We arrived at Caesar’s house a little after seven.

The white-painted walls, spotless white tile floors, and white grout made it feel like a hospital, but overall the place was put together well enough.

McQueen took in the plaster object displayed by the entry with the shoe cabinet and the rattan wall hangings along the hallway that led to the inner door.

Neat job.

The living room we stepped into was tidy, too.

The exercise equipment tucked in a corner felt a bit out of place, but aside from that, it was arranged without looking cheap. The rug on the floor wasn’t overly thick, either, so it fit the fresh, clean image of the house.

Nice interior.

The moment we got home, Jeheon Han let out a long “whoa,” then snatched the duffel bag out of McQueen’s hand.

“What?”

“I’ll wash the clothes for you. Three hours and they’ll be dried, too.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I have to run mine anyway.”

Caesar answered when he heard that.

“Heon, leave it and I’ll do it later.”

“It’s fine. K is going to cook again.”

“I can run it this evening.”

“I’m cooking right now.”

With a flat look, Jeheon pulled the changed clothes and shoes out of the two bags, then spoke to McQueen, who was standing there in the living room like a statue.

“Chat with K.”

Then he headed inside as if a flustered McQueen didn’t even exist.

Cold sweat trickled down McQueen’s back as he suddenly found himself left alone in the living room with Caesar.

“……”

When McQueen turned to him nervously, Caesar spoke with a gentle smile.

“Shall we go to the kitchen and talk?”

McQueen hesitated a moment, then had no choice but to follow him into the kitchen.

Contrary to McQueen’s nerves, Caesar led with everyday topics. He had a surprisingly modest side for a billionaire, enough to throw McQueen off.

“I heard you don’t use a private jet.”

“Because the money to maintain one can be used for better things. More specifically, the billions to purchase and the upkeep would let us support one more village.”

“Because of the foundation?”

“Yes. The foundation is a real money pit. I have to work hard and cover it.”

There was actually a note of joy in Caesar’s voice as he said it. Rumor had it he poured more than eighty percent of what he earned into it, and yet he showed no sign of fatigue or reluctance.

Caesar split an avocado deftly and popped out the pit.

“Heon said you once received help from the medical foundation I set up.”

“Ah, yes. My parents were in a car accident.”

“May I ask what happened?”

Hesitating, McQueen answered his question.

“The engine kept cutting out, so they pulled over on the shoulder of the highway….”

“Yes.”

“They got out right away to set up a warning triangle, but in that moment a drunk truck driver plowed into the car.”

“Oh no—were they badly hurt?”

“They were, but there were no lasting disabilities. Thanks to getting treated in time.”

The process hadn’t been smooth, though.

The insurer refused to pay, claiming, “It happened before the warning triangle was set, so it’s the customer’s fault.”

Caesar’s medical foundation provided emergency medical services and a lawyer to the disheartened McQueen couple after that notice.

“We won the case thanks to that. Thank you.”

“I only put up the money.”

Smiling generously, Caesar posed a question.

“Even so, if you’re grateful, I’d like you to answer a few questions for Heon.”

McQueen’s shoulders stiffened at that, but Caesar didn’t care and asked right away.

“Has Hades been digging into Heon?”

McQueen seemed to waver for a moment, then nodded.

“Did he approach you first?”

“Yes…”

“In what area was he trying to learn about Heon?”

“…He seemed to be trying to dig up the kid’s trauma.”

While trimming tomatoes for the salad, Caesar clicked his tongue.

“Did you ever answer him?”

“No. It didn’t feel like he was asking with good intentions.”

Maybe the interrogation-like questions rubbed him the wrong way, because McQueen knit his brows and shot first.

“I don’t know why my brother got dragged into your family feud, but one thing’s certain.”

“……”

“You’re my benefactor, sure—but that kid is my benefactor, too.”

Caesar’s gaze dropped to McQueen’s fingertips.

Maybe he was scared, because his hands were trembling little by little. Even so, the way he spoke and what he said were remarkably brave.

“I don’t like this situation. I want that kid safe.”

He was scared and still determined to protect what mattered.

Caesar’s expression softened at that attitude.

