The protector

Rule of thumb: enough with losing his loved ones (MMM)

Ehm... I don't exactly know how to say it, but this chap has a pretty kinky scene, like... I blushed while writing it. So: it has a sense and a meaning for the story, it's not steamy for the sake of steaminess, though if you feel like prude, feel free to skip it, you can DM or comment if you want a recap. There will be something similar in the next chapter too (should read: a lot of kinkiness), and maybe this explanation is useless, but since I don't like superfluous steamy scenes, I feel I need to explain they're not gratuitous nor disconnected from the story, the very opposite. This story (also) is about two who not only can't speak openly, but often forbade themselves to even think openly, so their acts are often the only way to express themselves.

As usual, hope you'll enjoy this one.

Pyongyang, 2027, end of December

The natural light coming from the window at its back revealed, highlighting them even, the ravages of time, both on the leather armchair and the grey, leonine mane of The Man. His eyes followed the ray of sun illuminating and shadowing the little folders His face produced while the lines on the sheet transformed His mood from curious to worried to, probably, intolerantly annoyed.

He was grateful for the protocol which imposed him to stay one step behind his superior, that one really wasn't the best moment to show Him his face. Many years at His service had taught him that it was better to not reveal any emotion to The Man, except for diligence and cautious optimism. He didn't like those who made a fuss getting prematurely worried.

Did he know the content of the sheet? Of course. It had been him the one who had received, transcribed, and brought it to The Man, cautious in not letting the shadow of a trace.

"What... what you think should we do, Sir? Will you warn them? I can arrange some light surveillance. I could take care of it personally."

"Ani," The Man waved His hand with a swift, bored move, as if He was removing some dust from His jacket. "This has already happened, in China. Eyes open, but let's give them some privacy for now."

That said, Cheong-ryeol made a small nod, allowing – encouraging - the leave of his right-hand. Only when the door was closed behind his back, he permitted himself to puff out the hassle in a long sigh, steepling while letting the ideas flow.

Jeong Hyeok's health. Ishhh. It still was unstable. He himself had admitted it, and the girl had confirmed. With the defection so close, he was probably being more anxious than ever. No, he couldn't allow for his son to get more concerned with that news.

Maybe his man was right. Some light surveillance. And hoping for the best. Should he warn the girl? Maybe it wasn't necessary. She had already smelled that something was happening, he was sure she was taking precautions on her own.

When she would have asked him about it - because she would have done it, like she had done in the past, that woman was such a prig when it was about Jeong Hyeok! - he would have told her that nothing was happening, and to relax, good child, you always worry too much.

Pyongyang, 2028, February 14

"Go ahead, I'll reach you in a while," Man-bok cast a reassuring smile to his wife and son. The two wished the nth happy birthday to Jeong Hyeok, and then eventually turned, starting their walk home under the smiling glance of the head of the family.