Tumbling uncontrollably across the ground, everything came to a halt—and then, pain crashed into every inch of my body like a delayed wave. I curled up with a sharp inhale and clutched my throbbing shoulder tightly.
“Ugh, huff…!”
Even if the speed had slowed, the shock of being thrown from a moving train wasn’t something my body could just shrug off. As I lay panting and twitching on the pavement, the train screeched to a stop not far away.
“…!”
Damn it…! Seeing the bastards leap off right after, I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up. I didn’t have the luxury to wallow in pain.
At this hour, there wasn’t a single open building in sight. Desperately scanning for a place to hide, I took off running. My heart, sensing the threat to my life, seemed to scream for my legs to move faster.
Trying to operate the watch while running was damn near impossible. My vision bounced with every step, making it impossible to tap anything properly. But I had to put some distance between us—just enough to buy a moment to call the Security Force.
“Hey, stop right there!”
Maybe it was because the street was empty, but the shout rang out crystal clear, no hesitation at all.
“Fuck! You’re gonna regret it if we catch you, you little shit!”
A glance over my shoulder revealed one of them—screaming obscenities, chasing after me like some deranged pervert.
A chill shot down my spine.
…Where the hell are the other two?
It nagged at me, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. I had to focus on getting away. In the corner between a clothing store and a restaurant, I spotted a narrow alley. No decent cover in sight, but it would have to do. I ducked in.
Crouching low and trying to steady my breath, I shakily pulled up the watch screen. It buzzed—someone was calling.
Min Yugeon.
“….”
For a second, it felt like my pounding heart had completely stopped. My fingers moved before I could even think.
—Seo Suho, why aren’t you home?
His urgent voice came through.
—Where are you right now?
“…Min Yugeon.”
I barely managed to say his name between breaths. There was no room to be glad hearing Min Yugeon’s voice after so long, and yet—absurdly—I felt something even stronger than relief. A bitter chuckle slipped out at my own misplaced emotion.
—Where are you?!
It was strange. The anxiety and panic in his voice, the way he demanded my location—it felt like he knew I was in danger.
“Listen carefully, and don’t freak out. I’m being chased right now.”
After a brief hesitation, I forced the words out.
“Three men. All of them slim. Two are about my height, and one’s maybe just over 170.”
I could feel Min Yugeon holding his breath, focusing entirely on what I was saying.
“I’m in Sector 8 right now…”
A shadow passed overhead. I stopped mid-sentence and looked up.
He wasn’t in the alley.
He was on top of the building—staring straight down at me.
***
If Min Sanghan realized that Ji Chanwoo had disappeared, how would he react?
The thought hit Min Yugeon too late—and the moment it did, he took off for home like a man possessed. His mind was blank, incapable of rational thought.
“Seo Suho!”
He flung the door open and rushed inside, but the cold, empty house mocked his desperation. He tore through every room, even the bathroom, but Seo Suho was nowhere to be found. No matter how late he got off work, he should’ve been home by now.
No…
Horrific thoughts chained together one after another, making his stomach churn. Pale and trembling, Min Yugeon lifted his wrist. After fumbling a few times, he finally managed to get through to Seo Suho.
The moment the call connected, he lashed out—not out of anger, but out of pure, overwhelming fear. What snapped him back to reality was Seo Suho’s breathless voice, like someone who’d been running for his life. Then came the steady, calm tone that rang clear in his head.
Why is it that the worst possible thoughts always come true?
“Suho…!”
As soon as he gave his location, the call was cut off.
It was like a red haze bled into his vision. Min Yugeon clenched his jaw so tightly it made the muscles bulge, his breathing ragged and violent. No. No, this can’t be happening. The screams in his head made it impossible to stay composed.
Staring blankly at the black screen, Min Yugeon, still not in his right mind, shakily moved his pale fingertips and called someone he hadn’t contacted in a long time.
—Yeah.
Min Sanghan’s voice came through. It had been years since they last spoke, yet his tone was disturbingly calm, as if he’d been expecting this call all along.
That alone was enough for Min Yugeon to be sure—the men chasing Seo Suho were acting under Min Sanghan’s orders.
“Suho…”
Min Yugeon gasped, overcome with emotion. His burning eyes felt like they were being scorched from within.
“Don’t lay a finger on him.”
He clutched at his throat, his breath catching in ragged sobs.
“Let him go. Right now.”
—Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to him just yet.
Min Sanghan’s voice was composed, unshaken.
—Yugeon, I assumed Suho was hiding Ji Chanwoo.
“……”
—But when I went to Suho’s place, Ji Chanwoo wasn’t there. And Suho has no other place he could’ve used to hide someone. It felt off. So I checked the surveillance footage near the capsule place, and wouldn’t you know it—there you were, trailing behind Ji Chanwoo.
