“Sniff?”
The survivor turned his head, perhaps because I had stopped touching his hair. He stared directly at my face, and it felt as if he could read every emotion just as they were.
I shook my head, brushing away the thoughts of Min Yugeon.
“It’s nothing. Just look straight ahead.”
The survivor silently turned his gaze back to the front. His long, stiff hair was so tangled that even running fingers through it was a challenge. I seriously doubted a brush would be of any use here.
Even though I was being as gentle as possible, the tugging must’ve pulled on his scalp painfully. Yet, the survivor didn’t complain—whether due to insensitivity to pain or simply being used to it, I wasn’t sure.
“But you—”
I began again, grabbing small handfuls of his hair and carefully detangling them like unwinding thread.
“Don’t you plan on telling me your name?”
There was no way he had survived on the surface all alone since infancy. He had to have a name. The survivor, who had been sitting silently for a long while, began to absentmindedly shake the case held in his arms.
“…Shin.”
I paused at the sound of his voice, which came mixed with the rattling of the case.
“Lee… Shin.”
Though his words were fragmented, they were clear enough to understand. Even if he hadn’t been taught language, he must’ve at least known how to say his own name.
So his family name is Lee, and his given name is Shin?
“Lee Shin,” I murmured.
His head of black hair gave a small nod, and then he suddenly turned toward me. Surprised, I let go of his hair, meeting the survivor’s pitch-black eyes directly.
His lips moved slightly, and then Lee Shin slowly raised his index finger and pointed at me.
“Seo… Seo…”
“…”
“Seo… Suho.”
Hearing him fumble through my name made the corners of my lips twitch up unconsciously. I gave him a small, quiet nod.
“That’s right. Seo Suho.”
“Seo Suho.”
“You can just call me Suho.”
“Suho.”
Lee Shin repeated my name smoothly, then opened his mouth again as if he wanted to say something—but quickly shut it.
He flinched and blinked several times, visibly unsure how to express whatever was going through his mind.
…What is it that you want to say?
I raised an eyebrow and watched him. But in the end, Lee Shin just let out a faint groan, clamped his mouth shut, and turned his body away.
Looks like I’m going to have to teach him how to speak a bit more actively.
***
[Researcher, are you available this week?]
That message from Yeo Wonjin—the last person I’d seen during a blood donation session—came the morning before yesterday.
He’d said he wanted to meet and talk about something, so we scheduled to meet today. I remembered the plan as I headed into work.
—Kkiuuung.
Cat, who had been unusually clingy lately, greeted me and Sun Woosung—no, just me.
Although he’d seemed completely drained after the long holiday, he had since fully recovered. Now, his every little cry seemed tinged with affection, almost oddly so, as if making up for the emotional slump he’d been in.
“You haven’t been spending much time with S8A152 lately, have you?”
Sun Woosung commented in his usual indifferent tone.
“It seems he’s realized that Seo Suho-ssi has been visiting other specimens, and is now trying to monopolize your attention.”
“…!”
More than the content of his statement, it was the fact that Sun Woosung would even make such a speculation that shocked me—I opened my eyes wide in disbelief.
Sun Woosung had always been the kind of man who remained aloof, indifferent to whatever Cat did—whether the creature made noise or pulled faces, so long as he wasn’t openly hostile. For him to analyze Cat’s behavior like this… it honestly struck me as fascinating.
He frowned faintly at me, likely noticing the way I was staring.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s nothing.”
Covering my mouth with a fist, I let out a light cough and turned to look at Cat again.
Just as Sun Woosung had said, I was now spending noticeably less time in Cat’s observation room in the afternoons due to my involvement with the survivor. Still, the information to be gained from the Military Beast Project was just as vital as the knowledge we could obtain from the survivor, so abandoning either was not an option.
Lee Shin, judging by appearance alone, looked to be around twenty years old. To have survived that long on the surface meant that his life itself held immense informational value.
—Kiiing.
For now, I focused on the Cat in front of me. I offered the same kind of praise I gave occasionally and showered him with all the attention he craved. In response, Cat, clearly pleased, perked up his tail and spun in place, face full of life.
In the research center, Cat had always been the only creature I gave full attention to. And he had surely sensed that. While the survivor wasn’t technically a beast, it was still obvious I was concerned with someone else. From Cat’s perspective, that must’ve been upsetting. He might have even feared being left alone in the observation room for good.
