“Let go of me!”
Lee Minha snapped sharply as she shoved Min Sanghan hard. Min Sanghan staggered backward, pulling his hand away from her shoulder.
The atmosphere in the hospital room froze over.
“Where do you think you’re putting those filthy hands?”
This wasn’t just the hostility of a strained relationship. The way Lee Minha trembled with revulsion left me speechless. The disgust radiating from her felt so tangible I could almost reach out and touch it.
“And how dare you show up here? Because of you, our Yugeon… Yugeon is—!”
Unable to finish her sentence, Lee Minha trembled with rage. I glanced briefly at Min Yugeon, still unconscious, then turned my eyes back to Lee Minha. I didn’t know what Min Sanghan had done to warrant such fury, but it was clear something significant had happened between them.
“Get out! Right now!”
“Okay. Okay, I get it.”
At her scream-like shout, Min Sanghan raised both hands and shook his head. Then he turned to me and motioned.
“Suho. A minute?”
“…”
I’d been planning to return to my room anyway, but I hesitated, unsure if I should leave Lee Minha in that state. Still, standing by Min Yugeon’s bedside with her face buried in her hands, she looked like she needed time alone to collect herself.
Silently, I placed a box of tissues near her and followed Min Sanghan out of the room.
The hospital room door closed softly behind us. Lee Minha’s suppressed sobs were no longer audible. After a brief and awkward silence, Min Sanghan looked at me and spoke.
“Shall we head to your room… or maybe take a walk outside?”
“Sure.”
Neither of us spoke again until we reached the walking trail outside the hospital. Only then did Min Sanghan open his mouth.
“Try to understand, Suho.”
A long sigh, laden with fatigue, escaped him.
“Ever since Yugeon got hurt, she’s been on edge.”
Her behavior was far beyond what could be excused by mere sensitivity, but I didn’t say anything. I just nodded quietly, and Min Sanghan turned to glance at me.
“By the way… you have no idea how shocked I was when I heard about you. I was really worried.”
His face was lined with concern.
“Who the hell was it? Why would someone try to hurt you? Was it someone you didn’t even know?”
Since Min Yugeon was also a victim in the incident, it seemed the Security Force had shared some information with his family, including Lee Minha and Min Sanghan. I nodded in agreement.
“Yes. I was told it’ll take time to determine the motive since the suspect is dead.”
“Is that so?”
Min Sanghan turned his head back to face forward.
“Are you sure… no one put them up to it?”
“…”
I paused and looked at his profile.
“You never know. Maybe someone who doesn’t like you hired those suspects to get rid of you.”
His tone was closer to conviction than speculation.
I furrowed my brow slightly and responded.
“What exactly are you implying…?”
Min Sanghan glanced around and leaned in a bit closer to me.
“You’ve gotten pretty close to the Vice Captain, haven’t you?”
“You mean the Captain?”
“…Yeah. The Captain.”
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Aside from a few meals after the demonstration event, I haven’t had much contact with him.”
“That counts as getting close.”
Min Sanghan let out a short, scoffing laugh.
“You probably talked about all sorts of things. And Suho, someone like the Captain—he can read someone inside and out after just one meeting.”
“…”
“If he decided you were someone who needed to be eliminated, what do you think would happen?”
“…What?”
“Just hear me out for a second.”
Min Sanghan spoke with a serious air.
“As for the Captain… sigh… to be honest, I don’t like him much.”
That he held no fondness for Yeo Wonjin was something I already knew. He’d made that clear more than once in front of me.
As I acknowledged with a silent nod, Min Sanghan once again checked for watching eyes and listening ears before continuing.
“The previous Captain was a kind woman who showed compassion, but Captain Yeo Wonjin isn’t like that.”
Ironically, the warning Yeo Wonjin had once given me—mentioning Min Sanghan—was now being echoed almost word for word, only this time it was Min Sanghan pointing the finger at Yeo Wonjin.
“Captain Yeo Wonjin has a tendency to devalue human life. I’ve seen talented people who went against his will suddenly disappear or end up ‘accidentally’ ruined. Maybe even the suspects who kidnapped you were acting on his orders.”
…
A chill spread through my mind.