Min Yugeon lowered his head, shoulders trembling.
—I actually saw that earlier, but I must’ve missed you while focusing on finding Suho. Imagine, not even recognizing my own son. How pathetic is that?
A dry laugh echoed over the call.
—Ji Chanwoo didn’t head for Suho’s through any blind spots. He vanished after you followed him. That only leaves one answer, doesn’t it?
Cold sweat trickled down his cheek and fell into the void, drop by drop.
—Whether Suho told you, or you heard it from your mother, I’m sure you know everything by now.
“……”
—Where did you take Ji Chanwoo?
So that’s what this was really about.
Min Yugeon’s brown eyes, which had been quivering with fury, gradually steadied. The moment he understood exactly what the man wanted, his mind cooled with swift clarity.
“Then let me ask you something. Where’s Suho?”
His voice came out like ice, frigid and sharp.
“I need to see that Suho’s safe. With my own eyes.”
—You don’t really have the right to demand anything, do you?
Min Sanghan clicked his tongue in disbelief.
—You’ve got something to protect. I don’t. You should know who’s more desperate here.
“How do you not have anything to protect?”
Min Yugeon sneered right back.
“You’re trying so hard to bury the past just to protect your position. That’s what this is all about.”
—……
“And… the reason you’re going this far, back then and now—it hasn’t changed, has it?”
Min Sanghan’s insatiable thirst for power was something Min Yugeon had grown up choking on.
The yearning for a higher seat—even if unreachable, the obsession with guarding his current one. He’d always known, deep down, just how overwhelming those desires were in his father.
Just as he expected, Min Sanghan fell silent. He had tried to pressure Min Yugeon like a foolish child, but when it didn’t work, he was clearly caught off guard.
“Why the hell would I hand over Ji Chanwoo? If something happens to Suho while all this is going on, what the fuck do you think I’d do?”
There was no point pretending to be strong anymore. Min Yugeon spoke plainly. After all, if Min Sanghan hadn’t known where to strike, he wouldn’t have used Seo Suho as leverage.
“If we’re both holding something, this isn’t a threat. It’s a negotiation.”
—Hah! You little bastard…
“Your answer will decide where Ji Chanwoo ends up.”
The implication was obvious: would Ji Chanwoo be handed over to the Security Force or not?
A furious breath came through the watch’s speaker.
Min Yugeon stared down at the screen with darkened eyes, heavy with determination.
***
“…He said to go to the coordinates he sent and bring someone back.”
“What the hell is with the sudden change in plans?”
“This isn’t the first time we’ve had to clean up after the higher-ups. Just in case, you two go. I’ll stay here.”
The irritated voices echoed dully in my ears.
“Ah, fuck. Fine. But don’t kill him before I get back. I haven’t even had my fun yet.”
“Shut up and get moving, asshole.”
The sound of their grumbling footsteps faded, and one remained behind, sighing as he walked slowly toward me.
“…!”
The cloth covering my eyes was yanked off, and an unbearably bright light pierced through my eyelids.
I forced my eyes open with great effort. A man squatted in front of me, watching intently—the same bastard who had threatened me with a knife.
“First time getting knocked out from a blow to the head, huh?”
My mind was hazy. It felt like someone had pounded on both sides of my skull, leaving my brain floating and spinning inside. I tried to glare at him, biting my lip, but I couldn’t muster any strength in my eyes—or my body.
“Come on, get it together. Do you know how much trouble we went through to catch you? You should at least be clear-headed enough to take a couple more punches.”
He grabbed my head and yanked it up before smashing his fist into my cheek. Thwack—the sound barely registered, but the impact shook my vision. Even as my head snapped to the side, he grabbed it again and forced it forward, delivering another blow.
“Tough one. Not a single groan.”
“……”
If anything, it actually helped clear my head. The only regret was that the gag in my mouth stopped me from spitting bloodied saliva in his face. Meeting my gaze, the bastard let out a soft “Oh,” like he was impressed.
“Nice look in your eyes. I love seeing that in people who don’t know how to break.”
He was clearly experienced—his hits avoided vital spots with practiced precision. I curled up as best I could, suppressing every cry as the pain came down in relentless waves. With my wrists and ankles bound, there was no way to dodge.
Coughing violently, I heard his voice again.
“Ah, right. You’re that… beast-taming researcher, right?”
“Ugh…”
“You know…”
A vile smile stretched across his disgusting face.
“Why do you think the director—who was supposedly so close to you—ordered us to kill you?”
He wasn’t asking out of curiosity.
…He was waiting for a reaction.
He wanted to witness that exact moment—a person realizing they’d been betrayed by someone they trusted. He wanted to savor the look of despair.
