“Why all the fuss today, all of a sudden?”
“They’re telling us to stay put here.”
The researchers, who had arrived at work as usual, were now gathered in the lobby, exchanging tense conversations. After the emergency sirens rang throughout the ship, soldiers stormed into the facility, herding everyone together by force.
“They say someone who was locked up in Observation Room 9 in Building A escaped. No wonder they’ve locked things down.”
“I saw the alert too, but… I never imagined it was a person in there, not a beast. Come to think of it, they restricted access from the day he was brought in.”
Someone tapped their watch, bringing up a notification window.
[Emergency Alert (new)
A subject within the research facility has abducted a researcher and escaped.
If seen, report immediately to the Security Force.]
A reference photo was attached. In the image, the wanted man was walking alongside Seo Suho, looking impeccably neat, making it hard to imagine why he would’ve been imprisoned in an observation room.
Word had already spread that he was a survivor brought up from the surface. Still, people are easily swayed by appearances, and some of the researchers were beginning to suspect that perhaps the facility had unjustly confined a perfectly normal person.
Of course, even if the escape had been driven by injustice, the fact remained: he had kidnapped Seo Suho. That alone made him no different from a criminal.
“Team Leader Seo Suho was in charge of that area, wasn’t he? Maybe he came in early today, was alone, got threatened, and had no choice but to help the guy escape.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“God, I hope he’s safe.”
As worried whispers spread, glances flicked toward one direction.
“Even the team members look like they’re going through hell.”
Lee Seo-rim and Seol Young-jun sat in their seats, their lips tightly pressed together, faces ghost-pale.
Lee Seo-rim, wrapping a trembling Seol Young-jun in a comforting embrace, hung her head and clutched the hem of her clothes.
***
Before the researchers were gathered in the lobby, Yeo Wonjin had already arrived at the research facility. He ordered his subordinates to comb through Min Sanghan’s lab for any additional evidence of wrongdoing.
Then he headed to the control room, where he reviewed the footage of what had occurred inside Building B when Seo Suho was abducted.
“Uh… this is…”
The administrator who played the footage turned to Yeo Wonjin with doubtful eyes. Yeo Wonjin stared silently at the screen, his face frozen solid.
In the footage, Seo Suho was staring straight into the surveillance camera lens.
Even more striking, he was gently patting Lee Shin’s head and straightening the other’s clothes—interactions that felt intimate, not forced. It didn’t look like Lee Shin had dragged him out at all.
…He let him go on purpose?
“……”
Yeo Wonjin sank deep into thought, trying to understand Seo Suho’s actions.
Seo Suho had likely come face to face with the truth about his family’s death, forced to reevaluate all the years he had lived within Min Sanghan’s betrayal and deceit. That internal anguish must have consumed him.
And with Min Yugeon involved, the pain would have been even worse.
That’s probably why he came to the lab so early in the morning—his psyche on the brink—hoping to find some comfort in the presence of those he cared about.
What if, in that fragile state, the survivor had pleaded with him to be released from the ship and return to the surface?
Yeo Wonjin recalled the contents of a report Seo Suho had submitted, where he mentioned that the survivor seemed to want to return to the surface—but he hadn’t been sure.
If that was the case, then it wouldn’t be surprising if Seo Suho, utterly drained mentally and emotionally, had acted on impulse and released him.
In the end, it was entirely possible that Seo Suho had made a conscious decision to help Lee Shin escape.
…If it were to be revealed that Seo Suho had willingly let Lee Shin go, the higher-ups aboard the ship would not stay quiet. They’d clamor to have him exiled for daring to release a survivor on his own authority.
Yeo Wonjin quietly met the administrator’s gaze.
“He must’ve been coerced.”
“…!”
“Wouldn’t you agree?”
The administrator froze without realizing it.
The Captain, known for his kind and gentle demeanor, was now wearing a chillingly cold expression, completely devoid of warmth.
The air in the room seemed to drop several degrees; the administrator shivered involuntarily.
And at the same time, a strange sense of déjà vu hit.
…No, this had happened before.
Colonel Sun Woosung—he had shown up without warning, issued threats, and left just like that.
The only difference was the person—yet again, the crushing sense of pressure pierced his entire body, leaving him breathless.
“Y-Yes!”
“This could cause unnecessary misunderstandings. Let’s delete the footage.”
“Understood!”
Yeo Wonjin stayed and personally watched the tense administrator delete part of the video before leaving the control room.
