Seo Won’s mansion and the abandoned cathedral were a little over an hour apart by car. Though both were technically in Seoul, the cathedral sat on the outskirts, making the trip a bit time-consuming.
As soon as Seo Won confirmed Han-gyeom through the doppelgänger he had sent with Yoon Jeong-ho, he immediately left the mansion, leading the security team himself. In his place, he left another doppelgänger behind at the mansion to keep direct watch over Jung Ah-young.
Ah-young, with her wrists and ankles tightly bound to a chair, was imprisoned in the room where Jae-woo had previously stayed. The expression on her face the entire time was that of a condemned criminal. Her complexion dark, her head hung low, and her lips sealed shut—she didn’t even let out a proper breath.
Seo Won’s doppelgänger sat across from her with legs crossed, yet made no attempt to interrogate or intimidate her. Just as Ah-young had fallen silent, so too did Seo Won’s doppelgänger remain utterly wordless, merely staring at her in silence.
A heavy stillness filled the room, so dense it made it impossible to tell how much time had passed.
Only after a long while did a voice finally break through the suffocating quiet—Jung Ah-young’s.
“Why… aren’t you asking me anything?”
Her voice was laced with guilt, dark and heavy. It was nothing like the cheerful tone she usually had.
Lifting her head for the first time, Ah-young met Seo Won’s blank expression.
She couldn’t understand why he looked so emotionless. Given the situation, a face full of murderous rage would’ve made more sense.
Ah-young had been caught mere minutes after Han-gyeom entered Jae-woo’s room. By then, it was already clear that Han-gyeom had moved together with Jae-woo. She had expected to be reprimanded for failing her security duties. She had mentally prepared herself for it, thinking she just needed to brace herself and take whatever came.
But Seo Won, as if already aware of everything, had restrained her on the spot without a word. Even after seeing Jae-woo’s empty room, he didn’t raise his voice. Then, almost as if it had all been planned, Yoon Jeong-ho appeared, and the two exchanged a few brief words. Before she knew it, Seo Won had created a doppelgänger and handed it off to Jeong-ho like passing along a burden.
It was only after Yoon Jeong-ho—his face twisted in frustration—disappeared with the doppelgänger that she realized something had gone seriously wrong.
Seo Won, unshaken even after learning of Han-gyeom’s disappearance. Yoon Jeong-ho, appearing at the perfect moment. The icy doppelgänger handed over to him. The sudden teleportation.
By the time she understood, it was already far too late.
Still bound tightly to the chair, Ah-young didn’t even bother trying to free herself. Instead, she looked at Seo Won with a complicated expression.
“If you have nothing to ask me… then just kill me. Sitting here like this is worse.”
Seo Won remained silent. She’d even gone so far as to provoke him, on purpose, but not even a twitch of an eyebrow came in response.
To Ah-young, it was unbearably frustrating.
Not just the fact that she was restrained without so much as a single question from Seo Won. She had no idea what had happened to Woo-chan and Han-gyeom—whether they were safe, whether her other comrades were okay. She knew nothing.
She almost wished Seo Won would interrogate her harshly. If he got worked up and started shouting, maybe she could glean even the smallest hint about the current situation. That alone would’ve been a relief.
‘But of course, the Executive Director would never do something like that.’
Even when fury had clearly reached a boiling point, he remained calm and composed. Like a blade of ice, steeped in a chilling, murderous aura.
‘Then again, he wasn’t exactly like that when it came to Han-gyeom…’
Until Han-gyeom had entered the mansion, Seo Won had been just as cold and distant as ever.
Even when he first realized the ticking time bomb known as a “Curse,” even when the number of moments where his heart would briefly stop increased—he had remained the same.
Detached, watching everything unfold as if only a sliver of emotion still lingered within him. Just like the hard, transparent ice he wielded.
But after meeting Cha Han-gyeom and bringing him into the mansion, Seo Won began to change, little by little. He hadn’t transformed entirely, but his range of emotions had noticeably begun to expand. Maybe those feelings had always been there, quietly dormant—now beginning to slip out, one by one.
Jung Ah-young had rather liked that about him. Maybe it was because she’d grown attached after staying by Seo Won’s side for over five years, but every time those uncharacteristic emotions peeked through, they made him feel more human. And she didn’t mind it at all.
Maybe that’s why she had come to like Han-gyeom even more.
‘What’s happening right now…?’
The faces of Woo-chan and Han-gyeom flashed through her mind.
Woo-chan had said that if he approached Han-gyeom with sincerity, the man would eventually come around—but Ah-young couldn’t shake her anxiety. From what she had seen, Han-gyeom was sharp, highly cautious, and deeply suspicious.
And yet somehow, Seo Won had figured everything out almost immediately, left the mansion himself to find Han-gyeom, and even entrusted Yoon Jeong-ho with his doppelgänger. There probably wasn’t much time for Woo-chan to sit around and patiently persuade him.
‘…It’s okay. Woo-chan will be fine.’
She struggled to suppress the rising panic, threatening to drive her mad with each passing second.
There were multiple Espers from the research facility stationed around Kang Woo-chan. So, one way or another, he should be able to escape.
She knew that. But still, the worry wouldn’t go away.
At that moment, Seo Won, who had remained silent all this time, turned his gaze toward the door and finally spoke.
“There’s a promise I made.”
Startled, Ah-young looked up at him. Even as he spoke, Seo Won’s eyes remained fixed on the door.
