Missions (Part 9)

The Life of Aurelius Valemont: Missions (Part 9)

Aurelius: Age 19

It's been a year since that confrontation—and I'm still in South Korea.

But I'm no longer hiding behind the name Lee Jaewon. That mask served its purpose. Now, it's gone. I've had enough of pretending, enough of playing along in someone else's game.

I've severed every connection to the estate. I ignored Philip's calls. I left Minjun and Seojin in the dark. If they reached out, I never answered. There's no room for distractions. Not anymore.

My plan is set. I've had time to study my enemy.

If he knows me, then I know him better.

Chan-Woo Gong—his English name, Sebastian—was once father's most loyal second-in-command. He served under the Valemont empire for nearly thirty years. He knew the inner workings of VARAK, the depths of its corruption, and the weight of the chains father placed on those beneath him.

He was there even before I was born—before father married my mother.

And he knew the truth.

That father didn't marry her for love... but for power.

That alone makes him dangerous. He knows too much. He's lived too long.

He's 76 now. Still clinging to his role as a school principal like a dying man holding onto air. I know why he refused to retire. It's not the job—it's the memory. His late wife made him promise. She died when he was 43, and ever since, he's buried himself in his work.

To outsiders, he looks like a frail, aging educator.

But to me?

He's a survivor. A strategist. A man who crawled out from under the devil's heel and lived to tell about it.

And if I want to bring him down... I'll need to be colder than I've ever been.

But this afternoon was different.

I was done.

Done with this mission.

Done with the games.

Done with him.

I suited up—black combat suit, black boots, black gloves, black mask, black sunglasses. No traces. No mercy. I straddled Shadow Jr., my matte black scooter motorcycle, revved the engine, and sped through the city with a singular destination in mind.

The school.

I parked without hesitation and marched in, ignoring the guards posted at the gates. They flinched, unsure. Not fast enough. I passed through the corridors like a shadow, the murmur spreading like wildfire:

"Is that Jaewon?"

"Wait… why does he look so different?"

"It's been a year... where has he been?"

Some were students. Some were fans. Others… hidden eyes and ears of Chan-Woo Gong.

I didn't stop.

I passed multiple classrooms—until I hit Third Year, Class 3-A. My eyes locked with Minjun and Seojin.

Shit.

They recognized me. Their expressions twisted from shock to pursuit.

I ran.

Their footsteps echoed behind me, along with the shuffle of disguised staff—his men in janitor uniforms, security coats, teacher disguises.

Too slow, bastards.

I pulled out my dagger, slick and sharp—laced with a poison only I could craft. My specialty.

I burst through the principal's office.

And there he was.

Calm. Seated. Waiting.

I glanced back—his men behind me, students peeking around corners, watching.

Perfect.

I didn't hesitate.

In a blur, I lunged at Chan-Woo Gong—no words, no warning. He must've known this was coming. His eyes widened for just a split second before I slit his throat in one clean, decisive motion.

His head dropped to the floor with a thud. His body slumped over the desk.

"Grandfather!!" Minjun screamed, horror flooding his face.

"Sir Gong!" the assistant principal cried, collapsing beside the lifeless body.

Then they came at me.

Minjun—the White Lion.

Seojin—the Black Dog.

The two strongest blades in Chan-Woo Gong's army.

Minjun's voice cracked as he shouted, "Where were you?! Why—why did you do this?!"

I didn't answer. I silenced him with a swift grip to the neck—not to kill. I spared him. We may be enemies now, but I still remember the years we fought side by side. I still remembered laughing with him under broken lights and shadows.

Seojin lunged next—rage in his eyes—but he too collapsed after I slipped a sleeping syringe into his neck.

The others came in waves.

Dozens—hundreds—of hidden loyalists disguised as students or staff. Even with Chan-Woo Gong dead, they came at me like zealots. Desperate. Mindless.

