Those cool, sharp eyes narrowed to a thin line.
“Han.”
Cesare quietly mouthed the final syllable of the name. Despite the sense of familiarity he’d felt, actually saying it out loud, it didn’t quite settle on his tongue.
It was a name that sat uneasily with him somehow. It gave a solid impression, yet scattered instantly inside his mouth. The more he rolled it over his tongue, the more the sound seemed to leak out like a whistle.
“Sir?”
Colin called out carefully to Cesare, who had his gaze fixed on the résumé with a furrowed brow. It made him uneasy to see his superior scrutinizing a résumé he would normally not have given a second glance.
There were usually two reasons Cesare stared at something for a prolonged period. Either the subject had caught his interest, or he found it absolutely intolerable.
The former was, of course, extremely rare. The last time had been two years ago, when he’d looked at a newly developed hover car. So this time, too, it had to be the latter.
“I’m sorry — the folder must have been loose.”
Colin reached out and lightly grasped the edge of the résumé. One look made it plain that his superior was in a poor mood.
Colin typically sorted the omegas’ résumés according to a set of criteria, and by those criteria, the owner of this particular résumé hadn’t made the cut to be presented to Cesare. It just happened to be this one that caught his eye and got on Cesare’s nerves.
The best course of action was to get that piece of paper out of sight as quickly as possible. The last thing he needed was to catch stray sparks.
But Cesare didn’t loosen his grip on the résumé. He simply shifted his gaze — which had been fixed on the name — and redirected it slightly toward the photo. Colin had no choice but to release his hold on the corner of the résumé.
“Tch. What an unremarkable-looking thing.”
After staring at the photo attached to the résumé for quite some time, Cesare clicked his tongue and gave his brief verdict. It was a tone that dismissed the subject the way one might dismiss a dented can on the side of the road.
Cesare kept his disdainful gaze on the résumé without bothering to conceal it. Yi Seohan, as a person, did look like someone who had never managed a bowl of soup — rail-thin. The photo only showed him from the shoulders up, but there was no need to see the full picture. Slight of frame, the kind of build that looked like it might snap.
The one thing worth looking at was the clear, open face — but even that was blurry, as though taken with a cheap camera. Even through that blurriness, a pair of quietly luminous, clean eyes shone through, and they had a gentle, docile look about them.
‘H-here, do you want this? Hyung will give it to you.’
A voice from some early summer day — faint as grass being crushed underfoot — drifted around the edges of his memory.
Does he resemble him.
That child’s name had felt like this too, he thought. Unusually Eastern-sounding, yet scattering like air the moment you tried to hold it.
But no matter how long he stared at the photo, the child’s face refused to surface. His memories of that incident were hazy, and the harder he tried to force them back, the more it felt like a spike being driven into his brain — an unpleasant ache that was more annoyance than pain.
In truth, it wasn’t even an important memory. Just one of many fleeting afterimages from the past that surfaced occasionally.
It didn’t take up any significant space among the many memories he held. All he could recall were two or three brief, indistinct fragments of scenes — it was likely nothing more than a chance encounter.
Yet sometimes, those brief afterimages were enough to draw Cesare into a strange, unsettled feeling.
“District 4, is it……”
If it was District 4, then it was even less likely to be that child. Even in those afterimages where the face was invisible, the child had been wearing fairly costly clothes and shoes.
“Ah, about that……”
Colin’s shoulders tensed at the sound of Cesare’s murmur.
Among the many things Cesare despised was anything dirty or ill-defined. Which meant anyone from District 4 was among the first to be excluded. There had even been explicit instructions not to accept résumés from them at all.
But Colin had his own grievances. It had been only a few hours ago that Ensha, the front desk staff, had passed it along, saying some young man who’d come in through a personal referral had left it behind without taking no for an answer.
He’d been buried in work and hadn’t had a proper chance to check it. Assuming Ensha would have reviewed it before handing it over had been his mistake. He’d also let his guard down because the person was said to have connections to Herald Financial, with its rigorous security — he’d figured anyone like that couldn’t be too suspicious.
He’d noticed it was a résumé from someone in District 4 belatedly and had been about to dispose of it. But who could have known that before he got the chance, the damned piece of paper would flutter through the air and land right on his superior’s knee.
“I made it clear any number of times not to accept résumés from District 4, yet apparently he left it behind without permission. I’ll remove it right away.”
