Seo Won gently laid Han-gyeom down on the bed, cradling him as he drifted off to sleep.
He propped Han-gyeom’s head against the soft pillow and pulled the thick blanket up to his neck with care. Even as he did all this, Han-gyeom’s breathing remained steady and undisturbed—he had fallen into an utterly deep sleep.
He was so exhausted that he couldn’t even sense the faint resonance flowing from Seo Won’s Imprint. Han-gyeom himself probably didn’t notice, but Seo Won, who had observed him carefully day after day, didn’t miss even the slightest flicker of fatigue.
‘Sleep well.’
Seo Won looked down at Han-gyeom, who was fast asleep without the faintest movement.
The subtle sound of his breath—so quiet one had to strain just to catch it—sounded endearingly soft to Seo Won’s ears.
Perhaps it was the warmth of their hearts pulsing in sync, or the soothing rhythm of their connection, but Han-gyeom had finally let his guard down.
He had been trying so hard to push through, desperate to keep guiding no matter what.
Seo Won’s cold gaze fell upon Han-gyeom’s tightly shut eyes.
‘Why is he so obsessed with guiding?’
Han-gyeom had been guiding Seo Won every single day without fail.
Whether Seo Won summoned him or Han-gyeom came of his own accord, he always made time for at least a light guiding session during the day in the office.
And at night—when they shared the bed—it went without saying that he would give a far deeper guiding, only to collapse into sleep completely drained afterward.
Back then, it had simply felt… welcome.
Each session left Seo Won feeling refreshed, and he grew fond of Han-gyeom, who guided him so sincerely, never once rejecting him.
The more guiding he received, the more it felt like Han-gyeom was becoming entirely his.
That closeness, that intimacy—he’d always embraced it.
But looking back now, Han-gyeom’s excessive eagerness struck him as strange.
If he was destined to remain by Seo Won’s side for the rest of his life anyway, why the need to guide him so diligently?
Watching Han-gyeom today only deepened his doubts.
It was hard to believe that the reason Han-gyeom insisted on guiding, even in such a fatigued state, was simply for efficiency’s sake.
No matter how perfectly he poured out his power, it wasn’t as if there was anything Han-gyeom himself gained from it.
The questions remained unanswered, but Seo Won had no intention of pressing Han-gyeom for answers.
There was no guarantee that anything Han-gyeom said would be the truth anyway.
‘I’ll find out in time.’
There was no need to rush.
Sooner or later, Seo Won would uncover everything about Cha Han-gyeom with his own hands.
Looking down at him once more, Seo Won left a soft, ticklish kiss on Han-gyeom’s forehead before quietly leaving the bedroom.
As the door opened and he stepped out, Lim Du-hyuk and Jung Ah-young stood side by side, keeping watch at the entrance.
Ah-young straightened her back stiffly the moment their eyes met, visibly nervous.
Seo Won’s frosty gaze stung too sharply for her to bear, and she quickly averted her eyes with an awkward, strained smile.
“Jung Ah-young. Come with me.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
Ah-young hurried after Seo Won, who called her name and strode down the hallway.
She quickly glanced back and caught a glimpse of Lim Du-hyuk’s sharp, piercing eyes as he stood guard outside the bedroom.
Lowering her head in a small bow as if to apologize for her actions, Ah-young resumed walking.
Silence lingered between Seo Won and Jung Ah-young as they made their way to the office.
‘The air feels like it’s cutting into me…’
For Ah-young, it wouldn’t have been strange to die by his hand at any moment.
If it hadn’t been for Han-gyeom, she would’ve already been dead.
It was clear Seo Won had placed a great deal of trust in her until now. The fact that he had often left her alone with Han-gyeom spoke volumes.
To find out that the bodyguard he’d trusted for years had turned out to be a spy from a terrorist group—that betrayal couldn’t be overlooked.
“Jung Ah-young.”
“Yes, Director.”
Ah-young, stiff with tension, swallowed dryly as she responded. Seo Won didn’t even look back at her as he spoke, his tone the same as usual.
“Do you feel a kind of kinship with Cha Han-gyeom, like Kang Woo-chan does?”
Seo Won came to a stop and turned to face her. Meeting her anxious eyes, he added one more line.
“I’m asking if you feel such a strong attachment that you’d want to save him no matter what—even if it costs your life.”
This question wasn’t directed at Bodyguard Jung Ah-young. It was aimed at E_NO.63, the woman from the same Ability Analysis Research Facility as Cha Han-gyeom.
Ah-young’s response came faster than expected.
“Yes.”
She said it without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Seo Won pressed on with a weighty intensity, as though trying to imprint the words deep into her mind.
“Then protect him. Even if you die, you must protect him.”
At his words, a dark aura began to rise in his blue eyes.
Ah-young, who had reverted to her Esper state since there was no longer a need to keep her ESP hidden at zero, could now see the black energy swirling from him, and how suffocatingly deadly that aura was.
Despite the icy hue of his eyes, Seo Won’s lips, which bore a color in stark contrast, spilled a chilling warning.
