—I heard a bit from Ah-young. You want us to support you without Seo Won knowing, right?
‘That’s right.’
Cha Han-gyeom picked up a bit of the lavish dish in front of him with his chopsticks and brought it to his mouth. It was a refined meal—light in flavor, pleasant in texture, and easy to chew.
‘I figured you’d give it your all to help me.’
—That’s the right answer.
Woo-chan replied without hesitation, as if the thought of denying it had never crossed his mind.
—Even if our paths diverged and we couldn’t walk the same road, you’re still our brother. That hasn’t changed.”
‘It’s strange… that you can even think like that.’
To be honest, the only people Han-gyeom ever felt a real sense of kinship with among those from the research facility were Cha Min-hyung and Kang Woo-chan.
No matter how many of them were former test subjects like himself, his aversion to Espers hadn’t faded. Still, he could speak politely to Jung Ah-young as he used to, and hold normal, non-confrontational conversations. Part of that was thanks to the bond they’d built over time, and part of it was because he knew her temperament well. But more than anything, it was because she still kept her Esper level set to zero—like an ordinary person. When Espers were nearby, his entire nervous system would instinctively spike, like a blade drawn taut.
Jung Ah-young knew Han-gyeom was sensitive around Espers, so she rarely showed any signs of using her ability.
As Ah-young happily dug into her meal across from him, Han-gyeom placed another bite of food in his mouth and turned to Woo-chan.
‘Before I ask anything… I want to hear your explanation first.’
—What about?
‘About the removal of Yeon-woo hyung’s heart—how did you find out?’
He could feel Woo-chan stiffen, even if just for a moment.
‘You didn’t know back when you kidnapped Seo Won and tried to use him as leverage. That’s why you assumed he had forcibly Imprinted me, right?’
— …..
‘I don’t believe for a second that you had time in that short window to suddenly think of Yeon-woo hyung and dig up the records of his heart extraction. That’s impossible.’
Han-gyeom spoke with conviction.
He was the one who had witnessed the destruction of the research facility with his own eyes. The building—and everything inside it—wasn’t just broken, it looked as if a nuclear bomb had gone off. There wasn’t a single piece of paper left intact in those black flames. He was the only one who’d survived, untouched by the storm of berserk energy.
The only person to have gained access to the obliterated research data from the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility was Cha Min-hyung.
He was the one who had helped Han-gyeom and Seo Won this time. And considering how Kang Woo-chan and the terrorists showed a flash of murderous intent every time Min-hyung was mentioned, it was clear they had a hostile relationship.
That’s why he could say it with certainty.
Just as he had received part of the report on Song Yeon-woo’s heart removal and disposal, Kang Woo-chan had also been given the same kind of information—by someone else.
In Han-gyeom’s mind, if Kang Woo-chan had received that information from someone, then it had to have come in a form that could serve as undeniable proof.
Just like the report on Song Yeon-woo’s heart extraction that he’d secretly received at the mansion—he’d been certain that it was real.
—That’s right. Someone left part of Song Yeon-woo’s report from the Fourth Facility for me.
‘It must’ve been the part documenting the extraction itself.’
—…Yeah.
Woo-chan seemed a bit surprised. And when Han-gyeom spoke again, the subtle flinch in his response confirmed it.
‘Request from client to secure a transplantable heart. Refinement process required to match ESP wavelength exactly… That’s where it started, right?’
Han-gyeom remembered every single word of the report he had received.
Not a single letter had faded from memory. He could never forget it.
And as expected, Woo-chan’s voice echoed back, still laced with disbelief, but agreeing all the same.
—That’s exactly it. That was the first line of the report I got.
That confirmed it—they had received the same report.
Each Ability Analysis Research Facility employed multiple specialized scribes who not only acted as researchers but also meticulously documented every single detail of the facility’s operations, without leaving out so much as a line.
These people recorded everything, from what the test subjects said and did, to something as trivial as a light going out in one of the labs. They were obsessively thorough. Even something like the exact time a toilet became clogged would end up in their records.
And even with AI designated for recordkeeping, they had no choice but to rely on multiple scribes like that—after all, the test subjects were Ability Users with unfathomable potential. Even minor incidents like a lightbulb blowing or a toilet backing up could be the side effects of their suppressed abilities.
