Passion (BL Novel)

In this situation, there was only one person who truly believed that the situation was unfair, unreasonable, and absurd.
"Why do I have to go to the prison too? What have I done wrong?! I just got caught up in this by bad luck!"
A young man was asserting this. And even though it was clear that what he was saying was true, there were many people who, despite knowing it, lacked the power to help him. Additionally, there was one person who might have had the power to help but had no intention of doing so.
"I told you clearly, didn't I? The best thing is to not get involved. I told you not to be seen, not to stand out. Why didn’t you listen to me?"
It’s said that if you listen to your elders, good things will come to you. However, Jeong Tae-Ui, who had never regretted not listening to his uncle in the past, did feel regret this time. Although, even though he had never regretted ignoring his uncle's advice before, this time, he wished he had followed it.

Dragged by Illey’s hand to testify, Jeong Tae-Ui found himself caught up in a charge of aiding and abetting, a crime he had jokingly considered earlier. Even though he had predicted the situation, turning a blind eye to the facts was considered passive participation, even if he didn’t actively help.
"This is unfair! I’m going to appeal!"
"Where to?"
With a single, short response, his uncle shattered Jeong Tae-Ui’s anger. As he grumbled while flipping through his phone book, "I need to contact the funeral director again. Unexpectedly, there’s been an increase in demand," his uncle sighed, closed the book, and patted Jeong Tae-Ui’s shoulder. Then, in a slightly more serious tone, he spoke.
"You made the first mistake by ignoring my advice not to get involved with that guy. And on top of that, this situation is a ‘contempt charge,’ a contempt charge."
"What?"
"Look. A ruthless bastard from the European branch came and killed four of our branch members. One of them was even an instructor. Isn't this a big deal? But it turns out the murder was plotted from our side, and even the instructor was involved. Now we have an irreversible stain on our record. The honor and reputation of our branch are in jeopardy. And then, a member from the same branch goes out and testifies. Do you think the higher-ups will be happy about that?"

Even as he spoke, Jeong Tae-Ui’s uncle didn’t seem particularly upset. Jeong Tae-Ui glared at him.
"If I hadn’t testified, wouldn’t they have figured it out by investigation anyway?"
"That’s highly likely, but in the meantime, there could’ve been evidence destroyed and the case thrown into confusion. A rookie like you going out and making a clear statement, of course, it deserves some resentment."
"If I didn’t testify, Illey would have killed me!"
"That’s none of the higher-ups’ business."
His uncle shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him. Jeong Tae-Ui stared at him with a dumbfounded look. How is this system even working? It’s true that organizations get more corrupt the higher you go, but this is just ridiculous.
Jeong Tae-Ui knew that complaining to his uncle was pointless. He wasn’t here to ask his uncle for help in the first place. He just wanted to vent his frustrations and anger.

"Uncle… don’t you feel sorry for me at all? What is this? The moment I step into this backwater island, my luck turns this bad. I feel like I’m cursed or something."
He muttered, venting his emotions—though he also felt somewhat guilty about doing so—and lowered his head. His uncle, however, didn’t even acknowledge him with a response.
"Tae-ui, you seem to have forgotten, but I was expecting you to do your job well and help improve our team's performance. As I said, I need to get my superior promoted. But look, if you're here getting involved in all this, it only hurts my standing. I’m sure you’re upset."
"Well, who made me come here!"
"Alright, alright, let’s move past that. At least you’re better off than some. Ligrow’s been taken down to the prison already for attempting to flee. He’s not the type to actually run, though."
His uncle changed the subject. Jeong Tae-Ui still muttered in dissatisfaction, but knowing it was useless to protest, he sighed and swallowed his complaints.

The training had stopped the moment the accident happened. It had been halted for a day and a half by now.
He had seen Illey here and there yesterday while being dragged around, but now he realized that he hadn’t seen him today. When Jeong Tae-Ui looked at his uncle, the latter casually added that Illey had already been sent down to the prison this morning.
Jeong Tae-Ui sighed. It’s only a one-day difference. Tomorrow morning, he would be heading to the prison. He hadn’t even been able to return to his room the previous day because he had been busy dealing with his superiors, and he hadn’t slept properly either. Tonight, he would sleep in his bed for the last time, and starting tomorrow, he would be spending his time on the cold stone floor of the prison.
"How long do I have to stay there?"
"For now, ten days, but it’s hard to say. You could be released sooner, or it might take longer."
"Based on possibilities, I’d say the latter is more likely."
"That’s probably true. A contempt charge tends to work that way."
Jeong Tae-Ui sighed deeply again. However, as he glanced down at the ground, he tried to think positively. After all, if he had to spend ten days in the prison, it meant that by the time he got out, the joint training with the European branch would be over. Considering how tired he had been, spending ten days in prison might not be so bad.

