He sucked out that much, and that’s all he got?
Even with direct hand-guiding, it wouldn’t have been enough. Just the GP that Seo Won siphoned off would amount to nearly two months’ worth back when he was selling guidance sessions. Of course, he’d known that once the Black Vein flared up, it would take several times the usual amount of guidance to recover—but he hadn’t expected it to be this slow. The sensation was even worse because of the existing imprint.
It’s a night-and-day difference compared to when hyung had the Black Vein.
He paused mid-thought as memories of his former Imprinter surfaced. An uneasy jolt flared deep inside his body. His head throbbed sharply, like someone had jabbed needles into it.
Trying to shift his thoughts, he shot Seo Won a half-glare.
Anyway, there’s a limit to how efficient one-sided, forcibly-extracted guidance can be!
That arrogant bastard, completely lacking in empathy, was clearly pretending not to know. But this kind of coercive guidance—this was nothing short of violence against the guide. Even if he tried to do it himself, forcing GP into the Esper with his own hands, it wouldn’t take long before the hunger clawed back and the man pounced all over again.
No, let’s be honest. The real problem is me.
Every guide knew the effectiveness of guidance was heavily influenced by their mental and emotional state. Even if the Esper was fully open to receiving it, if the guide wasn’t at ease, if their heart wasn’t relaxed, the GP would be yanked out roughly and violently—just like this.
I get it. I do. But…
Han-gyeom looked down at the black band coiled around his right wrist like a vicious snake. The memory of the guidance control device still haunted him. Seo Won’s cold, emotionless eyes overlapped with fragments of that past. The sharp, ice-pick words that man sometimes tossed out without a second thought…
Because of all that, no matter how much he tried to stay calm, revulsion welled up from his subconscious, disrupting everything. He couldn’t maintain proper efficiency even if he wanted to. But trying to will that aversion away on the spot? That wasn’t how the mind worked.
“Haaa…”
He let out a long sigh, suffocated by frustration. His head swam slightly, and a pounding headache started to bloom behind his eyes. Out of habit, his hand went to his pants pocket, instinctively feeling for a cigarette. But he quickly remembered.
Of course there’s none left.
Even if he did have one, lighting up here would probably have brought Seo Won storming in to snap his fingers clean off.
With a weary expression, he tilted his head back. The back of his head sank into the plush sofa cushion.
People who actually manage to quit smoking must be total monsters.
Every time he let his guard down, cigarettes came to mind. When he was alone in his room, he’d sometimes catch himself thinking maybe, just maybe, one might’ve been left behind. That hope would lead him to check the trash can.
But the servants in this mansion were so damn thorough, they left no room for trash to accumulate. So every time, it was just a waste of effort.
He knew smoking was bad for his health—but it didn’t matter to him anyway. Rather than worrying about toxins, what he valued was the calm and comfort cigarettes gave him. Honestly, they were practically indispensable just to keep his episodes at bay.
Trying to quit all of a sudden? Naturally, withdrawal was bound to bring waves of anxiety and stress.
Lost in thoughts of cigarettes, he sat there dazed and limp, when his gaze happened to drift toward the window.
No wonder it feels unusually dark today.
He realized now that, unlike usual, there was no sunset to be seen. The sky was dim, like it was moments away from nightfall.
He rose from his seat and approached the window. Sure enough, the sky outside was swallowed up in looming black clouds.
Seated at his desk, Seo Won kept his eyes glued to the documents in front of him as he spoke indifferently.
“It’s not like the weather outside has anything to do with you.”
“Even in a prison cell, anyone would at least want to see the sky.”
Han-gyeom replied weakly. Seo Won turned to look at him, and spotted a flicker of anxiety shadowing his face.
“You don’t like rain?”
“No. I actually like it.”
But his face said otherwise.
As Seo Won noted the mismatch between Han-gyeom’s words and expression, Han-gyeom quietly asked,
“Do you think it’ll rain a lot?”
Seo Won’s brow twitched ever so slightly.
“Do I look like I work for the meteorological office?”
“It was just a thought.”
At Han-gyeom’s reply, Seo Won’s brows furrowed further. Sometimes, Cha Han-gyeom was just plain reckless—and insufferably cheeky.
Just as Seo Won was about to say something, a short knock sounded from outside the office, precisely on schedule. It was always Jung Ah-young standing guard around this time.
“There’s a memo I was asked to deliver.”
“Come in.”
The moment permission was granted, the door cracked open.
Ah-young peeked in first, wondering if she was interrupting something she shouldn’t. But both men were fully clothed and the room didn’t carry that telltale tension or heat, so she stepped in with a subtle sigh of relief.
Sneaking glances at Han-gyeom standing by the window, she walked up to the desk and handed Seo Won a small note folded in half.
