“…So, until I contact you again, I don’t think you need to come to the lab.”
The message had come out of nowhere. Sun Woosung frowned upon receiving the sudden notice that the project might need to be temporarily suspended due to unavoidable circumstances.
What especially bothered him was the mention that Seo Suho wouldn’t be coming in at all. A sense of unease surged through him—what if he’d gotten hurt again? Time crawled agonizingly as his heart thudded with foreboding.
Even as he headed to the hospital to check on the injured personnel from the last mission, his mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of Seo Suho.
It was absurd how anxious he felt after not seeing him for just a few days. A mirthless chuckle escaped him. He felt like a beast that had been tamed by Seo Suho. He reluctantly admitted that he could somewhat understand how S8A152 had reacted so hysterically upon realizing he wouldn’t see Seo Suho during the holidays.
“Colonel?”
The moment he saw Seo Suho in front of the hospital, Sun Woosung felt his mind go completely blank. Even from a distance, the bruise on Seo Suho’s pale face stood out vividly in stark contrast.
That wasn’t the kind of injury you got from simply falling down. Sun Woosung stared at him with a face frozen stiff.
…He’d been kidnapped.
When Seo Suho suggested they move somewhere else, they immediately headed to his place. While he listened to everything that had happened, he couldn’t even register what kind of expression he was making or how he responded. He couldn’t recall what Seo Suho’s face had looked like as he saw him off, or even the tone of his voice when he asked if he was okay.
“Are you okay?” As if that was something he should be asking.
Screeeeech!
Sun Woosung lifted his head and stared blankly at the train that was rushing toward the platform where he stood.
What if Seo Suho had been the target from the beginning?
While the ship was always lit, almost no one moved around at midnight. It was the time most people would be deep asleep. The fact that they’d waited in advance at such a place to ambush him suggested they’d likely known exactly when Seo Suho was leaving the lab that night.
Which meant someone had informed them of Seo Suho’s movements. Someone else who had also been at the lab late that night.
Either an accomplice—or possibly the one who ordered the kidnapping.
“……”
After boarding the train, Sun Woosung didn’t hesitate. He headed straight for the lab.
“Ah! Colonel!”
The entrance to the lab was guarded by security officers. They hastily saluted him, and he nodded in acknowledgment before asking,
“Where can I access the internal and external surveillance footage?”
“Excuse me?”
The guards blinked in surprise and glanced at each other uneasily.
“If you mean the control room…”
“Uh… C-Colonel, you don’t have clearance to enter the control room…”
The guards’ faces revealed their fluster as Sun Woosung made the unexpected request. They had never experienced a situation like this before in their entire time serving, and it was clear they didn’t know how to handle it. They couldn’t exactly say “You’re not authorized” to a superior officer—nor could they avoid saying it.
“I need access to the records from the days I visited the lab. From what I know, footage that includes myself should be available.”
Sun Woosung clarified that his request was legal, cutting off their hesitation. Relieved, the guards quickly nodded.
“Of course! I’ll escort you!”
Sun Woosung followed the guard’s lead. The guard seemed to grow curious about why the colonel suddenly wanted to check the footage, but merely observed in silence and never asked.
Once in the control room, Sun Woosung had the manager pull up the footage from the night Seo Suho had been abducted.
“Between 11:40 and 11:50 PM.”
“Yes, sir.”
The manager began setting the search parameters per Sun Woosung’s request, but then paused midway.
“Um… isn’t that timeframe too late? I don’t think you were present at the lab during that period.”
“……”
Sun Woosung turned to stare at him steadily. The manager, who had his hand on the console, flinched. There was an oppressive force behind those pitch-black eyes.
“Is there a problem?”
The voice wasn’t overtly threatening, but the chillingly low tone made cold sweat run down the manager’s back. He held his breath and met Sun Woosung’s gaze.
“…No, sir.”
Frozen in place, the manager instinctively decided to pretend there was no issue with the request.
The footage began to play. Seo Suho appeared, walking calmly through the lobby, completely unaware of what was about to happen to him. Watching the peaceful look on his face, Sun Woosung clenched his fists tightly.
After he walked out like that…
“Oh…? There’s the Director.”
The manager, glancing nervously at Sun Woosung’s face, muttered while watching the footage. Sun Woosung followed his gaze.
Just before Seo Suho exited the building, Min Sanghan appeared at the entrance of the corridor leading to Building A. He stopped and stood still, watching Seo Suho’s back as he walked away.