"Anyway, go in and suffer a bit. After that, I’ll smooth things over with your training period."
His uncle said as if he was doing something generous. Jeong Tae-Ui, still staring at his uncle in his room, weakly asked,
"Does going in and out of restricted areas during training really count as a reason for being sent to prison?"
"Contempt charges cover all kinds of reasons. You know that."
Jeong Tae-Ui sighed again. He had often joked with his peers while in the military, saying that the worst crime you could commit was contempt. It wasn’t just a military saying; it applied to society too. It applied to people’s relationships. Once you’re marked, it’s trouble for a long time.
"Tomorrow morning, I’ll probably be going to the prison to meet you. Say goodbye to your teammates tonight. You probably won’t see them for a while, so you should say your farewells now."
"Why do you talk like I’m crossing a path I can never return from?"
"Sometimes it happens. People go to prison and never come back."
With a smile that was hard to read, whether a joke or a serious remark, his uncle spoke. This was exactly when Jeong Tae-Ui felt an urge to strangle him.
Jeong Tae-Ui shook his head and turned away. He had already seen his uncle's face, which didn’t require a farewell, and decided it was time to leave. There was no need to stay any longer; staying here would only worsen his mood.

"I’m going to burn that book I borrowed from you the moment I get to my room."
"Wait...?! No, hold on! That book, I haven’t even seen it yet! What did the book do to deserve such a fate...?"
"Contempt charges cover all kinds of reasons. You know that, uncle."
With a neutral expression, Jeong Tae-Ui said this to his uncle, then walked out of the room with light steps.
— Sometimes it happens. People go to prison and never come back. Jeong Tae-Ui knew his uncle was joking. Unless something unexpected happened, he would likely be out in ten days and back to his branch, walking around freely.
But then, as he heard those words, someone suddenly crossed his mind. A person he would miss terribly if he couldn't see for ten days. A lovely and dear young man.
Jeong Tae-Ui stood still on the landing for a moment, hesitated, then turned around. After all, he had already broken the rule of staying away from this floor. Once you break a rule, breaking it again is easier than flipping your hand. Besides, his uncle had said he’d smooth things over for him.
Jeong Tae-Ui clenched the pager in his pocket. The warmth of the message inside seemed to radiate into his hand. His body temperature transferred to the pager, which soon warmed up. He held the pager tightly as he made his way to the person who had sent him the message. Despite only having ten days left, he wanted to see this person before going.
When he reached Shin-Roo's room, the pager vibrated in his pocket. Jeong Tae-Ui slowed his steps and took the pager out. He checked the message on the screen:
'Tei hyung, where are you? It's fine if it's late, please contact me. I’ll wait.'

It was Shin-Roo. The urgency in the message made Jeong Tae-Ui pause. What was going on? His steps towards Shin-Roo's room quickened.
He had received a message last night too, but he was so busy being dragged around by his superiors that he hadn’t had time for a real conversation. And today was the same—he had been summoned as soon as he woke up, dragged around all day, filled out documents, made calls with people he didn’t even know, and now it was already late. The only time left before heading to prison was tonight. So, he was heading to meet Shin-Roo now.
Jeong Tae-Ui stood in front of Shin-Roo’s room. Since he had just received a message, he assumed Shin-Roo would be inside. Instead of ringing the doorbell, he knocked lightly. Despite the soft sound, the door soon opened, and Shin-Roo peeked out with wide eyes.
"Tei hyung."
"Hey. Were you worried?"
Shin-Roo froze, staring at Jeong Tae-Ui as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, when Jeong Tae-Ui smiled and greeted him, his expression changed to one of relief, and he suddenly threw himself into Jeong Tae-Ui’s arms.
"Hyung! I was so worried. I really was. They said you were going to prison, but I couldn’t reach you—"

