Clang, thud, thud.
The released handcuffs struck the chair they were fixed to, creating a desolate, metallic echo.
Suhyeon flinched, his body trembling. Shin Seojun was staring at him with eyes that looked like cold glass beads.
Aside from the age difference, the man bore a startling resemblance to Hajin, starting with those piercing blue eyes.
In fact, based on facial impressions alone, this man looked even softer and gentler than Hajin, yet he exuded an inexplicable sense of dread.
It was a feeling likely sharpened by the current situation.
Suhyeon slowly lowered his hands, which had been pinned to the armrests, onto his lap.
His wrists, previously crushed by the cuffs, were flushed a dark, angry red.
Without taking his eyes off Shin Seojun, Suhyeon massaged his ice-cold fingers.
The benevolent-looking man watched Suhyeon in return, like a jointed doll that never lost its smile.
It was clear beyond a doubt: he was not sane.
The sound of Suhyeon swallowing his dry saliva echoed loudly in the confined space.
His shoulders, stiff with tension, throbbed with a dull ache.
“……Why,” Suhyeon asked after a long silence, “did you bring me here?”
“Mmm, I told you. Chae Suhyeon, you caught my interest…….”
Shin Seojun tilted his head as if the answer were obvious, his smiling face never wavering.
Suhyeon couldn’t grasp what “interest” meant in this context.
To kidnap someone simply because they were interesting?
The fact that he was Hajin’s biological father also sent Suhyeon’s mind into a whirl of confusion.
But one thing was certain: Suhyeon had been abducted, and this man—the likely mastermind—was abnormal.
Since Hajin would never treat him this way, there was a high probability Hajin wasn’t even involved in this.
Suhyeon tried to let out a shaky breath.
“……Hmm.”
At that moment, Shin Seojun, who had been observing Suhyeon intently, took a sudden step forward.
Suhyeon’s eyes shook violently as he focused on the movement.
He tried to press his back against the chair to get away, but there was no proper way to escape while seated.
Shin Seojun’s hand reached out and touched Suhyeon’s shoulder.
A hand as cold as a corpse’s caressed him.
The sensation of that hand feeling the fabric of his thin hoodie over his skin was skin-crawling, like a snake slithering over him.
It was a natural reaction for Suhyeon to hunch his shoulders.
His heart thundered against his ribs.
Shin Seojun pulled his hand away without lingering and let out a hum.
It was the gesture of a scientist who hadn’t quite finished identifying the nature of a specimen laid before him.
“It seems you’ve completely tucked away your wavelength for now. I heard it hasn’t been long since you awakened, but you seem to have no trouble controlling it. Wouldn’t you mind releasing it for me once?”
If it weren’t for the fact that he was kidnapped, his voice was so serene that Suhyeon might have reflexively nodded.
Just listening to the tone, he felt like a person helping with guiding training at the Association.
But Shin Seojun was nothing of the sort. He was a kidnapper.
“……Why?”
Tension, fear, and a crackling sense of foreboding coiled around his legs.
At Suhyeon’s question, Shin Seojun blinked before letting out a cheerful laugh.
“Because I’m interested in your guiding wavelength, of course. To be sucked into a Gate and emerge alive after three years, only to awaken as an S-rank Guide—how could I not be interested? Especially a guiding wavelength that seems to have a connection to the Gate itself!”
Shin Seojun shouted with a dramatic flair, like a creator who had just found a long-lost inspiration or an artist discovering a muse.
A momentary glint flickered in the glass-blue eyes of the gentle-faced man.
Chills ran down Suhyeon’s spine. He swallowed hard.
What should he do?
Hajin’s father was undoubtedly out of his mind.
Could he escape this place on his own?
Or could Hajin or the Association find him from the outside?
“Ah, just in case you were wondering.”
Having listed his reasons for being interested in Suhyeon, Shin Seojun seemed to see right through his thoughts.
He wore a gentle smile, though his eyes held an inhuman light that made the expression horrifying.
“Give up any thought of Hajin coming to save you, or anyone else mounting a rescue. There is no possibility of that.”
Suhyeon’s eyes widened and trembled. Shin Seojun tapped on the iron desk.
The slow, rhythmic sound of his finger hitting the metal heightened the tension.
“This place was built so that no radio waves or anything else can leak out. You were brought here by an Esper’s ability, and no trace remains of you being moved here.”
“……What?”
A faint, thread-like voice, sounding like escaping air, drifted out.
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
The sliver of hope that he might be rescued was snuffed out instantly.
Suhyeon bit his lip hard. But that wasn’t the end.
“And as for Hajin…… haha, I personally tied his hands. I had to keep him away from you. Well, even if I hadn’t brought you here, I was planning to play with that boy anyway, so it was a double pleasure.”
Suhyeon froze.
He barely managed to lift his trembling head.
Creeak.
