Yoon Seoho dropped the low, chilling warning down to the sub-secretary trailing behind him.
“I will exercise absolute caution.”
“Well, if there’s one thing you parasites are good at, it’s following verbal commands.”
Despite the biting, venomous sarcasm dripping from Yoon Seoho’s tongue, the secretary’s expression didn’t flicker by a single millimeter.
He merely bowed his head minutely with a stiff, doll-like countenance, rendering absolute obedience to Yoon Seoho’s words.
Curling one side of his mouth into a crooked smirk, Yoon Seoho threw open the doors to the private inner sanctum and stepped inside.
It was an exceptionally lavish, heavily customized room draped in an antique, high-class aesthetic. One look was enough to explicitly define its utility.
Naturally, this was the private quarters Yoon Seoho occupied whenever he inspected the grand headquarters.
While it served as a resting chamber befitting the sovereign of the order, it double-hatted as a high-tech surveillance hub meant to monitor the congregation.
The entire architecture—spanning from the exterior perimeters straight down to the deepest interior halls—was mapped with dozens of hidden CCTV cameras, leaving absolutely zero blind spots.
A small, hidden annex was attached to this master suite explicitly to review the live feeds with ease.
Aside from Yoon Seoho himself, the secretary who had escorted him was the singular individual aware of this surveillance setup; it was a closely guarded secret hidden from even the high-ranking administrative clergy running the day-to-day operations of the headquarters.
Yoon Seoho walked over to a massive, plush sofa and settled the still-sleeping Seo Yuan gently onto the cushions.
After leaning the boy’s torso securely against the backrest, he offered a sharp nod to his assistant.
The secretary immediately stepped forward, holding an incredibly ornate, floor-length ceremonial mantle.
Yoon Seoho took the fabric and carefully draped it over Seo Yuan’s shoulders.
The moment the mantle settled, it melted into an absolute, flawless harmony with the white robes the youth was already wearing.
Conventionally, the leaders of extremist cults preferred to adopt a more modest, understated wardrobe to project a false sense of humility, but Yoon Seoho’s philosophy sat on the exact opposite end of the spectrum.
He believed that the external facade had to be blindingly opulent and explicitly divine; only then would it project an overwhelming, crushing aura capable of instantly breaking a spectator’s resolve.
That was the raw, fundamental truth of visual manipulation.
Yoon Seoho looked down at the sleeping youth for a long moment.
Appraising him like this, the ceremonial sovereign robes fit Seo Yuan so remarkably well it was almost terrifying.
He had originally assumed the attire had been tailored to suit his own frame perfectly, but it appeared the garments had simply been waiting for their true, rightful master all along.
“Ha, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”
Yoon Seoho murmured the praise, his face thick with satisfaction.
Exactly as he had noted, now that he was fully arrayed in the ceremonial uniform, Seo Yuan looked like the absolute, living manifestation of a holy sovereign.
His deep, jet-black hair and snow-white skin formed a striking, ethereal contrast against the pristine fabrics—looking as though he had been explicitly engineered from birth to embody this exact deity.
Leaning his torso down, Yoon Seoho lightly tapped the cheek of the youth, who was breathing softly in his sleep.
“Yuan. Time to wake up.”
“Mmmh…….”
Beneath the velvet, coaxing whisper, Seo Yuan’s eyelids trembled minutely.
Yoon Seoho watched him with a tenacious, predatory gaze, waiting in total silence until the long lashes finally fluttered completely open.
Pair of beautiful pupils that gleamed with the subtle luster of obsidian immediately captured Yoon Seoho’s reflection.
“……Hyung. Where are we?”
Seo Yuan inquired, his voice still heavily thick with lingering drowsiness.
Rather than offering a verbal explanation, Yoon Seoho simply flashed a bright smile as he accepted a brilliant golden crown from the secretary’s hands.
He carefully lowered the crown over Seo Yuan’s head, securing it firmly in place before taking a deliberate step back to appraise the view.
The moment the crown was added to the ensemble, a completely flawless, absolute deity was left sitting on the sofa.
“This is……?”
Letting his voice trail off, Seo Yuan raised a hesitant hand to touch the golden crown resting on his head.
Then, registering the heavy ceremonial mantle draped over his shoulders, his eyes widened slightly in shock.
“The preparations are officially complete. Shall we make our grand entrance?”
“Already?”
“Why? Is our Yuan feeling nervous?”
“……A little.”
Evidently still struggling to acclimatize to the sudden reality that he was a religious deity, a faint, pink flush bloomed across the youth’s cheeks.
Yoon Seoho smoothly took the lead, guiding the anxious youth out of his seat.
Stepping up behind him, he wrapped his arms around his torso in a posture that felt closer to a tight embrace than mere support.
“There’s absolutely no need to worry. Hyung will be standing right beside you to handle everything. All you need to do, Yuan, is flash a beautiful smile and receive your devotees. Understand?”
“Yeah. I understand.”
“Good boy.”
Yoon Seoho gave the boy’s shoulder a firm, lingering squeeze before slowly letting go, tossing a sharp look toward his secretary.
The assistant immediately threw the doors wide and stepped aside, allowing Yoon Seoho to escort Seo Yuan out of the suite.
The sprawling corridor stretching ahead of them was entirely desolate.
They were traversing an exclusive, restricted passage engineered solely for Yoon Seoho’s personal transit.
Though the hallway was initially wrapped in a heavy, dead silence, a grand, booming orchestral symphony began to faintly leak through the air as they neared the far end.
Furthermore, the sheer volume of raw presences vibrating through the massive walls made it glaringly obvious that an immense crowd had gathered on the other side.
Seo Yuan, who had managed to relax slightly, unconsciously swallowed hard against a sudden surge of stage fright.
Catching the micro-movement instantly, Yoon Seoho ran his hand down the center of the youth’s back in a slow, comforting caress.
Though the touch applied zero physical pressure, it felt intensely heavy and thick with intent.
“It’s alright. Just let your shoulders drop.”
Exhaling a long, steady breath at the reassurance, Seo Yuan nodded his head and forced his features into a remarkably solemn, determined expression.
Seeing the anxious puppy puff out its chest in a desperate bid to look imposing made Yoon Seoho’s composed facial mask completely dissolve into an amused smile.
The way the youth managed to act so violently endearing by simply breathing was nothing short of miraculous.
Yeah.
As long as he remained this completely docile, listening to his commands and playing his part perfectly, Yoon Seoho intended to expend every resource at his disposal to thoroughly pamper and adore him.
Yoon Seoho tossed a final nod toward his assistant, who immediately reached out and depressed a heavy button embedded into the wall.
Instantly, a pair of massive, monumental double doors began to swing inward.
The moment the barrier parted completely, a gargantuan worship hall laid itself bare to their eyes.
The interior architecture was virtually indistinguishable from a soaring cathedral, packed to absolute capacity with an immense sea of people standing shoulder-to-shoulder, their heads bowed flat in reverent submission.
Among the sea of devotees arrayed in standard ministry robes, a specific cluster of individuals stood near the foot of the altar, shooting covert, wide-eyed glances up toward Seo Yuan and Yoon Seoho.
These were explicitly the fresh initiates scheduled to receive their very first baptism at Seo Yuan’s hands today.
“Our magnificent, supreme Cult Leader has descended among us! Come, let us all offer our sacred prayers!”
One of the high-ranking priests managing the administrative order barked the command out to the masses, his features twisted into an expression of absolute, brainwashed fanaticism befitting a high-tier cult executive.