This time, Jeong Tae-Ui froze. He hadn’t expected Shin-Roo to suddenly crash into his arms. He looked down, startled, unsure of what to do with his arms, which were awkwardly hovering in midair.
Shin-Roo, tightly embracing him, buried his face in Jeong Tae-Ui’s shoulder. It felt almost like he was crying. Like a child who had lost their mother, he clung to him as hard as he could. Jeong Tae-Ui slowly lowered his arms, gently pulling Shin-Roo into a careful hug, feeling the soft warmth of his body. He hugged him tenderly, as if holding delicate glass, taking in the sweet, familiar scent of soap that tickled his nose.
How could this body be so lovable? The warmth, the soft hair, the gentle body... Jeong Tae-Ui found himself lost in the moment, tightening his grip on Shin-Roo unconsciously.

Then, suddenly, he realized Shin-Roo hadn’t moved. He was just standing there, unmoving. Startled, Jeong Tae-Ui loosened his arms slightly, unsure if he had hugged him too tightly, thinking Shin-Roo might be uncomfortable. He loosened his grip gently, wondering if he had made him feel claustrophobic or if it was too much for him.
As he hesitated, trying to read Shin-Roo’s feelings, the younger man suddenly hugged him even more tightly. Then, whispering into his ear with his face still buried in his shoulder, Shin-Roo spoke in a soft, uncertain voice.
"Hyung, I had a dream about you last night."
"Really? That’s nice."
Jeong Tae-Ui hesitated for a moment, debating whether he should pull his arms back and hug him again. He felt both grateful and touched that Shin-Roo had worried so much, even dreaming about him. As he waited for Shin-Roo to continue, Jeong Tae-Ui listened closely, but Shin-Roo remained silent for a while, as if uncertain about something. It was almost as if there was something bothering him.

Had the dream been bad? Or maybe... had he dreamed that I’d been stuck in prison for life?
Jeong Tae-Ui thought about interrupting, ready to reassure him by saying, "Dreams are the opposite," but before he could speak, Shin-Roo suddenly muttered, as if he had made up his mind.
"I... I dreamed I was sleeping with you."
"Haha, really? Well, it’s okay. They say dreams are the opposite..."
Jeong Tae-Ui laughed to comfort him, but the moment he spoke, something felt off. It was like there had been a slight miscommunication between his ears and brain.
"..."

As he replayed the words in his head, he went silent for a moment, and Shin-Roo, sensing his unease, nervously whispered.
"Did I... make you feel uncomfortable? ...Do you not like it, hyung?"
Shin-Roo’s voice trembled with anxiety, almost as if he was on the verge of tears. Jeong Tae-Ui quickly responded, unsure of what exactly he had heard.
"What are you talking about? Of course not."
But even as he said this, there was a certain lack of strength in his words. Slowly, the meaning of what Shin-Roo had said sank in. Shin-Roo had dreamed of sleeping with him.

His face grew hot. He could feel the warmth spreading up from his chest to his face. First, his face flushed, then his earlobes and neck became warm. Even his lips felt hot with the rising heat.
Jeong Tae-Ui pulled Shin-Roo back into his arms again. With his lips pressed gently to Shin-Roo’s hair, he blinked, still trying to grasp what had just happened. It felt unreal. He wasn’t sure whether he fully understood the situation, but despite the confusion, Shin-Roo's body felt incredibly warm and lovable.
As Jeong Tae-Ui stood there, unable to speak, his face burning with embarrassment, Shin-Roo quietly asked,
"...Hyung, when will you be back from prison?"
"Uh... ten days."

When Jeong Tae-Ui stammered the answer, Shin-Roo fell silent again. Then, in a small, barely audible voice, as if afraid, he whispered close to Jeong Tae-Ui’s ear.
"Hyung, when you get out, let’s go to Hong Kong together. And there... let’s sleep together. I’ll book a nice room for us. Let’s go together."
Jeong Tae-Ui was speechless. He couldn’t find the words. His lips were frozen, and his tongue stuck. All he could do was stare at his hand, still wrapped around Shin-Roo’s back.
This is strange. Why do I feel so shy and ticklish? Jeong Tae-Ui had understood what Shin-Roo was saying, but his heart was strangely fluttering. It wasn’t his first time being intimate with someone, and it wasn’t a big deal, but his heart seemed to race and flutter.
"Uh... yeah..."
After speaking, Jeong Tae-Ui immediately thought how foolish he sounded. He could have said something more suave, but he gave such a clumsy, awkward response.
He blamed himself, but his tongue remained stiff. So, he just hugged Shin-Roo's back a little tighter. Shin-Roo, still with his face buried in Jeong Tae-Ui’s shoulder, tightened his arms around Jeong Tae-Ui’s waist. The sensation of their hearts beating in sync rose up through their bodies, but Jeong Tae-Ui couldn’t tell whose heart was beating. Perhaps it was both of theirs.

