he’d patrol the hospital’s first floor to scout followers. Given that hospital staff had become Yejun’s followers during his stay, his performance seemed intact. He mentally listed tasks for today and tomorrow.

He needed to fetch some of Yejun’s clothes from the officetel, and having lost his notebook recently, he’d need a new one. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall where he’d lost it. It didn’t matter. The notebook was mostly a manager’s log, and even if it contained workshop details, no one would understand them. Finding it or losing it made little difference.

There was much to do, but his body wouldn’t move as his mind intended. Staring blankly at the opposite wall, he remembered he’d meant to call a nurse. He went to the desk, informed the nurse, and headed for the elevator. The stepmother and Byun were gone, and the traces of Jinguk’s tantrum had been cleaned.

At the hallway’s end, Cha Yilhyun and Secretary Yang approached. Seok Ryu hurriedly hid behind a wall corner. He’d assumed Cha Yilhyun would stay longer or spend the night. Having come straight from the airport, he was likely heading home.

The sound of approaching footsteps gradually faded. Seok Ryu listened until Cha Yilhyun’s steps vanished completely. From a distance, the elevator’s arrival chime rang, followed by the metallic sound of doors opening and closing. Counting generously in his head, he stepped forward. Turning the corner, he froze.

“CEO, I’m getting motion sickness—slow down…!”

Cha Yilhyun was pushing Secretary Yang, bear-like, in a wheelchair across the lobby. Yang clung to the handles, eyes squeezed shut. The nurses looked perplexed at the men’s antics. Few could reprimand Songhyul’s powerful owner.

Spotting Seok Ryu, Cha Yilhyun continued pushing the wheelchair without flinching. He spoke abruptly.

“Yejun was looking for you anxiously.”

To Cha Yilhyun, Yejun was no longer “Seok Ryu’s friend” or “Park Yejun.” Seok Ryu could guess what he’d call him now. Though his voice and face were the same, he felt like a stranger today. Seok Ryu lowered his gaze.

“You shouldn’t play with wheelchairs.”

At Seok Ryu’s voice, the wheelchair slowed. Stopping completely, Cha Yilhyun cast an emotionless glance at Seok Ryu. Holding his wavering gaze, Seok Ryu spoke as coldly as possible.

“Put the wheelchair back. This isn’t a playground—don’t you see it’s inconveniencing others? Secretary Yang, you shouldn’t indulge him; you should stop him.”

Yang, hesitating, stood and folded the wheelchair, returning it to its place. Cha Yilhyun wrinkled his nose, muttering.

“Scary manager. Glaring fiercely in the room, too.”

Seok Ryu’s eyes trembled slightly. He’d wondered how Cha Yilhyun expressed dislike. As expected, it wasn’t violent or crude like Jinguk. Cha Yilhyun wasn’t that type. Despite wielding far greater power, he didn’t squander it recklessly.

The strange thing was, without resorting to violence or crude insults, Cha Yilhyun inflicted deeper pain. Everything had gone as planned, yet Seok Ryu felt as if his heart had been hollowed out.

The arriving elevator doors opened. Cha Yilhyun stepped inside, leaning against the handrail. His slanted gaze fixed on Seok Ryu. His cold, coffee-like eyes had once been shiveringly sweet.

He looked a bit gaunt. They’d said he hadn’t come to the company for days due to a cold—had he recovered? The transfer had burned Yejun; perhaps it had affected Cha Yilhyun strongly, too.

Seok Ryu had many questions. Did he have aftereffects? How did it feel to be Yejun’s follower? Did he want to erase the moments spent with Seok Ryu…?

For a fleeting moment, Cha Yilhyun’s gaze landed on Seok Ryu’s neck. He seemed puzzled, noticing the absence of the choker Seok Ryu always wore.

The cruelest part was that while memories remained intact, emotions changed. It was a law even gods couldn’t alter, regardless of one’s character.

Just before the elevator doors closed, he spoke.

“Take good care of Yejun. He’s important to me.”

Cha Yilhyun’s figure vanished completely between the metal doors. Tears Seok Ryu had held back streamed down his cheeks. When a guardian stone truly grieved, their tears turned to gems. That his tears didn’t crystallize into garnets meant he was still okay. It meant he could still endure.

Seok Ryu stood silently, seeing him off until the elevator reached the first floor. Alone, he bid farewell—to the old Cha Yilhyun, to the man who taught him natural emotions…

💎

Heewan… Heewan…

“That voice” called for Heewan day and night without cease. Heewan maxed out the volume on his earphones. As the persistent voice was drowned by impassioned piano notes, he returned to his documents.

