Arcadia Chapter 2.6

Wayne. He had no enthusiasm or interest in finding out if it was Bruce Wayne or Wayne Rooney. Since he had introduced himself as Wayne, he was Wayne. Van didn’t know his age or affiliation. He was one of the guys who’d been a bodyguard for the piglet before Van had arrived in Cancún for the security assignment.

A cheap, disposable mercenary; a handsome exterior that even other men had to admit was good-looking; a man around thirty whose passion had died down, leaving only ennui. Those were the descriptions that defined Wayne. Van had thought they might have become friends. If only that incident hadn’t happened.

Van compulsively bit his nails, his eyes darting around. Just then, a display cabinet, open about halfway, caught his eye. Wayne’s gaze also flickered there before returning to the side of Van’s face.

An unpleasant aura emanated from Van’s face, which had a delicate bone structure for a Westerner and light pigmentation for an an Asian, leaving a peculiar impression. Even when Wayne stared persistently at his high nose bridge and furrowed brow, Van’s amber eyes—noticeably lighter than his jet-black hair—remained stubbornly fixed on the display cabinet. Wayne, who had been silently looking around the house, broke the silence with some idle talk.

“Why did you leave without a word?”

To Van, Wayne’s first question was utterly ridiculous. Of course, he didn’t laugh.

“We’re not the type to say goodbye.”

Sweeping a hand marked with teeth imprints across his cheek, Van was suddenly reminded of the disgraceful act he’d committed, lured by money, and buried his face in his palms. What was the point of acting cold now? That bastard must have cackled while watching his pathetic display.

“Ah, jeez… seriously…”

Wayne’s eyebrow rose crookedly as he stared at the nape of Van’s neck, which was clearly exposed due to his deeply bowed head.

In that instant, Van flinched and jumped. He drew back as if to protect his neck where something ticklish had touched, and finally met Wayne’s eyes. Wayne held up his hand in a pincer shape and waved it, his gaze fixed on Van’s almost golden-colored eyes.

“It was stuck to you.”

A single strand of golden thread, held between Wayne’s fingers, swayed gently. As if something dirty had touched him, Van scrubbed at the lingering warmth on his neck, then sank back into the sofa and glared at Wayne. As he tried to get a handle on the situation while avoiding the myriad of embarrassing things he’d shown him, puzzling questions began to pop up one after another. He decided to start with the most important one.

“How do you know Michel? You never said anything about him.”

After making the mistake of a lifetime with Wayne, Van had been busy avoiding him, but even before that, there had been no sign. Or had Wayne dropped a hint that he hadn’t noticed?

Van recalled the few interactions he’d had with Wayne. Racking his brain, all he could remember from before that incident was exchanging some pointless small talk when they occasionally ran into each other.

Without a word of explanation to Van, who was struggling to find even the smallest connection, Wayne stood up from the sofa. Van looked up at the man who had approached him. Backlit by the light, his form, steeped in black, seemed even larger.

“That’s not what’s important.”

Van didn’t like this angle. As he debated whether to kick the shin positioned before his foot, Wayne turned his back.

“It’s over there, right?”

As soon as Wayne strode toward the basement, Van shot to his feet. Grabbing the man’s shoulder and spinning him around, Van made it clear he wouldn’t let this go.

“Explain yourself properly first.”

“What more is there to explain?”

Shaking off Van’s hand as if it were a nuisance, Wayne stepped onto the ladder before Van could stop him.

“Hey! I was going to…!”

The thought of Dia, who wouldn’t know someone had come, made Van urgently try to grab him, but the bastard leaped down from the middle of the ladder, evading his grasp. It was a disaster. With no more time to think, Van climbed down the ladder and found Wayne standing before the glass wall, and Dia standing pressed against the wall, clutching a clock. Wayne scanned the beautiful child from head to toe before letting out an indifferent comment.

“He’s grown a lot.”

