An unexpected name slipped from Kang Woo-chan’s lips.
“How…?”
Cha Han-gyeom’s murmured question echoed like a drop of water falling into his mind—sending ripples that spread with piercing clarity.
At the Ability Analysis Research Facility, test subjects are never called by their names—nor does anyone care to know them. Even in research documentation, they’re identified solely by numbers. A test subject is nothing more than “material for experimentation.”
It was a directive from above, designed to erase any notion that the young test subjects were still human. As a result, it wasn’t uncommon for those who’d been isolated the longest to completely forget their own names.
“No one else wants to call me by it… but I want you to remember it.”
When he was alone with Song Yeon-woo, they called each other by name.
He didn’t want to live and die like some worthless lab rat, disappearing from the world without even his own name. Just the simple fact that someone remembered his name—that someone used it—was a sliver of light in the darkness.
But that light had belonged only to the two of them. Neither knew anyone else’s name in that place, and no one else knew theirs.
And yet Kang Woo-chan knew Song Yeon-woo’s name—a boy who had been just one of countless test subjects at the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility.
Song Yeon-woo had been an S-rank Esper test subject—the very cause of the facility’s complete destruction after a massive uncontrolled surge.
And still, beyond the designation E_NO.17, he was barely a footnote in the Esper Association’s records. Cha Min-hyung had secretly erased every trace of the related data.
So how in the world did Kang Woo-chan know Song Yeon-woo’s name?
And why had he said the word revenge?
If anything, Song Yeon-woo had already gotten his revenge through that explosion—obliterating the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility and striking a blow at the Association itself.
At least, that’s what Han-gyeom had believed… until he found the letter someone had left behind in Seo Won’s mansion.
“He didn’t want to Imprint with Seo Won… that wasn’t his choice.”
Yet now, Kang Woo-chan was shaking with a fury so intense it was as if he knew every detail about Seo Won’s heart transplant.
“He’s the bastard who stole Song Yeon-woo’s heart. That’s why the Imprint happened.”
Han-gyeom met Woo-chan’s eyes—burning with rage and sorrow—and swallowed a trembling gasp against his quivering lips.
Hearing those facts again from someone else made his chest clench so tightly he could hardly breathe. He didn’t know how Kang Woo-chan knew all this, and he couldn’t even bring himself to ask. Something deep in his throat felt like it was being eaten away, making it impossible to draw breath.
“His body couldn’t survive without that ESP, right? So he had no choice? Fuck… how much must he have hated it. How badly… must he have wanted to kill him.”
Kang Woo-chan’s eyes burned with a wild, untamed fire, as if speaking in Han-gyeom’s place with every seething word. The unspoken fury—that had he been in Han-gyeom’s shoes, he would’ve gone insane long ago—made the surrounding air sting with heat.
Han-gyeom bit down hard on his lip, head bowed beneath a crushing weight. Woo-chan wrapped his arms around Han-gyeom’s head, pulling him close to his chest in a firm embrace, whispering in a soothing tone.
“It’s okay now. I’ll help you. I’ll take your place and get revenge—for everything.”
Despite how frenzied he had seemed moments ago, Kang Woo-chan’s chest rose and fell with surprising calm and icy resolve.
“Once the Association collapses, Seo Won—who’s been filthy deep in bed with them—is going down with it. Even that powerful backer of his won’t be able to protect him then.”
The connection between Seo Won and the Esper Association ran disturbingly deep.
On the surface, it looked like Seo Won’s company had simply attracted investors due to its promising vision. But in truth, they were funneling money into something only he could offer. The fact that the Association—known for its ruthless stance on unregistered Ability Users—had turned a blind eye to Seo Won being one, said it all. There had been a major deal behind the scenes.
No one knew the exact amount of the investment. Nor did Woo-chan care what kind of negotiations took place. But it was clear as day that everything had started with Song Yeon-woo’s heart. That was the core of the bargain—the foundation of their entanglement.
The filthiest part of the Association had always been the Ability Analysis Research Facility.
If Kang Woo-chan’s terrorist group managed to blow it wide open, even if their actual attack failed, just exposing the truth about that place would be enough.
Those who had once idolized and envied Espers for their powers would realize the awful truth—that they had been treated like disposable lab rats and left to die. And the world would waste no time pitying them. They would shower the test subjects with sympathy while viciously pointing fingers at the Association, now draped in the cloak of villainy.
And Seo Won, the one who’d secretly received the heart of an Ability Analysis test subject, wouldn’t escape those fingers either.
