Han-gyeom’s eyes traced a graceful curve as he gazed at Seo Won. Even the gentle arc of his gaze seemed seductive enough to ensnare someone.
“That’s good to hear.”
He had grown so used to it that he no longer cared, as long as Seo Won thought it was his scent.
With a faint smile, Han-gyeom leaned in. Lips that came toward him as if it were the most natural thing in the world stole his breath away once again.
Ash flaked off the cigarette he had been holding, gently burning as it fell. Tiny specks of ash landed on the smooth surface of the high-quality desk, leaving dark scorch marks in their wake.
It wasn’t until the cigarette, which he had barely managed to take a single puff from, burned all the way down to the filter that Han-gyeom was finally able to pull himself away from Seo Won.
Pressed back by the kiss, Han-gyeom had ended up sitting fully atop the desk. He took out a fresh cigarette.
“Did I interrupt something important?”
“We can finish it later.”
Just as he reached for his lighter, Seo Won snatched it away. But Seo Won had never actually used one before, and the rough, stiff flint was awkward in his hands. Of course, it didn’t catch on the first try, and not a single spark came up.
Watching Seo Won struggle with such an intensely serious expression, Han-gyeom couldn’t help but chuckle, covering his mouth with one hand.
Seo Won shot Han-gyeom a sharp glare as he laughed at him.
“Is it funny?”
“Yeah.”
No matter how hard Seo Won glared, Han-gyeom just kept laughing, completely unfazed. Seeing someone who seemed like they could do anything fumble so earnestly with a lighter—it would’ve been stranger not to laugh.
Seo Won grabbed Han-gyeom’s wrist, pulling away the hand that covered his mouth. And in that moment, instead of his usual faint, tired smile, what appeared on Han-gyeom’s face was a genuine one.
Seeing that bright, innocent smile—so clear it almost looked childlike—somehow made the corners of Seo Won’s lips curl too.
“Give it here. I’ll light it.”
Han-gyeom, still smiling, took the lighter back from Seo Won and lit it effortlessly in a single motion. Even the simple act of touching the flame to the tip of his cigarette and taking a short drag looked polished and fluid.
Seo Won watched him and thought, with a twinge of amusement, that maybe he should practice lighting the same type of lighter one day. He pressed a kiss to Han-gyeom’s cheek. Han-gyeom, not resisting, accepted it quietly—but he did turn his head away, just in case the ash or smoke might get on Seo Won.
“You doing that demo again?”
Han-gyeom asked casually, recalling the conversation between Seo Won and Yoon Jeong-ho.
He didn’t really care much about the product demonstration itself.
The product demonstration that had been cut short last time was originally scheduled to run for three days. The product hadn’t changed, and they hadn’t even fully completed the demonstration that day. So if it were to be held again, it would likely follow a similar schedule.
Three days…
A faint trace of anxiety crept onto Han-gyeom’s face.
Lately, he hadn’t been apart from Seo Won for very long. More often than not, they were together. Thanks to his smoking habit, he frequently stopped by Seo Won’s office, and as a result, there had been little chance for any withdrawal symptoms to surface.
Beyond that, his entire daily routine now revolved around Seo Won’s room. He spent his days quietly waiting in that space, wrapped in Seo Won’s scent—going to him when called, resting peacefully when not. His body had already adapted to the point where just Seo Won’s scent was enough to keep him stable.
Of course, if he were to deliberately dump cold water on himself or immerse himself in negative thoughts like before, he could intentionally trigger an episode. But there was no reason to do that now. After all, this was about provoking Seo Won’s possessiveness, his desire to monopolize, and the notion that Han-gyeom was his “only salvation.”
Still, no matter how stable he was, the moment Seo Won left the mansion, that sense of security was bound to crumble. If Yoon Jeong-ho’s ability allowed him to transport others as well, that would have been reassuring. But unfortunately, he was only capable of moving himself.
In the end, the only option for Han-gyeom was to accompany Seo Won.
There really isn’t a choice.
More than just the Esper Association, what lingered in Han-gyeom’s mind were the people who had tried to abduct him during the yacht party. Whether they were the same group that had attacked the previous demonstration or not, one thing was clear—they had targeted him above anyone else. It was as if they’d just been waiting for the moment he was exposed to the outside world, regardless of the Association’s presence.
If that’s the case, then wouldn’t they show up again if the demonstration were to be held anew?
“We do have to redo it. But the Association promised to dispatch a large number of Espers this time.”
As if he had read Han-gyeom’s mind, Seo Won gently stroked his hair. At the same time, he reached out with his other hand and pulled over the ice ashtray Han-gyeom often used while smoking in the office.