A bleak sound echoed from the desk Shin Seojun was leaning against.
Shin Seojun was still smiling.
The phrasing—tied Hajin’s hands—sounded unnervingly ominous.
Hajin was stronger than anyone Suhyeon knew.
A man said to be unstoppable by sheer force.
Yet, Shin Seojun’s nonchalant attitude made it sound as if he had truly done something to him.
“To Hajin-ssi…….”
Suhyeon forced out a voice that wouldn’t come.
Shin Seojun, as if knowing exactly what he was thinking, smiled broadly and spoke before the sentence could even finish.
“Hajin is certainly a strong child, but aren’t he and I father and son? It’s only natural that I know exactly how to handle him.”
Suhyeon’s lips quivered. He really made it sound as though he had harmed Hajin.
‘What happened to Hajin?’
A thought he had never even considered before bleached his mind white.
“Shall I show you?”
As if satisfied by Suhyeon’s reaction, Shin Seojun narrowed his eyes softly and spoke words he couldn’t understand.
Before Suhyeon could say anything, Shin Seojun snapped his fingers.
At that moment, the closed door opened once again with a bone-chilling creeak, and a dark-skinned foreigner walked in.
“Steve.”
When Shin Seojun called out the name, the man slowly approached the two.
Suhyeon had no idea what was happening.
He could only watch the situation unfold, unable to regain his composure.
His mind was still stuck, broken by the suggestion that something might be wrong with Hajin.
As if finding Suhyeon’s state adorable, Shin Seojun laughed again and pulled something out of his jacket pocket.
What he held in his hand was a tiny music box.
The music box looked old, as if it had been cherished by its owner for a long time, and it rattled slightly in Shin Seojun’s hand.
It was merely an old ornament.
But the foreigner’s reaction was bizarre.
His face, which had been indifferent until he entered, turned deathly pale.
“Seojoon…….”
The man’s gaze was fixed on the music box as he called Shin Seojun’s name, dripping with cold sweat.
His pleading voice was so pitiful it made the dazed Suhyeon flinch.
However, Shin Seojun didn’t bat an eye as he wound the key.
Tring-ring-ring—
Instead of a sweet melody one would expect from a normal music box, a noise like a broken toy echoed softly in the room.
And then, the man’s body went rigid before he fell forward with a loud thump!
“Urgh…….”
The man groaned and crawled across the floor, trembling violently.
Even though nothing was there, the man’s face contorted in agony as if he were being crushed by something invisible.
Shin Seojun wore a satisfied smile.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Suhyeon’s lips trembled.
‘Tring… ring.’
The winding key of the music box in Shin Seojun’s hand slowed down and eventually stopped.
The man’s trembling movements slowed and ceased in sync with it.
Shin Seojun offered a gentle smile.
“As you can see, this is how it is. This is a mark I personally engraved upon my children. Hajin has one as well.”
As if playing a game, Shin Seojun lightly wound the key of the silent music box once more.
“……!”
Upon hearing the noise, the foreigner collapsed onto the floor again.
Alternately holding and releasing the turning key, Shin Seojun watched the man writhing and struggling on the floor with wide, glazed eyes, as if playing with a toy.
It was a horrific sight.
Looking back at the stiffened Suhyeon, Shin Seojun wore a smile so gentle it was impossible to believe he was the one who had created such a scene.
“In Hajin’s case, a lot of time has passed, so I’m a bit worried about whether he’ll react properly, but well. Even if Hajin escapes more easily than expected, he won’t be able to find this place. As I said, no trace of you was left anywhere.”
Suhyeon stared blankly at the man on the floor.
It felt as if Hajin’s face was being superimposed over the man’s.
The blood drained from his face completely.
‘Hajin… like this man?’
“That child was truly difficult to tame. Even at the very end, he didn’t become a perfect child. In that sense, it’s quite interesting to see how you handle Hajin. Is it because of the guiding, I wonder?”
Whether he noticed Suhyeon’s state or not, Shin Seojun continued to prattle on.
Every word he spoke sounded like the ramblings of a madman.
A dread that surpassed simple fear began to slowly seep into Suhyeon’s body.
It was only after a long while that Suhyeon slowly looked up at Shin Seojun.
His throat had gone bone-dry.
There was only one thing he could ask.
His faint voice, squeezed out from his vocal cords, echoed in the room.
“……Is Hajin-ssi safe?”
The white hands gripping the armrests of the chair shook uncontrollably.
Shin Seojun blinked his glass-like blue eyes.
Even that brief moment—less than three seconds—felt like an eternity to Suhyeon.
In Suhyeon’s mind, the image of the man on the floor writhing kept flickering like a broken projector.
He saw Hajin doing the same.
His heart throbbed at the thought that Shin Seojun’s words might be the truth.
“Ah, hahahaha!”
Facing Suhyeon, Shin Seojun burst into a boisterous laugh.
