Cha Han-gyeom let go of Seo Won’s collar with surprising ease, as if he hadn’t expected an answer in the first place. His gaze drifted toward Seo Won’s left chest, concealed beneath the black shirt.
“Even if there’s not much time left, try to avoid walking around in your real body.”
His tone was cold as he spoke, drawing another lungful of smoke. Then he turned toward Ah-young. At some point, she had appeared with a luxurious indoor ashtray in hand. Inside it were already five cigarette butts, as though counting the time Han-gyeom had been waiting.
Crushing the sixth butt into the tray, Han-gyeom turned and strode into the mansion first. Seo Won extinguished the seventh one with a quick twist and followed him in.
A subtle tension lingered between them as they walked through the hallway.
It wasn’t until they were alone in the bedroom that Han-gyeom finally broke the silence.
“Take off your clothes.”
Without a word, Seo Won began to comply.
The heavy coat fell to the floor with a dull thud, followed by an expensive suit jacket and vest. Lastly, the pristine black shirt, looking nearly brand new, was pulled apart to reveal bare skin.
Han-gyeom’s eyes remained fixed on Seo Won’s left chest. There, covering roughly the size of a palm, was a dark mass. On closer inspection, it resembled tangled black tendrils, interwoven like twisted roots.
“It’s shrunk a bit more.”
Han-gyeom had done intense deep guiding from early evening all the way until dawn. He’d blacked out around sunrise, so he hadn’t been able to check how effective it had been. Now that he could see it, the results were obvious—brutal as it had been, it had worked.
Seo Won looked down at Han-gyeom, who was gently brushing his fingers over the spot on his chest, with a flicker of pity in his gaze.
“Why don’t you get some more rest? You still look exhausted.”
“I’ve had enough.”
Han-gyeom shot back coldly and flicked his eyes toward the bed.
“Go undress and lie down. Even if it’s just until dinner.”
Just as Seo Won had done, Han-gyeom now calmly undressed. One layer at a time, the soft, whispering fabric slipped to the floor.
Once his upper body was bare, Han-gyeom’s hand moved toward his pants. As he began to unbuckle them, Seo Won abruptly grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
“Are you seriously thinking about having sex?”
“Yeah.”
“After you pushed your body that hard last night?”
“So what if I did? Guiding comes first.”
Seo Won’s brows furrowed in displeasure.
Just seeing Han-gyeom from behind as they’d walked to the bedroom was enough to tell how wrecked he was.
His hips jolting with every other step, flinching slightly from pain in his groin, walking fast yet carefully, and occasionally letting out strained, shallow breaths.
Just standing upright right now must’ve been a struggle.
‘Of course he’s not okay—he didn’t stop all the way until dawn.’
On days when Han-gyeom felt even slightly better, he never seemed willing to let Seo Won go.
Whenever Han-gyeom managed to recover a bit of strength, he’d push himself recklessly again, as if determined to burn through it all. If Seo Won ever tried to pull away early out of concern for his condition, Han-gyeom would inevitably wrap both legs around his waist to hold him in place. Sometimes, he’d clench down so hard that it made Seo Won’s cock ache, making it impossible to ignore him.
Seo Won tried to accommodate Han-gyeom in everything he did, but this—this was the one thing he simply couldn’t turn a blind eye to. Not when it meant watching his body fall apart.
Still gripping Han-gyeom’s wrist, Seo Won led him to the bed.
“I saw how swollen you were this morning.”
Han-gyeom, knowing exactly which part he meant, tried to pull his hand free with a scoff as if to say, So what? But Seo Won didn’t let go.
“Wait until the swelling goes down, at least.”
No matter how careful they tried to be, Han-gyeom’s hole never had a chance to fully heal. It was always getting worked open again and again. Even when Seo Won attempted to stop at a reasonable point, Han-gyeom would just lunge at him and force himself down on it, leaving Seo Won helplessly torn between guilt and arousal.
Seo Won eased Han-gyeom down onto the bed, then lay beside him, wrapping him tightly in his arms. He pulled the covers over them both, sharing his warmth with Han-gyeom’s chilled body.
“If you want to do guiding so badly, then let’s do it like this.”
Han-gyeom shot him an irritable glare, but Seo Won remained unmoved. He kept holding him close, pressing Han-gyeom’s slender upper body against his chest, softly patting his back in a calming rhythm.
Fortunately, Han-gyeom relented somewhat and closed his eyes. A faint reddish glow began to seep from the corner of his eyes, spreading gently across his body where it touched Seo Won’s skin.