Hygrometers and thermometers hung throughout the basement. Core stones destined to become humanoid guardian stones were sensitive to their environment. Proper care ensured that, once restored to human form, their eyes and hair would gleam deeply and vividly. Afterward, depending on their master, a guardian stone’s abilities could unlock infinite potential.

Core stones held the consciousness of all living things—animals, insects, plants. Only those imbued with human consciousness could become humanoid guardian stones. All guardian stones had committed sins in past lives and died, yearning for another chance at life. The vengeful longing of the dead, combined with a gem’s inherent energy, crystallized into explosive power. A gem sorcerer’s task was to select these aura-infused core stones and restore them to human form.

Heewan retrieved a newly arrived 600-carat garnet core stone from a glass case. Its deep red hue radiated healthy energy. Its condition was too fine to use and discard for experiments.

He planned to test shortening restoration time with this garnet. It typically took ten months for a core stone to take human form. After years of research, Heewan had recently reduced the process to five months.

His ultimate goal was to complete a human form in a single day. He was confident that succeeding in this experiment would mark a milestone in the clandestine world of gem sorcery. However, most attempts resulted in deformed specimens or shattered core stones, their consciousnesses obliterated.

He had a stack of other experiments he wanted to try. Could grafting two types of guardian stones create one with dual abilities? Was artificial pregnancy possible?

But the Gem Sorcerers’ Association opposed these as human rights violations. Unauthorized experiments led to the revocation of a sorcerer’s license, barring them from creating humanoid guardian stones. If Heewan abandoned gem sorcery, his reason for living would vanish.

His father had rigorously trained Heewan, who showed prodigious talent in gem sorcery from childhood. When Heewan resisted, his father locked Kyojun in a storage room, starving him near death.

Heewan’s fascination with gem sorcery began after Kyojun killed their father. Experiencing the divine realm of creating and evolving life, Heewan belatedly felt euphoria. His relationship with his brother soured from then on. Kyojun, who killed their father to free Heewan, felt betrayed.

Whispering came from outside the door. Guardian stones were eavesdropping, checking if Heewan looked at their tributes of letters and gifts. Irritated by the distraction, Heewan snapped.

“Seok Ryu, go deal with them…”

Heewan stopped. Seok Ryu’s absence was more profound than expected. Only after Seok Ryu was gone did Heewan realize how much he’d handled to let Heewan focus on research. Things he’d overlooked with Seok Ryu now felt bothersome and nauseating. Handling all menial tasks alone, Heewan had reached his limit.

“Annoying!”

Heewan shoved the documents off his desk. He grabbed a hidden bottle of soju from a drawer and gulped it down. After begging Kyojun’s subordinate, he’d smuggled two bottles. If Kyojun found out, the subordinate would be beaten to a pulp, but that wasn’t Heewan’s concern.

Recently, Seok Ryu’s master requested his return. Seok Ryu always gave his all to his masters. Though less capable than Noeul, he’d always received good reviews, making this request shocking. What was happening?

Rapid footsteps descended the stairs. Heewan hurriedly hid the soju and pretended to study documents. Moments later, Kyojun entered, holding coffee in both hands. Heewan snapped irritably.

“If you’re going to barge in, give me the basement key.”

Ignoring him, Kyojun offered coffee. Heewan sipped it to mask the alcohol smell. The taste, as always, was astonishing.

“Even a slug has a knack for rolling. Same beans, same machine—how does your touch make it so sublime?”

“Grind the beans imagining they’re the pebbles you’re obsessed with.”

Heewan’s appetite soured, and he set the cup down. Kyojun, sitting on the desk, suddenly rummaged through it. Heewan leaped up, trying to stop him.

“What—what are you doing?!”

Kyojun pulled out the soju bottle and smashed it on the floor. Shards flew, and the smell of alcohol spread. Grabbing Heewan’s hair, Kyojun slammed his head onto the desk.

“Want to puke blood and get hauled off again, you alcoholic bastard?”

“Do all this work sober? Not a drop of liquor allowed—is this a home or a prison?!”

“Whining while holed up in the workshop fondling rocks?”

“You sound just like Father.”

Sneering, Heewan provoked Kyojun, who gritted his teeth and threw Heewan to the floor. Staggering up, Heewan didn’t slap Kyojun but took his glasses, wiping them with his shirt.

Without glasses, Kyojun’s features softened. Heewan placed the frames back, adjusting them on Kyojun’s high nose. Kyojun waited patiently. Heewan spoke.