“And honestly, part of me is hoping a terrorist attack happens.”
“What?”
Han-gyeom, brushing ash off into the tray, looked at him with a puzzled expression. After having already gone through one attack, shouldn’t they be hoping it doesn’t happen again?
Seo Won, like someone who couldn’t sit still for even a second, peppered soft, ticklish kisses along Han-gyeom’s face and neck.
“I’ve always thought the attack at the demonstration was aimed at the Association. I still do. But the guys who stormed the yacht party… instead of targeting the Association, they just locked them up.”
“Well, maybe… it was a different group…”
Seo Won’s lips, which had been trailing lightly along Han-gyeom’s neck, paused and lifted slightly.
“No, it was the same bastards. The only ones who could stay sane enough amidst all that chaos in the demo hall to spot you and take an interest were ones who had a method for countering the sonic terrorism.”
Seo Won had concluded that the ones who targeted Han-gyeom were the same terrorists who had attacked the product demo hall. That was precisely why he planned to hold another demonstration.
“They’ll definitely show up again at the next event. Because you’ll be there—right next to me.”
“You’re going to use me as bait?”
Han-gyeom exhaled a puff of smoke, a slight furrow forming between his brows.
He understood what Seo Won was thinking.
If Seo Won’s assumption was correct—if the people who attacked the demonstration hall and the ones who targeted him during the cruise were part of the same group—then the moment he accompanied Seo Won outside again, they were very likely to reappear.
And the bait they needed for that… was ultimately Cha Han-gyeom himself.
“You don’t need to worry.”
Seo Won gave a soft chuckle and gently stroked Han-gyeom’s cheek with one hand. As he gazed at him—like he was examining his face up close—he extended his other hand into the air.
Then, something began to form in the air where Seo Won’s hand reached. A sculpture made of ice.
Yet Seo Won didn’t take his eyes off Han-gyeom for even a second. As the shape emerged, it became clear—it was a human face. A delicate, rounded face with smooth contours took shape, and then, as if being carved by invisible hands, the finer details began to form on their own. Intriguingly, every part that was refined matched where Seo Won’s gaze lingered on Han-gyeom’s face.
By the time Han-gyeom finally noticed what was floating midair, he flinched.
A replica of his own face was suspended there. Identical in every detail—from the pale texture of the skin, the faint coloring of his hair, the downward-cast eyes, to the long eyelashes casting a subtle shadow. It was a perfect duplicate of Cha Han-gyeom.
Except… there was nothing below the neck. For a brief moment, it was unsettling. The floating head didn’t just look like a sculpture—it looked like it had been severed.
Sensing Han-gyeom’s discomfort, Seo Won clenched the hand he’d extended into a fist. Instantly, the ice-formed replica of Han-gyeom’s head evaporated and vanished into mist.
“I can create a double of anyone I’ve observed closely. Though its mind will be mine, of course.”
Once again, Han-gyeom was struck by the reality that Seo Won was an S-rank Esper.
To create a doppelgänger, one had to understand every last detail of the subject from head to toe. That’s why high-level espers capable of making doubles typically only created versions of themselves.
For someone else, no matter how closely observed, it was nearly impossible to replicate them with the same level of detail as oneself. Even if they managed to recreate the overall appearance, making something like just the head alone was extremely difficult.
It wasn’t just about the amount or concentration of ESP energy.
It required precise, exceptional manifestation skills, and a mind capable of remembering every minute detail of the person being replicated.
Only when all those elements came together could a flawless double be formed.
And creating a replica of someone other than oneself? That increased the difficulty exponentially.
Seo Won displayed his ability to replicate another person through ice without hesitation, wearing an expression full of confidence.
“I’ll make a double of you and keep it at my side. It’ll make for perfect bait.”
“Then… do I have to stay here the whole time? What if I have a seizure?”
Han-gyeom reached out and lightly grabbed the hem of Seo Won’s clothes. Seo Won gently wrapped his hand around Han-gyeom’s, covering it softly.
“That’s why I’m planning to leave something else behind this time.”
“What? You’re leaving a double here or something?”
“No. Making a double of someone else is pretty exhausting. I won’t have the energy to create another one.”
Seo Won replied with a bitter tone, as if he’d already experienced the difficulty of manifesting someone else’s double before. His eyes settled steadily on Han-gyeom.
“Instead, I’m thinking of making something that suits you perfectly.”
He began reconstructing in his mind a form that had often come to him when thinking of Cha Han-gyeom.