The emergency call from the research facility had come just as Yeo Wonjin had finished extracting a confession from Ji Chanwoo and placed him in custody. He was meeting with Sun Woosung to receive documents after having also secured enough evidence from Min Yugeon.
When Seo Suho failed to show up for work, his team members—Lee Seo-rim and Seol Young-jun—checked on S8A152’s condition, then proceeded to the observation room in Building A to assess the survivor. That’s where they saw it—the empty room, beyond the barrier.
And thus, through this sequence of events, the disappearance of both the survivor and Seo Suho came to light, leaving Yeo Wonjin’s mind utterly blank.
“…Ah.”
He came to a halt and stared down at his hands.
Since when had they started trembling so faintly, without him even noticing? He let out a breathless laugh.
Please.
He mouthed the word silently with desperate fervor. Whether or not Seo Suho had freed the survivor didn’t matter to him.
All he wanted—was for Seo Suho to be safe.
The mere thought that Seo Suho might have escaped the ship alongside the survivor made his insides churn.
“Captain.”
The attendant who had remained quietly at his side cautiously spoke up, watching Yeo Wonjin’s expression. Yeo Wonjin replied mechanically.
“Yes.”
“They’ve apprehended Min Sanghan, as per your orders. But…”
As Yeo Wonjin turned to him, expression blank, the attendant hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“He’s insisting he’s completely innocent…”
Yeo Wonjin’s gaze darkened.
***
“Open this door right now! I said OPEN IT!”
Bang! Bang, bang-bang!
Min Sanghan, now restrained by the Security Force and locked inside the gloomy depths of a dismal building, screamed in rage.
“What the hell did I do to deserve this? Huh? Do you even know who I am? I’m Min Sanghan!”
He kicked at the bars while shouting, until he collapsed to the floor in exhaustion, panting heavily.
The floor was hard and cold. There was nothing in the space he could lie down or sit on comfortably. Just as fury started to rise in him again—
Clack.
A heavy metallic sound followed by a faint mechanical hum.
Someone was entering the building.
It wasn’t the footfalls of the Security Force officers who had previously questioned and then left. These steps were lighter, neater.
Min Sanghan sprang to his feet and rushed to the bars, peering through the gap.
“Have I kept you waiting?”
A face so bright it almost made the dreary space feel lit up appeared before him.
The man with the soft brown hair stared back at him, and Min Sanghan’s hands began to tremble as they gripped the bars.
“Yeo Wonjin…!”
“You really must’ve been anxiously waiting for me.”
His tone was calm, almost like he was checking in on an old friend. Min Sanghan’s eyes widened with humiliation.
“You… You orchestrated all of this, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”
“Pardon?”
Yeo Wonjin blinked innocently.
“Didn’t the Security Force officers already ask you that?”
“…!”
“But you denied it so passionately, Mr. Min.”
Yeo Wonjin casually toyed with something he pulled from his coat.
Min Sanghan, more ashamed of the fact that he was now locked up and facing Yeo Wonjin than curious about the object itself, clenched his teeth.
“Even calling you shameless isn’t enough. That boy you said was like a son to you—Even your actual son—you tried to kill them both.”
“……”
“Seo Suho was beaten from head to toe. And Min Yugeon? He was critically injured.”
Yeo Wonjin smiled smoothly, his eyes full of contempt and ridicule.
“With all the evidence we have, why bark meaningless denials? Do you really think you’ll escape punishment just by putting up a fight?”
Min Sanghan fell silent. Deep down, he knew best of all that his resistance was nothing but a futile attempt to stall for time.
In front of him, Yeo Wonjin tapped his watch and played a recording that Min Yugeon had submitted through Sun Woosung.
—Don’t worry. I won’t act right away.
—Ji Chanwoo. Where did you hide him?
—You’ve got something to protect. I don’t. Figure out which one of us is more desperate.
Min Sanghan flinched at the sound of his own voice echoing through the quiet space. Still, he remained obstinately silent, his lips tightly sealed.
“You had so much to say earlier. What, nothing now?”
Yeo Wonjin tilted his head.
“Oh… Or is it not that you’re fine—maybe the shock’s just too much to process?”
A soft exhale, like the release of a sudden realization. He met Min Sanghan’s gaze squarely through the bars.
“Your own son betrayed you.”
“Y-You bastard… Yeo Wonjin!”
Min Sanghan couldn’t hold back anymore. He thrust his arm through the bars, lunging forward as if he could reach that sneering face and claw at it.
“My, my.”
Yeo Wonjin let out a mock gasp and calmly pressed the button on the device in his hand.
