“The demonstration has concluded.”
The moment Seo Suho, drenched in the blood and sweat of the beast, spoke those words, Yeo Wonjin felt a strange emotion he had long harbored begin to sprout. It was as if something had decided to deliberately tickle his heart. Pressing down on the flutter in his chest, he stared blankly at Seo Suho inside the massive cage.
Yeo Wonjin composed himself before Seo Suho—now neat and clean—appeared at the afterparty, having finished his interview. Though he straightened his clothes and cleared his throat, a vague sense of inadequacy left him anxiously curling and uncurling his fingertips.
“Vice Captain.”
His mother, watching him with a teasing smile, seemed to have already noticed.
…Perhaps she had known for quite some time.
When Seo Suho appeared, the Captain approached and struck up a conversation. Then, out of nowhere—and clearly because of him—asked an unexpected question about whether Seo Suho had a partner. Seeing Seo Suho fluster as he replied no, Yeo Wonjin felt an uncharacteristic wave of satisfaction. Even though he already knew Seo Suho wasn’t seeing anyone, hearing it from his own mouth felt different.
He gazed into those calm, dark eyes that now gleamed with renewed vitality. The moderately low voice that should have been soothing instead made his heart pound to an almost uncomfortable degree. He had wanted to talk more, say something—anything—but before he realized it, he found himself silently watching Seo Suho converse with the Captain, focused solely on the sound of his voice.
Just as they seemed about to part after setting a date, an unwelcome intruder nearly shattered the smile blooming on his face.
Min Sanghan.
Yeo Wonjin had found it odd that the monster had suddenly gone berserk after years of dormancy, destroying the building in the process—yet Seo Suho had been left unscathed. That curiosity had led him to investigate the daily routine of Seo Suho’s family on the day of the incident.
That’s when he discovered that Seo Suho’s parents had visited the research facility and met with Min Sanghan. The information had come from a trainee researcher, who had been attending to Min Sanghan and overheard their conversation.
Frightened by those interrogating him, the researcher confessed everything.
“They said they wanted to hold a demonstration with A7B91. The director even seemed happy about it at first, but after the couple left…”
After Seo Suho’s parents left, Min Sanghan’s mood suddenly changed. He became visibly irritable and warned the researcher not to speak of what he’d just heard. Later, the researcher recalled that after looking through the student applicants who had arrived at the lab, Min Sanghan had stormed out in a fury.
Whether it was due to overwhelming anger or another reason entirely, one thing was certain—Min Sanghan had been in a foul mood. Moreover, Yeo Wonjin remembered clearly that the Captain had received no contact from Min Sanghan regarding the demonstration or scheduling.
If there had been any such message behind his back, the Captain would’ve shared it with joy. That much, Yeo Wonjin was sure of.
He considered himself someone with a reliable instinct. Following his hunch, he headed to the data center to check Min Sanghan’s watch usage records. After passing through the secure engineer’s center, what awaited him was disappointment.
“…Nothing?”
Min Sanghan’s watch records were missing.
His opponent wasn’t a fool. Yeo Wonjin, well aware of Min Sanghan’s long-standing familiarity with the ship’s executives, quickly suspected that someone among the senior staff might have helped him.
Disguised as random data loss due to occasional system glitches, the deletions weren’t isolated to that day—they appeared sporadically throughout. With a chilling expression, he clenched the documents in his hands. Perhaps…
The suspicion that there might be a link between the beast’s abnormal behavior and Min Sanghan lingered in his mind. Yeo Wonjin had seen his share of people who hid their vile nature behind a kind façade. Someone like Min Sanghan, who had fawned over the powerful to snatch the director’s seat, could easily cross moral boundaries that normal people wouldn’t dare to.
Yeo Wonjin stared icily at Min Sanghan, who smiled cheerfully beside Seo Suho.
“Wonjin. I know why you’re acting like this.”
It was during a move to their next destination, when the Captain, supported by Yeo Wonjin, quietly spoke. It was a remark about her son’s cold demeanor toward Min Sanghan.
“But everything you have is just suspicion.”
“…”
“Don’t let envy drive your actions without objective, rational proof. Unless you absolutely must rely on your instincts, learn to conceal your emotions.”
Yeo Wonjin realized his mother wasn’t simply reprimanding him. She was worried that his exposed hostility could create unnecessary enemies.
