It felt like Song Yeon-woo had returned to his grasp.
The empty shell that remained after everything inside had rotted away and melted into nothingness.
Cha Han-gyeom, recalling the faint, lifeless smile on Song Yeon-woo’s face, stared at the faint reflection of his own face in the transparent ice apple.
It didn’t reflect like a mirror—just a silhouette, barely enough to make out. But he was probably struggling, desperately trying to suppress his expression so he wouldn’t fall apart.
You were right.
Han-gyeom swallowed a bitter, self-deprecating chuckle, recalling Seo Won’s words.
“I’m thinking of making something that really suits you.”
Just like Seo Won said.
If it was this kind of ice apple that resembled Song Yeon-woo, it would suit him perfectly.
A hollow, ghost-like fruit that barely retained its form.
“I like it.”
There was an unreadable weight in his voice, sinking deep into each syllable.
“I really… like it.”
Only after hearing Han-gyeom’s words did Seo Won manage to smile again, pulling him into a tight embrace. Han-gyeom let himself be held without resistance, his gaze never once leaving the transparent “ghost apple.”
“Be careful.”
Han-gyeom’s voice, laced with an odd hollowness, rang sharply in Seo Won’s ears.
“Don’t get hurt. Ever.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t die.”
“I won’t.”
Seo Won didn’t mind those words, even though they came out like commands, almost like he was brainwashing him. In fact, the eerie sense of being collared by an invisible leash sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine—so much so that it startled even him.
Han-gyeom turned to look at Seo Won, who was lost in those emotions. His face, already strained from hiding his feelings, now carried a steely coldness beneath that blank expression.
“Don’t forget who your life belongs to.”
Seo Won could feel his heart pounding violently against Han-gyeom’s chest.
His heart was answering for him.
There was no way he could forget.
He knew it better than anyone.
That blind, instinctive pulse toward his Imprinter had become entirely his own—and now, as he looked into Han-gyeom’s icy gaze, his own eyes burned with heat.
Instead of replying, Han-gyeom looked straight at Seo Won’s approaching face and kissed him.
Even as he did, the hands holding the ghost apple wouldn’t stop trembling.
Your life is mine. So don’t go acting on your own.
Han-gyeom’s eyes, filled with killing intent, gently closed as if to conceal their intensity.
Because I’m the one who’s going to kill you.
Han-gyeom gripped the ghost apple, cold as a corpse’s flesh, and once again conjured up the image of Song Yeon-woo—who had turned to ash and vanished.
As if reaffirming a vow.
***
The joint product demonstration had resumed.
Though the venue had changed, most of the attendees were the same as before.
Despite the previous demonstration being marred by a terrorist attack, that incident had specifically targeted Ability Users. There was no inherent problem with the product itself or the company behind it, so there was no need to dwell on such matters. Missing out on a partnership or investment opportunity because of that would’ve been the real disaster.
Moreover, the Esper Association had stepped in to provide extensive protection for the event, declaring it a primary target of an unregistered Ability User terrorist group. With such backing, the risk was bound to drop significantly.
It was the first day of the three-day product demo.
Thankfully, not a single incident occurred. Everyone—both the anxious participants and the security personnel on edge—could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
“Ugh, guess I was tense for nothing.”
Yoon Jeong-ho, recalling the previous attack, shivered as he walked down the hotel hallway.
“Well, the Association’s guys have the whole place surrounded. Like hell those bastards could pull anything now.”
Why he sounded so confident was a mystery.
With a grin, Jeong-ho looked over his shoulder.
“Something tells me this demo’s gonna go off without a hitch, right?”
Trailing two steps behind him, Seo Won showed no sign of agreement.
“You never know. The demo’s only just begun.”
Jeong-ho gave an unimpressed pout at Seo Won’s reply.
“Come on, you saw it too. Espers lined up outside like a fortress. If it were me, I’d take one look at that and nope the hell out.”
“Let’s hope they feel the same.”
Despite his words, Seo Won’s thoughts were elsewhere. His eyes drifted toward the impassive face walking beside him—Cha Han-gyeom’s perfect replica.
An exact duplicate from head to toe, down to the most meticulous detail.
So flawless that even Lim Du-hyuk, who guarded him closest, and Yoon Jeong-ho, who’d been with him all day, hadn’t noticed a thing.
The bait was set.
If his prediction was correct, the ones targeting Han-gyeom were the same group behind the previous demonstration’s attack. Which meant they wouldn’t pass up this opportunity either. They’d try to make contact again—no matter what.
