One incident could be written off as nothing, but not two. If the guards started searching the vent, there’d be no way out for Taekjoo. But right now, he couldn’t fix his unstable, uncomfortable position. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. His sweaty palms kept sliding. He couldn’t hold on much longer. He’d reached his limit.
Thunk—his body dropped with a loud thud. The ceiling trembled with a heavy rattle. Taekjoo held his breath, listening for footsteps. His heart pounded in his chest. Every second felt like an eternity. Taekjoo didn’t move, waiting, but there was no sound of anyone rushing to investigate the noise. The guards must have completely left the hallway. Only then did Taekjoo allow himself to breathe properly.
“Haa, haaa...”
After catching his breath, he started moving again, crawling through the vent that seemed to stretch endlessly, with no end in sight. Taekjoo couldn’t tell how far he had gone, but he began to smell old dust and moss. He must be getting close to the basement. The basement vent was vertical, angled like a chimney. Taekjoo estimated its length to be at least seven feet, and it could be as much as thirteen feet at most. He couldn’t afford to fall headfirst, so he wriggled to turn his body. Then, without hesitation, Taekjoo dropped.
The speed and weight of Taekjoo’s falling body completely destroyed the vent flap. He rolled as he fell to absorb the impact. As soon as he hit the floor, particles of dust rose.
Taekjoo couldn’t see through the thick dust. A cough threatened to escape, so he covered his mouth with the back of his hand. He brushed away the swirling dust and slowly surveyed his surroundings. The basement was filled with all kinds of things. Among them, what caught Taekjoo’s eye was something covered by a thick tarp. It was quite large.
Taekjoo quickly cleared the clutter around it and peeled back the tarp in one swift motion. Another wave of dust swirled up, and this time he couldn’t hold back a sneeze.
The sneeze forced Taekjoo to close his eyes. When he opened them, his shoulders slumped at what he saw. What lay beneath the tarp wasn’t the weapon he had anticipated. It was an old piano, almost ancient. Taekjoo opened the fallboard, and rats with blood-red eyes scurried out.
He couldn’t help but sigh. Taekjoo had risked his life coming here, only to find the wrong place. He was so disappointed that he wanted to deny the reality before him. Still, hoping there might be something else, he started digging around. First, he checked inside the piano. Then, he went through every box in the room, but there was no sign of any firearms. He felt along the walls, pressing here and there, but found no hidden or secret space either.
What disappointed him even more was having to go back the way he had come. Taekjoo stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed by the long return trip ahead. On the way here, at least he had hoped to find something. But now, all that awaited him was despair at the tiresome journey back. The thirteen-foot vertical duct was his first obstacle. How was Taekjoo supposed to climb up?
After thinking for a while, Taekjoo pulled out a device that looked like a camera. It was something he had brought with him, just in case of an emergency. He aimed the lens at the ceiling of the vent and pressed the shutter. The cap on the camera lens shot up, and a long string was attached to it, going straight into the duct. It didn’t fall back—proof that it had latched onto something. He tugged on it with his weight. It held firm and only tightened from the force of the pull.
Taekjoo climbed onto the old piano and secured the string to his belt. He grasped it with both hands and began to climb. He had trained for this many times during his judo training.
Once safely back in the vent, Taekjoo crawled a long way back toward his room. Whenever he sensed someone below the vent, he would stop moving for a while before resuming his crawl. As he drew closer to his room, exhaustion started to take its toll. All he wanted was to get back quickly and collapse into bed.
He was passing the point where the hallway connected to his room when he heard a knock. Zhenya would never knock. It must be either Sergey or his servant. Taekjoo froze briefly, but quickly regained his composure and continued working his way out of the duct.
The knock came again, and by the time Taekjoo was almost at the bathroom vent, he heard the door to his room open. He was running out of time.
Sergey, having entered Taekjoo’s room uninvited, glanced around at the messy space. He could hear the sound of water running in the bathroom. Maybe he couldn’t hear me because he’s in the shower? Sergey wondered. He thought for a moment about what to do and decided he would come back another time. After all, Taekjoo was a guest, and that seemed like the polite thing to do.
As Sergey turned to leave, he suddenly stopped. He couldn’t explain it, but something compelled him to head toward the bathroom. His face stiffened for the briefest of moments, now marked by a sudden urgency that hadn’t been there before.
He reached for the doorknob, but it was locked from the inside. People usually lock their rooms, not their bathrooms, Sergey thought uneasily. He immediately pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and began trying each one, trying to find the right one.
Just then, the bathroom door opened. The door creaked open wider, releasing a wave of steam. The person who emerged from the bathroom was none other than Taekjoo. He seemed to have just finished his shower, his black hair soaked, appearing even darker. His well-toned body glistened with moisture, sculpted as if carefully carved from stone.
Sergey stared blankly at Taekjoo’s body. The silence was broken by Taekjoo’s voice.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh, uhm, it’s time for dinner... and I-I wanted to invite you to join us...”
Sergey stuttered, his eyes scanning Taekjoo. Starting from Taekjoo’s face, Sergey’s gaze slowly drifted down his chest, abdomen, and lower still. His thick lips parted. Taekjoo grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around his waist, which snapped Sergey back to his senses. He licked his lips, a gesture that betrayed his desire to see more.
“Do you often come all the way to the bathroom just to invite someone to dinner?” Taekjoo asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. It’s just that no one answered, no matter how many times I knocked, and I was worried something might have happened.”
Sergey quickly came up with an excuse. He invited Taekjoo to dinner and then made a hasty exit, leaving the room. The door snapped shut, and Sergey’s footsteps—briefly paused outside the door—began fading down the hallway.
Taekjoo, who had been calmly putting on a bathrobe as if nothing had happened, suddenly felt his knees give out and collapsed onto the floor. He let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. He had nearly come face to face with Sergey, still covered in dirt and dust. His heart, which had dropped to his stomach and shot back up again, now pounded uncomfortably in his chest. He raked a hand through his wet hair in frustration.