Hajin stared at the phone screen while holding the sleeping Suhyeon.
In the dark room, only the white light of the screen flickered. 2:00 AM.
It was a time when ordinary people would surrender to exhaustion and doze off, but Hajin’s eyes were wide open, fixed intently on the display.
Rows of photos were lined up on the screen.
—Target secured.
Without even needing to tap and enlarge them, the individually transmitted photos all captured the likeness of Shin Seojun.
—Presumed to be accompanied by an Esper.
The middle-aged man, who hadn’t shown so much as a single hair until now, was photographed clearly, as if mocking him.
The CCTV footage from the surrounding area sent afterward also proved that these were not fake photos.
—Presumed to be staying in an underground bunker with no registered spatial records. Sending the address now.
Information poured in like a dam bursting.
—Moving toward the vicinity of Incheon.
Having identified Shin Seojun’s real-time location, Hajin carefully slid his arm out from under Suhyeon.
The sudden deluge of information was enough to make one suspect a trap, but as Hajin sat up in bed, he let out a sharp, cold scoff.
Whatever Shin Seojun was planning, nothing could stop Hajin.
He would end Shin Seojun’s life and cast the irritating memories into the abyss once and for all.
The irritation that had gnawed at a corner of his mind for seventeen years because he couldn’t find a trace of the man was finally coming to an end.
Instead of wasting time like this, Hajin would rather spend every second looking at Suhyeon.
“Mmm…”
Hajin kissed the forehead of Suhyeon, who tossed and turned as if uncomfortable with the loss of human warmth.
Then, he changed his clothes and headed down to the living room.
With a few taps on his phone, a list of team members not currently on duty appeared.
“……Tch.”
It was a bit disappointing that Lee Jeonghyeon wasn’t available, but Hajin summoned other team members instead.
“You called, Team Leader!”
The two Espers who came running in a flurry were met with a sudden command to guard Suhyeon.
As men whose dream was to be excellent and well-paid “salary thieves,” they briefly made long faces at the out-of-office instruction.
However, they quickly brightened up upon remembering that whenever they received such orders, a terrifying amount of bonus money would hit their bank accounts.
Even if they wanted to refuse, it wasn’t as if they had a choice, but at least their Team Leader was a man with a minimum sense of business ethics.
Of course, no matter how much bonus money he piled on, they would still decline being treated like a personal vehicle as Lee Jeonghyeon was.
“Have a safe trip!”
Seeing off Hajin, who exuded an even more terrifying aura than usual, they cautiously sat on the living room chairs.
They briefly debated whether to earn some points with the Team Leader’s lover but soon realized it was the middle of the night and simply turned on their phones in silence.
Though they weren’t entirely reliable, Hajin, having set up a guard capable of handling any sudden situation that might befall Suhyeon, immediately got into his car.
There was obviously no time to call a driver.
Hajin took the wheel himself for the first time in a while.
In the quiet early morning, a jaw-droppingly expensive black sedan tore savagely across the empty roads.
The few other drivers on the road swerved into other lanes in a panic.
—Target location confirmed.
Around the time he switched highways, a crackling sound followed by a stiff report flowed through the earpiece tucked in Hajin’s ear.
The report stated that Shin Seojun was entering a massive container warehouse at Incheon Port.
Hajin, who had been heading toward Incheon blindly, manipulated the navigation system with a blank expression.
The navigation soon chimed, resetting the destination and showing a remaining time of about ten minutes.
Hajin slowly tapped the gear shift with his right hand.
It was a sluggish movement that contrasted with the car’s violent speed.
A moment delayed for seventeen years was now right in front of him.
Over those long years, the gnawing presence of Shin Seojun, always tucked away in a corner of his mind and never caught, was finally ending.
—Throw him away somewhere deserted.
The memories of the past, which had refused to vanish and occasionally reared their heads from the abyss, were also ending.
Screeeech!
The car reached Incheon Port, coming to a violent halt and leaving black tire marks behind.
Leaving the car parked haphazardly, Hajin entered Incheon Port, which was shrouded in darkness with all the lights out.
The sound of the seawater swaying as if to swallow everything could be heard occasionally.
—Ready to fire.
“Stand by.”
—Confirmed.
Hajin gave the command indifferently through another frequency on his earpiece and crossed the wide path surrounded by containers.
The mercenaries Hajin had planted were positioned densely atop the containers.
The armed men were all aiming sniper rifles at the entrance of a deserted warehouse.
They were the means to stall Shin Seojun should Hajin somehow lose him.
Hiring mercenaries who weren’t even Espers would usually be a pointless endeavor, but this was the moment to slit the throat of the man who had mocked him for seventeen years.
Hajin took every precaution, refusing to leave even a shred of a possibility that he might fail to kill him.
Leaving behind the gazes fixed through dozens of scopes, Hajin stood before the massive, deserted warehouse where Shin Seojun had entered and not yet emerged.
Hajin let out a long breath.
His blue eyes shone coldly.
Despite standing there to kill the father he hadn’t been able to kill for seventeen years, Hajin’s heart maintained a freezing stillness, like a calm sea.
