Chapter 38

“Do not pull so hard; unlike you, Second Lieutenant, I am not made of iron,” Myeong-joo murmured.

Turning back with his ever-radiant smile, Yi-tan gently guided him by the shoulder. “Upon reflection, your words are quite reasonable, Instructor. Paying our respects to the head of the house is only fitting to solidify our marital bond.”

“That is not what I meant at all.”

He contemplated brushing away the hand resting on his shoulder, but decided against it. Unlike the subdued Myeong-joo, Yi-tan wore a perpetual smile, looking for all the world like a man who had met with great fortune. Watching him smile so cheerfully at a partner he had found collapsed and soaked in filth behind the hotel, Myeong-joo felt a pang of gratitude. Yi-tan truly seemed not to harbor any foul suspicions, just as he had promised; or perhaps he simply had no interest in Myeong-joo’s chastity.

Yi-tan nodded toward a distant table. “There he is.”

Following his lead, Myeong-joo saw the back of a man seated at a distinguished table. Sitting with legs crossed and torso slightly turned, one elegant hand caressed the stem of a champagne flute. Several middle-aged generals in formal dress uniforms attended to him with obsequious smiles.

Heading straight for the table of stars, Sergeant Cha Myeong-joo’s face began to pale. “Wait, Second Lieutenant; I don’t believe I am mentally prepared for this.”

“What preparation could you possibly need?” Yi-tan replied blithely. “We will simply tell him we intend to live happily and be on our way.”

Practically bundled into Yi-tan’s side, Myeong-joo was ushered before the table crowded with generals.

“Chief,” Yi-tan addressed him.

Standing behind his father, Yi-tan spoke with neither too loud nor too soft a pitch. Stripped of any familial warmth, anyone hearing it would have assumed an aide-de-camp had stepped forward to deliver an official briefing.

The Chief of Staff turned with an equally chilly gaze—hardly the eyes of a father looking upon his son on his wedding day.

“Hmph.”

His response went no further than a low vibration in his throat, signaling for them to state their business. In the man’s sharp nose, dark brows, and immaculately swept-back hair, Myeong-joo saw an exact mirror of Yi-tan. It was Lee Yi-tan, not Lee Yi-ho, who had inherited his father’s blood in full measure. When Yi-tan grew older, he would undoubtedly exude this very brand of dignified authority.

Just then, Lee Hui-eum’s gaze shifted to Myeong-joo. Dark hazel eyes locked onto him with a piercing chill, feeling so much like an older Yi-tan bearing down upon him that goosebumps prickled along Myeong-joo’s spine. His masculine features combined with the historic distinction of having inaugurated the first generation of Aberrants radiated an overwhelming gravity.

“If there is something difficult to say, let the second lieutenant speak for you,” Lee Hui-eum said, more gently than Myeong-joo had expected.

Yet his eyes never drifted toward Lee Yi-tan; nor did Lee Yi-tan look upon his father, staring instead intently at Myeong-joo’s profile. Belatedly realizing he was frozen amidst the subtle discord between father and son, Myeong-joo hurriedly found his tongue.

“I… I know I must seem thoroughly inadequate to you, sir, but I will do my best to get along well with the second lieutenant,” Myeong-joo stammered. “I only came to convey that…”

He had meant to speak with dignity, but heat flooded his face halfway through, trailing his words off into a whisper. With the generals’ eyes all converging upon him, Myeong-joo promptly fell silent.

“The sergeant is a meritorious contributor,” Lee Hui-eum remarked unexpectedly.

Failing to grasp his meaning, Myeong-joo blinked slowly. The Chief of Staff’s visage remained impassive, yet a faint glimmer of curiosity flickered in his eyes as he looked at Myeong-joo. Despite the lack of expression, he almost seemed to be smiling faintly. In the next breath, however, his eyes cut icily toward Yi-tan as he added a sharp continuation.

“It was exceedingly troublesome having no Harmonizer capable of enduring that creature. You are most welcome here. If any trouble arises, discuss it with the Princess Consort.”

Myeong-joo was caught between answering that he would and reeling in shock at the cold detachment of a father referring to his son as a creature.