I cut them all down with my blade. No wasted movements. No unnecessary pain.

Blood soaked the halls.

I stepped over the bodies and sat in his chair, pushing his corpse off the seat. His headless body fell to the floor with a sickening thump.

I opened his laptop.

Accessed the school's security systems.

Click.

Security footage: erased.

Phone recordings nearby: wiped.

Digital traces: gone.

Philip taught me well.

Then I released a carefully modified sleeping gas into the entire school—odorless, fast-acting, non-lethal. The students dropped where they stood, slumped across desks and lockers, unaware of what had occurred.

In the silence, I worked like a ghost.

Cleaned the blood.

Dragged bodies like a janitor on a graveyard shift.

Placed Seojin and Minjun safely back in their classroom as if nothing had happened. And the students who collapsed while witnessing the scene too.

Then I wrapped Chan-Woo Gong's corpse. Took it with me.

Buried it—deep and silent—away from the school.

No grave. No name. No legacy.

The gas was about to wear off.

I changed into a casual outfit—just another face in the crowd. No one looked twice as I blended into the crowd.

I immediately drove to the hotel, took my stuffs especially the documents and went to the airport.

And then I left.

South Korea disappeared behind me as the plane ascended through the clouds.

Goodbye, South Korea.

Hours later, I arrived back at the estate. I immediately reported to Father about the Chan-Woo Gong case.

"He's dead. Target eliminated," I said, dropping the documents onto his desk.

Matthew, Father's ever-stoic bodyguard and butler, stood silently behind me by the door like a statue. Father glanced at the report, then looked up at me.

"Good job. You've grown taller than me. How tall are you now?"

He smiled slightly. I wasn't sure if it was genuine or calculated, but I replied anyway, "Six-foot-five, Father."

He smirked. "Perfect. Get some rest first. I'll assign your next mission in a week. Be prepared, Aurelius."

I nodded and excused myself. It's been nearly three years—maybe two and a half—since I last set foot in this estate.

As I made my way toward the private quarters, servants and maids paused, staring.

"Is that Young Master Aurelius?" I heard one whisper.

"Unrecognizable..." said another.

"It's really been a long time since he left, right?"

"He looks just like his father…"

I sighed. They didn't know I could hear every word. My ears were sharp, and so was my memory.

I entered my room and flopped onto my bed, completely exhausted. The moment I touched the sheets, sleep took over.

The next morning, I woke up to find four people beside me—crying?

What the hell? Did I die?

I slowly sat up, squinting at the figures. One of them spoke, the voice cutting through the fog in my head.

"Dude, do you have bad eyesight or something? You've changed a lot since you left this estate."

That voice—it was unmistakable.

"Philip? That you? You look like shit."

He looked pissed and was about to lunge at me when an older voice intervened.

"Not now, grandson. It's too early in the morning."

"But Grandpa! He started it!" Philip pouted like a child.

"You're nineteen, Philip."

The older man turned to me—Peter. The estate's librarian. He looked older now, but still had that calm, wise air. The library had always felt more like home than anywhere else.

I turned to the others and saw Yumi. She was crying.

"Yumi… if you want a hug like always, go on."

Without hesitation, she launched herself into my arms, squeezing me so tightly I could barely breathe. Her warmth… it felt like home.

Then someone cleared their throat. I knew that voice too well.

Standing by the door in a black suit, perfectly straight like a soldier—Matthew. Yumi's official lover.

"Oh? Lover boy? Are you jealous your girlfriend's hugging me?" I smirked, hugging Yumi tighter. His jaw clenched, and I could see his eye twitch.

She had been like a mother to me ever since mine died. I nuzzled her hair, inhaling the familiar scent.

"That's enough," he said, voice low and sharp.

"I am your young master, Matthew," I said smugly, refusing to let go.

"I serve your father only." His glare could kill.

I knew that. But I could see the loyalty in his gaze—the kind that wouldn't falter, even for me.