“About Seok Ryu. When his lease ends and he returns, don’t send him out again. I’ll keep him.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. Use someone else.”

“Others blab about experiments and take ages to train.”

Knowing Kyojun despised gem sorcery, Heewan didn’t expect agreement.

“It’s not just for work.”

During restoration, Heewan adjusted guardian stones’ appearances—enlarging eyes, deepening double eyelids, raising nose bridges. But some, like Seok Ryu, had an innate allure even gem sorcerers couldn’t replicate.

Seok Ryu had taught Heewan and Kyojun to read, cooked for them, washed their faces, filling the void of parents. Heewan learned Seok Ryu wasn’t human around age ten. He’d never imagined Seok Ryu would tamper with Noeul’s materials.

Kyojun snorted.

“Why not perform the bonding ritual? Who knows? You might be his destined master.”

Heewan glared sharply at Kyojun. Caring for someone else felt burdensome. The thought of risking his life for a bonding ritual tightened his chest. His feelings for Seok Ryu were just enough to flinch at such threats. Seeing Heewan speechless, Kyojun smirked.

“Coward.”

Kyojun handed Heewan his phone. The call log was flooded with Yoon Inoh’s name.

“Decide what to do with this guy. Every call reminds me of his face, and I want to puke.”

Heewan frowned. Recently, Yoon Inoh called daily, begging to buy a guardian stone. The photos of Sanho he sent were too gruesome to view sober. Kyojun toyed with Yoon Inoh before sending a subordinate to retrieve Sanho’s body. That day, Yoon Inoh was blacklisted.

“No pearls, and even if there were, never Yoon Inoh.”

“It’s a different gem this time. He’s desperate, practically on fire.”

“What gem?”

Heewan asked, furrowing his brow. Kyojun, arms crossed, replied.

“Garnet.”

Yoon Inoh’s profession valued appearance, yet his natural face was far from beautiful, making his garnet order curious.

“No way. We don’t have garnets to spare, and who knows what he’d do.”

Kyojun showed Yoon Inoh’s text.

“He says he’ll expose the workshop and kill himself if we don’t comply.”

“If you hadn’t taken Yoon Inoh, Sanho wouldn’t have died.”

“If you hadn’t been dazzled by a black pearl and restored it, there’d be no death.”

Heewan clenched his teeth, glaring at his brother. The odds of a drowned person’s consciousness inhabiting a natural black pearl were slimmer than winning the lottery. Heewan blamed Yoon Inoh’s insistence but also wanted to test Sanho’s capabilities. He sighed.

“If he keeps making a fuss, no choice. You handle Yoon Inoh.”

“Go slit his throat yourself if you’re so reluctant.”

Exposing the workshop out of spite would endanger entire families and relatives. But it all depended on Kyojun’s actions. Sometimes, Kyojun inexplicably turned vicious, trying to control Heewan. Leaning on the desk, he loomed over Heewan.

“Your nervous breakdown comes from blocked genius. Unclog it, and you won’t touch liquor.”

“What… nonsense?”

“Now’s the time to unleash your experimental spirit.”

Heewan knew Kyojun’s motives weren’t to save Yoon Inoh—quite the opposite. He relished watching clients self-destruct from fear and vanity.

Despising gem sorcery, Kyojun pitted guardian stones against each other in jealousy and conflict. The purpose behind egging Heewan on now was frightening.

Perhaps due to drinking on an empty stomach, intoxication hit fast. Staring at the new garnet, Heewan slurred.

“No… that one’s too good for experiments.”

“There’s something else for experiments.”

Kyojun’s gaze shifted to the storage room. The basement held failed experiment samples. Typically, guardian stones were disposed of en masse during their sleep, scheduled for tomorrow. Among tomorrow’s disposals was Noeul’s core stone.

Noeul’s shocking state—flesh melted, bones protruding—still haunted Heewan. Noeul was flawless in performance and appearance. But his arrogance, relying solely on that, drew clients’ ire. In the workshop, his cruelty terrorized other guardian stones.

“The Association won’t let it slide.”

“Don’t let them know. Even if they do, who cares? The old farts pretend to be proper but use groundbreaking experiments for PR when they succeed.”

Swallowing at the sweet offer, Heewan couldn’t help himself.

“A few months of feigned restraint, and they’ll look the other way.”

When Kyojun played the villain like this, Heewan’s resolve always wavered. Could a real stimulant free him from anxiety?

Even then, a faint voice whispered desperately. It was tender, fragile, enough to melt the heart.

Just one more chance…

I’ll do better this time…