Jeong Tae-ui frowned but wore a grin—a look bold enough to seem shameless—and stubbornly yanked at the door handle.

The young man, who until then had been a hostage quietly enduring for months—well, Tae-ui’s time was much shorter—seemed momentarily lost, surprised by the sudden insistence to leave. But soon, as if fired by a sense of duty, he grabbed Tae-ui’s wrist. Watching that clumsy grasp, Tae-ui smirked slightly, twisted his wrist lightly, and shook the hand off.

Startled that he let go so easily, the young man’s confusion and anger flared. He shouted something harsh—probably something like “You’re being insolent just because I’m letting you”—then crossed his arms and grabbed Tae-ui’s collar. Without hesitation, he threw Tae-ui cleanly.

Ah, so the kid did learn something after all, Tae-ui thought as he flew through the air. In that moment, he missed the timing to roll properly and hit his butt hard against the stone floor.

“Ah!”

Tae-ui let out a short scream, but quickly muffled it, fearing the sound might carry all the way to the bathroom. He sucked in a painful breath. Behind him, the young man muttered something, then, with a sullen look that clearly said “I’m not backing down,” he plopped down into a chair.

“Ugh, the stone floor really hurts,” Tae-ui muttered, rubbing his sore butt. Thankfully, the flesh there acted as a cushion. Limping from the pain on one side, he walked toward the bedroom. Casting a resentful glance at the young man, he saw that resolute, duty-filled expression still fixed on him.