“Do you really think they were after me from the very beginning? They didn’t even have any information.”
At Cha Han-gyeom’s words, Seo Won instinctively recalled the incident at the first product demo hall.
Upon hearing that bizarre, otherworldly sound for the first time, the entire crowd of unregistered Ability Users had plunged into collective panic. Seo Won, too, had felt the strange sensation as if something were raking through his brain, and his ESP had surged uncontrollably within his body. That horrid sensation… even now, long after the event, he still couldn’t forget it.
Terrorist attacks targeting high-ranking members of the Esper Association or affiliated Ability Users weren’t exactly uncommon.
Those who had been forced to live in the shadows solely because they were unregistered Ability Users naturally saw the Association—which had branded them criminals—as their mortal enemy. So it wasn’t surprising that their rage occasionally manifested as acts of terror.
The attack at the product demo hall was thought to be just that. At least, that’s what Seo Won had believed.
But Han-gyeom had a different take. He didn’t think the target of that first terrorist attack was the Association at all. It wasn’t about interfering with the Association’s work or forcing them into a defensive stance. No—the target had been Seo Won himself.
“That sound—if it were just regular Espers, it would’ve only hurt them at the moment. It messes with the ESP flow, sure, so they’d absolutely need Guiding afterward, but hearing it once doesn’t cause lasting damage to any of the Association’s executives.”
Ironically, the majority of the Association’s top brass—including the President and Vice President—weren’t even Ability Users. Of the seven high-ranking officials present at the demo hall that day, five were non-Ability Users. The remaining two were an Esper and a Guide.
The sound used in the terrorist attack had been audible to Guides as well, but it had no effect on them whatsoever. It inflicted damage solely—and severely—on Espers.
It was hard to believe someone would launch an entire sound-based terrorist attack just to target a single Esper among the Association’s officials, especially when that Esper had a Guide right next to them who could offer immediate care.
But what if the attack had been designed from the start to target a Black Vein host?
That sound had been used in research labs as a tool to control countless Espers—and as a rage amplifier to monitor the progression of the Black Vein.
For Espers in whom the Black Vein had begun to spread, emotional regulation and tight control of ESP were absolutely crucial. A single intense emotional fluctuation could send their ESP spiraling out of control, and without firm restraint, the black tendrils would only continue to spread wider and faster.
For Espers like that, the sound—which carried frequencies that violently agitated ESP—was nothing short of demonic.
Fear of losing control and succumbing to a full-blown Black Vein outbreak at any moment. The pain. The despair.
Those bleak emotions drove Black Vein hosts exposed to the sound into faster and more violent rampages.
“I think that attack was aimed at you from the very beginning.”
The depth of hatred Ability Users from the research facility must have harbored toward the Association was beyond imagination—far surpassing anything felt by ordinary unregistered Ability Users.
That hatred would’ve naturally extended to Seo Won as well, since he worked with and supported the Association.
Given the growing suspicion that Jung Ah-young had been a spy in collusion with the terrorists, it made perfect sense to assume the terrorists had learned about Seo Won’s Black Vein through her.
So wasn’t the true target of that sound-based terrorist attack actually Seo Won? If they could provoke a rampage and eliminate him in the process, then all the public backlash would inevitably fall on the Association.
After all, the Association had invested a tremendous amount of money into Seo Won and his company, fully backing him. It would be completely implausible for them to claim ignorance of the fact that Seo Won was both a rampage-risk and an unregistered Ability User. And if it ever came to light that the Association had been involved in his heart transplant? That would spark utter chaos.
Given all that, it made more sense to assume Seo Won had been the real target. No, it was the right conclusion.
Any ordinary Guide wouldn’t have been able to calm an S-Class Esper with Black Vein swelling up to the brink of eruption.
‘If I hadn’t been there, Seo Won would’ve definitely gone into a rampage and died that day.’
It wasn’t arrogance. It was a fact.
Because Han-gyeom was Seo Won’s Imprinter—and a Guide from the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility, the very one that had developed mutated Guiding.
“At that point, the terrorists didn’t know who I was. If they had, they would’ve never used sound for the attack.”
Anyone from the research facility would have recognized that sound immediately.
And those terrorists—still wallowing in their twisted sense of kinship—would’ve chosen something else instead of using a tool that reminded them of the lab’s torment-filled past.
Han-gyeom spun the fountain pen in his hand absentmindedly and let out a deep sigh.