“The Chief speaks obvious wisdom,” Yi-tan remarked with polite mockery. “Since we never see you stepping foot into the house, it is only natural that all family matters be consulted with Mother.”

Lee Hui-eum replied blandly, “Indeed. Did I not just tell you to consult her?”

Yi-tan’s jab was delivered with such flawless politeness that Myeong-joo stood blankly for a beat before realizing it was an insult. He turned to Yi-tan in shock. The Chief of Staff, however, seemed wholly unbothered, already facing forward as he replied with bored indifference.

Yi-tan answered in the same tone one might use to finish a tedious chore. “This should suffice for duty’s sake. After all, Your Excellency has never possessed the slightest intention of playing the patriarch, neither in the past nor now.”

Stealing uneasy glances at Lee Hui-eum, the generals busied themselves pouring champagne. Acting as though they had neither seen nor heard the tense sparring between father and son, they offered congratulations to Lee Yi-tan. Yi-tan bowed politely, responding with effortless charm. Lee Hui-eum spinning his champagne flute without sparing them another glance contrasted sharply with Yi-tan entertaining the generals with poise.

Only after enduring every last well-wish did Yi-tan gently lead Myeong-joo away once more. “Shall we go greet the genuine elders now?”

“Second Lieutenant…”

Yi-tan walked on with a playful grin, a smile that seemed to plead for forgiveness just this once. Because he appeared so thoroughly unfazed, it was Myeong-joo who found himself walking on eggshells.

A short distance from the table, the Princess Consort and Lee Seol-heon were pouring champagne for guests with beaming smiles. It appeared to be a gathering of generals’ wives. Marching unhesitatingly in their direction, Yi-tan suddenly knit his brows with theatrical dismay.

“Dear me, in a different sense, that gathering is one I would rather avoid,” Yi-tan whispered.

Still shaken by the icy dialogue between father and son, Myeong-joo felt the exact same way. Stepping amidst noble ladies dressed in fine hanbok, their hair styled high, covering their mouths with jade-ringed hands as they laughed, felt like a trap where he would be picked apart down to the bone.

“Then perhaps we should first greet the guests who came for you…”

Just as Myeong-joo suggested they tend to Yi-tan’s personal guests first, Ahn Hee-wan marched briskly toward them and whispered something urgently into Yi-tan’s ear.

As she finished, Yi-tan merely shifted his pupils to look down at Myeong-joo. Clueless, Myeong-joo met his gaze with wide, questioning eyes.

“Select the vanguard team,” Yi-tan instructed in a low, authoritative voice. “You will remain with the rear guard, Hee-wan.”

Only then did Myeong-joo deduce that her whisper carried urgent news from the front lines; military aides who had been waiting outside the banquet hall hurried inside to deliver briefings to their respective generals. The news clearly aligned with what Hee-wan had brought.

“What time shall we set for departure?” she asked evenly.

Yi-tan looked at Myeong-joo once more. His eyes held the ravenous gleam of a serpent freshly awakened from hibernation, prompting Myeong-joo to shudder involuntarily. Yi-tan slowly kneaded Myeong-joo’s shoulder, the fierce grip making him wince.

“Well, if the instructor permits, in three hours would be feasible.”

Myeong-joo froze in bewilderment. “…”

Unable to divine his meaning, Myeong-joo stood motionless. Could Yi-tan possibly think he intended to hold him back from the front? Having never possessed the malice to complain about his departure so soon after the wedding, Myeong-joo felt an unjust prick of indignation.

The hand massaging his shoulder fell away as though it had never touched him. Yi-tan turned back to Hee-wan with a decisive nod. “Stand by. I will be back shortly.”

“Understood, sir,” Hee-wan acknowledged.

Stealing a brief glance at Myeong-joo, Hee-wan turned and walked away. Overcome by an awkward tension, Myeong-joo pressed his lips together before asking, “Is it bad news? If you must leave immediately, Second Lieutenant…”

“It is hardly good news,” Yi-tan cut in.

Snatching a champagne flute from a passing waiter’s tray, Yi-tan pressed his full lips to the rim and tilted his head back, draining the pale liquid in a single draught. Judging by Hee-wan’s demeanor, the situation was dire, yet Yi-tan seemed devoid of urgency.

