Seo Won’s request wasn’t particularly difficult.
It wasn’t like he was asking not to report to Han-gyeom—he simply wanted to be informed a step ahead of him.
Even so, Kang Woo-chan couldn’t accept it with a straight face.
“What do you even plan to do with the info first? Planning to tamper with it or something?”
Seo Won didn’t respond to Woo-chan’s skeptical question. Instead, he rose from his seat.
“I’ll send the data within today. It’s a bit of a distance, so it should arrive in three or four hours.”
Apparently, he could calculate the distance from his clone, because Seo Won seemed to realize that this hideout was located quite far from the mansion.
Woo-chan continued eyeing him suspiciously.
“If you used your lapdog, he could’ve brought it right away, couldn’t he?”
Guessing exactly who Woo-chan meant by “lapdog,” Seo Won replied without a second of hesitation.
“That guy’s out of the question.”
Seo Won’s gaze dropped to the paper on the table.
He stared briefly at the report, which was clearly a copy, before changing the subject.
“If you need some extra muscle to break into the Association, talk to the one who brought the materials. I’ll help out however I can.”
He said it with an intentionally smug smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“If he couldn’t even handle that much, Cha Han-gyeom wouldn’t have asked in the first place, would he?”
At the provocation, Woo-chan’s eyebrow twitched. But he let out a scoffing laugh, keeping his expression deliberately relaxed.
“No need. It’s not like I’m declaring war on the Association.”
Seo Won let out a quiet chuckle at Woo-chan’s bold reply.
Crack—
The sharp sound of ice splitting echoed.
Starting from his fingertips, Seo Won’s body and clothes gradually turned into translucent ice, fragmenting as they broke apart.
“Kang Woo-chan.”
Just before fully breaking down, Seo Won’s clone called out to him.
“In that research facility you were in… what exactly did ‘disposal’ mean?”
Woo-chan’s face twisted instantly.
He hated that word—hated even hearing it—but more than that, he hated that it was Seo Won who said it.
Still, he answered.
“Death. It’s said that the definition of disposal was the same across all research facilities.”
He stood up, meeting the eyes of the now-disintegrating Seo Won.
“But one lab decided to twist it for their own ends.”
There was a faint undercurrent of anger in Woo-chan’s voice as he spoke.
There was one thing he’d come to understand clearly while investigating the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility on his own. That in the Fourth Facility, disposal didn’t simply mean death.
Seo Won let out a bitter sigh at Woo-chan’s response.
“So you knew. That’s why you were so desperate to kill me.”
“If I could, I’d kill you right now.”
Woo-chan no longer suppressed the seething murderous intent. His eyes turned crimson in an instant, and a violent red aura began to swirl around his fingertips. If he touched Seo Won’s clone now, it wouldn’t shatter into pieces like before—it would explode into dust on the spot.
Seo Won watched the red eyes that reminded him of Cha Han-gyeom and let out a faint smile. The cracks spreading from his neck to his face twisted his grin grotesquely.
“What a shame.”
Whether he meant it was a shame he couldn’t be killed right now, or that he regretted something else entirely—There wasn’t even time to ask.
Seo Won’s clone shattered completely on the spot.
Even the fragments of ice on the floor didn’t melt—they sublimated into nothing.
Woo-chan stared at the empty space where not a single trace of Seo Won remained, lost in a mess of tangled thoughts.
***
Just after making contact with Kang Woo-chan through his clone, Seo Won, who had been seated in his office chair with his eyes closed, slowly opened them.
He quietly gazed out the bright window, then rose from his seat at a leisurely pace. Stacks of paperwork requiring immediate review and handling were piled on his desk. It had begun accumulating ever since Cha Han-gyeom collapsed, and the volume was significant.
Nevertheless, Seo Won ignored the urgent documents and headed for the door.
The moment he stepped outside, the guards stationed just beyond the office door followed him with a silent bow.
“Where’s Lim Du-hyuk?”
“He departed right after receiving your instructions, Executive Director.”
“And I assume he removed all the tracking devices?”
“Yes, he did… but, with all due respect, the security team didn’t see any real reason to track him, so…”
The bodyguard’s puzzled tone was cut off when Seo Won came to an abrupt stop and turned around to look at him. The chill in his gaze made the guard quickly lower his head.
“I apologize.”
Realizing he had spoken out of turn, the guard’s expression turned tense. Seo Won watched him silently for a moment, then resumed walking.
Lim Du-hyuk had gone alone to deliver the materials to Kang Woo-chan. Seo Won was the only one who knew where he was headed, having calculated his destination the moment he created the clone.
