Yoon Do-jae, Beom Do-il, Min Yu-hyun, and Lee Jun-hyung had all gathered at Hyun Tae-oh’s home.
There, they heard everything—every horrifying detail of what the Central Bureau and the research lab were planning.
Yoon Do-jae, who normally wore an expression of calm indifference, looked the most shaken. He seemed stunned that the Bureau Chief—a man he had once respected and taken pride in serving—was capable of something so vile.
“They’re completely insane, aren’t they!?”
Min Yu-hyun scowled.
Beom Do-il shook his head, muttering under his breath, “People in power are all the same.”
“How can people who claim to work for civilians care so little about them…?”
Kang Chi-yu murmured with a stiff expression.
The thought that his ability might be used for something so despicable made him feel sick to his stomach.
Noticing how he felt, Tae-oh gently rubbed Chi-yu’s back.
“So, what’s the plan?” Lee Jun-hyung asked Tae-oh.
Now that they knew the truth, they couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. Even if the whole operation was supposedly for the good of Ability Users, there were lines you didn’t cross—and this had gone way past them.
Tae-oh glanced at Chi-yu, then replied to Jun-hyung.
“I’ll take care of it myself.”
“How?” Yoon Do-jae asked.
Tae-oh turned to him, prompting Do-jae to press again, his voice rising with urgency.
“Let me help. What are you going to do?”
Yoon Do-jae looked dead serious. He clearly couldn’t accept what the Bureau had done and seemed desperate to stop it.
“I’m going to hit the lab,” Tae-oh said.
All eyes turned to him at once.
Meeting Chi-yu’s gaze, Tae-oh continued.
“If we destroy the research data, those bastards won’t be able to do anything.”
“Easy to say,” Jun-hyung replied. “Even you’d have trouble cracking the lab’s security.”
The RIEG lab was protected by eight layers of high-level Esper-based security.
Even for someone like Hyun Tae-oh, breaking in alone would be near impossible.
“I’m going to get help from Professor Myung Jun-su.”
Everyone except Min Yu-hyun and Kang Chi-yu looked visibly shocked.
Yu-hyun already knew—he’d heard about it while reviewing the recorded footage of the lab. Chi-yu had been informed in advance by Tae-oh.
“How exactly is he helping?” Beom Do-il asked.
Tae-oh pulled out his phone and opened a recorded call with Professor Myung Jun-su.
—“It’s not hard for me. One of my ancestors made major contributions to the lab, so I have a premium key. Getting through the doors won’t be an issue. The real problem is that N Building you showed me. Can you connect me to the researcher who filmed that? If I can copy their security credentials, things’ll be much easier.”
Tae-oh paused the playback and turned to Yu-hyun.
“Can you connect me to your fanboy, Professor Myung Jun-su?”
Yu-hyun thought for a moment, then asked, “That part’s easy. But… are you sure we can trust him?”
If Myung Jun-su was working for the Bureau Chief, their entire plan could fall apart.
Yu-hyun’s concern was genuine.
There were plenty of people secretly loyal to the Bureau Chief—no one knew who they were or how they might interfere.
Having dealt with all kinds of people, Yu-hyun instinctively worried about those things first.
Tae-oh responded with absolute confidence.
“He’s someone I trust.”
That stunned everyone.
No one had expected someone like Hyun Tae-oh—who had what could only be called a pathological aversion to trusting others—to say something like that.
They were equally surprised that Tae-oh and Professor Myung Jun-su had formed that strong of a bond. But if Tae-oh said it himself, they could trust it.
Yu-hyun nodded. “I’ll get in touch with him tomorrow.”
“If he can get us access to N Building, we’ll head straight in. We’ll destroy all the test tubes inside, and any animals in the same state as Catdog—we’re getting them out.”
Yoon Do-jae nodded firmly. “I’m in.”
Beom Do-il raised his hand. “Same.”
Tae-oh nodded in return.
“And not that I don’t trust you guys, but what we discussed here stays between us. Not a word to anyone else.”
Beom Do-il rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
Yoon Do-jae simply replied, “Of course.”
***
Late at night.
Tae-oh had been roughhousing with Catdog before the two of them fell asleep next to Chi-yu.
Catdog, who had been biting and scratching moments ago, was now peacefully curled up against Tae-oh’s shoulder.
Despite their antics, one thing was clear—they were incredibly close.
Chi-yu watched them quietly, smiling lazily despite the chaos they were caught up in.
The situation was terrifying, but in this moment, it felt strangely peaceful.
Even though he’d once been swallowed by a mutant beast, he felt calm. He was scared that his ability could be used for something horrific, but with Hyun Tae-oh around, that future felt impossible. That’s how much Chi-yu trusted him.
