Ha Tae-soo did not deny Han-gyeom’s accusation. In fact, he seemed to have no intention of hiding it, perhaps even wanting Han-gyeom to know.
“It’s fortunate that I sent the report to Kang Woo-chan as well. The timing was perfect,” Ha Tae-soo said.
Han-gyeom realized that Ha Tae-soo was still manipulating him, especially when he mentioned Woo-chan. Ha Tae-soo knew that Han-gyeom’s anger towards Seo Won would drive him to investigate who had imprinted him. Relying solely on information from an untrustworthy source would make Han-gyeom nothing more than a puppet in Ha Tae-soo’s game.
However, being confined to the mansion made it difficult for Han-gyeom to pursue this lead. Ha Tae-soo had sent the report to Kang Woo-chan as a hint, believing that the diverse abilities of the Espers in Woo-chan’s group could uncover the clue. If Han-gyeom hadn’t found the hint, Ha Tae-soo planned to reveal his involvement by mentioning the word “imprint.”
“Now I don’t need to explain everything in detail to gain your trust,” Ha Tae-soo said, shrugging with relief. “I wondered how Seo Won managed to find a perfectly matching heart so quickly, but it turns out money can buy anything.”
Han-gyeom’s lips pressed into a thin line. Ha Tae-soo looked at him with pity.
“I know why the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility disappeared,” Ha Tae-soo said. “It’s a good thing it’s gone, but I still feel sorry for you, Han-gyeom.”
Ha Tae-soo extended his hand again, urging Han-gyeom to take it. “I want to work with you, Han-gyeom. Our goals align.”
Han-gyeom glared at him, suspicious of his true intentions.
Sensing Han-gyeom’s caution, Ha Tae-soo explained, “I have a rightful claim to Seo Won’s lifespan, but because of a loophole, I can’t collect it. I need to kill Seo Won to get it back, but there’s a problem—I can’t do it myself.”
Seo Won had already died once at the age of 32, during his heart transplant. Having survived that moment, his lifespan was now his own, and Ha Tae-soo could no longer claim it.
“To get it back, Seo Won must die,” Ha Tae-soo explained. “But the chairman added a special clause to our contract.”
Ha Tae-soo revealed the special clause in his contract with Chairman Seo: “If any of his relatives survive the contract’s effects and do not die within two years, their lifespan is guaranteed.”
Han-gyeom understood why Chairman Seo had included such a special clause. Regardless of how absurd the contract’s terms were—that his relatives would die at 32 and their remaining lifespans would be forfeited—Chairman Seo would have tried to find a loophole to escape it.
“We have six months left,” Ha Tae-soo said. “If Seo Won dies within that time, his remaining lifespan will be mine.”
Ha Tae-soo’s sole objective was the reward: Seo Won’s lifespan. He wanted it, and he knew Han-gyeom wanted Seo Won dead too.
“You want to kill Seo Won, don’t you?” Ha Tae-soo asked. “After all, he’s the one who caused your lover’s death.”
Han-gyeom remained silent, but his silence seemed to confirm Ha Tae-soo’s words. Their goals aligned—they both wanted Seo Won dead. With Ha Tae-soo’s contract abilities, which could use human lifespans as payment, they could set an inescapable trap for Seo Won.
“Let’s make a deal,” Ha Tae-soo offered. “I’ll help you kill Seo Won easily.”
Han-gyeom stared at him coldly and asked, “What’s the price?”
“We’ll have to weigh the options, but I can grant you almost anything in return,” Ha Tae-soo replied. “Taking a life requires a significant payment.”
Han-gyeom’s lips trembled slightly, and his hands gripped his knees tightly. The idea that he could have anything he wanted was tantalizing.
“Can you… bring someone back to life?” Han-gyeom asked, his voice shaking.
It seemed impossible. Reviving the dead was beyond the realm of any ability. Even the powerful contract abilities wouldn’t be able to achieve that. Yet, despite his skepticism, Han-gyeom’s heart raced with a glimmer of hope.
“Can you bring Yeon-woo back to life?” Han-gyeom asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ha Tae-soo, who had been extending his hand for a handshake, now rested his chin on that hand, considering the question.
“It’s possible,” Ha Tae-soo said.
Han-gyeom’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You can… do that?”
“Of course,” Ha Tae-soo replied confidently. “If we have enough information, we can restore him to exactly how he was when he was alive. However, since Song Yeon-woo’s body was reduced to ashes, we’ll need a new body—one that’s freshly deceased and completely intact.”
Ha Tae-soo spoke as if he had successfully done this before.
“We will take all the sufficient information from when the person was alive and input it into the brain that has just died. Then, we will alter the structure to make the person believe they are that individual. If we do this, it is possible to resurrect Song Yeon-woo, who turned to ashes due to overload, into an entirely different body.”
He then added, as if doing a favor, “To make that corpse move again, I would have to give up part of my own lifespan, but I would be willing to sacrifice about 10 years.”
As Cha Han-gyeom listened, the light in his eyes gradually faded. His eyes darkened and grew dull.
‘Information…’
The word felt like a sharp dagger piercing his heart.
What Ha Tae-soo was suggesting was not a method to resurrect a person. It was merely a way to make a corpse move for 10 years using the ‘information’ of the deceased. It was no different from an AI reacting according to learned data.
Cha Han-gyeom’s tense body suddenly relaxed, as if receiving some signal. He slumped deeply into the sofa, swallowing a hollow breath.
‘What was I expecting?’
There was no way to bring a dead person back to life.
A mocking laugh escaped him, following the hollow feeling.
‘What would I have done if he lived?’
Why had he asked if Song Yeon-woo could be brought back to life? Why had he held onto hope despite knowing it was impossible?
Perhaps it was because he had something he wanted to ask Song Yeon-woo.
Why did you leave me behind?
An AI created from Song Yeon-woo’s information could not answer that question. He knew that all too well.
Unaware of Cha Han-gyeom’s thoughts, Ha Tae-soo pondered why his face had darkened. Suddenly, he remembered the ‘seizures.’
He had heard that the ESP of an Imprint was necessary to suppress the seizures. If that was the case, it made sense for Cha Han-gyeom to be worried. The resurrected individual would have Song Yeon-woo’s information but would not be Cha Han-gyeom’s Imprint.
“If it’s about the seizures, there’s no need to worry. We can use Seo Won’s corpse. That should solve the problem nicely without any complications.”
Ha Tae-soo looked at Cha Han-gyeom with a calm expression, as if he had solved the problem. However, he couldn’t help but pause.
“…You even know about the seizures.”
Cha Han-gyeom, who had been looking down with a dark expression, slowly raised his eyes. His dull eyes regained their clarity, and his lips, which had been curled in a mocking smile, twisted visibly.
“I found it strange. If you had to stay in the annex due to your contract with Chairman Seo, there should have been limits to the information you could gather. Yet, you investigated me and Kang Woo-chan and even left a report.”
Cha Han-gyeom had been trying to uncover the other person hiding in the shadows based on Ha Tae-soo’s actions and proposal.
The person had access to information about Cha Han-gyeom and Kang Woo-chan within a mansion filled only with Seo Won’s people. This individual also possessed the ability to locate and reach anyone quickly, regardless of their location.
Moreover, they knew about the seizures. This meant the person could secretly observe everything within the mansion without even Seo Won noticing.
There was only one person who came to mind.