Looking down at her pallid face, Yeo Wonjin pressed his lips together tightly. The Captain gently patted his supporting hand.
“Instead of that… why not focus on other emotions?”
“Pardon?”
She gazed at him steadily.
“There’s an age gap, sure… but five years isn’t so bad.”
Muttering softly, almost too faintly to hear, she left Yeo Wonjin staring at her in bewilderment—until a sudden realization made him freeze.
“…Mother.”
As his face gradually flushed red, his mother gave a satisfied nod.
“At least I get to see this side of you before I go.”
From then on, the Captain made no attempt to hide her desire for things to work out between Yeo Wonjin and Seo Suho. When the promised day arrived, she even feigned a last-minute emergency just to tell Yeo Wonjin to go alone.
Yeo Wonjin, who knew the Captain’s schedule inside and out, was well aware that the excuse was a lie. But he also knew from the start that the appointment had been arranged solely for the purpose of setting him up with Seo Suho. Caught between awkwardness and anticipation, he made his way to the meeting place.
Seo Suho, seemingly displeased by the unexpected alone time due to the Captain’s absence, wore an uneasy expression. Yeo Wonjin grew quietly anxious, worried Seo Suho might feel uncomfortable or even leave altogether. He was starting to feel downright pathetic.
After giving Seo Suho enough time to eat in peace, Yeo Wonjin began drinking wine in earnest and finally broke the silence.
“You can just call me Wonjin hyung, if you’d like.”
“….”
It was half a joke, half genuine, but while Seo Suho looked a little baffled, his awkwardness seemed to ease slightly, as if he was used to people teasing him. Yeo Wonjin quickly picked up on the kind of atmosphere Seo Suho found comfortable and kept things light and friendly, leading the conversation with ease.
But soon, Seo Suho’s expression hardened.
“I’m really not anything special.”
Yeo Wonjin was no stranger to compliments—giving them or receiving them. He’d seen plenty of people respond modestly or feign humility, but this was the first time someone flat-out rejected praise with such a serious face.
Unfortunately for him, Yeo Wonjin wasn’t about to back down. Not this time. What he’d said wasn’t just flattery—it was honest. He directly told Seo Suho the reasons he admired his perseverance and capability. Seo Suho averted his gaze, drinking water as his eyes subtly trembled. The tips of his ears were visibly flushed.
“You’re cute.”
He’d found that shy reaction adorable—and before he could stop himself, the thought slipped out of his mouth. Seo Suho jerked his head up and stared at him, stunned. But because it was genuine and not something he intended to take back, Yeo Wonjin met his gaze with a smile, not bothering to explain it away. His instincts worked overtime to pull off the most charming smile he could muster.
Before long, as if the awkward silence had never happened, the conversation flowed smoothly again. Seo Suho was sincere. He listened intently with a serious expression, and when asked a question, he never answered immediately—instead, he took time to think before responding a beat later.
Given his calm and cautious nature, one would expect he’d dislike nonsense, yet he surprisingly preferred playful types. Maybe that theory Yeo Wonjin once heard—about people being drawn to others with opposite personalities—wasn’t entirely wrong.
…Was that how it was for me, too?
Yeo Wonjin, a faint blush warming his elegant features from the alcohol, briefly pondered. If he had to define it, Seo Suho was introverted, and despite his cold, unapproachable image, he seemed rather soft on the inside. As for himself… Yeo Wonjin believed he was sly by nature. Thanks to his gentle-looking face, most people dropped their guard if he just smiled a bit—and he had used that to his advantage, calculating and strategizing to gather allies.
“Why don’t you just come to my place and sleep there?”
Wasn’t this one such example?
“I live alone.”
He meant it with good intentions, but there was probably no better way to make it sound like he had ulterior motives. He knew it himself, but didn’t retract the offer.
In the end, the morning after Seo Suho had fallen asleep at his place, Yeo Wonjin made a mistake. It was something he should have saved for after they’d grown much closer, something that might have been better received with time. But once he saw for himself that Seo Suho was heading to work at the same lab as Min Sanghan, an uncontrollable impulse surged up and made him speak.
The result was predictable.
“Just because the Vice Captain doesn’t think well of the Director doesn’t mean I need to follow suit, does it?”
Seo Suho walked away, his gaze devoid of even a trace of warmth.
Running a hand roughly through his hair, Yeo Wonjin let out a deep sigh.
He had never lost control of his impulses like this before.