“Your fate depends on Cha Han-gyeom. So if you have something to say, say it to him.”
With that, he stood up from his seat.
Just as the sound of approaching footsteps began to echo faintly from beyond the door, Seo Won’s figure gradually turned transparent. And by the time the door opened, his entire body had dissolved into fine, shimmering ice dust.
The one who stepped into the room was none other than Cha Han-gyeom.
As soon as Ah-young saw his face, she jolted in her chair with a loud thump.
“H-Han-gyeom-ssi?!”
Her face went completely pale in an instant.
The fact that Han-gyeom was here—and that Seo Won, dressed in a black shirt, stood just behind him—was enough for Ah-young to piece together the situation. It wasn’t hard to understand what was going on.
Han-gyeom, now facing Ah-young’s ghostly pale face, glanced over his shoulder at Seo Won.
“Let me speak with her alone.”
At Han-gyeom’s words, Seo Won frowned slightly in disapproval. Even if she was tied up, Jung Ah-young was highly trained in combat; it wasn’t impossible she could pose a threat to Han-gyeom.
Still, Seo Won didn’t push back. He silently turned and walked away.
After all, there was a promise he had made to Han-gyeom.
“Help me bring down those terrorists, and in return, I want just two things.”
“First—let me decide what happens to Ah-young.”
“And the second thing…”
Recalling the agreement they’d made back in the office, Seo Won stepped out of the room.
Of the two conditions Han-gyeom had requested, one had been to entrust Jung Ah-young’s fate entirely to him. And if talking with her alone was part of how Han-gyeom intended to decide her fate, then it was only right to give him this time.
‘I’m getting soft,’ Seo Won thought.
He couldn’t quite explain why it was that he kept yielding, just a little, when it came to Cha Han-gyeom. When had it even started?
Murmuring to himself in a voice so quiet that even the nearby guards wouldn’t notice, Seo Won quietly shut the door behind him.
Now alone with Han-gyeom in the room, Ah-young looked at him, her eyes visibly trembling.
“H-Han-gyeom-ssi, wh-what’s going on?”
“Are you asking what happened to you… or what happened to your comrades?”
Ah-young couldn’t bring herself to answer.
Watching her anxiously press her lips together, Han-gyeom walked over to the chair where Seo Won’s doppelgänger had been sitting. There was still a faint chill clinging to it. Sitting down, he looked directly at Ah-young and began to recount everything that had happened at the abandoned cathedral.
He told her everything—each detail of what had transpired between him and Woo-chan.
As Han-gyeom spoke, Ah-young’s expression shifted again and again, emotions flickering rapidly across her face. But it wasn’t until he finished, telling her that Woo-chan and the others had been safely released, that she finally let out a long sigh of relief.
“Thank god…”
The words escaped her lips before she realized it, her face softening into a faint smile. It was a genuine expression of relief—one that seemed to suggest she no longer cared what happened to her now. As if she had found peace in surrender.
Han-gyeom paused, giving her a moment to collect herself.
Ah-young then looked at him with a bitter expression.
“But think carefully, Han-gyeom-ssi. I’m an Esper from the Ability User group led by Woo-chan. I’m a spy. I’m not someone who should be anywhere near you.”
Her voice was calm but firm, steady as her gaze.
Though she no longer had any reason or orders to continue being a spy, she had still been someone who endangered both Han-gyeom and Seo Won. She couldn’t see any reality where someone like her, who had once been a threat, could be allowed to stay by his side. That kind of naïve thinking wouldn’t do Han-gyeom any good.
Looking him dead in the eye, she issued her warning with the seriousness of someone who cared.
“Being kind won’t cut it, Han-gyeom-ssi. You need to be cruel to survive.”
“I’m not kind. I’m actually pretty awful.”
Han-gyeom shot back immediately, as if baffled she’d even say that.
“You really think I want to keep you around just because I’m emotionally attached to you?”
“…Then what is it? Because I’m good at security?”
Ah-young tilted her head, half-serious, half-teasing, her pride in her skills still intact. Han-gyeom gave a faint smile.
“That too. But there’s a more important reason.”
Now that he had her full attention, Han-gyeom lowered his voice, drawing her in.
“You’re on my side, aren’t you? Not Seo Won’s.”
“Huh…?”
“To you, I’m like a ‘lost sibling.’ And also the person who saved you when you were in danger.”
He wasn’t wrong.
It was true that Ah-young had developed real affection for Seo Won over the years. But if both Seo Won and Cha Han-gyeom were drowning in a river at the same time, she wouldn’t hesitate even for a second—she would save Han-gyeom.
That’s how deep her sense of kinship ran, just like the others who had once lived and worked in the research facility. She, too, shared that bond.
To Ah-young, Han-gyeom was no different from a fragile younger brother she had to protect at all costs.
And beyond that, if not for the promise Han-gyeom had made to Seo Won, she wouldn’t still be in this mansion. In fact, she might not even be alive.
So yes—Han-gyeom was her savior.
Ah-young mulled it over for a moment, then gave a firm nod.
“I’ve always been on your side, Han-gyeom-ssi. And I’ll stay that way. If Woo-chan’s stepped back from you, I won’t try to drag you away, either.”
“Good.”
Han-gyeom’s eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction at her answer.
“Then from now on, I want you to be the bridge between me and Kang Woo-chan. A secret bridge—even Seo Won won’t know about it.”