I shook my head, unable to help myself, the absurdity of it overwhelming.
“That can’t be true.”
“If, during a conversation, he found something in you that clashed with his standards, it’s entirely possible. Maybe he saw you as too influential on the ship, or figured your personality was too resistant to be easily used.”
Min Sanghan sounded frustrated, as though it irritated him that he couldn’t prove any of this.
“Who knows? Maybe he’s already decided your entire project—your very existence—needs to be erased. Has it never occurred to you that, even if he pretends to support you, deep down he might see you as a threat?”
“No, it hasn’t. The Captain views the project positively.”
I recalled the look in Yeo Wonjin’s eyes as he spoke to me.
“I’ve known about you for quite some time, Researcher.”
“At first, it was just curiosity, but then I found you impressive… and after that, I just wanted to get to know you as a person.”
“Right now, you’re the one making the most meaningful contributions on this ship.”
He’d even come to the hospital just a few days ago to check on me. Everything I’d seen—his kindness, the anger he showed on my behalf—none of it felt fake.
Why would he go out of his way to fake all that in front of me?
“Suho.”
Min Sanghan let out another long sigh.
“The leadership of this ship… they’re all against the Military Beast Project.”
…
What?
I blinked at him in disbelief.
“They want eternal power, that’s why.”
“…!”
“To them, the hope of reclaiming life on the surface means the end of this decaying system.”
Min Sanghan placed a hand on my shoulder.
“The only one who genuinely supported the Military Beast Project was the late Captain. The current leadership, centered around Captain Yeo Wonjin, is just pretending to follow his will.”
If what Min Sanghan said was true, then the ship’s leadership had already become hopelessly corrupt.
I stared at him, dazed.
Considering how long he’d been connected with the upper ranks of the ship, it wasn’t strange that he might know their inner workings. Still, that didn’t mean I could believe him so easily. If I accepted what he was saying now, that would mean I had to doubt Yeo Wonjin.
Min Sanghan. Yeo Wonjin. No—even if it wasn’t about them specifically—I didn’t want to believe that anyone I thought I knew was just wearing a mask.
“That’s why the Captain isn’t someone you can trust, Suho.”
Min Sanghan shook his head.
“The Security Force? They’re all under the Captain’s influence. There are surveillance cameras installed everywhere under the pretense of public safety, including in the train, and yet they haven’t been able to track the remaining suspects? Does that make any sense?”
His voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial whisper that crept into my ears.
“It’s because this whole thing is already part of a plan. If the investigation continues, it might just put you in danger again.”
“…Mister.”
“Don’t entrust your safety to someone like that… Maybe it’d be better to ask them to just close the case.”
He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he hadn’t even flinched at the sudden, overdue use of a respectful title—just kept pressing his own agenda.
I clenched my fists tightly at my sides.
“You’re talking about me?”
Yeo Wonjin’s voice cut in out of nowhere. Min Sanghan and I both turned in unison toward the source.
There he was, Yeo Wonjin, standing within clear view, his lips curved into a half-smile that made no effort to hide its insincerity. He looked straight at Min Sanghan as if it didn’t matter that we both knew he’d overheard everything.
He wasn’t even that far away. I had no idea how long he’d been behind us, but clearly neither Min Sanghan nor I had sensed his presence, too absorbed in the conversation.
“Captain?”
As I widened my eyes in shock, Min Sanghan stepped slightly forward.
“Well, if it isn’t the Captain.”
With practiced ease, he extended his hand toward Yeo Wonjin in a casual greeting. I kept my mouth shut, watching in silence. The shift in his demeanor was almost theatrical.
Yeo Wonjin ignored the handshake outright, the corners of his mouth slowly falling.
“Yes. It’s been a while, Director Min.”
“It has indeed.”
With a hearty laugh, Min Sanghan withdrew his hand, awkwardly. Yeo Wonjin didn’t bat an eye. He glanced at me, then turned back to Min Sanghan.
“I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping, but I had no idea I was such a threat to Suho.”
“Ah… haha, well—”
“And telling him to demand the investigation be halted—now that’s curious.”
His gaze, cold enough to cut, locked onto Min Sanghan.
“Director Min… That’s unusually careless of you, don’t you think?”
