Myung Jun-su was a genius—without question. In just a few hours, he had managed to forcibly unlock the telepathic seal. Of course, the research left behind by his brilliant senior, Myung Jae-bok, had been a tremendous help.
It had been a little hard to concentrate, though. Every time Kang Chi-yu grimaced in pain during the energy extraction, Hyun Tae-oh fidgeted anxiously at his side like a restless puppy waiting to be let out. Still, in the end, they succeeded in blocking the Bureau Chief’s telepathic wavelength.
Jun-su was honestly surprised to discover this side of Tae-oh, someone he’d known for years. The man who usually hated people to the point of near-misanthropy—beyond mere germaphobia—was now showing more loyalty and devotion to Chi-yu than even the most faithful dog.
It was almost refreshing, the way Tae-oh seemed to wag an invisible tail whenever he was near Chi-yu. A man who had never once shown even the slightest hint of sweetness was now brimming with it, and Jun-su couldn’t help but find it amusing.
How could he be so obviously, hopelessly smitten, and yet still have stayed “just friends” until now? And how could those perpetually arrogant eyes, always looking down on everyone else, soften so completely into a gaze dripping with honey when they turned toward Chi-yu?
The way Tae-oh looked at Chi-yu was nothing like the way he looked at anyone else. Even his very eyes changed. Jun-su found himself thinking: Tae-oh and Chi-yu were bound to spend their lives together.
***
Min Yu-hyun, Beom Do-il, Yoon Do-jae, and Lee Jun-hyung arrived at Tae-oh’s house. They were there to overhaul the plan from the ground up.
Jun-su, who had broken through the teleport barrier at the N Building, was with them as well. Originally, he had come to extract Do-il and Do-jae’s wavelengths, but after listening in on their discussion, he ended up offering advice.
“There’s no need to make this complicated. This is the kind of game you win by blowing it wide open.”
Every head turned toward him.
“Why do you think the Central Bureau Chief or the Institute Director haven’t made a move yet? Think about it.”
“…Because they’re afraid word will get to the World Peace Committee?”
Yu-hyun ventured cautiously. Jun-su nodded.
“Exactly. That’s part of it. But the main reason is—they already know damn well that what they’ve done is something they’ll be crucified for.”
At that, everyone except Tae-oh nodded instinctively, a sign of respect for Jun-su, the most renowned Esper physician in the ward.
“If this comes to light, the Central Bureau and the Institute will go straight into freefall. That’s what terrifies them. That’s why they’re walking on eggshells around Tae-oh, who already knows too much about their research.”
“So you’re saying we should leak it to the press?”
Tae-oh asked flatly. Jun-su nodded.
“Exactly.”
“But that alone won’t solve everything.”
“Of course not. But it’ll be the spark that sets everything off—and it’s the most effective move we’ve got.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. Tae-oh gave a single nod himself before turning to Yu-hyun.
“How far did you get with the Production Director?”
“If Chi-yu had pressed the recording beam, it would’ve gone straight to the PD’s phone. He was ready to air it as an emergency broadcast during PairBorn. But since Chi-yu couldn’t record, that’s out. So how should we release it now?”
Yu-hyun mentioned the recording beam footage a fan had secretly sent him.
Jun-su agreed—if they had that video, no further explanation would even be necessary.
“Can we actually leak that?”
Tae-oh asked Yu-hyun.
Scratching his forehead awkwardly, Yu-hyun admitted,
“That’s what worries me. My fan risked everything just to record it. Us watching it privately is one thing, but broadcasting it worldwide is another matter. People will demand to know who filmed it, and if something happens to them because of it… that’s on us.”
“Wouldn’t it actually work in their favor? Once it’s out, everyone will see that the Central Bureau and the Institute are the villains here.”
Jun-hyung pointed out. Do-il and Do-jae both nodded in agreement.
“Right. Once it goes public, the Bureau and the Institute will be too busy scrambling to cover it up.”
Do-il added, and Do-jae followed,
“If you’re worried about retaliation, we could put the fan under protection for a while.”
“Exactly. We can look after them.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Yu-hyun pulled out his phone. He’d ask his fan directly.
***
“How are we supposed to subdue Esper Hyun Tae-oh and bring back Guide Kang Chi-yu?!”
“So we’re just supposed to sit here and do nothing?!”
“If the World Peace Committee finds out about this, we’re finished! Did you really tell Hyun Tae-oh the truth knowing that?!”
“What exactly is your plan now?!”
The conference room erupted in shouting around the circular table.
If they couldn’t extract Chi-yu’s ability and fuse it into the mutant beast’s core, then there was no reason to make Ridune lay eggs at all.
What use was a beast that went into a rampage the moment it hatched, exploding like a bomb?
Every executive around the table looked tense, their expressions sharp with fear of losing their investment. Some had poured as much as ninety percent of their wealth into this, lured by promises of tenfold returns.
This was no minor setback—it was catastrophic.