But the report that Han-gyeom and Woo-chan received was nothing like the detailed transcripts those scribes usually compiled.
Nor did it resemble the exhaustive research logs that scientists would write up for specific experiments.
It was simply a condensed report—summarizing only a few days’ worth of details surrounding Song Yeon-woo’s heart extraction.
[Request from client to secure a transplantable heart.]
[Refinement process required to match ESP wavelength precisely.]
[Estimated time to extraction: Approximately 4 years.]
[Risk of physical collapse and berserk outburst during extraction.]
[Heart extracted at client’s request.]
[Post-extraction ESP levels confirmed to have dropped abnormally.]
[Degeneration of all organs observed.]
[Scheduled disposal date of test subject E_NO.17: June 19, 2018]
[Heart transplant recipient: Seo Won (S)]
A detailed report is the lifeblood of any research. The fact that this one broke from that convention and was so succinct was, in itself, highly unusual.
Judging by the format, the official stamp, and the printed watermark, it was clearly an untouched copy of the original.
Which led Han-gyeom to one possible hypothesis.
‘An outsider was the one who received the report about Yeon-woo hyung’s heart extraction.’
The contents of the report were simplified and intuitive—so much so that even someone with zero background knowledge could easily understand it. There were no technical terms typically used by researchers, no complicated experimental procedures. None of the elements you’d expect in a standard research document were present.
‘What we received was simply a copy of what had originally been handed to that “outsider.”’
At first, Han-gyeom had naturally suspected the report had come from someone affiliated with the research facility.
Maybe a researcher from the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility had survived without him realizing, or perhaps someone from the Esper Association who had access to those records had approached him directly. If that were the case, he’d have to be even more cautious around Seo Won—if only to avoid being dragged back into the Association’s grasp.
But after thinking it through, Han-gyeom concluded it couldn’t have been from a researcher or an Association insider.
If they had really known everything and approached him with that report, they wouldn’t have just handed it over and disappeared. No, they would’ve captured him on the spot and locked him up in some Association facility. After all, there’s no way they’d ignore him—a living remnant of the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility’s most precious research.
In the end, Han-gyeom’s theory settled on one conclusion: the report had originally been received by someone outside the Association.
He shared this theory in full detail with Woo-chan. And since Woo-chan had also felt something off about the report he received, he showed genuine interest in what Han-gyeom had to say.
—There’s a good chance you’re right. But then why would this ‘outsider’ give that to us in the first place?
‘Because of Seo Won. Maybe they genuinely wanted us to know the truth. But if that’s all it was, then the timing is just way too suspicious.’
There was no need to overthink it.
They just had to recall when exactly they’d received the report—and who they immediately started harboring resentment toward once they’d read it.
—That makes sense. Maybe it was to push us into killing Seo Won.
There was a faint, cold edge in Woo-chan’s chuckle—like a trace of blood on a grin. Clearly, the idea of being manipulated by someone didn’t sit well with him.
—So, what do you want to do?
He posed the question calmly.
—You haven’t suddenly stopped wanting to kill Seo Won, right?
The bluntness of it sliced through the conversation. Han-gyeom, in the middle of chewing a bite of sweet and tangy salad, narrowed his eyes sharply. The crunch of fresh vegetables in his mouth felt like sharpening a blade on a whetstone.
‘Seo Won—I’ll be the one to end him. But I won’t dance to someone else’s tune just to get it done.’
Han-gyeom set down his chopsticks, despite having barely touched his food.
‘You’ll help me… right?’
Now that he had reconnected with Kang Woo-chan and his Ability User organization, Han-gyeom fully intended to use them to his advantage.
He didn’t misunderstand the feelings they had for him. That connection gave them more than enough value to exploit.
—As much as you need.”
As expected, Kang Woo-chan agreed without hesitation.
He, too, was deeply curious about the person who had sent them that report.
Moreover, regardless of any sense of kinship, Kang Woo-chan harbored a quiet guilt toward Han-gyeom. That alone made him all the more willing to help with anything Han-gyeom needed.
After confirming Woo-chan’s answer, Han-gyeom began recalling a list of people in his mind. Since they were communicating through telepathy, it was entirely possible to transmit the list of names exactly as he envisioned them.
‘I want you to investigate the people I’m thinking of right now. One of them is probably the one who tried to use us for their own ends.’
