* * *
“How many hours?”
“Over five.”
“And their condition afterward?”
“Administrators ran diagnostics. Their berserk levels had dropped by roughly 20%.”
“Suspicious. Even heavy use of guiding drugs only induces pseudo-guidance. A 20% drop doesn’t add up. Don’t you agree?”
“I admit the decrease seems unusually high. But hypothetically, if they’d depleted their entire stock, a 20% reduction isn’t impossible. The researchers concur.”
“Hmm.”
Koo Hyukjun slowly twisted the thick ring on his finger—a habit when deep in thought.
“Perhaps it’s time I stepped in personally.”
“…Sir?”
At Secretary Park’s puzzled tone, Koo Hyukjun leaned back in his chair, arrogance dripping from his smirk.
“We’re getting nowhere like this. Surveillance on Lee Hyunjae will take time. Why not accelerate the process?”
“What’s your plan?”
“First, recall Seok Kiwoo and Park Jaerim from the U.S.”
“But the backlash will be severe.”
“Pfah. Those pathetic S-rank mutts, groveling for guidance? Let them whine. Pathetic, isn’t it?”
Koo Hyukjun’s lip curled, his sneer unrestrained.
Secretary Park adjusted his glasses.
The order would be obeyed, of course—but not without friction.
Seok Kiwoo and Park Jaerim were awakened espers under the Korean Ability Center’s jurisdiction—S-ranks not assigned to Team 1.
Of the six S-rank espers in the country, these two were currently overseas on dispatch—or more accurately, carrying out Koo Hyukjun’s dirty work.
Like Team 1 before them, their leashes were yanked tight by the Center’s guides. Coincidentally, the only guide whose wavelengths aligned with them—even marginally—was Koo Hyukjun’s nephew.
The actual compatibility?
A laughable 29%. But with guides globally scarce, the two clung to even that shred.
Fools.
Koo Hyukjun’s thoughts dripped venom.
They’ve no idea their original high-match guide was murdered.
Secretary Park didn’t answer and simply listened quietly.
As Koo Hyukjun had said, there had originally been another guide who was far more compatible with them—one with a matching rate as high as 65%.
That guide had already been handed over to the lab, treated as an experimental subject until they met their end.
Naturally, that, too, was one of Koo Hyukjun’s doing.
Having handled all sorts of tasks under Koo Hyukjun, Secretary Park had witnessed countless unsavory things.
Even the original guide of Seok Kiwoo and Park Jaerim had been worked to death in the lab like a breeding machine.
Normally, useless guides were disposed of by the lab, but that one had taken their own life during a brief moment of opportunity.
Even though the guide had been marked for disposal, his superior couldn’t hide his displeasure.
He must have been annoyed—they could have squeezed more use out of them as a test subject, but they had gone and died too soon.
At this rate, he might face the hammer one day.
Secretary Park stared at Koo Hyukjun, lost in thought.
Though his superior had built numerous connections with high-ranking government officials, there was always that one-in-a-million chance.
No matter how solidly constructed a tower was, if even a single component was removed, it would inevitably begin to crumble.
As his thoughts spiraled into negativity, an inexplicable unease crept over Secretary Park.
He was his superior’s closest confidant.
He was already in too deep—there was no escaping now.
There had been a time when he felt nothing but satisfaction with his life, let alone worry.
But lately, he couldn’t shake off this growing sense of dread.
“……Ah.”
Secretary Park paused, trying to pinpoint when this anxiety had started, then suddenly let out a small gasp.
He realized it had been ever since Go Yeonwoo—the one who killed Woo Jiyoo—had been declared dead.
“Hm? What’s wrong, Secretary Park?”
“……No, it’s nothing. Shall I proceed with the next report?”
“Go ahead.”
Suppressing his discomfort, Secretary Park began briefing Koo Hyukjun on the remaining matters.
“……Why haven’t you eaten? If you starve, the baby inside you won’t grow…”
Shin Heesung muttered, staring down at the untouched food before shifting his gaze to the blanket-covered lump curled up in the corner of the bed.
It hadn’t been long since Go Yeonwoo’s body had been granted even this much freedom.
Originally, he would have been strung up from the ceiling, restrained without mercy.
To be precise, it had started right after the Red Gate incident.
All four of them had undergone some subtle shift in their feelings, and their treatment of Yeonwoo had changed in imperceptible ways.
Before, it had been routine to keep him bound all day, tormenting him without reprieve.
Now, it was more like loosening a dog’s leash—allowing him short walks around the room.
Of course, the restraints weren’t completely gone.
The chains around his neck, wrists, and ankles had simply been lengthened, giving him just enough slack to move around.
That was why he could lie on the bed now.
Heesung felt an irritating sense of frustration gnawing at him over Yeonwoo’s hunger strike, which had started this morning.
Even on normal days, Yeonwoo barely ate unless forced, often requiring someone to feed him by hand.
Still, there were times when he would eat on his own, so Heesung had left the meal for him and stepped out briefly—only to return to this.
Strangely, Yeonwoo seemed determined to starve today, burrowed deep into the blankets without showing his face.
‘Should I just hang him from the ceiling again and rip him apart?’
Just as Heesung’s annoyance began to twist into something darker, a faint, pained sound reached his ears.
“……Hng.”
A weak, almost sickly whimper.
Heesung blinked, tilting his head before approaching the bed.
“……What?”
Still confused, he reached out and yanked the blanket away—only to find Yeonwoo’s face flushed a deep, feverish red.
Like someone burning up with illness.
“……Huh?”
Heesung couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
This was something he had never even considered.
Though they had sealed his Esper abilities, that didn’t make Yeonwoo any less of an Esper.
His regenerative abilities were still intact—even the ankle they had shattered during the Red Gate incident had healed perfectly.
“Why… how…?”
Yes, his body’s recovery should have been flawless.
It had to be.
So why did Yeonwoo look so sick right now?
A red alarm blared in Heesung’s mind.
Uncharacteristically frantic, he scooped Yeonwoo up in his arms.
His entire body was scalding—so hot it almost burned to touch.
Heesung’s eyes widened.
Without hesitation, he tore through the chains binding Yeonwoo and rushed out of the room.
The spacious living room was empty.
His gaze darted toward the bunker’s exit.
For the first time, he carried Yeonwoo back up to the mansion above ground.
Han Jihyuk was on a call in his upstairs room, while Lee Dohoon sat on the living room sofa chatting with someone via text.
Kang Taewon, who had just returned from a mission, was showering in the bathroom connected to the living room.
“Huh? Why did you bring Yeonwoo up—”
“My toy is hurt. Needs fixing.”
“What?”
When Lee Dohoon only responded with a confused question, Shin Heesung grew frustrated and abruptly yanked open the bathroom door.
Inside the shower stall, Kang Taewon frowned at the sudden intrusion.
“The fuck? What’s wrong with you, Shin Heesung? You insane?”
“He’s hurt.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Go Yeonwoo is hurt.”
“You wanna die so bad you’re—wait, what?”
Shin Heesung shifted the boy in his arms, revealing Yeonwoo’s face to Taewon.
His feverish, panting state was fully visible—cheeks flushed, breath ragged.
“…What the hell? Why’s he like this?”
“Dunno. Just saw him like this.”
Taewon stared down at Yeonwoo, just as baffled as Heesung.
* * *
New MLs? 👀