“Did you authorize it?”
After a long silence, Sun Woosung finally asked. It made sense in his head, but it was still hard to accept in his heart.
Yeo Wonjin raised one eyebrow as he looked into Sun Woosung’s subtly wavering gaze.
“Yes.”
“……”
“Don’t look at me like that. Do you think I wanted to approve it?”
Closing his eyes against the oncoming headache, Yeo Wonjin opened them again and added in a cold tone,
“Stop wasting time with pointless thoughts and prepare to help realistically.”
“……How many people are expected to be at the base?”
“Planning to volunteer?”
Yeo Wonjin tilted his head slightly.
“But here’s the thing. Including the researcher, there are only two people slated for the mission.”
Sun Woosung fell silent and stared at Yeo Wonjin. His gaze was serious, as if genuinely unsure whether this was a joke or not.
But Yeo Wonjin didn’t smile.
“They said the more people that need protection, the more complicated it gets. And honestly, it makes sense. The monsters don’t attack the Researcher, they attack everyone around him.”
Sun Woosung was at a loss for words and didn’t respond. Yeo Wonjin delivered the final blow.
“So don’t get your hopes up. You won’t be the one taking the other remaining spot.”
The person who would be deployed to the surface with Seo Suho was practically already decided. It wasn’t a decision that could be made lightly, so Seo Suho had said he’d take more time to think it over, but Yeo Wonjin already knew the outcome.
Privately, it wasn’t a conclusion he wanted to accept in the slightest… but logically speaking, there was no one more fitting to stand beside Seo Suho than Min Yugeon.
As a capable engineer, Min Yugeon could quickly respond if the base systems encountered problems. And since they had worked together for so long, he would also provide a deep sense of psychological comfort for Seo Suho.
For people living in isolation, danger didn’t just come from unexpected incidents. Distrust and discomfort among those they lived with could be just as threatening. Seo Suho and Min Yugeon were unlikely to turn on each other over minor conflicts, which made things more reassuring in that regard.
In front of Yeo Wonjin, who furrowed his brow in frustration, Sun Woosung silently bowed his head.
***
Seo Suho had long since chosen happiness with just one person, and that person was his longtime friend, Min Yugeon. Fully accepting that fact, Sun Woosung didn’t feel any violent emotions.
Natural feelings like jealousy or sorrow had already crumbled under the sheer weight of helplessness.
But in the end, what Sun Woosung chose was not resignation. He couldn’t interfere with Seo Suho’s happiness—but that didn’t mean he had to give up the desire he felt for him. It wasn’t something that would disappear just because he tried.
So he decided to keep watching. As a good collaborator, as a trusted acquaintance, he would stay near Seo Suho. The chances were slim, but if something ever happened between Seo Suho and Min Yugeon, then—not Yeo Wonjin, but he—could seize the opportunity.
With that kind of petty, shameful desire.
“Colonel.”
But now, even that opportunity had vanished. If Seo Suho was going to the surface, there was nothing he could do.
At most, maybe he’d bump into him occasionally while out on reconnaissance. He’d have to be satisfied with the rare chances their jobs afforded them to see each other face to face. The sharp sensation that stabbed at his chest felt like a blade prodding him over and over.
“Colonel, are you all right?”
Sun Woosung raised his gaze and looked at the man standing in front of him. Even with Seo Suho right there, his mind had been so fogged over he hadn’t realized it. That was how out of it he’d become.
“……Yeah.”
The belated response made Seo Suho stare quietly at Sun Woosung. He’d called his name several times, but Sun Woosung had kept his eyes fixed on the ground, not hearing a word. Seo Suho wasn’t so oblivious that he couldn’t tell something was wrong.
“You don’t look well. Maybe you should take some rest.”
His expression was neutral, like he wasn’t particularly concerned—but the concern behind it came through clearly.
Sun Woosung slowly relaxed the fist he hadn’t even realized he’d been clenching. He wanted to hear it directly from Seo Suho—to confirm whether what Yeo Wonjin had told him yesterday was really true. But realistically, there was no reason for Yeo Wonjin to lie. The disoriented look on his face had carried a familiar hollowness.
Sun Woosung wasn’t the only one who held special feelings for Seo Suho.
“I’m fine. Just had something on my mind for a moment.”