This time, Seo Won was determined to capture them all.
He’d crush them so thoroughly they couldn’t so much as twitch, then drag every last secret out of them—especially the reason they were after Cha Han-gyeom.
They dared to lay hands on what was his.
He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let that slide.
Even if it’s just a double… I really don’t like using Han-gyeom as bait.
Cha Han-gyeom’s double turned his head to look at Seo Won. The expressionless face softened with a gentle smile. It wasn’t one of those bitter or shadowed smirks laced with hidden thoughts—it was that faint, tender curve of the lips Han-gyeom had once shown, almost by accident.
The moment he saw the ordered smile on the double’s face, Seo Won’s chest throbbed. Was it because the smile was a fake, a mere imitation? Or was it something else entirely?
He couldn’t find the answer, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of the hotel room.
There were only two suites on this floor. One was reserved for Yoon Jeong-ho’s group, and the other had been given entirely to Seo Won.
Jeong-ho stopped in front of his hotel room and immediately tapped his keycard to the door lock.
“Well, I’ll hole up in here and get some rest. See you tomorrow morning.”
With a lazy yawn and a wave, Jeong-ho disappeared into his room. Some of the bodyguards who had been walking behind him with Lim Du-hyuk took position outside his door without needing to be told.
After confirming that Jeong-ho had gone in, Seo Won also entered his own room. Like the others, he had his assigned Espers and bodyguards stationed outside. The only ones who came in with him were Han-gyeom’s double and Lim Du-hyuk.
“Please rest well. Call if you need anything.”
Du-hyuk bowed briefly and settled into the living room. Due to the layout of the suite, the living room had a direct view of every room inside, so despite the presence of a separate bedroom, he planned to stay there the entire night.
“You should get some rest too, Han-gyeom-ssi.”
Du-hyuk looked over at the double standing by Seo Won’s side. The double dipped his head slightly in response.
“Thank you for your hard work today.”
Han-gyeom’s double replied with a natural, fluid voice. A faint smile spread across Du-hyuk’s usually rough features.
Seo Won, already inside the suite, glanced back at Han-gyeom’s double, who was quietly following him.
No one had noticed a thing, but that unique chill that clung to the real Cha Han-gyeom was, predictably, absent from his copy. No matter how precisely the double had been crafted, that tangled, dark emotional energy—the essence of Han-gyeom—could never be replicated.
Maybe that was why the emptiness gnawed at him.
It hit him, unmistakably: Cha Han-gyeom wasn’t here.
His chest ached. His heart, face-to-face with the double, cried out desperately for the real Han-gyeom.
What was Han-gyeom doing right now?
Had he eaten properly?
How many cigarettes had he smoked?
Was he sleeping well?
Had any of his symptoms started showing already?
His mind spun with worry after worry.
Not even a full day had passed since they’d separated. And yet, the fact that he already missed him this much—so sharply that his heart literally hurt—was almost laughable.
All the while, he found himself yearning to hear Han-gyeom’s voice.
The voice that called his name already felt like a distant echo.
Even though the double in front of him could perfectly replicate Han-gyeom’s voice, Seo Won didn’t feel the urge to command him to speak.
Instead, he simply reached for his phone.
Staring at the double of Cha Han-gyeom, Seo Won dialed a call—to Jung Ah-young, who was still back at the estate.
— “Yes, Director. Did everything go we…!!”
“Put Cha Han-gyeom on.”
— “Ah… yes, sir…”
His curt interruption and immediate demand for Han-gyeom wiped the excitement from Jung Ah-young’s voice in an instant.
Through the phone, he could hear the faint sound of a door opening.
— “Han-gyeom-ssi, it’s the Director.”
A moment later, Han-gyeom’s voice reached his ears—distant, but unmistakable.
— “Why’s he calling?”
The words were blunt, almost cold, but it didn’t matter. Just hearing Cha Han-gyeom’s real voice was enough to make Seo Won’s heart pound.
The sound of Han-gyeom approaching grew clearer, drawing nearer and nearer when—
Knock knock.
“Director, you need to come out for a moment.”
Irritation flickered in Seo Won’s eyes at the sound of Lim Du-hyuk’s voice from outside. He was just about to hear Han-gyeom’s voice clearly.
But the words that followed made Seo Won furrow his brow.
“Someone’s here to see Han-gyeom-ssi.”
