Twisted Games(Ryeji ver)

RYUJIN/YEJI[CHAPTER 4]

RYUJIN

Yeji and I arrived in Athenberg, Eldorra’s capital, four
days after my no-more-walking decree opened a second
front in our ongoing cold war. The plane ride had been
chillier than a winter dip in a Russian river, but I didn’t care.
I didn’t need her to like me to do my job.

I scanned the city’s near-empty National Cemetery,
listening to the eerie howl of the wind whistle through the
bare trees. A deep chill swept through the cemetery,
burrowing past my layers of clothing and sinking deep into
my bones.

Today was the first semi-free day on Yeji's schedule
since we landed, and she’d shocked the hell out of me when
she insisted on spending it at the cemetery.
When I saw why, though, I understood.

I maintained a respectful distance from where she
kneeled before two tombstones, but I was still close enough
to see the names engraved on them.

Hwang Eunbi. Hwang Chan Sung.

Her parents.
I’d been ten when Crown Princess Eunbi died during
childbirth. I remembered seeing photos of the late princess
splashed across magazines and TV screens for weeks. Prince
Chan Sung had died a few years later in a car crash.

Yeji and I weren’t friends. Hell, we weren’t even
friendly most of the time. That didn’t stop the strange tug at
my heart when I saw the sadness on her face as she
murmured something to her parents’ graves.

Yeji brushed a strand of hair out of her face, her sad
expression melting into a small smile as she said something
else. I rarely gave a damn what people did and said in their
personal lives, but I almost wished I were close enough to
hear what made her smile.

My phone pinged, and I welcomed the distraction from
my unsettling thoughts until I saw the message.

Yunjin: I can get you the name in less than ten minutes.

Me: No. Drop it.

Another message popped up, but I pocketed my phone
without reading it.

Irritation spiked through me.

Yunjin was a persistent bastard who reveled in digging
into the skeletons of other people’s pasts. She’d been bugging
me since she found out I was spending the holidays in Eldorra
—she knew my hang-ups about the country—and if she
weren’t my boss and the closest thing I had to a friend, her
face would’ve met my fist by now.

I told her I didn’t want the name, and I meant it. I’d
survived thirty-one years without knowing. I could survive
thirty-one more, or however long it took before I kicked the
bucket.

I returned my attention to Yeji just as a twig snapped
nearby, followed by the soft click of a camera shutter.
My head jerked up, and a low growl rumbled from my
throat when I spotted a telltale pouf of blond hair peeking
from the top of a nearby tombstone.

Fucking paparazzi

The asshole squeaked and tried to flee when he realized
he’d been caught, but I stormed over and grabbed the back of
his jacket before he could take more than a few steps.
I saw Yeji stand up out of the corner of my eye, her
expression concerned.

“Give me your camera,” I said, my calm voice belying my
anger. Paparazzi were an inescapable evil when guarding
high-profile people, but there was a difference between
snapping photos of someone eating and shopping versus
snapping photos of them in a private moment.

Yeji was visiting her parents’ graves, for fuck’s sake,
and this piece of shit had the nerve to intrude.

“No way,” the paparazzo blustered. “This is a free country, and Princess Yeji is a public figure. I can—” I didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence before I
yanked the camera from his hand, dropped it on the ground,
and smashed it into smithereens with my boot.