“……”
Seo Suho gave a small nod at the curt reply. One of the things they had in common was not digging into feelings the other was trying to hide.
“Have you been to the hospital recently?”
He glanced at the wound marring one side of Sun Woosung’s cheek and asked. Sun Woosung simply shook his head in response.
“Why are you neglecting it? That’s a deep cut.”
Seo Suho frowned slightly as he scolded him. Just by looking at it, it was clear the wound would scar. He couldn’t understand why Sun Woosung would leave it untreated.
“This much is nothing.”
But that wasn’t the right answer. Seo Suho held back what he wanted to say and just stared at him before turning away.
Sun Woosung watched Seo Suho’s retreating figure as he strode off with purpose, his steps almost angry, then slowly began to follow after him.
Seo Suho didn’t look back when he spoke again.
“Conducting that training alone was reckless.”
The recent training session that had left the injury on Sun Woosung’s face had been entirely his own doing.
While Sun Woosung was also granted authority to train S8A152, just like Seo Suho, technically it wasn’t against protocol. But Seo Suho had always made sure to be present during those sessions, in case of emergency. So when he heard that Sun Woosung had visited the lab on a day with no scheduled sessions and entered Cat’s cage alone to carry out training, it had come as a shock.
He regretted not going to the lab that day due to work related to the Military Beast Project’s revised proposal. If he’d been there, maybe he could’ve stopped Cat… Seo Suho silently berated himself, gnashing his thoughts inwardly.
With each training session, more parts of Sun Woosung’s body ended up battered. But a visible wound on his face like this—it left a far deeper impression, unsettling anyone who saw it.
“Even if you’ve worked with Cat before, that creature still won’t obey you without my orders.”
Usually, training involved Sun Woosung saddling S8A152 or climbing onto its back to control its movements, but none of it was easy. The monster was intelligent enough to communicate to a degree, and had cooperated temporarily during Seo Suho’s rescue—but it was aware that the current situation wasn’t urgent. That awareness made it uncooperative now.
Knowing that all too well, Seo Suho couldn’t help but worry about Sun Woosung being alone in the same space as S8A152.
“Do you think S8A152 will ever follow me before you leave?”
Sun Woosung responded quietly.
“If I’ll have to continue the training on my own afterward, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to start trying independently now.”
The truth was, even before hearing anything from Yeo Wonjin about the revised Military Beast Project, he had simply wondered if perhaps—just maybe—he could handle S8A152 on his own without Seo Suho. That thought had pushed him to attempt the session. And looking ahead to after Seo Suho was gone, it seemed like a worthwhile trial after all.
Seo Suho stopped in front of a door.
“Did you hear it from someone else?”
Sun Woosung gave a slight nod as he looked at him.
“I heard from the Captain. The Reconnaissance Unit will have to move out to explore the area for the base construction.”
“……”
Seo Suho fell silent, blinking. He had intended to tell Sun Woosung himself, so hearing that he was a step too late left him momentarily at a loss.
“I see. I was planning to tell you today…”
His voice trailed off as he lowered his gaze, lost in thought.
“……Now that I think about it, you’re right. After I leave the ship, you’ll be the one handling the training alone.”
No one knew exactly when he’d be deployed to the surface, but whenever that happened, there was little chance Sun Woosung and Cat would become a fully bonded pair by then. Given that, it seemed only right to go along with his approach.
“I apologize for calling it reckless without thinking it through.”
Seo Suho’s calm acknowledgment of his judgment made Sun Woosung’s chest tighten. Not because of the apology—but because it reminded him again that Seo Suho would be leaving, and that he wouldn’t be by his side.
A raw impulse surged inside him, almost impossible to suppress.
“Seo Suho.”
“Yes?”
Those black eyes, flecked with gold like powdered stars, turned toward him.
Sun Woosung’s lips tightened. He felt every muscle in his body tense as if bracing against the instinct to say something he couldn’t take back. His heart thundered.
What was it that he wanted to say?
Don’t go?
Or… was he trying to confess his feelings after all this time?
Something so pathetic, so futile—something that would only earn him a troubled look from Seo Suho.
“……”
The thought ended with a cruel self-mockery aimed squarely at himself. He couldn’t do it—he never could.
Staring at Seo Suho, Sun Woosung never managed to part his lips.
