“It’s the first time we’re scouting a ship.”
“Yeah. So this is how it’s laid out.”
Sun Woosung led the chattering unit members forward with steady steps. With each stride, the echo of their combat boots clanging against the floor—thud, thud—reverberated through the passage.
The narrow, winding path snaked between ventilation shafts used by engineers for maintenance checks. Though the dim corridor seemed endless and oppressive, the soldiers kept up their noisy chatter as if completely unfazed. The engineer guiding them cast a quick glance back at the rowdy group.
Noticing the engineer’s wary gaze, Sun Woosung spoke up.
“This isn’t a joyride. Keep it down.”
“Yessir.”
“Got it!”
The soldiers exaggerated their compliance, shutting their mouths with performative solemnity. As silence fell and their stern expressions emerged, the engineer instinctively shrank back. Sun Woosung didn’t even glance their way and simply continued following behind the engineer.
“Um, Colonel…”
The engineer began hesitantly.
“Do you really think criminals could be hiding in a place like this? No one knows about it except us engineers.”
“Considering we’ve already searched every building and found nothing, the possibility is definitely there.”
Sun Woosung’s voice was dry and clipped. Even during the pursuit of Seo Suho, the suspects had gone to great lengths to avoid showing up on surveillance cameras. According to Yeo Wonjin, Min Sanghan had likely tampered with the cameras aboard the train in advance.
That meant the suspects clearly knew secret routes and hidden spaces that would let them stay out of sight.
Sun Woosung’s eyes, even darker in the shadows, drifted into the empty air. The engineer, sensing a chilling aura from him, flinched, then quickly turned to focus on leading the way again.
“It’s weird they’ve gone this long without being caught, even if they’re hiding on the ship.”
A member of the Reconnaissance Unit murmured quietly as he sidled up closer to Sun Woosung.
“I guess that’s why the Captain’s pissed, huh? Making even us chase them down.”
When Sun Woosung had spoken with Yeo Wonjin, he’d received a direct order to secretly investigate both inside and outside the ship at night to apprehend the suspects. That was why he was moving with only a couple of soldiers.
The soldier studied Sun Woosung’s face, which remained expressionless, then tilted his head.
“Still, Colonel… you seem really upset today. What’s wrong?”
“Focus on the search.”
Sun Woosung ignored the question and remained meticulous, inspecting every gap between the vents without missing a single corner.
As the silent procession continued deeper into the passage, the engineer cautiously spoke again.
“We’re almost at the end of the corridor.”
“Finally?”
The soldiers, grumbling about how much longer the route was than expected, halted as soon as Sun Woosung and the engineer came to a stop.
What appeared before them was a door so low an adult would have to crouch to pass through.
Sun Woosung stared quietly at the sealed entrance, packed tight with clunky mechanisms.
“There’s no way they escaped the ship. That’d be suicide.”
“Exactly. They’re probably hiding somewhere else on board.”
The engineer nodded in agreement with the soldiers. But Sun Woosung didn’t share their confidence.
It was possible someone else had gotten involved—an outsider, not the primary suspects. Perhaps Min Sanghan had used a third party to deal with accomplices who failed to follow orders.
As he considered every possible scenario, Seo Suho’s face came to mind.
“I appreciate the concern, but you really don’t need to worry about me.”
Seo Suho was always willing to go out of his way for others, but became uncomfortable when others did the same for him. If he ever found out what kind of mission Sun Woosung was on, he’d probably be more annoyed than grateful. Thankfully, if that happened, he could always say he was just following the Captain’s orders, no more than the requirements of his job.
Though he wanted to grow closer to Seo Suho, reality was far from accommodating. In fact, it was Seo Suho who kept drawing the line, forcing distance between them. Even so, Sun Woosung had no intention of changing his approach.
At least not until the ones who tried to kill Seo Suho were brought to justice.
Sun Woosung reached for the door.
***
The door closed behind him in the silent house. I looked curiously at the Security Force officer who remained in the entryway. His head was bowed, making it impossible to see his face clearly.
Why hasn’t he left?
“Is there something you wanted to say?”
At my question, I saw the officer clench his fist.
The sudden shift in atmosphere made my expression stiffen slightly.
“Sir?”
“Suho.”
The officer slowly lifted his head. His ordinary-looking face was expressionless. Every time I’d seen him before, there had always been something oddly unnatural about his appearance—and now, without the faintest trace of a smile, it felt even more off.