He wondered for a moment how things might have turned out if they weren’t lovers now—if they were still just childhood friends. But in the end, he realized that even if they’d stayed friends, Tae-oh would’ve still risked his life to protect him.
It didn’t matter whether they were friends or lovers. To Tae-oh, there was only Chi-yu. And to Chi-yu, only Tae-oh.
A wave of emotion swept through him, and Chi-yu rubbed his nose with a fingertip without thinking.
Just then, a telepathic message came through—from the Bureau Chief.
—“This is the Bureau Chief. If you’re with Esper Hyun Tae-oh, relocate immediately. This is a classified matter.”
Chi-yu frowned slightly at the voice in his head—but the next line made him shoot up from the bed.
—“It also concerns Esper Hyun Tae-oh’s safety.”
Chi-yu quickly stepped out of the bedroom and went to the window in the living room.
The sky was so full of stars it looked like they might spill over. Not a single streetlamp in sight, yet it wasn’t dark at all.
‘Go ahead.’
—“Are you alone?”
‘Yes.’
Once Chi-yu confirmed he was alone, the Bureau Chief got to the point.
He weaved in talk of an experimental drug tailored specifically for Hyun Tae-oh, trying to manipulate Chi-yu into saying yes before he could think twice. And it was something Tae-oh desperately needed.
After exceeding his dosage not long ago, he’d been barred from using rampage suppressants. Even now, he lived with constant pain.
He tried to hide it, but Chi-yu had seen it—those fleeting moments when Tae-oh’s face twisted in agony.
The new drug had been made just for him. A custom suppressant that could control his rampage without side effects or daily intake.
Just one pill a week would keep him stable and pain-free.
Until now, Chi-yu had been managing it through Stage 2 or 3 Contact Guiding and steady Radiant Guiding—but the results were barely enough.
The guiding sessions kept getting interrupted, and Radiant Guiding wasn’t strong enough. Tae-oh’s eyes had never returned to their natural hue; they remained gold.
—“The Black Gate will reopen soon. And this time, we won’t get international support. Esper Hyun Tae-oh will have to bear the brunt of the fight. If he enters combat without a suppressant, he will rampage.”
‘…!’
—“I don’t know if he’s told you about our plans, but we no longer need him. Sure, he’s still the most valuable Esper in our nation—but if the mutant beasts are eradicated, he becomes useless.”
Chi-yu’s face went rigid.
The Chief’s voice was calm, but his words were cruel. He was saying that if the mutant beasts disappeared, Tae-oh would be obsolete. So if he died fighting to stop the Black Gate, they wouldn’t care in the slightest.
Chi-yu clenched his fists.
This was the man entrusted with protecting Ability Users? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. The Chief told him that if he truly wanted to protect Tae-oh—his childhood friend and now his lover—he had to undergo an experiment behind Tae-oh’s back.
And without giving Chi-yu time to think, he detailed Tae-oh’s current condition.
—“You know his eyes have been yellow for a while now, right? In that state, even teleporting causes him full-body pain. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? As his Guide?”
Tae-oh lived with constant, low-level pain—whether he was sleeping, waking, eating, or just moving around.
Even in sleep, that persistent discomfort robbed him of rest.
—“You don’t know how much he’s suffering. As his Guide, you have no idea.”
The Chief knew exactly how to go for the kill.
Chi-yu had seen Tae-oh suffer. And now, picturing him asleep beside him—still hurting even in sleep—it made Chi-yu’s chest ache. His eyes welled with tears.
When had Tae-oh, with those golden eyes, last slept peacefully?
The tears fell silently down Chi-yu’s face.
Tae-oh needed that drug.
The Central Bureau and the lab had developed it, yes—but only if Chi-yu agreed to let them use his ability to create more mutant beasts.
There was no real choice.
Either he traded his ability for Tae-oh’s future… or denied them, and risked Tae-oh’s life and sanity.
Chi-yu couldn’t choose the second option.
Yes, he believed the mutant beast program had to be stopped—but he couldn’t bear to see Tae-oh suffer, or worse, disappear entirely.
If he’d been born an S-rank Guide, maybe he could’ve kept Tae-oh stable on his own—but he wasn’t. He was just a B-rank.
Sure, other S-rank Guides could help—but knowing Tae-oh, he’d rather die than accept help from someone else.
Even if he could be persuaded, it would be a long and painful process.
Chi-yu shut his eyes tightly.
Was there no way to get the drug without helping them?
He searched his mind for a solution, but nothing came.
And then the Chief pushed again—clearly trying not to give him time to think.
Still trying to hold on, Chi-yu kept his eyes shut, scrambling for an answer. But eventually, under the pressure, he opened them and thought quietly:
‘…Understood.’
