Before Seo Won conveyed his own request to Min-hyung, he wanted Han-gyeom to hear exactly what had been said in the sitting room.
Han-gyeom’s expression, as he listened to Min-hyung’s account, was far from pleasant, but it didn’t look like he was particularly shocked either. If anything, he listened in silence as though he had already anticipated much of what was being said.
Even as he spoke, Min-hyung kept stealing glances at Han-gyeom’s face. Just looking at him, so frail and delicate, he couldn’t help but worry. What if this made him suffer terribly? What if he was inadvertently tearing open an old trauma?
More than anything, Min-hyung was burdened by guilt toward Han-gyeom.
At the root of the cruel experiments inflicted on the guide test subjects from various research institutes—including Han-gyeom—was none other than Cha Min-hyung himself.
S-Class Guides were even rarer than S-Class Espers.
Only four innate S-Class Guides had ever been publicly acknowledged across the globe. Their rarity was beyond words.
And it was precisely because of Cha Min-hyung’s existence that guide development experiments were able to proceed in the first place.
The Esper Association believed that if more guides possessing a unique GP capable of defending against even S-Class Esper abilities could be created, they could control the wildly unpredictable Ability Users far more efficiently.
At the same time, the fact that such powerful guides would remain firmly within the Association’s grasp only further fueled their merciless ambitions—no matter how immense an Esper’s power became, the Association would always have a way to control them.
What had begun as research labs studying ESP and GP had, at some point, become hellish facilities conducting brutal experiments on human subjects. To meet the needs of their research, they brought in test subjects with no personal ties—or had them deliberately sever all connections—and kept the cycle going without pause.
The number of test subjects accumulated across the four labs quickly climbed into the hundreds.
And it was only possible because of the base experiment subject—Cha Min-hyung, an innate S-Class Guide.
At least, that’s what Min-hyung had always believed.
Though he, too, had been a victim of countless experiments, he could never erase the stain of being one of the perpetrators.
So, following the information he’d shared about the identities of the terrorists, Min-hyung bowed his head in genuine remorse.
“I don’t know exactly what kind of experiments you were subjected to in that place, Mr. Han-gyeom. But it’s undeniable that I’m the cause of it all.”
His bowed face was etched with unmistakable guilt as he spoke to Han-gyeom.
“If there’s anything—anything at all—I can do to make amends…”
“Don’t kid yourself.”
Han-gyeom cut him off, his gaze icy as he looked directly at him.
“Do you really believe all those experiments happened just because of you, Mr. Cha Min-hyung?”
Min-hyung slowly lifted his head, but he couldn’t respond.
After carrying a crushing sense of guilt for what felt like an eternity, it still felt like everything was his fault. But the resolute look in Han-gyeom’s eyes completely denied that assumption.
“Even if Cha Min-hyung hadn’t existed, the experiments would’ve gone on all the same. Back then, the Association didn’t care about anything or anyone.”
Min-hyung instantly understood what Han-gyeom meant.
It was around the time the research institutes had settled into place and began pulling in an endless stream of test subjects.
Back then, Ability Users were considered a nation’s ultimate power on the global stage. In terms of sheer numbers, Korea had a large population of Ability Users, but when it came to actual strength, the country ranked among the weakest. Things were different now—Korea had become a force to be reckoned with, possessing not only S-Class Guides like Cha Min-hyung but also the highest number of Espers undergoing high-grade reawakening—but that hadn’t always been the case.
During that time, there had been a case abroad where a D-Class Esper reawakened into an A-Class following extreme psychological trauma.
That event became the catalyst for countries around the world to dive headfirst into reawakening research. But due to the sheer rarity of such cases, there weren’t many successes to be heard of.
Korea, too, launched full-scale research based on that one case. The government threw its full support behind the Esper Association, sparing no expense—and in return, heaped on immense pressure. The result was an ambition and greed that grew monstrously, swallowing the Association whole in the blink of an eye.
It was during this period that the perfect test subject appeared—Cha Min-hyung.
Despite being an S-Class Guide, he had been nothing more than a child.
No one could count how many days he’d been strapped down to the lab table with thick leather restraints. He had his blood drawn several times a day just to extract GP.
Endlessly guiding a steady stream of Esper test subjects—just to keep their minds intact—was the bare minimum of what was expected of him, done so often he would’ve grown sick of it.
For the sake of the research, he also had to endure extreme levels of physical and emotional stress, constantly pushed to his absolute limit. That too had become part of his daily routine.
Cha Min-hyung, who had been nothing more than a powerless child guide at the time, couldn’t have avoided any of it.
“Cha Min-hyung is a victim too. Even now, he’s still bound to the Association—a pitiful, helpless victim.”