“No…”
He raised a hand and clutched his own face. With a violent motion, his features twisted grotesquely.
“Suho.”
A voice, drastically different—but unmistakably familiar from memory.
Riiip—the skin of his face tore away.
It didn’t feel real. Like a scene from some grotesque horror movie. My eyes widened as I watched, frozen in place.
“……!”
Thunk. A synthetic mask dropped to the floor.
The face revealed beneath was just as familiar as the voice had been.
I sucked in a deep breath but couldn’t even exhale. My mouth opened and closed in disbelief.
“……Uncle?”
My voice came out barely above a whisper, more like talking to myself—but the man nodded in response. He meant to say that it was really him.
My heart pounded so loud it felt like it might burst.
This makes no sense.
How can someone who died so long ago…?
Suddenly, I remembered the man who’d executed the one who stabbed Min Yugeon. The figure who’d vanished in an instant—he had looked exactly like the man in front of me now. If Ji Chanwoo were still alive, he would probably look just like this.
Could it be…?
“It’s been a while.”
Ji Chanwoo gazed at me with a sorrowful expression.
Still frozen, I finally came to my senses and moved my lips.
“Is it really you, Uncle?”
“Yeah. It’s me.”
……
I needed more time to process what was happening.
Still dazed, I stared at him, then lowered my gaze to the mask on the floor.
“That’s…”
“It’s not Infi. It was modeled after him. I’m sorry to Sergeant Kim Hyun-soo, but… it was the only way I could see you.”
It was as good as saying he’d locked up the real Security Force officer somewhere.
…Since when?
Why?
My vision wavered, my pupils trembling with confusion. How did he survive? Why had he hidden all this time, only to appear now? I wanted to voice the flood of questions rushing through my head, but Ji Chanwoo’s expression stopped me.
Eyes welling with tears, unable to meet mine, hands trembling faintly.
That expression—so familiar. I’d seen it on Lee Minha before.
“I know none of this makes sense, Suho. But I’ll explain everything.”
“There’s something I absolutely have to tell you, Suho.”
“I’m too late, but… I’m really sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I truly am.”
With a loud thud, Ji Chanwoo dropped to his knees. As if it wouldn’t matter even if they shattered.
Blankly, I stared down at him before hesitantly speaking. I wasn’t yet concerned with why he was apologizing—there was something else I needed to ask first.
“Uncle… are you saying…”
……
“Are my mother and father… alive, too?”
Could they be like him?
The impossible question mercifully caught in my throat, lodged by a tight lump.
I already knew. Just how absurd that question was. Unlike Ji Chanwoo, we’d actually recovered my parents’ ashes.
But… they hadn’t been found whole. A tiny hope had taken root despite everything. Maybe… just maybe, they hadn’t truly died. That fragile sliver of belief clashed with rational thought, filling my chest with a stabbing ache.
“My sister and brother-in-law… they…”
As expected, Ji Chanwoo shook his head.
“They really did die.”
His voice was tormented, like he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“I was the one who killed them, Suho.”
…What?
I raised my head and looked at him.
What did he just say?
“I won’t ask for your forgiveness. How could I even dare to, after what I’ve done?”
Tears streamed down Ji Chanwoo’s hollow face.
“I came only to confess everything. I couldn’t stand to see you living happily with Min Sanghan, knowing you had no idea what really happened.”
I blinked slowly. Min Sanghan? Why is he being mentioned?
Ji Chanwoo met my stunned gaze, barely holding it.
That look on his face, like locking eyes with me would kill him—it didn’t faze me anymore.
“Min Sanghan ordered me to.”
“What…?”
“Min Sanghan told me to kill your parents.”
His eyes were sincere. His voice rang with truth.
I couldn’t breathe.
My brain simply stopped functioning, unable to process what he’d just said.
“Uncle.”
I forced myself to approach him, trying to stay calm.
“Please, stand up. You hurt your knees.”
“…….”
“Come inside. Let’s talk properly.”
Ji Chanwoo stared at me in stunned silence for a moment before gritting his teeth.
“No. Don’t treat me like that, Suho. I told you already. I… I don’t deserve it.”
He clenched his eyes shut and slammed his forehead to the floor. Flattened himself like a criminal.
In that moment of stunned silence, he cried out in desperation.
“Min Sanghan and I killed your parents!”
It was unbelievable—but he spoke it like it was the absolute truth.
