Kang Soo {2}

The heavy oak door creaked shut behind Ji-Yuri, the scent of roasted meat lingering faintly in the air. Her departure left a vacuum in the room, a silence Kang Soo instantly filled with the weight of his thoughts. His mind, usually a whirlwind of youthful energy, was now anchored to the mystery of the secret library, a place shrouded in shadows and whispers.

He carefully placed the ancient book on the polished mahogany table, the worn leather cool beneath his fingertips. He'd retrieved it from the hidden library downstairs, a treasure trove of forgotten knowledge. The script, though archaic, held a familiarity that sparked a flicker of understanding within him. He settled into the plush velvet chair, its softness a stark contrast to the age and gravity of the book.

With a deep breath, he opened the time-worn pages, the brittle parchment whispering secrets only he could hear. Each character, painstakingly etched, was a piece of a puzzle. He recognized some of the ancient Nam-yoo script, the words forming themselves into chilling phrases: "Ol' shall assassinate goods." The sentence hung in the air, heavy with implication. What goods? Who was Ol'? A shiver traced its way down his spine.

He turned the page, his eyes tracing the elegant, yet menacing script. "By thee of the Night, thy the wraith awakens." The words conjured images of spectral figures, gliding through moonlit corridors, their presence a palpable chill. This, too, resonated with a deeper, unsettling history of Nam-yoo. The air thickened, the silence now charged with an unseen energy. Goosebumps erupted on his arms, a physical manifestation of the unease creeping into his heart.

Page after page, he delved deeper into the book's cryptic narrative. The script grew increasingly obscure, the words twisting into darker, more ominous pronouncements. The ink, faded with time, seemed to bleed into the parchment, mirroring the growing darkness within the text. Each sentence was a step further into a shadowed realm, a descent into a history both fascinating and terrifying.

Finally, he reached the last page. The words, barely legible, were a final, enigmatic message: "Fhy thæ i shult œf die." Kang Soo stared at the inscription, his brow furrowed in concentration. He couldn't decipher the meaning, the archaic dialect proving too elusive. Yet, he felt instinctively that these final words held the key, a deeper, more profound meaning hidden beneath the surface. The book slammed shut, the silence returning, now heavy with unanswered questions and the chilling weight of untold secrets. The adventure had just begun for him.

The sharp crack of the gunshot sliced through the quiet evening, a sound so jarring it ripped Kang Soo from his thoughts. His hand instinctively went to his chest, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He cautiously opened the door, the polished wood cool against his palm, and peered into the hallway. The air hung heavy with an unsettling silence, broken only by the faint echo of his own breath.

He moved slowly, his footsteps deliberate on the plush carpet, each step a question mark in the unsettling quiet. The hallway, usually bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun filtering through the large windows, felt strangely dim, the shadows stretching long and distorted. He rounded a corner, his senses on high alert, the scent of polished wood and expensive furniture doing little to soothe his growing unease.

Then, the vast, opulent living room opened before him. It was a space designed for extravagance, a symphony of rich textures and luxurious materials. Crystal chandeliers cast a shimmering light on the plush velvet sofas and intricately carved furniture. But the focal point, the thing that drew Kang Soo's attention, was Nam-Yoo.

Nam-Yoo stood calmly, his posture relaxed yet alert, a gleaming handgun resting on a low, ornate table beside him. The weapon, a testament to his recent training, seemed almost an extension of his hand. He'd traded the familiar weight of his dagger, a tool stained with the blood of countless missions, for the cold steel of a pistol. The change spoke volumes about his attempts to leave his past behind, to find some measure of peace in his off-duty hours.

Kang Soo's small, trembling voice cut through the silence, a fragile sound in the vast room. "Father? What are you doing…?"

Nam-Yoo's head tilted slightly to the right, his eyes finally settling on his son. He saw the tremor in Kang Soo's hands, the wide, frightened eyes that spoke of a deep-seated fear. The sight of the gun, still gleaming faintly in the dim light, had triggered a flood of traumatic memories. Nam-Yoo instantly understood. He carefully picked up the gun, the metallic weight familiar in his hand, and placed it gently on the table, the action deliberate and reassuring.

He offered a gentle smile, a soft, reassuring expression meant to calm his son's racing heart. "Nothing, my boy. I'm just practicing my aim. What's the matter?" His voice was low and soothing, a stark contrast to the sharp report of the gunshot that had shattered the peace only moments before.