Sensing the rebuke that was about to fall, Colin extended both hands in a gesture of contrition. All he wanted was to get that wretched résumé back and dispose of it immediately.
But again, the résumé did not leave Cesare’s hand.
“Are you not hearing me? I believe I asked who this was.”
The fierce gaze that had been fixed on the résumé swung toward Colin. It was only then that Colin recalled what Cesare had said a moment ago.
He’d assumed it was a sardonic remark along the lines of who dared to hand over something like this — but it had been a genuine question carrying real curiosity. Colin was only just now realizing that his superior was capable of being curious about another person.
“He’s a young man who came to the office today. He left his résumé.”
“He came here himself?”
That hard face cooled and settled into something even more frigid. The dim lighting cast a dark shadow across that cold expression.
“It seems…… the rumor that you were looking for a recessive omega may have leaked.”
Cesare Herald drew people’s attention by his very existence alone. With his capital having seeped into every corner of the country, that was hardly surprising.
In particular, his strikingly handsome appearance — the kind that felt almost unapproachable — combined with the fact that he had never once taken a partner despite being a far-dominant alpha, made him ideal prey for paparazzi.
After a few well-placed examples were made, the paparazzi had dropped off considerably, but they hadn’t disappeared entirely. Every era had its share of people who placed little value on their own lives. This time too, it seemed information had leaked through the paparazzi.
“Handle it properly. Don’t let it turn into a mess.”
“I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning.”
Reading his displeasure, Colin bowed. What he meant by taking care of it was finding the source of the rumor and eliminating it.
Cesare preferred clean, decisive handling of matters, and skirting one or two laws in the process was nothing to him.
In this country, the law was something that lay pinned beneath power. And Cesare was the man who had that power in his grip — so it was only natural that the law felt like little more than a suggestion.
“Hmm.”
Cesare’s gaze drifted back to the résumé. A long index finger tapped the photo inside it — tap, tap. The boyish face disappeared and reappeared as the finger moved over it.
It was a face that irritated him in a strangely specific way. The rounded eyes that gave off a faintly guileless air, the corners of the mouth that curved up in that inconclusive way — they stirred up an unnecessary kind of curiosity.
For instance, the kind of curiosity that wondered — would that stupid expression still be there if I met him in person.
“Living in District 4, he must’ve had a life like rubbish.”
Cesare offered that cutting assessment and flicked the résumé aside. Colin quickly retrieved the paper as it floated down to the floor and slipped it back into the folder.
District 4 was no different from a ghetto crammed with the dregs of society. Its population was largely made up of people of unknown origins — those drowning in debt or riddled with illness, scraping the very bottom. That kind of life was common enough in the Graven Federation, but District 4 was especially severe.
It was the place where everything that other districts couldn’t contain eventually settled and sank. Garbage, criminals, illegal day laborers, black markets — all of it flowed down into District 4.
Yi Seohan appeared to be no exception. The résumé was almost pitifully sparse, aside from the name and the photo. The education section was essentially blank, and there was no proper occupation to speak of. A handful of small part-time jobs were all that described him.
Decent-looking face, so he probably sold himself to get by. Exactly the type Cesare despised.
“As you instructed, I’ll call a doctor in the morning. Shall we resume seeing omegas in two days?”
Colin, having straightened the folder, jotted into his notebook and began working through the schedule.
Cesare sat with his legs crossed at length, foot swaying idly. His gaze traveled toward the folder. It was he himself who had tossed the résumé away — and yet, the blurry face now tucked out of sight left him oddly dissatisfied.
“Before that — bring him in first.”
“Pardon?”
Colin asked back, not quite catching the meaning. Cesare, brow furrowed, pointed at the folder Colin was holding.
“Bring that one in first.”
“Ah……”
Even after recognizing that those elegant fingers were pointing at the folder in his hands, Colin had to take a moment to think through who that one was.
All the omegas seen today had been rejected, so it couldn’t be any of them. That left only one person — the owner of the résumé from a moment ago.
But knowing Cesare’s usual temperament well, he couldn’t immediately connect bring him in with an omega from District 4. It took a beat before Colin could bow and answer.
“Understood. I’ll have someone sent.”
“Go.”
“Yes. Please rest, sir.”
Colin, posture perfectly correct, gave a bow and turned on his heel promptly.
Cesare clicked his tongue in displeasure, pushed himself to his feet, and headed toward the bedroom. The remains of the shattered whiskey glass crunched and crumbled under his house shoes with every step.