Throughout, he kept his gaze locked on Myeong-joo, leaving the older man standing captive to watch his Adam’s apple bob in slow, rhythmic swallows. His ears burning with inexplicable heat, Myeong-joo was about to look away when Yi-tan broke the heavy silence.

“There is a matter that requires your assistance, Instructor.”

“What is it?”

It was welcome news. He had been fretting over Yi-tan having to deploy to the battlefield on their wedding day; if he could be of help, he wanted nothing more.

As Myeong-joo responded promptly, Yi-tan narrowed his eyes, drained the final dregs, and licked his damp lips. “It was something we had to do regardless.”

“What is it, then?” Myeong-joo asked urgently.

Spinning the empty flute in his fingers, Yi-tan suddenly wrapped an arm around Myeong-joo’s waist. The abrupt closure pressed their lower bodies firmly together. Startled, Myeong-joo tried to recoil, but the iron arm around him refused to budge.

“What are you doing? Let go of me—”

“I wish to receive harmonization through our wedding night,” Yi-tan stated.

At those words, all his struggling ceased. Myeong-joo gazed blankly up at him. Those deep sand-colored eyes were fixed on Myeong-joo, glowing with an impenetrable light.

A bridal night.

Of course, Myeong-joo had never believed this marriage would remain mere child’s play. He was a Harmonizer and Yi-tan was an Aberrant; he had anticipated that with the passage of time, they would naturally exchange harmonization through means entirely unlike their present routine.

Yet whenever such thoughts arose, his mind grew so tangled and his emotions so wildly unmanageable that he had simply shoved them away. Any fantasy of sharing such intimacy had remained vague and distant. But the bridal night—tonight? Even having held the ceremony today, Myeong-joo had never imagined matters would progress so precipitously, leaving him frozen as though struck a blow to the head.

“I…”

His words trailed off into helplessness. Gazing intently down at Myeong-joo’s panicked face, an icy detachment crept over Lee Yi-tan’s features. The mysterious, smoldering heat that had filled his eyes moments ago vanished completely, replaced by an overwhelming, palpable frost.

“Your reaction is peculiar,” Yi-tan remarked coldly. “Surely you did not come this far without the slightest resolve.”

“…No, I…” Myeong-joo stammered.

Yi-tan furrowed his brow, looking like a customer who had just been told the item he purchased for a specific function was defective. Under that crushing pressure, Myeong-joo’s mouth went bone dry. Without waiting for him, Yi-tan seized his wrist and pulled him along. Though the hall still bustled with guests he had yet to greet, Lee Yi-tan marched toward the exit without a backward glance.

Myeong-joo instinctively realized Yi-tan was taking him to a place where they would be entirely alone. Clenching his free hand into a tight fist, lukewarm sweat dampened his palm. Watching the broad back striding ahead without looking back, Myeong-joo swallowed his breath.

Challenged on his lack of resolve, he could offer no easy answer, for he could not truthfully claim to be prepared. Yi-tan had naturally pursued this marriage to secure harmonization; why had Myeong-joo only just realized the plain truth? If his own resolve was belated, it was only right that he adapt to Yi-tan’s pace.

Having reached that conclusion, Myeong-joo dug in his heels and stopped. Sensing the resistance, Yi-tan finally turned to look back at him.

Myeong-joo slowly slipped his wrist from the younger man’s grasp. “May I send Myeong-in and Myeong-hui home first? I am deeply worried about the children.”

Silence lingered between them. “…”

Peering intently at Myeong-joo through narrowed eyes, Yi-tan finally gave a measured nod, as though granting a generous favor. “Very well.”

The low, heavy timbre struck Myeong-joo like a dull blow to the solar plexus. Though it was an affirmative response, he had no idea why it felt so suffocating. Cold sweat broke out, making the nape of his neck clammy.

Hiding all his previous chill, Yi-tan offered a bright smile. “Go and tend to them. I will wait here.”

Myeong-joo could find no words. “…”

Parting his lips without finding anything to say, he simply turned away. The gaze boring into the back of his head as he returned to the banquet hall felt scorching. Even after catching his breath, he walked inside without looking back, the plush soles of his fine shoes making the floor feel strangely soft and unsteady.

***