In one corner of the memo, the name Song Jae-woo was written.
Since Han-gyeom was still in the room, the quick-witted Ah-young had refrained from mentioning the sender aloud. Instead, she’d left it noted discreetly on the outside of the memo.
With her task complete, she gave a polite bow and exited the office.
Meanwhile, Seo Won calmly unfolded the note and began reading its contents.
As his eyes scanned the page, a cold gleam flickered across his gaze.
Hyung’s really sensitive to loud noises.
They say there’s going to be a lot of thunder and lightning tonight, so please make sure he stays in a soundproof room.
Even just watching the lightning from outside can be bad for him.
If the curtains aren’t drawn yet, please make it really dark in there. And if you have earplugs, even just those would help.
If there’s a loud noise, hyung might have a seizure.
The small memo was filled edge to edge with sincere, heartfelt concern.
Seo Won flipped the note over and set it face-down on the desk, making sure Han-gyeom couldn’t see it.
“Go back. I’ve got work to do.”
Not a single word about the note Jae-woo had left—Seo Won’s tone was dismissive, as if brushing Han-gyeom off was just another chore.
But Han-gyeom seemed immune to his coldness by now. Without any sign of hurt on his face, he turned toward the door.
He was just about to step out when he paused, hesitating slightly.
“…Hey, would you mind if I borrowed your phone?”
“What for?”
“To call Jae-woo…”
But as he turned to speak, all he saw was Seo Won’s face—so cold it felt murderous.
“…Never mind.”
Han-gyeom faltered, swallowing the rest of his words before quietly leaving the office.
The room fell into silence.
Seo Won picked the note back up and reread it carefully.
Does Han-gyeom’s room have curtains?
If it does, it might be better to take them down.
He pictured the layout of Han-gyeom’s room in vivid detail, then picked up his phone.
It didn’t take long for the call to connect.
“Director Shin. I’m sending a team over. Bring the equipment and come here.”
A sly glint curved in Seo Won’s eyes.
“You said you wanted to re-examine Cha Han-gyeom. Let’s do it tonight.”
***
The downpour began the moment night fell—And it wasn’t just rain.
BOOM!
It came with thunderous, explosive roars that shook the earth. A full-on thunderstorm.
Han-gyeom collapsed to the floor with a thud.
The monstrous boom of thunder from outside had robbed his legs of strength.
Still, he forced himself back up, dragging a white bedsheet in one hand as he stumbled toward the window. The closer he got, the louder it became—the deafening sound of rain hammering down like a waterfall.
Rrrrmm… BOOM!
“Ugh!”
A massive crack of thunder tore through the sky, and Han-gyeom’s body reeled violently in response.
Step by shaky step, Han-gyeom finally made it to the window. Beyond the bare, curtainless glass, the sky stretched out in an endless, suffocating black. The garden lights scattered here and there did offer a few points of illumination, but it still felt overwhelmingly dark.
He remembered—earlier, a servant-looking man had come by saying he’d replace the curtains and taken them with him. But he hadn’t returned, and now everything outside was on full display. The flashing light of thunder, the terrifying downpour—he could see it all, and that only made the fear worse.
His face pale, cold sweat running down his cheeks, Han-gyeom reached out with trembling hands and grabbed the bedsheet he was supposed to sleep under. He stretched it out and draped it clumsily over the window frame.
Once the outside world was blocked from view, even if just barely, a tiny wave of relief washed over him.
He liked rain. But thunder—thunder was one of the things he hated most.
The deafening booms, the monstrous growls, the explosive flashes. They always reminded him of the final moments at the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Institute.
And the end of his former Imprinter.
It’s okay. It’s just… just thunder, that’s all…
He tried to reassure himself, but the sky sneered in response.
KR-RROOOM!
“Hhk…!”
Unable to stay on his feet, Han-gyeom collapsed beside the wall next to the window, sliding down with his back pressed to it. He covered his ears with both hands, trembling. But even through the gaps between his fingers, the sound of the rain filtered in.
And thunder? There was no way his hands could shut that out.
BOOM!
He gasped and curled in on himself. His small frame folded in tight, like a frightened animal trying to disappear.
Heehee…
The roar of the rain, once just noise, morphed into something sinister—seeping through the cracks in his fingers, warping into grotesque sounds.
—Look at this bastard. Throwing a fit ‘cause he’s hurting.
—Ugh, it’s like watching a bug squirm around!
—Hey, I think this one’s broken. Shit, are we gonna get chewed out again?
—Told you not to go overboard.
—Relax, relax. Worst case, the lab guys’ll fix him up, so who cares.
The voices of those who had mocked and toyed with him echoed in place of the rain.