Yumi finally let go, wiping her tear-streaked, snot-smeared face.

"Young Aurelius… you've grown so tall." She ruffled my hair like she used to.

Another voice chimed in, full of gentle teasing.

"Yes, very tall. The last time I saw you, you were six-foot-one. I'm guessing taller now."

I turned toward the voice. Luciana—my last stepmother. But to me, more like an older sister. She was only three years older, and seeing her pout made me grin.

"Aww, Lucy… my short stepmom. Still five-foot-four, huh? Guess what—I'm six-foot-five now."

She pouted harder. Adorable.

She glared at me like it was my fault I kept growing.

"My little knight! You promised to protect me from that devil!" she cried, referring to my father.

"Of course I did. But I had to leave for the mission, mommy~"

Philip scoffed in the background. Still crushing on her after all these years, huh?

"She's not your mom, dude," he muttered.

"I know." I spread my arms dramatically. "Come here, Lucy."

Luciana dashed into my arms, sobbing, "I missed you so much!"

Philip was gagging in the corner. Hilarious.

I gently stroked her hair as she began punching me softly on the chest.

"Dummy! Dummy! Dummy! You weren't supposed to leave me!"

"Hey! I'm here too!" Philip protested.

"You're always here," I snorted, hugging Luciana tighter.

She cried like a child in my arms. Philip stood there, arms crossed, clearly feeling betrayed.

Her punches didn't hurt. They tickled.

And for the first time in years, I felt… home.

"Man... I'm hungry..." Luciana finally let go of me as I stood up and stretched.

"How's the library, Peter?" I asked, turning toward the elderly man.

"Still the same as ever," Peter replied dryly. "Just don't turn it into a sparring ground like you used to. It's still a library, no matter how massive it is."

I chuckled at the memory. Matthew and I used to spar there all the time when I was younger. We nearly shattered the stained-glass windows once.

"Then I'll head there. I'll have my breakfast in the library," I said with a small smile, glancing at Yumi. "Please prepare it for me."

She beamed with joy, clearly happy to serve me again, and rushed off toward the kitchen. Matthew followed behind her, protective as always—her loyal shadow.

The rest of us began walking toward the East Wing where the Valemont Library was located.

As we passed through the corridor, I noticed Father's second wife—Beatrice. She looked... exhausted. Tired. Worn out.

We made eye contact.

She immediately looked away.

She was scared. It was all over her face. In her eyes.

Whatever haunted her, I knew it wasn't me—it was him.

I didn't say a word. Just kept walking.

"Luciana," I asked quietly, "how's the estate been while I was gone?"

"Not great…" she said, her voice tight.

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Victor's wives have been holding weekly meetings."

I tilted my head. "Father initiated that? Since when?"

Philip chimed in from behind, "Since you left. Two years ago."

I frowned. "Why?"

Peter answered, "They're trying to replace you."

I stopped walking. "…Replace me?"

"With their own children," Peter clarified. "They're grooming one of your half-siblings to become your replica."

I sighed, shaking my head. "My half-siblings? Is that really the best they can do?"

Luciana looked at me carefully.

"They think they can mold a new 'Aurelius'—one they can control."

I scoffed. "If only they knew how Father treated me before he saw me as useful."

We finally arrived at the library.

It smelled like ink, dust, and distant memories. The heavy scent of parchment warmed my heart.

I flopped onto one of the sofas with a satisfied groan.

"Hey! That's my spot," Philip snapped.

"There's no nameplate on it," I replied smugly. "And I don't see any property documents signed in your name."

"You—!" he growled.

"Shh…" I interrupted, switching to a teasing voice. "I love you, bestie~!"

Philip gagged, visibly nauseated. "Ugh... gross."

I laughed until my stomach hurt. Luciana chuckled beside me.

Peter, already flipping through a thick tome, sighed and muttered under his breath, "Youngsters…"

End of chapter 58.