The guards at the mansion were all equipped with standard tracking devices that allowed the security team to monitor their positions. If Lim hadn’t removed them, not only could Woo-chan’s hideout be discovered, but so could the location of the data itself.
That’s why Seo Won had specifically ordered every single tracker to be stripped off.
Now that Jung Ah-young was connected to Kang Woo-chan and had essentially become one of Han-gyeom’s people, Lim Du-hyuk was the only subordinate left in this mansion that Seo Won could completely trust.
With tense steps, Seo Won made his way toward the bedroom, the guards following closely behind. Stationed outside the bedroom were civilian bodyguards he had personally selected. It seemed Jung Ah-young was inside again, keeping Cha Han-gyeom company.
Upon spotting Seo Won, one of the guards outside the bedroom bowed respectfully and knocked on the door. Not long after, the door cracked open, and Ah-young peeked her head out.
“You’re here, Executive Director.”
She greeted him with a gentle smile, then quietly stepped out of the room. Lowering her voice, she whispered,
“He looked drowsy, so I was just suggesting he take a short nap.”
After giving a brief update on Han-gyeom’s condition, she stepped aside to let Seo Won pass. He silently entered the room.
The faint scent of cigarettes lingered in the air—harsh, bitter, and deep. It was a smell now inseparable from Cha Han-gyeom, no matter how much one might wish otherwise.
“Not working?”
Han-gyeom, seated at the table with one leg crossed, asked as he smoked. He flicked the ash from his half-burned cigarette into the ashtray. The gray, nearly colorless ash fell away like crumbling dust.
“Ah-young said it seems like you haven’t been focusing on work lately.”
Seo Won walked over and knelt on one knee in front of him. Then he gently lifted Han-gyeom’s injured foot, which had been propped on top of the other leg.
“Taking a short break is fine.”
As he answered, Seo Won carefully checked to make sure there wasn’t any fresh blood seeping through the injury. Han-gyeom exhaled a puff of smoke and looked down at him.
“For something short, you’ve been dropping by a little too often, haven’t you?”
“I’m holding back, believe it or not.”
“Oh, is that so.”
Han-gyeom replied dryly, dragging in a deep pull of his cigarette. Then, without even finishing it, he stubbed the still-smokable butt out in the ashtray and spoke again through the lingering haze of smoke.
“If you’re not busy, lie down. Let me get some Guiding.”
“I didn’t come here for Guiding…”
Seo Won began to respond but trailed off midway. He shut his mouth and cast his gaze downward. Then, without another word, he gently lifted Han-gyeom into his arms.
“…Fine. Let’s do that.”
With a breath like a sigh, Seo Won settled Han-gyeom onto the bed and stood before him. As he began unfastening the buttons of his shirt one by one, his eyes took on a strangely hollow darkness.
As the black shirt parted, the Black Vein revealed itself clearly, spread across his body.
Han-gyeom, who had been watching Seo Won’s body, reached out toward the Black Vein.
“It’s definitely receding faster now.”
Unlike before, when he had resisted receiving proper Guiding, he now accepted it willingly. Naturally, the condition improved quickly—since the effectiveness of Guiding was heavily influenced by the Esper’s receptiveness.
The Black Vein had already receded down to just beneath Seo Won’s collarbones, tracing along the top of his chest muscles. The tendrils that had once spread wide across his back had retreated significantly, now only reaching around his sides.
Han-gyeom lightly traced his fingertips over the veins spreading across Seo Won’s chest.
‘At this rate, maybe in two or three months it’ll be over.’
If they could continue with this kind of active deep Guiding, that timeline seemed entirely realistic. If they pushed a little, it might even be possible within two months. But that was something Seo Won would never allow. The only kind of Guiding he would accept was the kind that didn’t overstrain Cha Han-gyeom.
“How much time do you have today? If it’s enough, we could even go as far as insertion…”
“Han-gyeom.”
The calm tone in Han-gyeom’s voice cut off abruptly at Seo Won’s call. He narrowed his eyes at him sharply. That affectionate tone, using only his name, was unfamiliar and jarring.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
Seo Won gently caught the hand Han-gyeom had been resting on his chest. The small hand flinched, but Seo Won pressed it even closer—right over his heart.
“Does it sound like someone else is saying it?”
Han-gyeom looked up at Seo Won, wondering what was going on, and froze for a moment.
Seo Won’s deep, shadowed eyes… looked hollow, as if something inside him was slowly fading away.
