RTN 34

chapter 34

Baek Ihyeon said nothing. He simply stared in silence. His face held no particular expression, and that made the silence all the more terrifying.

Under that transparent, piercing gaze, Jang Seok-ju swallowed hard and involuntarily recalled the first time he had met Baek Ihyeon.

In the past—amid a ruined wasteland. It had been hell.

The enemy, driven into a corner, had lured the Phantom into the battlefield, pushing friendly forces to the brink of annihilation. The 207th Special Operations Battalion, which had been stationed nearby, deployed just in time, barely destroying the Phantom and wiping out the enemy after a brutal fight.

The Phantom’s shredded remains squirmed across the ground like heaps of rags, and even the researchers—who rarely flinched at anything—had turned deathly pale, unable to take a single step forward.

Jang Seok-ju had barked at them—“Anyone who stands around stupidly will be left behind without mercy”—yet he himself had been filled with the same horrified despair.

So this is a Phantom.

No—could something like this even be called a “being”? Would “a mass of chaos,” “a thought before creation,” or “the corpse of a god” be closer to the truth?

He had plucked off a tiny piece—something that could hardly be called alive or dead—and sealed it in a sample tube, and the hairs on his body had stood on end.

Rumors said that when a Phantom rose into the air, common sense broke down—and that the nightmares flowing from its hollow eyes drove people to suicide, unable to withstand them. That rumor was no exaggeration.

How many more of these existed? Could anyone even determine where they were distributed?

The thought was overwhelming—terrifying.

And the person who had destroyed such a Phantom…

That day had been the first time friendly forces had ever defeated a Phantom. A single battalion—the 207th—had accomplished it, and it had happened less than a month after the appointment of their new battalion commander.

Until then, it was believed that a Phantom could not be destroyed by human power. But the young new commander shattered that belief instantly—and he hadn’t even brought his entire force.

Baek Ihyeon.

The last descendant of Ban-ah. Young enough to be considered Jang Seok-ju’s nephew, yet possessing overwhelming presence.

Though he had not begun that way.

Before being discovered by Ban-ah’s head of house, Baek Ihyeon had been nothing more than a homeless drifter, wandering the slums with no memory. People mocked him—saying he’d changed his fate just by having a pretty face that caught the eye of someone powerful.

But, as if proving rumors of Ban-ah’s full support, he marched under the family name, racking up brilliant achievements and rising through the ranks at a speed never before seen.

So when Ban-ah was annihilated during the war, leaving the family’s A-grade weapon without a contractual owner, the Emperor designated Baek Ihyeon as the heir. Even the other six great houses—who would not hesitate to spill blood over such a weapon—did not dare object.

Even though Baek Ihyeon was not a direct relative—not even a distant one—just a formally adopted son.

So Jang Seok-ju never imagined he would encounter Baek Ihyeon on the way back to the research ship after collecting Phantom samples.

Even in a war where anything could happen, no one expected a giant like Baek Ihyeon to be wandering alone in such ruins.

At first, he hadn’t even known if the figure he saw was human—he thought it was part of the Phantom still moving.

That was how overwhelming his presence had been. Baek Ihyeon had been so drenched in the Phantom’s remains that neither his rank insignia nor clothing could be identified.

But then the figure raised a blood-soaked hand, removed his gas mask, and beneath it appeared an astonishingly beautiful face and a calm expression.

Jang Seok-ju swallowed a breath.

Only then had he noticed: on the man’s chest—stained with debris—was a rank insignia, and beside it the crest of Ban-ah, now permitted to only one living person.

Baek Ihyeon tossed the ruined gas mask onto the rubble and shook his head lightly. His disheveled hair parted, revealing clear eyes fixed on their group. His gaze was cold and quiet.

He spoke.

“Is there a wide-area radar installed on your research ship?”

Members of the great houses often spoke down to others regardless of age or rank, but Baek Ihyeon’s tone was perfectly polite—almost like honorifics.

“The intercom was destroyed. I’d like to contact the mothership.”

No one answered.

Instead of awe at meeting a legendary hero, everyone felt instinctive fear—like prey before a top predator. They stood pale and frozen, staring at him.

Baek Ihyeon did not rush them. He simply waited, as if accustomed to such stiffness.

Eventually, Jang Seok-ju came to his senses, stammered his name and affiliation, and led Baek Ihyeon onboard.

Baek Ihyeon—speaking with the calmness of someone who hadn’t just destroyed a Phantom—explained that he had come back to retrieve a weapon and had been isolated alone.

“I got caught in a sudden windstorm. The intercom was damaged, and I was unable to contact my unit.”

His steady composure felt unreal. Members of the great houses never explained themselves—they never needed others to understand them.