Not only had he lived under the false label of a “non-Ability User,” with his test results manipulated, but he had also engaged in hush-hush backdoor dealings with the Association for mutual convenience. That alone was like tossing fuel-drenched logs into a raging inferno.
If that came to light, even Kangsan Group wouldn’t be able to shield him anymore. There were limits to their power.
“I’m going to tear him down completely. Grind him into the dirt so he can’t ever stand up again. And then, I’ll kill him myself.”
Woo-chan declared, speaking on Han-gyeom’s behalf with unwavering conviction. His voice carried a madness and bloodlust that couldn’t be scrubbed away.
Han-gyeom swallowed a sharp breath, eyes fluttering closed.
“You really mean to kill Seo Won?”
“I do. I mean every word.”
Woo-chan replied without the slightest hesitation. His voice was clear, unashamed—he had nothing to hide.
And that clarity only confirmed it for Han-gyeom even more.
There was a spy among Seo Won’s inner circle—someone colluding with these terrorists.
Han-gyeom suddenly shoved Woo-chan away with full force. Taken off guard, Woo-chan stumbled back a few steps, blinking in confusion.
“Han-gyeom?”
“You knew I was Imprinted with Seo Won… and yet you still say you’re going to kill him like it’s nothing.”
Han-gyeom lifted his head and glared straight at Woo-chan.
“You knew I might drop dead at any moment without Seo Won’s ESP. So if you’re saying you’re going to kill him anyway… isn’t that just the same as saying you’ll kill me?”
“No, Han-gyeom. I would never let that happen—never…”
Woo-chan faltered, clearly shaken. He forced a smile and stepped forward again, voice trembling with sincerity.
“Why would I ever let you die? No matter what happens, I’d never let that happen. Please… believe me.”
There was a desperate honesty in his eyes and in every word that tumbled from his lips—so pure, it left no room for doubt. Along with it came a stinging affection born of shared pain, something Han-gyeom couldn’t ignore.
So he believed him.
Believe.
He trusted that Kang Woo-chan, like Cha Min-hyung, wanted him to live. That he truly meant it.
That’s how I knew for sure, too.
Han-gyeom slowly pulled a cigarette case from the pocket of his cardigan. With a practiced motion, he placed a cigarette between his lips and flicked a cheap disposable lighter to life, the flame steady and sure.
“You already knew, didn’t you?”
The elegant cigarette case and the cheap plastic lighter—tossed together in the same pocket—mirrored Han-gyeom himself. Now, he pulled out something else.
Woo-chan stiffened when he saw it.
What Han-gyeom held up, clearly for him to see, was a small, stunningly translucent ice apple—beautiful enough to be a piece of art.
And slowly, that delicate crystal fruit began to darken in Han-gyeom’s hand, turning black.
“This has Seo Won’s ESP in it. So even if he’s gone now, I’ll be safe.”
The smile gradually faded from Woo-chan’s face.
“…Yeah.”
He didn’t bother making excuses. He admitted it outright. He knew any lie would only make Han-gyeom more guarded—more suspicious.
“You’ve been tied to Seo Won all this time because you needed that Imprinter’s ESP. But if that artifact can hold his ESP permanently, there’s no reason for you to stay by his side anymore, is there?”
“Permanently… huh.”
Han-gyeom scoffed quietly, exhaling smoke through the corner of his lips.
“If only it were that simple.”
“…What do you mean?”
The moment Woo-chan sensed something was wrong, Han-gyeom stood up from his seat, his posture slanted, his gaze sharpened.
“You really don’t understand how terrifying an Imprinter’s obsession can be, do you?”
There’s no way Woo-chan didn’t know. He’d been a walking magnet for obsessive freaks—victim to all kinds of twisted devotion fueled by fake Imprints and Guiding addiction.
But the fixation that real Imprinting brought was far more tangled… far more vicious than he could imagine.
“You really think he’s going to give me room to escape?”
A dark shroud churned in Han-gyeom’s mind.
“Unless he tramples me into the ground and seals every exit, he wouldn’t let it happen.”
That day resurfaced again in vivid horror—the day he lost the last speck of Song Yeon-woo’s ashes, in the middle of that raging storm and thunder.
A shadow crept across Han-gyeom’s smile, twisting it into a scornful sneer aimed at the one who wasn’t here—the spy.
“To think she actually believed that… Jung Ah-young is way too naive.”
Just as he thought.
At the mention of the spy’s name, Woo-chan’s face hardened like stone.