Van, who had also jumped down from the ladder, forcefully shoved past Wayne’s shoulder. Kneeling in front of the entrance, he opened his arms.

“Dia, come here.”

Dia, his smile gone for once, threw the clock aside and scurried over. Pulling the child out of the small entrance, Van hugged the small body tightly and turned around. He pressed the round back of Dia’s head, hiding it in his embrace. The child squirmed in discomfort, but Van couldn’t easily show Dia to a man who wouldn’t even answer his questions. Wayne, who had been suddenly demoted to a ruffian trying to snatch a child, twisted the corner of his lip as if to say, what a sight.

“What are you hiding him for?”

“Answer me properly. How do you know Michel?”

With every step Wayne took closer, Van hugged the child tighter. Pinned against his shoulder, Dia grunted and then whispered softly.

“I can’t breathe.”

“Endure it.”

Though his words were firm, he slightly relaxed the pressure in his arms. Wrapping his arms around the chest that now rose and fell more easily, Van remained wary of Wayne, who was frowning.

“Gotten attached, have you? You’re being so overprotective…”

“Don’t come any closer. Talk from there.”

Wayne shrugged nonchalantly, ignored the warning, and took a step. With the child in his arms, Van could do nothing but look up at the approaching Wayne. A slow heat began to rise in him. The man looked down with an unbelievably arrogant face.

“I was hired, too. To help out a little.”

“…You, me?”

Wayne’s fingers brushed against his bangs and pulled away. A faint breeze carried an unfamiliar scent to the tip of his nose. Holding his breath for a moment, Van rubbed his nose on Dia’s shoulder, deeply inhaling the comforting scent. The scent of Wayne he’d caught for just a moment fanned the flames of suspicion that were piled up like firewood.

Michel was inherently selfish, suspicious of everything, and a cold-hearted person who would cast aside his one and only blood relative for the sake of his research. There had to be a reason why he’d passed over talented people from renowned companies and entrusted the job to a good-for-nothing like him.

It was highly likely that he’d reluctantly chosen Van because he couldn’t trust anyone but family. So he hired a separate mercenary? This didn’t make any sense.

Van had never heard that Wayne belonged to any well-known company. There weren’t even rumors of him being well-connected. He, like Van himself, was just a mediocre, cheap mercenary who was there to fill a headcount. And he’d been hired by Michel? Van had the unpleasant premonition that some dirty dealings had gone on somewhere he didn’t know about.

“Let him go. I need to check something.”

Wayne, whom he still couldn’t accept as an ally, gestured. Van twisted his lips into a lopsided sneer and tried to sound him out.

“You seem to know quite a bit, for someone in the same position.”

“Who knows. It’s probably similar.”

Making Van’s efforts pointless, Wayne pulled the child toward him without warning. The small body was helplessly dragged from his loosened arms.

“Dia!”

Van reached for the rapidly retreating Dia, but a powerful hand seizing his throat was faster. Wayne kicked Van’s knee as he tried to stand, forcing him back down, then used his other hand to push the struggling Dia away from him.

“Stay still.”

“You crazy bastard…”

A grip strong enough to cut off his breath choked his throat. His movements restricted, Van tried to break the bastard’s wrist this time, but unfortunately, it was just a wish. The difference in their size was significant, and he couldn’t kick out because Dia was near the man’s legs.

For a moment, Van glared at him as if to tear him to shreds, a blue vein pulsing at his temple. Then, Wayne abruptly released his grip. As Van bent over, letting out a torrent of coughs, Wayne, holding Dia’s shoulders, began to turn the small body this way and that.

“If he’s already this big, he’ll grow up fast.”

The delicate body swayed and staggered under the thoughtless handling. Dia, whose brow had never once been furrowed except for right after he was born, contorted his face and shot Van an anxious look. Van, after letting out a few dry coughs, stood up without delay and snatched Wayne’s wrist. As he squeezed hard enough for the bones to protrude on the back of his hand, the hand holding the child’s shoulder slowly loosened.