For Shin Hajin, a man like Shin Seojun might be the most loathsome among loathsome humans, but he wasn’t an object of hatred or a true nemesis.
Hatred required a corresponding level of intense emotion.
To Hajin, every human in the world—including Shin Seojun—except for Suhyeon, was not worth such an emotion.
That was why Suhyeon was so remarkable to him.
Where did such a person come from?
Creeeeeak—
Smiling briefly at the thought of Suhyeon, Hajin opened the warehouse door without hesitation.
The bone-chilling sound of a rusting iron door opening echoed through the quiet harbor.
Whether Shin Seojun was accompanied by an Esper or not, his movements were unwavering.
Nothing could threaten Hajin; he was no longer that weak boy of the past.
The inside of the warehouse revealed by the open door was incredibly silent.
Only boxes covered in a thick layer of dust were piled here and there; Shin Seojun was nowhere to be seen.
Thump!
But soon, a sound like a door closing echoed within the empty warehouse.
It came from above. Hajin, scanning the interior slowly, looked up.
His cold blue eyes scanned the open-center structure and the upper floor.
The sound had come from a door to a room of unknown purpose visible in the corner of the upper level.
Hajin immediately headed for the stairs in the corner.
Clang, clang, clang.
As if the iron floor were designed specifically to announce a person’s presence, Hajin’s footsteps rang out loudly with every step he took.
He could have hidden his presence, but he felt no reason to do so.
Reaching the floor and the door where the sound originated, Hajin turned the rusted handle.
Dust rubbed off onto his gloves.
Creeak.
With an eerie sound, the door opened.
Hajin’s brow twitched in displeasure as he looked inside.
The space, where no light leaked in, was so dark that the interior was invisible from the outside.
There was no sign of anyone.
As Hajin frowned and stepped inside—
Bang!
The door slammed shut, trapping Hajin inside.
Pitch-black darkness descended.
He hadn’t felt anyone’s presence.
Click.
The sound of the door locking followed, as if someone had been waiting.
Whoosh—
Narrowing his eyes, Hajin flicked his hand, and blue flames flickered in the air.
The blue light wavered, illuminating the pitch-black space.
Shin Seojun, who was said to have entered here, was nowhere to be found.
The cramped space consisted only of a long desk and a chair against one wall.
Was the information wrong?
But as Hajin turned his gaze to the desk, he froze.
A voice recorder and a music box were sitting on top of it.
……A music box.
Hajin’s face distorted instantly.
It was an uncontrollable reaction.
The blue fire swallowed the music box in a split second. But simultaneously—
“……!”
Hajin’s body was tightly bound by “threads.”
Layer upon layer of threads coiled around his limbs, as strong as a spider’s web.
Blue fire immediately surged around the threads.
The threads charred slightly, but as if anticipating this, they were composed of dozens, hundreds of layers.
“……Tch!”
Hajin clicked his tongue irritably.
Shin Seojun had definitely been here.
This was Shin Seojun’s ability, seen for the first time in seventeen years.
The threads, binding even his individual fingers, dug sharply into Hajin’s skin.
Countless memories of struggling against this as a child surged up in an instant, causing him to falter.
But Hajin was no longer that powerless boy.
He conjured fireballs, intending to burn the entire room down.
Just then, a single thin thread descended from the ceiling, glowing blue.
No, it had simply been there all along, appearing that way as it caught the light.
It was wound tightly around the winding key of a music box—one so familiar to the young Hajin.
Click.
The key began to turn, very slowly.
“……Dammit.”
Tring-ring-ring—
Hardly had the curse left Hajin’s lips when a sound like a broken toy playing echoed through the quiet space. Hajin’s face contorted.
His hands trembled violently.
Realizing the abnormality in his body, Hajin ground his teeth.
His mind, which had been perfectly fine moments ago, began to grind to a halt.
‘Damn it, to think this would still be in my system.’
Tring-ring-ring-ring—
To others, it was merely a small noise, but to Hajin, it was no such trivial thing.
And it wasn’t just Hajin.
To the many children who had been on that experimental table, this was not mere sound.
Tring-ring-ring-ring—
The flames that had been surging as if to burn the entire room vanished.
Darkness returned in an instant.
“……Ha!”
A sharp, hollow laugh barely escaped through his unyielding lips.
A dark room. Children bound by sharp threads.
And in the center, Shin Seojun, stroking a music box that turned and turned as if it were a treasure.
“You have to be a good boy,” Shin Seojun would murmur benevolently.
Screaming children.
And finally, children who could say nothing, only panting for breath.
It was the exact same scene.
Tring-ring-ring—
This was the brainwashing Shin Seojun had poured his efforts into to control children who might awaken as gifted individuals at any time.
Hajin ground his teeth, feeling cold sweat pour down his face.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
The pain helped him hold onto his fading consciousness, but only briefly.
The blue flames, unable to form fully, sparked weakly and insignificantly in the air.
He tried to tear the threads with raw strength since his ability wouldn’t work, but the strength was already draining from his entire body.
Tring-ring-ring-ring—.
—Hajin, it’s been a long time.
And then, with the sound of the music box playing in the background, the recorder turned on.
Hajin’s blue eyes flew open.