The moment Seo Suho disappeared through the doors, Min Sanghan raised his wrist and began speaking into his watch, as if making contact with someone. But soon after, he subtly tilted his head down, making it impossible to read his lips.
Only after it seemed certain that Seo Suho had completely left the lab did Min Sanghan finally begin moving through the lobby. He strolled out at a leisurely pace.
“Was there anyone who left work later than the Director?”
“Ah. Well… one moment.”
Even without checking the footage, there were systems in place to verify which personnel, including researchers, had clocked out and at what time. The manager checked the list of individuals who had ended their shifts during the relevant window and turned back to Sun Woosung.
“No one. The Director was the last to leave.”
“……”
Sun Woosung gave a slight nod, recalling the security officers and reviewing their actions on the footage as well. After seeing Seo Suho off, none of them had touched their watches.
Min Sanghan.
Sun Woosung’s eyes narrowed.
***
Yeo Wonjin had just nodded at the report confirming that Seo Suho had been safely discharged from the hospital and returned home when he abruptly froze.
“Colonel Sun Woosung, you say?”
—Yes, sir. He stayed at Seo Suho’s residence for about two hours before leaving.
Hearing that they had run into each other outside the hospital and gone to Seo Suho’s home together made Yeo Wonjin’s expression harden.
Was it really just a coincidence?
…No. That kind of thinking was excessive. It must’ve just been an unfortunate alignment of timing.
“Understood. Then I’ll leave Suho’s safety in your hands.”
—Yes, Captain.
After ending the call, Yeo Wonjin silently stared down at the desk. His fingertips tapped lightly—tok, tok—against the corner of the table. The motion wasn’t fast, but there was an unmistakable tension in the gesture.
“Colonel Sun Woosung…”
He quietly murmured the name.
To Yeo Wonjin, Sun Woosung was one of those rare soldiers who would risk his life to follow the Captain’s orders. He didn’t harbor any particularly deep loyalty—neither to Yeo’s mother nor to Yeo himself—but he didn’t hesitate to lead the Reconnaissance Unit into life-threatening missions for the sake of the ship. That alone made him an incredibly valuable asset.
It was thanks to that bold, heroic side of him that the Reconnaissance Unit still existed as it did.
Likewise, Sun Woosung had never seen Yeo Wonjin as anything more—or less—than the leader of the ship. They maintained a perfectly dispassionate relationship, in which they could observe one another without emotional interference.
“Would it be alright to begin the afternoon experiment a little later?”
“I’ll be in Seo Suho’s lab.”
If not for the look in his eyes that day—when he’d visited the lab under the pretense of a blood donation just to see Seo Suho—their relationship would have remained unchanged.
He was a soldier Yeo had once believed incapable of feeling human emotion, much less love. But when it came to Seo Suho, his eyes were different. Unlike his usual cold, detached demeanor, they carried the unmistakable flicker of emotion.
Perhaps there had already been a connection between them long before.
Whether it started then, or sometime later, one thing was undeniable: Sun Woosung had also fallen into the same hopeless path as Yeo himself.
They were of the same kind, walking the same road—yet it was ironically laughable how they couldn’t simply regard each other warmly.
Knock knock.
The sound of someone knocking snapped him out of his thoughts. Yeo Wonjin straightened his posture and responded.
“Come in.”
His secretary entered the captain’s office and delivered the message.
“Captain, Colonel Sun Woosung is here to see you.”
“……”
Hearing that the very person he’d just been thinking about had shown up made Yeo Wonjin tilt his head slightly.
It was rare for Sun Woosung to seek him out of his own volition, making the visit all the more curious.
…Ah.
The report he’d just received from the Security Force flashed through his mind. He was now certain the matter had to do with Seo Suho.
“Shall I escort him to the reception room?”
“Yes. I’ll be there shortly.”
Yeo Wonjin neatly organized the papers he had been working on and left the captain’s office.
As he entered the reception room with a faint sound of footsteps, Sun Woosung—who had been staring down at a teacup—rose to his feet.
“Colonel Sun Woosung. What brings you here unannounced?”
The two of them exchanged slight nods as a form of greeting and sat facing each other. Yeo Wonjin wore a faint smile, though it was clear he wanted to get to the point. Sun Woosung, however, didn’t seem bothered.
“I came because there’s something I want to confirm directly with you.”
Sun Woosung said expressionlessly.
