Back in Seo Won’s bedroom, Han-gyeom stood by the window, watching Song Jae-woo’s slumped shoulders as he left the mansion. His face clouded with guilt.
‘There was no other way.’
His fingertips, resting against the window frame, unconsciously curled into claws, making a faint scraping sound.
This incident had forced Han-gyeom to think deeply about Jae-woo.
Song Jae-woo was, to Cha Han-gyeom, the most important person in his life right now. When he had first escaped the scorched ruins of the lab site, Jae-woo had merely been Song Yeon-woo’s only remaining family. But now, all other reasons aside, he had come to feel as precious as Han-gyeom’s own younger brother.
And that was exactly why Han-gyeom couldn’t bear to let him be placed in danger—especially not because of him.
Were he worried that Ability Users from the lab, including Kang Woo-chan, might once again try to use Jae-woo as a hostage?
‘No… they wouldn’t go that far again.’
Kang Woo-chan and his group wouldn’t kidnap or threaten him again. There was a clear difference between how they saw things and how Han-gyeom did—and especially their leader, Kang Woo-chan, seemed to understand Han-gyeom’s position quite well. He had even gone so far as to personally release Jae-woo from the Guiding Addiction, which proved that they no longer posed a threat.
But even so, Han-gyeom still felt a lingering sense of unease when it came to Kang Woo-chan.
All the data from the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility had been destroyed. While it seemed that Cha Min-hyung had secretly taken the original files, there was no indication that Kang Woo-chan’s faction had gained access to any of that information.
The only lead they could possibly have held onto… was Seo Won.
Seo Won had been deeply connected with the Esper Association for quite some time. From Kang Woo-chan’s perspective, that made him a worthwhile subject of investigation.
But for Kang Woo-chan to know about Seo Won’s heart transplant—and the connection between him and Song Yeon-woo—was disturbingly unnatural.
“Han-gyeom, do you even realize it? If it hadn’t been for him, your Imprint would still be alive. With a perfectly healthy heart, still walking around like nothing happened…”
How the hell did Kang Woo-chan know that?
Even Han-gyeom himself, who had been stationed in the Fourth Facility all that time, hadn’t known the full story.
‘The timing of Kang Woo-chan figuring it out doesn’t make any sense either!’
The day that teleporting Ability User stormed the mansion with the black cube and took Jae-woo, Seo Won had also been attacked at the hotel. Even if it had been orchestrated, Seo Won was ultimately kidnapped and ended up face-to-face with Kang Woo-chan, realizing then that he was the leader of the terrorist group.
At that point, Kang Woo-chan had clearly believed, “Seo Won was forced to Imprint on Cha Han-gyeom.”
In other words, he had no idea that the transplanted heart had already been Imprinted on Han-gyeom.
And yet, when they met again at the abandoned cathedral, Kang Woo-chan spoke as if he knew everything. Not just that Seo Won had received the heart of Han-gyeom’s Imprint, but also that this had caused Song Yeon-woo to lose control and ultimately die because of it.
From the tangled web of facts laid out in his mind, Han-gyeom arrived at one plausible conclusion.
‘It was the person who left me that letter—they’ve made their move.’
At Seo Won’s mansion, Han-gyeom had once been crushed beneath the weight of a letter—one that brought with it a despair so consuming it felt like the world had collapsed, a grief so bitter it was suffocating, and a fury so violent it was unlike anything he had ever known.
Enclosed with that mysterious letter had been a portion of a report detailing the extraction of Song Yeon-woo’s heart.
He planned to ask Kang Woo-chan about it directly once Jung Ah-young helped arrange a discreet conversation—but chances were, Kang Woo-chan had received the exact same letter.
Anyone who had been affiliated with the research facility would have recognized the seal on that report without mistake. It was undeniable proof that the content of the report was real.
Whoever had shown the report to both him and Kang Woo-chan had only one goal in mind. To aim a blade, sharpened by fury, directly at Seo Won’s throat.
Someone out there was after Seo Won’s life. A coward, lurking deep in the shadows, cunningly manipulating others like puppets.
‘I’m sick and tired of being used.’
At first, he hadn’t cared who was behind it. He had even been grateful.
If he hadn’t read that report, he might’ve continued Guiding like a soulless doll until, one day, he simply faded away, eyes vacant and spirit broken.
That fury gave him purpose. That purpose became will to live.
What once had been meaningless, lethargic days spent waiting for death turned into a stubborn struggle to design Seo Won’s end.
But now that he had calmed down and thought it through, he realized he couldn’t afford to keep sharpening his blade in blind preparation.
‘Why? Why are they doing this?’
The enemy was undoubtedly someone close to Seo Won.
The timing proved it—both he and Kang Woo-chan had received the letter after facing Seo Won directly.
That meant someone was trying to weaponize both of them to kill Seo Won. And if that was the case, what made him think they would leave Song Jae-woo untouched?
Jae-woo had been separated from his older brother, Song Yeon-woo, when he was only three years old.
He was so young at the time, and since he’d quickly been adopted out from an overcrowded orphanage with dozens of other children, all he remembered was that he had a brother.
Naturally, the adoption records were forged. In truth, Song Yeon-woo had been taken to the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility.