“They were definitely trying to get rid of you back then. Sure, now that they’ve realized who I am, they’ve shifted their primary target. But the fact that they want you dead hasn’t changed.”
There was no way to know exactly how much information Jung Ah-young, the spy, had passed on, but it was clear that when Seo Won first met Kang Woo-chan, they didn’t yet know about the Imprint.
Kang Woo-chan had probably intended to hook Seo Won with his Guiding, keep him addicted, and use him however he pleased.
Whether it was by mentally dominating him and turning him directly against the Association, or by deliberately sending him into their midst and triggering a rampage with something like a GP explosive to stimulate his ESP, in the end, Seo Won would’ve been manipulated to death by Kang Woo-chan. A weapon meant to screw the Association over big time.
Even if Kang Woo-chan had known about the Imprint with Han-gyeom, the plan wouldn’t have changed much.
As long as Han-gyeom was out of the picture, there would be no one else capable of providing Guiding strong enough to suppress Seo Won’s Black Vein. And if they took Han-gyeom and vanished to a place no one could find, Seo Won would inevitably spiral into a rampage on his own.
From their perspective, they’d be killing someone who deserved to die—and at the same time, rescuing the poor, suffering Guide Cha Han-gyeom from Seo Won’s ‘captivity.’
One way or another, the most crucial key to killing Seo Won was Cha Han-gyeom.
And if things really played out that way, Han-gyeom—who needed Seo Won’s ESP to survive—wouldn’t last long either.
“I don’t like it.”
Han-gyeom directed a surge of murderous intent toward someone who wasn’t even in the room.
“It pisses me off that someone else is trying to kill what’s mine.”
And he meant every word.
Kill Seo Won?
‘Who the hell do they think they are? That role belongs to me alone.’
Even if the ones trying to ruin his plan were former research facility members who shared the same hellish past, Han-gyeom had no intention of going easy on them.
Whether they were acting in self-interest, fighting for some greater cause, or performing some kind of ritual for the test subject Ability Users who hadn’t managed to escape and died in the lab, none of it mattered. As long as they were aiming for Seo Won’s life, he would never join forces with them or give them what they wanted.
‘Never.’
Feeling the murderous intent radiating from Han-gyeom, Seo Won’s lips trembled involuntarily. Then, slowly, he lifted a hand to cover his eyes as a soft smile curled across his mouth.
“Haha.”
A quiet laugh slipped out from Seo Won’s lips.
Han-gyeom narrowed his eyes and shot him a glare.
“What’s so funny?”
Seo Won didn’t answer. Instead, he lowered the hand covering his eyes.
His face was tinged with a faint flush—something about him seemed almost giddy.
“So this is where you say you’ll destroy them, once and for all, so they’ll never try to kill me again—is that it?”
“Yeah.”
Han-gyeom unfolded the documents again and resumed gliding the nib of his fountain pen across the pages.
“Because I’m not letting anyone take what’s mine ever again.”
Another laugh escaped through Seo Won’s parted lips.
The sound was soft, like a breeze sweeping through a dark, quiet cave—strangely pleasant to the ear.
He could feel his heart thundering in his chest.
The faint sound of breath. The turning of pages. The scratch of the pen. The murmurs as Han-gyeom muttered to himself while checking details.
All he could hear were sounds made by Han-gyeom. His ears latched onto them, desperate not to miss a single one—hyper-sensitive, obsessively tracking him.
‘How strange.’
‘Why does it make me this happy to hear him say “mine”?’
The warmth blooming in his chest made his thoughts feel like they were melting into softness. His racing heart felt like it was performing the most beautiful symphony in the world.
His vision, though unchanged in reality, suddenly felt brighter than ever, and his eyes couldn’t help but stay fixed on Cha Han-gyeom—unable to stop smiling.
He knew it wasn’t normal. Of course he did.
But that didn’t mean he wanted to push the feeling away.
And he certainly had no desire to let those terrorists—just because they were victims of the Association—off the hook for trying to ruin this feeling.
“I’ll do whatever you want. Use me as you please.”
Seo Won, who had always played the role of the one using others, now—just this once—wanted to be the one used.
However Han-gyeom wanted. As much as he wanted.
“So, tell me. What do you want me to do?”
Han-gyeom, having finally completed all the checkmarks on the paperwork, set the fountain pen down.
His gaze—fixed on Seo Won—carried a subtle glint of satisfaction.