Kang Soo's reply was barely a whisper, a confession laced with a hint of accusation. "Nothing… just some trauma you obviously made…"

A soft chuckle escaped Nam-Yoo's lips, a sound tinged with regret. He almost forgot the incident, the horrifying image of him shooting his elder daughter in front of Kang Soo. The event had left an indelible mark on his son, fostering a deep-seated fear of guns, not of him, the man who held the weapon. The fear was a constant reminder of his past actions, a weight he carried alongside the guilt.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room as Kang Soo recounted his culinary adventure. A wide, almost childlike grin spread across his face as he spoke, the memory of Ji-Yuri's cooking clearly a source of immense pleasure. He nodded emphatically, his eyes sparkling with a reminiscent gleam. "Oh, right! Her food was amazing! Seriously, it was like a five-star restaurant! Each dish was a masterpiece!" He paused, swallowing hard, a visible sheen of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. The image of the succulent dishes, perfectly seasoned and artfully presented, was clearly vivid in his mind.

Nam-yoo chuckled softly, a warm, gentle sound that filled the quiet space. He watched Kang Soo with amusement, his gaze lingering on the telltale signs of gastronomic bliss – the glistening eyes, the slight tremor in his hand as he wiped his mouth, and yes, that unmistakable drool. "You're going to be eating her cooking from now on," Nam-yoo said, his voice calm and reassuring. "No more canned food for you."

Kang Soo's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. A question formed on his lips, a silent 'How did he know?', but he quickly composed himself, his expression smoothing into one of eager anticipation. He ruffled his hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed his inner curiosity. "Right! No more canned food! Savory flavors all day long!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with delight.

Nam-yoo nodded, a reassuring smile playing on his lips.

"Don't worry about your health," he said. "Ji-Yuri makes sure to include plenty of vegetables in her cooking." "She's quite strict about nutrition, you know."

He paused, a hint of amusement in his tone. "In fact, she's a bit of a health fanatic. She even limits the amount of chocolate you can have because of the diabetes risk."

Kang Soo chuckled, the memory of Ji-Yuri's initial pronouncements – a blend of strict rules and genuine care – bringing a smile to his face. Even before he became a part of the family, Ji-Yuri had established a set of guidelines, a carefully crafted regimen designed to ensure his well-being.

It was a testament to her dedication, a blend of the formality of a maid and the warmth of a concerned family member. She was, in her own way, a queen in her culinary kingdom, reigning over her domain with a mixture of firmness and affection. Her concern for his health was as delicious as the food she prepared.

Kang Soo's footsteps echoed softly as he walked down the hallway, his hand instinctively reaching for the reassuring weight of his gun in his pocket. He offered his father a small, almost hesitant smile, the promise to avoid any more sudden surprises hanging unspoken between them. "Alright, I won't," Nam-yoo replied, his tone gentle and reassuring. He returned the smile, a flicker of something deeper – perhaps concern – momentarily crossing his features before being replaced by a calm composure. Kang Soo waved a brief farewell, then turned and walked away, the silence of the hallway amplifying the thoughts racing through his mind.

The image of his father's reassuring smile didn't quite erase the questions simmering beneath the surface. 'How could he possibly know about the canned food?' The thought lingered, a persistent irritant.

And then there was Ji-Yuri, the maid, her seemingly uncanny awareness of his preferences adding another layer to his growing suspicions. He found himself mentally cataloging the details, adding them to the ever-growing list of unanswered questions. His mind felt like a pressure cooker, the steam of suspicion threatening to blow the lid off at any moment.

The memory of the secret library, its hidden shelves filled with ancient Korean texts, resurfaced in his mind. He tried to recall the language, the intricate strokes of the characters, but most of it remained a mystery.

The age of the books was also a puzzle.

The paper felt strangely new, almost pristine – a stark contrast to the aged appearance of the texts themselves. He estimated it to be only about two years old, based on its condition. The discrepancy only fueled his suspicion. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the conflicting evidence.

Kang Soo's determination hardened. He needed answers. He needed to understand Nam-yoo's past, to unravel the enigma of the assassin, the motives behind his actions, and, most importantly, his plans for the future.

The questions gnawed at him, a relentless tide pulling him deeper into the mystery. He wouldn't rest until he had uncovered the truth, no matter how dangerous the path might be. The image of the pristine books, the knowledge of his father's past, and the seemingly insightful maid all combined to create an irresistible pull towards the unknown. He had to know.