Even if Jae-woo couldn’t remember, what had happened to his real brother was still his to bear.
If he ever found out the truth, would even someone as gentle as Song Jae-woo be able to stay calm?
Han-gyeom didn’t make the mistake of overlooking that risk.
The person who had goaded him and Kang Woo-chan could just as easily target Song Jae-woo next—either as a hostage to manipulate Han-gyeom again, or as a third blade to strike at Seo Won.
One way or another, they would try to use him.
That was why Han-gyeom had to keep him far away.
Somewhere outside of Korea.
Somewhere so distant and safe that the enemy couldn’t make a move without exposing themselves.
Only by sending him that far could he be sure… that the truth about Han-gyeom’s end wouldn’t reach Jae-woo for a long, long time.
‘It would be even better if he never found out at all.’
At the end of Han-gyeom’s lonely gaze, only an empty, silent road stretched out beyond the window.
Just then, he sensed movement outside the bedroom door.
When he turned, Seo Won walked in without even knocking.
“Are you alright?”
He asked the moment he stepped inside.
Before Han-gyeom could even ask “What do you mean, am I okay?”, Seo Won closed the distance in a few brisk steps and gently cupped Han-gyeom’s face.
Those blue eyes studied him with surprising thoroughness, carefully scanning his complexion.
“Looks like you didn’t cry.”
“I wouldn’t cry over something like this.”
Han-gyeom replied with a trace of irritation in his voice.
He had fully expected Seo Won to tease him with something like, “Didn’t you used to cry over way less?” or “Someone like you, the crybaby, would totally cry over this.”
So when an awkward silence followed instead, it felt oddly unsettling.
“…I see.”
Seo Won finally responded, after a moment had passed, lowering his hand and turning to gaze out the window.
“As soon as your ID and passport are ready, I’ll arrange for him to be sent abroad as quickly as possible. Regarding his place of residence and security, a specialist will be coming soon with housing plans. If you want to go over it yourself, you’re welcome to.”
“Yeah.”
“Then that wraps up your second condition.”
Seo Won had now fulfilled both of the conditions Han-gyeom had given him back in the study.
First, to entrust Jung Ah-young’s future to Cha Han-gyeom. Second, to send Song Jae-woo overseas, where he could live safer and more peacefully than anyone else.
Honestly, the moment he heard those plain, unassuming requests, Seo Won had thought he could easily negotiate the details to his advantage with clever wording.
But instead, he had simply nodded in agreement without a single complaint.
He knew he couldn’t fully trust Jung Ah-young, not when she had been a spy. So when she resumed her role as Han-gyeom’s bodyguard, Seo Won planned to assign additional personnel to monitor her closely.
Still, he didn’t object to her protecting Han-gyeom. If, like Kang Woo-chan, she genuinely held that deep kinship and fraternal affection toward Cha Han-gyeom, then there was no one who would guard him more fiercely.
That, at least, Seo Won could be certain of—so the first condition had been easy to accept.
Of course, had the situation ended with Kang Woo-chan and the terrorist group still targeting Cha Han-gyeom, Seo Won would’ve never spared Jung Ah-young, no matter what had been promised.
Compared to that, the second condition wasn’t so bad.
Song Jae-woo, whether they liked it or not, was someone who could influence Cha Han-gyeom.
Depending on the circumstance, he could weaken him—or, like in this most recent case, give him the strength to endure.
But above all else, Song Jae-woo was Han-gyeom’s weakness.
People… when it comes to their weaknesses, they’re capable of betrayal they never imagined, of descending into hells they never expected, of becoming the most vile and pathetic beings in existence.
Seo Won had seen countless people fall into ruin, manipulated and destroyed because of their weaknesses.
He wanted that word to stay as far away from Han-gyeom as possible.
Han-gyeom may have managed to resist being controlled by his weakness this time—but there was no guarantee he would do the same the next.
What if someone held Song Jae-woo at gunpoint right in front of him?
What if they shattered Jae-woo’s limbs one by one and ordered Han-gyeom to obey?
Would Han-gyeom still be able to keep his composure like he had this time?
‘Though really, it wasn’t composure at all.’
Seo Won recalled the way Cha Han-gyeom had trembled as he watched Song Jae-woo break down in a frenzy.
That memory only reaffirmed it—Song Jae-woo was, without a doubt, Han-gyeom’s weakness.
Han-gyeom gave Seo Won a faint, bitter smile in return for fulfilling his request.
“Thanks.”
Seo Won’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly displeased.
“There you go again, smiling like that.”
“What… did I do?”
Seo Won, still standing beside Han-gyeom at the window, slipped an arm around his shoulder as they both stared outside.
The path where the weary, defeated Song Jae-woo had trudged away now lay utterly empty—but Seo Won spoke as if someone were still there.
“Song Jae-woo said something.”
Han-gyeom’s gaze naturally turned toward him.
Seo Won recited the words Jae-woo had said when he’d personally seen him off, after sending Han-gyeom ahead to the bedroom.
“He said… ever since you came to this mansion, he hasn’t seen you truly smile. Not even once.”
Seo Won’s eyes shifted to meet Han-gyeom’s.
And in that stillness, their gazes locked.