“Let go of this… Hey!”

The hand that seemed to be letting go suddenly shoved Dia’s shoulder hard. The slight body was thrown back as if it were flying. If Van hadn’t lunged forward and caught him, the force would have been more than enough to crack the back of his head.

“This son of a bitch, really…”

Clutching his hand, which was throbbing from smacking hard against the corner of the desk, he threw a punch. Struck unexpectedly on the left cheek, Wayne’s head snapped to the side. Grabbing him by the collar, Van shook his smarting hand once before landing another blow to his cheek.

“Are you asking to die? Who do you think you are, pushing a kid.”

“It was just a little joke.”

Wayne spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and responded with a shameless comeback. It seemed two hits weren’t enough. Just as he raised his fist to give him a few more, Dia wrapped his arms tightly around his waist and clung to him.

“Vaan…”

Dia carefully took Van’s hand, where the skin was scraped and blood was beading, with both of his own and wrinkled his white forehead. His face was pained, as if he himself were the one who was hurt. Van wanted to soothe him and say it was nothing, but the timing was bad. Van twisted his captured hand free and pointed to the glass wall.

“You, get inside.”

“It’s bleeding. Does this hurt?”

“Get inside.”

He gestured firmly with his head, but Dia, who had been raised with doting affection, wouldn’t listen. He wrapped both arms completely around Van’s waist and buried his face in the small of his back. As he shook his head no, no, Van had no choice but to give up his plan to beat Wayne to a pulp and with great difficulty, shifted his course toward resolving things through conversation.

“Tell me everything you know. Say it and get out.”

“Why should I?”

Wayne, maintaining his insolent attitude, wiped his bleeding lip with the back of his hand. He used his knobby-knuckled fingers to open a powder container on the desk and clicked his tongue.

“You don’t have to feed him this anymore.”

“Are you changing the subject now?”

Closing the lid, Wayne scoffed at Dia, who was still bravely holding his ground while hiding behind Van’s back. The large, wary eyes met his gaze directly. Meeting the stare, which felt vaguely impertinent, Wayne shrugged.

“No reason to tell you. It’s my job.”

“Job? You call ordering that kind of shit a job?”

“Hey now. You’re the one who said you liked it.”

A smile appeared on the man’s lips as he recalled Van selling his pride for a few bucks. As the ennui lifted from Wayne’s handsome face, Van felt even more disgusted.

“Then why’d you come here? To keep watching me like that?”

“Just because… I wanted to see you.”

The moment his downward gaze met his face, Van deliberately pretended to gag. What kind of relationship did they have for him to so casually say such creepy things? This was a person he didn’t want to be in the same space with for even a second.

Wayne’s eyes swept over Van from head to toe, who was showing his intense dislike, and he murmured as if in passing.

“You are… pretty reckless, after all. I was worried.”

Van, who had been continuously feigning gags, furrowed his brow. It was because he’d heard a strange sentence. Momentarily speechless, Van moved his dry lips and then asked back with a hollow laugh.

“What did you just say?”

“I was worried sick you’d get drunk again and drag just anyone home.”

Especially with a kid around.

Tossing out the last words, Wayne glanced at Dia, who was clinging to Van’s waist, and began to rifle through a file folder sitting next to the powder container. Van, unable to stop Wayne from reading the records that were practically his diary, stood frozen stiff. He felt like he’d been slapped across the face out of nowhere. He wished Wayne would just shut up, but he repeatedly made comments that picked at Van.

“There’s something I’ve been curious about…”

Dia, who had been hugging Van’s waist, looked down. The blood that had dripped from Van’s clenched fist fell to the basement floor.

“Do you always act like that when you drink?”

Dia’s gaze, which had been fixed on the drop of blood on the dark floor, slowly rose. Wayne’s dark eyes, which had been scanning the file, met Dia’s, who had his lips pressed firmly together, and then gradually formed a sneering smile.