A sense of deep warmth and peace settled over Seo Won as he looked down. His gaze fell on the black strands of Han-gyeom’s hair, the small curve of his head resting near his lips. That tiny, adorable crown of his.
Perhaps feeling the weight of Seo Won’s stare, Han-gyeom, eyes still closed, murmured,
“Vice President Kim Cheol-min… I heard he was arrested.”
“Who told you that?”
“Ah-young did.”
Seo Won, hearing the answer, couldn’t help but picture Ah-young clearly in his mind—her face flushed with excitement, probably bouncing around like a kid as she recited the news article to him.
If it were Ah-young, she would’ve been genuinely overjoyed.
If not for Kim Cheol-min, the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility might never have existed. Put another way, it was because of him that it had, and because of that, so much damage had been done.
So it made sense that Jung Ah-young would be thrilled to hear that Kim Cheol-min’s power and reputation had crumbled, that his ambitions had been shattered. Seo Won imagined Kang Woo-chan and the rest of their group probably looked visibly lighter now too.
“That’s why you went out early, right?”
Han-gyeom asked, opening his eyes. His beautiful red irises looked up at Seo Won.
Seo Won didn’t try to dodge the question.
“Yeah.”
Han-gyeom was quiet for a moment.
He didn’t know the exact details of the contract between Seo Won and Kim Cheol-min. All he knew was that Seo Won had secured and received Song Yeon-woo’s heart through Kim Cheol-min, and in return, had worked with him—even in deeply covert and morally gray areas.
Even the news article Han-gyeom had seen through Ah-young hadn’t disclosed much about the backstory. It only mentioned that substantial evidence had been secured, indicating Kim Cheol-min was involved in illegal dealings through clandestine contracts, and that an internal whistleblower from the Esper Association had come forward as a key witness.
But it wasn’t difficult for Han-gyeom to guess that the one on the other end of those backdoor deals was Seo Won. The timing of the alleged contract perfectly aligned with when Seo Won had undergone his heart transplant surgery.
The first person to report the illicit trade involving a secret contract had been one of the parties involved.
Han-gyeom suspected that person was Seo Won.
‘He’s been especially busy lately… was that why?’
From Han-gyeom’s perspective, Seo Won had indeed seemed overwhelmed these days. Yet even in the midst of that chaos, whenever Han-gyeom demanded guiding, Seo Won always found time—sacrificing sleep, pushing himself to accommodate.
Han-gyeom had assumed Seo Won was simply taking on more work because the Black Vein was rapidly fading. But if all that busyness had actually been part of a plan to take down the very person Han-gyeom loathed—Kim Cheol-min—it complicated everything.
It made Han-gyeom want to ask questions, one by one.
What exactly had the contract entailed? Why had he thrown away the collaboration with the Association, which could hardly have been disadvantageous to him? What drove him to go so far—risk so much—just to bring down Kim Cheol-min?
But even with the questions on his lips, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
For some reason, it felt like Seo Won would simply go silent instead of answering. That he would just shut his mouth and say nothing at all.
And that—Han-gyeom hated that.
Whether it led to misunderstandings or not, it felt like Seo Won, when it came to him, always chose not to say anything properly.
So rather than probing him with questions, Han-gyeom spoke in a cold, commanding tone.
“Just a few more days. Until then, even if you’re busy, try not to leave.”
His gaze landed again on Seo Won’s chest.
The Black Vein—now even smaller than the mark of the Imprint.
Practically a speck.
Once this last remnant disappeared, Han-gyeom would finally be able to infuse Seo Won with his own twisted power.
The power to make him crave death.
A dull ache flared in Han-gyeom’s chest. It felt like sharp knives were closing in from every direction, stabbing into him.
As time passed, these sensations came more frequently. Truthfully, they came only—without exception—when he was with Seo Won or thinking of him.
‘Don’t think about it. You can’t think about it.’
In moments like this, his instincts repeated that phrase on loop.
He didn’t want to acknowledge these sensations. Because if he dug into the reason behind this ache—if he accepted it—he was sure the fragile ground he stood on would crack like thin ice beneath his feet.
Han-gyeom burrowed deeper into Seo Won’s warm arms and pressed a kiss to his chest. He could feel the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat trembling softly against his lips.
‘I’ll focus on killing you. That’s all that matters.’
He nuzzled his face into Seo Won’s chest and closed his eyes again.
‘Don’t worry.’
Thump, thump—his steady heartbeat lulled Han-gyeom’s exhausted body into a state of calm.
‘As a final kindness… I’ll follow right behind you.’