“Don’t forget—that’s the only reason I’m letting you live.”
Ah-young felt as if her entire body was being crushed under a wave of freezing ice. Her lips trembled, as if frozen stiff.
“I… I’ll keep that in mind.”
Only after she gave her answer did the oppressive, cold presence that had filled the corridor vanish with a gust. Ah-young sucked in a breath with a gasp, as if she’d only just realized she’d been holding it in.
Seo Won averted his gaze from her pale face and resumed walking. Ah-young, who had momentarily staggered, quickly steadied herself and moved to follow.
But after taking only two steps, Seo Won suddenly stopped again.
“What did you all find out about the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility?”
“Pardon?”
Startled by the sudden question, Ah-young’s eyes widened.
“Why do you ask that all of a sudden…?”
“Were the children there in the same situation as you all? Including Cha Han-gyeom?”
Ah-young, unsure of what exactly he was getting at, fumbled with her response, looking uneasy.
“That… to be honest, I’m not sure. We did look into it, but all we really found was…”
Ah-young glanced at Seo Won, gauging his reaction.
“All we know is that the Director received a heart transplant from the immortal Ability User at that facility… and that the Ability User went berserk, causing the entire research center to be blown away. Other than that, there’s hardly any information left.”
“…I see.”
Seo Won paused for a moment, as if mulling over her words, then finally resumed walking. As they headed silently toward the office, the conversation he had earlier with Song Jae-woo resurfaced in Seo Won’s mind.
Just as Jae-woo had stepped out the front door, Seo Won had called him to a stop.
“What did Kang Woo-chan say to Cha Han-gyeom back then?”
Jae-woo tilted his head, trying to recall.
“Back then…?”
“When Han-gyeom cried.”
Seo Won couldn’t bring himself to ask Han-gyeom directly. He didn’t want to make him cry again.
When Han-gyeom wept, it felt like Seo Won’s chest was being torn apart. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen him cry, but this time—it had shaken him deeply, to the point that he couldn’t forget it. Seo Won never wanted to feel that pain again. Which meant he had to know—What had made Cha Han-gyeom cry like that?
Jae-woo recalled the moment Han-gyeom had burst into tears during a conversation with Kang Woo-chan inside the ruined cathedral.
“Live for them.”
“…What?”
Jae-woo repeated the words in more detail, echoing Kang Woo-chan’s voice.
“He said, ‘You have to live for their sake, too.’ I’m sure of it.”
Seo Won’s eyes narrowed. Why had those words triggered not only an emotional breakdown, but even symptoms akin to a panic attack?
As the question deepened the furrow between his brows, Jae-woo spoke again, this time wearing a look of regret.
“Right after hearing that, Hyung showed… intense hatred. Toward the people referred to as ‘those kids.’ I don’t know anything about that research center, and Hyung refuses to tell me, so I’ve never understood why…”
Hearing that, Seo Won became certain. There was a distinct, undeniable difference between Cha Han-gyeom and Kang Woo-chan’s group, despite them all coming from the same facility.
Recalling his conversation with Jae-woo, Seo Won couldn’t shake the thought that what had been shared was one of the most critical clues to Cha Han-gyeom’s past.
Just looking at Kang Woo-chan and the rest of his terrorist group made it obvious—they all shared a deep bond born from their shared origin. Their trust in each other was unwavering, akin to blood siblings. They relied on each other wholeheartedly, willing to die for one another if needed.
But Cha Han-gyeom… was different.
It was true that Cha Min-hyung, another person from the facility, stirred a sense of kinship in Cha Han-gyeom. But the feelings he harbored toward Kang Woo-chan and the terrorist group were clearly different.
Sure, some of the hostility might have stemmed from the fact that Song Jae-woo had been taken as a hostage, but beyond that, something about the fundamental structure of their relationship felt inherently different.
Just like Song Jae-woo had said, it seemed Cha Han-gyeom hated the others who came from that facility. All except for one—Song Yeon-woo.
‘Song Yeon-woo…’
If Seo Won wanted to uncover everything about Cha Han-gyeom, the first step was identifying the person behind that name. All the information about Cha Han-gyeom’s original Imprinter.
‘I might need to negotiate with Cha Min-hyung soon.’
If it came to that, he was certain Cha Min-hyung would still have all the data left from the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility.
With Cha Min-hyung’s face flashing through his mind, Seo Won arrived at the office. Jung Ah-young took her place naturally at the entrance alongside the waiting guards, and Seo Won confidently stepped into the office, sensing the presence inside.
“Phew. That was a close call, man.”
The moment he entered, a loud yawn echoed through the room. Yoon Jeong-ho, who had been sprawled out on the office sofa like it was his own place, finally sat up and stretched with a satisfied groan.
“We need to wrap this up fast and head to the demo hall. It’s gonna be a damn mess covering for that guy’s absence.”
Casually rolling his neck and stretching his shoulders, Yoon Jeong-ho flashed Seo Won a mischievous grin.
“You are gonna properly pay me back for helping this time, right?”