After a long time of just standing there, not saying anything, the sound of a door opening somewhere in the hallway made them jump, and they pulled apart. Turning the corner, no one was visible, and the footsteps faded away in the opposite direction.
The two of them stood about a half step apart, staring at each other's feet. Jeong Tae-Ui stared at Shin-Roo’s feet for a while, then suddenly smiled. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. There had been times before when they were so shy they couldn’t look at each other. Even now, his heart fluttered when Shin-Roo was in front of him.
Jeong Tae-Ui slowly raised his head. Shin-Roo also looked up and stared at him. When their eyes met, Shin-Roo blushed and then broke into a wide smile. Jeong Tae-Ui couldn’t help but smile in return.
"Even in prison... do you think the pager will work?"
He thought it would be nice if he could still receive messages there. Even though he couldn’t reply, it would be great if Shin-Roo could send just a short greeting. Shin-Roo seemed to have the same thought, murmuring,
"Yeah, I wonder."
The fluttering feeling inside him faded, and the anxiety and regrets disappeared. Even before entering the prison, he already couldn’t wait for the day he would come out.
"Prison"
Thud.
The first sensation Jeong Tae-Ui felt when he entered was auditory. The faint sound of water droplets echoed distantly.

Usually, this tiny sound would go unnoticed, but with his vision blocked, his hearing became the most sensitive. And along with it, his sense of touch became more attuned. He stretched out his hand and waved it slowly in front of him. His fingertips brushed something hard and damp. To the right, it was the wall. Probably a stone wall, covered with moss.
"...Wow... this is too much. What kind of prison is this in this day and age?"
Before he could finish his words, he felt a sudden jolt to the back of his head.
"What do you mean 'prison'? Shut up and follow me if you're guilty."
The older instructor standing next to Jeong Tae-Ui scolded him and yanked the chains. As he was dragged along, Jeong Tae-Ui shouted in a hurry,
"Wait a minute, please slow down! I can't see, I can’t see!"
The oldest of the instructors in the branch, he had received respect despite the UNHRDO not following a seniority-based system. Jeong Tae-Ui remembered his uncle saying that this old man had held a prominent position even when his uncle first joined the organization.

Jeong Tae-Ui was dragged through the dark, stumbling and shouting, but he couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the bright, clear space and the suddenly dark surroundings, where only faint lights dimly illuminated the walls.
He had been told the prison was on the 7th underground floor, and Jeong Tae-Ui had imagined it as a simple confinement space—like a small solitary cell, where time would pass slowly. But that wasn’t the case.
This was a real prison. An underground prison. The kind that would make human rights organizations rise up if they saw it.

Dragged along by the instructor, Jeong Tae-Ui stumbled, bumping into walls and cursing as he moved, eventually getting used to the darkness and dim lights. It wasn’t long before he realized that the place was nothing like he had imagined. The stone walls seemed as old as time itself, with moss growing in places.
"How long has this branch been here? It can’t possibly be hundreds of years old."
Jeong Tae-Ui muttered in disbelief, but the instructor chuckled.
"This is the most recently built branch of the UNHRDO in Asia. Less than 30 years old. The buildings are constantly being renovated, and all the new equipment is updated every year. Have you been living here and still saying things like that?"
"But how could there be such an old, decaying basement? And if you’re renovating every year, then why is there so much moss?!"
"The moss suits the place, doesn’t it? Renovation doesn’t fix everything. It’s my masterpiece."
"..."