“What I feel for Heon isn’t a simple crush.”

“……”

“It’s not some light feeling that flares up for a season and dies.”

Calmly working his hands, he added as he prepped the ingredients.

“I want Heon to be happy. I want him to live peacefully, somewhere safe, for the rest of his life. So if anything stands in his way, I intend to clear it all out.”

“…Even if it’s your own brother?”

“I’ll gladly clear it.”

Caesar told McQueen, almost like a joke:

“Good people are rare. They’re like orchids you hardly ever see. If someone tries to snap one, you give them a whipping if that’s what it takes to make them come to their senses, right?”

At those words, the strength drained from McQueen’s shoulders. Then, face finally relaxing, he let his head droop onto the table and muttered.

“Then fine. I don’t care what you really are anymore, or why your family’s fighting. Doesn’t matter. I just care that the kid’s happy…”

“Did Heon say he’s happy?”

“He didn’t say it, but since he started dating you, he seems a lot more settled.”

“Ah, then I’m glad.”

Right on cue, Caesar slid a glass of water in front of McQueen—a take this and calm down gesture.

McQueen downed it in one go, stood, washed his hands at the sink, and came over to him.

“I don’t know what you’re making, but I’ll help with the chopping.”

“Macedonia. Could you cut those peaches into cubes about the size of a thumbnail?”

“What about the other fruit?”

“Plums and grapes. The grapes are a small variety, so we just need to pull them off the stems; please handle only the plums. I’ll get a soup going in the meantime.”

McQueen tossed in, almost as an aside,

“That guy can’t eat clam chowder.”

“He hates clams. I know. I’m thinking Türkiye-style tomato soup.”

“Celery…”

“Heon doesn’t like it much, so I’ll use it just for aroma and pull it.”

“Not bad.”

“It’s a gentleman’s education.”

McQueen laughed like someone who’d just heard a joke exactly to his taste. Then he soon came back with clean hands and, with practiced ease, pitted the peaches and plums as he spoke.

“By the way, we’ve been talking a while, but that guy isn’t coming out. Did he run into trouble with the washer?”

Caesar replied without even looking back, calm as ever.

“In a bit, from way over there, he’ll say, ‘I wiped the washer’s rubber gasket. K, you’ve got a bit of a clean-freak streak, so you’d feel weird about touching that kind of thing.’ Just wait.”

Not even thirty seconds after he said that, Jeheon came out of the laundry room with an armful of freshly washed clothes and said,

“I wiped the washer’s rubber gasket. K, you’ve got a bit of a clean-freak streak, so you’d feel weird about touching that kind of thing.”

Then he headed straight into the dressing room and started fussing around again.

“Right?”

McQueen stared at Caesar, who’d just laid his ability bare like it was nothing, looking both amazed and exasperated, then let out a deep sigh.

Keeping his voice low so Jeheon wouldn’t hear, he asked Caesar a question.

“Is it okay to tell me stuff like this?”

“As long as you don’t tell Heon, it’s fine.”

“Aren’t you trusting me a bit too much?”

“If something happens to me, you’re the only one I can ask to look after Heon.”

Caesar added, utterly matter-of-fact:

“For the record, Heon doesn’t know about his own ability.”

“I figured… He chalked it up to blood from a shamanic cultural sphere.”

“Ahaha.”

Keeping up the neat knife work, McQueen asked,

“Why not tell Han?”

“Because it’s a messy, complicated truth. If I go into detail, he’ll be shocked. And trying to live normally with that knowledge—Heon…”

“…has lived a life with too many ups and downs. I know.”

“He needs people. But at the same time, if he’s betrayed one more time by what he dared to trust, he won’t trust people anymore.”

McQueen shook his head and muttered,

“You’re living a troublesome life, too.”

“Is that a self-introduction?”

“I guess I’m living trouble, too… My kid brother’s a constant headache…”

Around then, with the clothes all put away, Jeheon approached the kitchen wearing a peculiar expression.

“Why did you two suddenly get along? You were bad-mouthing me, right? People always get close after they talk trash.”

At the grumbling question, McQueen and Caesar couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the same time.

Chapter 59

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