“What if we request aid from SS-rank Espers overseas? No way just one Hyun Tae-oh could withstand two SS-ranks at once.”
“On what grounds could we possibly make that request?”
“Grounds? We can fabricate whatever we need!”
But the Bureau Chief, who had been silently listening, slowly shook his head.
“SS-ranks have their own private network. If we request aid, they’ll contact Tae-oh directly first, hear his side, and then act. They’re not going to blindly attack another SS-rank on our say-so.”
The room fell into frustrated sighs and groans.
“Then what are we supposed to do about this?”
“At the very least, shouldn’t we get our principal back?”
Someone muttered nervously. The words fell like a bucket of cold water, silencing the room.
The Bureau Chief was growing uneasy. At this rate, not only would their research fail to reach completion, even the very purpose of creating mutant beasts was unraveling.
All they needed was Chi-yu’s ability. But with Tae-oh standing guard and refusing to give him up, it was driving them insane.
They had considered mobilizing every Esper in the Bureau and the Association to subdue Tae-oh and snatch Chi-yu—but creating seven more Espers on par with the strongest in their nation was an impossible task.
“You took our money on the promise this could be done. You owe us responsibility.”
“That’s right. If you lured us with talk of massive returns and took our money, you should be accountable.”
“We invested because it’s better to make beasts our enemies than Ability Users. But if things are collapsing from the start…”
As the executives pressed in, the BGNK station director—who had sat silent until now—slammed the table with his palm.
“Enough whining! Let’s think of an alternative! Or are you just going to sit here and watch our money go up in smoke?!”
***
They had planned to expose everything using the fan’s recording beam footage, but the attempt was blocked by the BGNK station director, who was aligned with the Central Bureau.
As soon as PairBorn tried to air the special broadcast, he cut the feed.
Fortunately, the Production Director of PairBorn stood with the civilians. He had already anticipated interference from above, so without hesitation, he immediately replaced the cut broadcast with a breaking news alert and pushed it through.
Even if the station lost power, Espers had already set up linked frequencies to ensure TV signals would still go through.
Had the PD sided with the station director, the entire plan would’ve collapsed. But thankfully, he was a man of principle.
When Yu-hyun explained what had happened, the PD had been horrified to discover that the Central Bureau he trusted was behind such atrocities. He declared that such a thing must never be allowed to exist, and that the entire world needed to know.
Thanks to him, the fan’s footage aired as an emergency broadcast on BGNK, revealed to the world.
Executives of the Central Bureau, the Esper Association, the Institute, heads of broadcasting stations, even national assembly members—every last high-ranking figure was implicated.
The breaking news sparked outrage among civilians and Espers alike, throwing the nation into chaos.
The Bureau Chief scrambled to prevent the footage from reaching the World Peace Committee, but before he could act, Ability Users had already sent it over.
The Committee immediately contacted the government. But since not a single high-ranking executive was untouched by the beast-creation project, they were forced to reach out directly to Hyun Tae-oh.
In a video call, the Committee’s supreme chair ordered Tae-oh to shut down all experiments and destroy every trace of the beast-creation research. They also demanded the resignation of every executive involved.
With so many of the nation’s elite implicated, this was the cleanest and least chaotic solution.
This wasn’t just a national scandal—it was a global threat. The World Peace Committee took charge, and under their pressure, the Bureau Chief and the rest of the executives resigned.
In the blink of an eye, most of the nation’s upper echelon was gone.
Tae-oh, together with Do-jae, Do-il, and the majority of Espers who shared their conviction, torched every test tube and research file inside the Institute.
They rescued the animals trapped in the test chambers—creatures like Catdog—and brought them to Jun-su’s house.
Dogs, cats, owls, alpacas—the variety was staggering.
When Jun-su returned home after performing emergency surgeries at the Esper ward, he nearly fainted at the sight of the ever-growing number of animals in his house.
“What the hell is all this?!”
Right then, Tae-oh teleported in, a penguin tucked in his arms.
“Oh, you’re back?”
“‘Back’? What the hell is all this?!”
“They’re the ones from the N Building test chambers. Look after them, will you?”
Jun-su’s plan—to collapse on the couch with a cold beer and sleep off the exhaustion—vanished instantly.
The couch he should have been sprawled across was already occupied by a dog, a cat, an owl, and an alpaca, all dozing peacefully together.
Jun-su turned toward Tae-oh, then at the penguin in his arms, and asked in a voice trembling with suppressed fury,
“Do I look like a goddamn veterinarian to you…?”
His tone was sharp, but there was something pitifully sorrowful in it, too. Unbothered, Tae-oh placed the anesthetized penguin into Jun-su’s arms.
“So what? You’re still a doctor, aren’t you?”
And just like that, he vanished.
Jun-su stared down at the sleeping penguin for a long while. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he tilted his head back and roared at the ceiling,
“Does being a vet and being an Esper physician sound the same to you, you lunatic?!?!”