Jeong Tae-Ui stared at the instructor in disbelief.
"You’ve been here since the branch was first built, haven’t you?"
"I designed it, so of course, ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ I’m still here."
So, this old man was the one behind it. Jeong Tae-Ui nodded vigorously, feeling the weight of the memories from the first time he saw the branch’s exterior. Despite its high-tech equipment, the building looked like a rundown, decaying relic. The contrast with the shiny headquarters and other branches was striking, and Jeong Tae-Ui now realized the man standing beside him was the cause of it all.
Looking up, he saw the ceiling high above, with stalactites hanging down, dripping water in the dim light. The stone floor was damp, with pools of water scattered across it. The narrow hall was lined with prison cells, each big enough to hold a few people, but the heavy iron bars and the faint light made the place feel claustrophobic.

At least he had only ten days here. If he had been told to stay for months, he would have gone crazy from boredom.
Now, he had at least gotten used to the dim surroundings and the sense of isolation. The instructor dragged him through, and they came to a dead end. The hall was much smaller than the others, and Jeong Tae-Ui wondered if the entire structure was built in a completely different way.
"Not many rooms here. This floor is much smaller than the others."
"Do you really think there’s space for more people? If there were more criminals here, there’d be no point in training anyone."
"Ah, yes..."

Jeong Tae-Ui kept silent, understanding that there was likely no more space elsewhere. He had heard the whispers of the other prisoners—he wasn’t the only one here. He was going to spend the next ten days with someone.
When the instructor stopped in front of a door, Jeong Tae-Ui was shoved inside. The room seemed smaller and darker than the others. But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t need the light much anyway. There wasn’t much he could do, but think about the time left and the people he still wanted to see.
The instructor harshly shoved the door open, and Jeong Tae-Ui was thrown into the room. It was the farthest, most isolated room in the corner. It felt smaller and darker than the others, but Jeong Tae-Ui didn’t mind. The dim light didn’t matter much to him anyway. The small bulb hanging from the ceiling barely lit up the space, but it was enough to see the basic furnishings—a small dresser, a rickety desk, and a metal bed frame.

Jeong Tae-Ui glanced around. The room was cramped, and the smell of dampness filled the air. The walls were covered with cracks, and the air felt stale. It looked like a place that hadn’t been cared for in ages. He didn’t have to stay long, just ten days, but the idea of being stuck here with nothing to do but think was unsettling.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and sat on the metal bed. The cold, hard surface made him feel even more isolated. He could feel his chest tightening as he tried to process everything that had happened so quickly. The moment he stepped into this place, he had known it would be a difficult journey, but now, in this small, damp room, he realized just how overwhelming it all was.
His hand brushed over the cold metal bars of the bed frame, and he couldn’t help but think about the people he’d left behind. Shin-Roo... The thought of him made his heart flutter again. He had been so startled when Shin-Roo had confessed his feelings, but now, after everything that had happened, it made him feel both warm and conflicted. He had never expected someone to care about him so deeply, but now, faced with this solitude, he couldn’t deny the aching feeling in his chest.

If only I had more time, he thought to himself. If only I could go back to that moment and say something more.
The door slammed behind him as the instructor walked away, and Jeong Tae-Ui was left alone in the silence. His mind kept drifting back to Shin-Roo’s words. "When you get out, let’s go to Hong Kong together." That simple promise echoed in his mind. It seemed impossible now, given the circumstances, but somehow, it gave him a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could make it through this.
As time passed, Jeong Tae-Ui lay down on the hard bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. The uncertainty of the days ahead gnawed at him, but he couldn’t deny the strange warmth he felt. It wasn’t just because of the memory of Shin-Roo’s embrace or his words. It was the feeling of connection, the knowledge that someone cared enough to wait for him, even in this dark, confined space.

But he knew he couldn’t let his guard down. The ten days ahead would be grueling, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He needed to focus on surviving this ordeal, no matter how isolating or uncomfortable it was. It wasn’t just about getting out; it was about ensuring that when he did, he would be stronger, more prepared for whatever awaited him.
As the hours passed, the sound of water dripping echoed through the dark corridors. It felt like time itself was slipping away, one drop at a time. Jeong Tae-Ui closed his eyes, trying to block out the sound, but his mind raced with thoughts of the people he cared about, the people who depended on him.
I will make it through this, he promised himself. For them, and for me.

The next ten days would be hard, but he had been through worse. He had to keep moving forward, keep fighting. There was no other choice.
And as the darkness closed in around him, Jeong Tae-Ui resolved that he wouldn’t let this prison break him. He would survive. For Shin-Roo. For everyone.