Baek Ihyeon used the instruments to transmit his location, drank the hot tea that a trembling new recruit had served, apologized for dirtying the ship with his tattered state, and departed on a transport sent to retrieve him.

The researchers stared blankly at the cleaned teacup and the blood-stained chair he had sat in.

It still didn’t feel real that they had shared the same space with Baek Ihyeon.

Someone muttered, voice slightly raised in excitement:

“He’s exactly like the rumors. Even more Ban-ah than Ban-ah.”

Everyone silently agreed.

That overwhelming yet elegant atmosphere. Calm speech. Efficient, precise movements with no waste. Dignity expressed through presence, not words. He was a living image of Ban-ah’s last family head.

“He said he’s not the head, right?”

A researcher asked carefully.

“He can’t be. He’s not related by blood. Even inheriting the A-grade weapon was exceptional.”

Jang Seok-ju answered dryly, though he knew it was only technically true.

Because in reality, Baek Ihyeon was the only surviving person allowed to use the Ban-ah name. The direct and collateral bloodlines had been completely wiped out.

This happened because Ban-ah possessed the ability to draw upon the lives of their own blood relatives.

An irreversible chain of deaths—and Baek Ihyeon survived solely because he shared no blood.

He began resolving all duties and burdens that Ban-ah had once upheld. His actions were so natural and seamless that the Emperor constantly summoned him to act in the family head’s stead. Official or not, Baek Ihyeon was Ban-ah’s master.

“He will likely take a successor, right?”

Someone asked—almost pleading, even though it had nothing to do with them personally.

Ban-ah had always moderated and controlled the other six great houses.

Balance was their core value. They had countless times prevented internal conflicts from escalating into civil war.

Jang Seok-ju recalled the crest on Baek Ihyeon’s chest—the scales of a balance—and murmured:

“He said he’s not interested in women.”

“Is he just picky?”

“I don’t know. All the powerful houses are trying to win him over, but he doesn’t give any of them the slightest attention. It really seems he has no interest in that kind of thing.”

“Maybe the Emperor wants him.”

Someone said—and that fear existed in everyone’s mind.

“There’s no way that snake of an Emperor gave up an A-grade weapon for nothing. He must have attached a condition—marry one of his creepy daughters. If Baek Ihyeon joins the Imperial family…”

Then even if they won the war, peace wouldn’t come. And it would be the same if he married into any of the great houses.

The moment Baek Ihyeon aligned Ban-ah’s power with any faction, neutrality would shatter and civil war would follow. The balance kept for years would collapse.

That was how critical Baek Ihyeon’s marriage was.

And Ban-ah, unlike other houses, had been strictly monogamous. Even widowers rarely remarried.

Baek Ihyeon enduring the side effects of not having even a temporary partner was likely due to that tradition.

But if he were to fall in love—especially with the mediator, the outsider?

The world would tilt. Variables would explode.

And if—just if—Baek Ihyeon really knew Seol Ah-yeon, and if he, too, was an outsider?

If someday his memories returned and he wished to leave with her?

Or if Seol Ah-yeon returned alone, and the grief made him abandon the responsibilities that had fallen on him?

There would be no way to keep the Emperor or the great houses in check.

Not to mention—Jang Seok-ju wanted Seol Ah-yeon for himself.

Few could replace Kim Do-woon. Someone unbound by rules, bold but never crossing the moral line—and whether through chance or effort, possessing overwhelming strength.

He wanted to use Seol Ah-yeon as she was.

But priorities existed. Everything always came after Baek Ihyeon. And no one understood that better than Baek Ihyeon himself.

Yet right now, Baek Ihyeon still said nothing. Then, slowly, he repeated Jang Seok-ju’s question:

“You’re asking what I think of Seol Ah-yeon.”

Jang Seok-ju stared back, trying desperately to read even a trace of emotion on the normally impenetrable face. He couldn’t ask twice.

“You’re not asking how I judge her strategically. So if you mean privately—are you asking because it looks like I’m emotionally shaken?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly worries you?”

“Did you fall in love at first sight?”

Baek Ihyeon lowered the hand supporting his chin and leaned back against the chair. There was no irritation—if anything, he seemed thoughtful, as though the question was reasonable.

But Jang Seok-ju realized he’d crossed a line. Baek Ihyeon was taking too long to answer. Far too long. The very fact that he was thinking was ominous. Jang Seok-ju called out urgently:

“Commander.”

“…I think so.”

“…What?”

Jang Seok-ju thought he’d misheard.

“No—let me correct that.”

Baek Ihyeon’s brow knit faintly, but only for a moment. Then, as always, without the slightest tremor in his voice, he stated firmly:

“Yes.”