Feeling a pang of guilt, I sprinted around the room more energetically than usual, playing with Cat until I was slightly out of breath.
As I sat down beside him, still panting faintly, Sun Woosung looked at me with a subtle expression—an unspoken look that seemed to say you’re really going all in on this.
“Ah.”
That’s when I noticed the faint bruises on his face had completely disappeared. I’d already seen earlier that he wasn’t wearing his eye patch anymore. Come to think of it, he’d started using the arm that had been in a splint much sooner than expected.
He looked almost completely healed now, which was a relief.
I had told him before that it would be fine to halt the project until he fully recovered, but Sun Woosung had returned to the lab almost immediately after his mission, insisting it wasn’t a problem.
I spoke up, letting a touch of gratitude seep into my voice.
“It’s good to see you’ve recovered quite a bit.”
“Yes.”
“…Lee Shin has also gotten much healthier. He’s learning how to speak now, and he’s beginning to feel more settled in his current life.”
Of course, the observation room wasn’t where Lee Shin was meant to adapt long term.
With a body that was nearly superhuman, he wouldn’t be allowed outside the lab until he was able to control his aggressive tendencies.
“Lee Shin, you said?”
At the questioning tone in Sun Woosung’s voice, I gave a soft exhale and nodded.
“The survivor. That’s what he told me his name is.”
“…I see.”
Sun Woosung murmured, voice low.
“Are you teaching him speech yourself?”
“Yes.”
We spoke at length about Lee Shin—everything, really, except for the silly detail that tying back his hair had revealed a shockingly handsome face.
“He’s opened up faster than I expected, so I’m able to engage with him relatively comfortably.”
“I thought you said your compatibility trait only applied to beasts.”
Sun Woosung wasn’t being serious—his faint smile made that clear. I gave a small laugh.
“Seems like Lee Shin’s personality is inherently friendly toward people. I don’t know exactly how long he’s been surviving alone, but it feels like he’s barely interacted with others at all.”
“That’s the impression I got too. There were no signs of other people.”
We both fell silent.
If Lee Shin had been part of a group or living communally, there’s no way his grasp of human language would be so minimal.
Thump.
After playing wildly, Cat now lay sprawled out in satisfaction, tail thudding lightly against the floor.
As we turned our attention toward the sound, our gazes—Sun Woosung’s and mine—accidentally met once again.
“…”
“…”
Sun Woosung suddenly paused, as if something had caught his attention.
Then he narrowed his eyes, like he wanted to examine me more closely.
“…Colonel?”
The way he leaned in, slowly closing the distance between us, caught me off guard. I called his name in a startled tone.
He was now close enough that I could feel his breath as he peered into my eyes.
I froze, startled by his unexpected move.
“Seo Suho-ssi… were your eyes always this color?”
My heterochromia wasn’t something that typically stood out unless I was in the dark. The lighting in the observation room wasn’t particularly bright, but even so, the fact that he’d noticed it spoke to just how sharp his eyesight—and observational skills—were.
It wasn’t something I intended to hide, but the fleeting thought crossed my mind that if someone as perceptive as him started connecting my eye color to my unique constitution, it could become a hassle.
I pressed my lips together, mentally running through possible replies.
Sssshk.
A massive shadow swept over both of us.
“…!”
Simultaneously, we turned our heads toward the direction of the containment wall.
Cat was standing on his hind legs, forepaws on the floor, looming over us.
Exhaling slowly, his enormous eyes locked onto me and Sun Woosung. He wasn’t demanding more attention, nor was he displaying anger.
The creature who always made a clear distinction between me and Sun Woosung was now watching us both, taking us in with calm, penetrating focus.
In this moment, it felt like we had become the ones under observation.
“Cat?”
—…
His ears twitched at my voice, but he made no other response.
That jet-black face, eyes wide open, almost looked confused—as if he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.
But this wasn’t the first time Sun Woosung and I had been together. We’d shared the observation room several times already.
Then again… this was the first time Cat had seen us standing this close.
I glanced sideways to gauge the distance between me and Sun Woosung. At this level of proximity, was Cat picking up on something more?
A sudden memory flickered through my mind.
A fragmented moment of the past—when Rai had first begun letting down his guard around my parents.
