As Director Shin was hastily summoned again, Cha Han-gyeom was already asleep with a peaceful expression. Seeing the state of the disheveled bedroom, Director Shin gasped, but followed Seo Won’s gesture to approach the bed quietly.
Seo Won, who had been silently watching over Cha Han-gyeom, pointed to his injured foot without a word. A handkerchief had been pressed against the bleeding sole and secured with a curtain tie, effectively stopping the bleeding.
Understanding why he had been called, Director Shin began the treatment silently, with Seo Won watching his every move. After carefully bandaging the foot, Director Shin checked Cha Han-gyeom’s condition under Seo Won’s intense gaze.
Although the external injury could have been handled by the medical staff at the mansion, Director Shin’s exceptional abilities made him indispensable. By touching Cha Han-gyeom’s pulse and channeling his ESP, he could instantly assess the extent of any internal injuries.
Soon, Director Shin nodded reassuringly, and Seo Won’s tense expression eased slightly.
As they stepped out of the bedroom, they were met by Jung Ah-young’s worried voice.
“Director, how is Cha Han-gyeom? Is he alright?” she asked.
“He has a minor foot injury, but it’s not deep. With proper care, he’ll recover quickly,” Director Shin replied.
“That’s not what I meant! He was crying and screaming earlier!” Ah-young exclaimed.
“Ah, well, regarding that….” Director Shin trailed off, looking at Seo Won. While he could assess physical injuries, mental and emotional states were beyond his expertise.
Seo Won turned to the anxious Ah-young and said, “Ah-young, go inside and stay with him.”
“Me?” Ah-young asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Espers make him nervous,” Seo Won explained.
“Ah….” Ah-young finally understood why Cha Han-gyeom had been so frightened. His usual wariness of Esper would be heightened in his current state.
“Thank you!” Ah-young expressed her gratitude, bowing deeply before reaching for the bedroom door.
“Ah-young,” Seo Won called out, stopping her.
As Seo Won turned his head, his fingertips brushed against the hair tie securing Jung Ah-young’s hair.
“This,” he said, tapping the elastic hair tie with his finger, startling Ah-young. “Contact him and set up a meeting.”
Director Shin and Lim Du-hyuk looked on, puzzled by Seo Won’s words. However, Ah-young immediately understood their significance. She instinctively clutched the hair tie with both hands, realizing that Seo Won had discovered its true purpose.
Ah-young paled, murmuring to herself, “How did he……”
Seo Won patted her shoulder reassuringly. “It’s the only thing you’ve never taken off since you entered this mansion,” he explained.
Ah-young was shocked. ‘He knew all along?!’
The hair tie was her secret means of communicating with Kang Woo-chan. Seo Won had known about it but chose to keep quiet.
Seeing Ah-young’s discomfort, Seo Won leaned in and whispered, “It’s about Cha Han-gyeom.”
If it had been merely about contacting Kang Woo-chan, Ah-young could have refused. After all, Seo Won and Cha Han-gyeom had an agreement that protected her. However, since it involved Cha Han-gyeom, she couldn’t ignore it.
Unable to give a definitive answer right away, Ah-young entered the bedroom where Cha Han-gyeom was sleeping, leaving Seo Won staring at the closed door.
Seo Won retrieved the documents he had entrusted to Lim Du-hyuk. “Keep a close watch. If Cha Han-gyeom wakes up or anything happens, let me know immediately,” he instructed.
“I’ll assign non-Esper guards here. I’ll accompany you,” Lim Du-hyuk offered.
“No, stay here,” Seo Won replied firmly.
Usually, either Ah-young or Lim Du-hyuk accompanied Seo Won at all times. He trusted them above all the other guards in the mansion. However, this time, he wanted to be alone. The reason was the thick stack of documents in his hand.
“Very well. Call me if you need anything,” Lim Du-hyuk said.
“I will,” Seo Won replied, turning and making his way down the corridor towards his office.
The hallway leading to the office felt unusually cold today, lined only with a few guards standing at regular intervals.
Seeing Seo Won heading to his office without a single bodyguard, a few people in the hallway instinctively started to move as if to follow—but the moment they met his cold, steely gaze, so intense it felt like it could kill, they each stopped in their tracks and remained where they were.
The office was silent.
Seo Won set the documents down on his desk and powered on his laptop first.
After checking the file directory on the USB drive he had received from Cha Min-hyung, Seo Won glanced over at the documents again.
‘The documents are just for show. This… this is the real deal.’
The amount of data on the USB was incomparable to the printed paperwork. Even if he were to only focus on files related to Cha Han-gyeom, it was questionable whether he’d be able to get through all of it today.
Still, he had to.
He had to understand Cha Han-gyeom’s past—to truly understand him.
And to understand how and why the person Han-gyeom once looked at—Song Yeon-woo—had to die.
Seo Won recalled the fragmented words Han-gyeom had muttered in his delirium.
“If Hyung gets disposed of… I’ll kill you myself…”
“The only one who can kill Hyung… is me…”
Seo Won believed this data might finally unravel the hidden meaning behind those words—and solve the mystery of Song Yeon-woo’s death.
His hand moved to click on the very first folder among the countless others. A long, seemingly endless list of video files appeared before him.
E_NO.00…
E_NO.01…
E_NO.02…
E_NO.03…
Every video file began with a codename starting with E_NO.
Just as he had seen in the previous files from Cha Min-hyung, Seo Won knew that the numbers beginning with “E” all referred to Espers.
Without hesitation, he dragged down the screen—until he finally spotted the only codename that began with a “G.”
G_NO.00…
He didn’t know why, but the moment he found it, a suffocating sense of unease and tension pressed down on his shoulders like a heavy weight.
With a tangled mix of emotions, Seo Won opened the video associated with Cha Han-gyeom’s codename. At the same time, he plugged in his earphones to ensure no sound would leak out of the laptop.
The moment the video began, it opened on the face of a researcher—expressionless.
“We are now recording the first experiment of G_NO.00.”
The voice that played was mechanical, almost disturbingly so. The researcher’s face showed no expression, and the tone carried not even a trace of emotion—so much so that it was difficult to believe they were human.
Soon, the researcher stepped away from the frame. Only then did the interior space that had been hidden behind them come into view.
A cold, utilitarian, metallic silver experimentation table.
Tied down to the table was a small child, no older than five at most. For some reason, bruises and dark red marks—like those left by something forcibly grabbing him—were scattered all over his tiny body.
It wasn’t hard to figure out who he was.
That little boy, struggling to breathe as he stared into the camera, bore an unmistakable resemblance to Cha Han-gyeom.
—”The subject resisted heavily during transport. As a result, his condition is less than optimal. However, aside from the contusions, there are no critical issues. He should be able to endure the initial round of experiments.”
The researcher’s mechanical voice, spoken so indifferently as they looked down at the battered child, was so revolting that a curse escaped Seo Won’s lips before he even realized it.
“Fuck…”
Just that single scene captured in the video was enough to paint a vivid picture of the kind of hellish abuse that damned facility had inflicted on children.
And what followed—those brutal experiments—was only the beginning.
Seo Won began to watch every single one of them, one after the other, without skipping a moment of the nightmare Cha Han-gyeom had endured.
He even took note of how many times Han-gyeom cried out the words “Please… help me…” in those recordings.
Hours passed.
By the time deep night had fallen, it was then—right then—that Han-gyeom opened his eyes.