Min-hyung’s shoulders trembled as he pressed his lips tightly together.
From Han-gyeom’s perspective, he actually found it easier to understand the terrorists than to sympathize with Min-hyung.
Up to now, Han-gyeom had always wanted to know what happened to the other Ability Users who came from the research facilities, but there had been no way to find out. The facilities were run under such extreme secrecy that even basic information had been nearly impossible to uncover. Only the Association held the full details, and trying to dig into it had been an uphill battle from the start.
All he’d ever heard was that, during his time at the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility, the First Institute had already been shut down, followed by the Second and Third Institutes shortly after. Supposedly, the Second and Third had been destroyed in terrorist attacks—which, thinking back on it now, probably meant they’d been taken out by Kang Woo-chan’s terrorist group.
All driven by their thirst for vengeance against the Association…
That was all Han-gyeom could assume.
Likewise, the only information he could gather about the labs and their test subjects stopped there.
Where had those test subjects gone? Were they dead? Alive? Reused by the Association? Disposed of?
He had no way of knowing.
‘I thought they were all dead.’
As the facilities were being shut down, it was only natural that all unethical information would be buried along with them. That’s why Han-gyeom had always assumed the test subjects had all been “dealt with.” It was something the researchers used to cackle about—how their end would come the same way one day.
So the fact that a high-ranking executive of the Esper Association—a figure revered and admired by so many—was actually a former test subject from the Ability Analysis Research Institute… It still felt surreal.
At the same time, he couldn’t shake the sense that Min-hyung was still trapped in the Association’s shadow. Whatever the reason for his chains, he was now standing beside the very people who had tormented him, helping uphold their power and prestige.
‘But I have no right to blame Cha Min-hyung.’
It would be ridiculous for someone like him, who had barely survived by crawling through the muck, to get teary-eyed now, claiming to understand the divide between victim and perpetrator.
“Cha Min-hyung isn’t at fault.”
Han-gyeom relaxed his hardened expression and offered a wry smile. He chose to ignore the subtle tremor buried in the complex and wistful look that had surfaced on Min-hyung’s face.
“So let’s not turn this into some sad melodrama, yeah? Enough of that.”
With that, his gaze shifted sharply—this time, to Seo Won.
“What I’d like now is for you to finally tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Why you arranged for me to meet with Cha Min-hyung.”
Han-gyeom prided himself on how well he understood Seo Won.
The Seo Won now was not the same man from the past.
Han-gyeom had a fairly good idea of where Seo Won’s feelings toward him stood—how far that affection had come, what he was willing to do for Han-gyeom, how much he could give up, and just how far he was willing to go to endure or exploit things for his sake.
The Seo Won of today would never arrange a reunion between two former lab subjects purely for sentimental reasons.
Would a man like him ever welcome an emotional connection between two people bound by such unavoidable kinship? Han-gyeom highly doubted it. Especially when jealousy had already reared its head—any remaining composure would’ve been long since buried.
Just as Han-gyeom suspected, Seo Won wasn’t pleased about the emotional exchange between the two of them.
But personal feelings aside, it was something that had to happen.
‘Because he needed to use Cha Min-hyung.’
“Do you remember earlier when I said I had a favor to ask?”
Seo Won didn’t answer Han-gyeom. Instead, he turned to Min-hyung.
Thanks to Han-gyeom’s brief words, the darkness that had clouded Min-hyung’s face had already begun to dissipate.
Min-hyung brushed a hand across his face, as if trying to collect his emotions. When he looked up again, Seo Won could see the resolve he’d been waiting for.
“Yes. What would you like me to do?”
Seo Won’s lips curved into a small, cold smile.
This was no longer the same Cha Min-hyung from earlier, before he’d spoken with Han-gyeom.
The mysterious shadow that had loomed over him had lifted, if only slightly, replaced by a quiet sense of relief. The guilt he’d harbored toward Han-gyeom had transformed into a sincere determination to help both him and Seo Won.
Seo Won wasn’t looking for surface-level assistance or vague advice.
What he wanted was solid information—backed by Cha Min-hyung’s full cooperation and resolve.
“I need the complete records of every single test subject from all the Ability Analysis Research Facilities. Every last one. Not a single name missing.”
At Seo Won’s request, Min-hyung could only freeze in place.
“All of them…? But most of their records were lost. Even the Association doesn’t—”
“The Association might not, but you do, don’t you, Cha Min-hyung?”
Seo Won didn’t miss the faint tremble around Min-hyung’s eyes.
“You’re the one who smuggled that data and hid it away. Just like you did with the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility’s records.”
