Hyun Tae-oh had loudly insisted that he wasn’t a veterinarian, but the truth was, Myung Jun-su knew quite a bit about animals. That was because, when his childhood dog had suddenly fallen seriously ill, he’d turned to veterinary studies in desperation. Still, he wasn’t qualified to treat animals professionally, so when Tae-oh suddenly showed up at his house with a group of laboratory animals in tow, Jun-su could only find the situation absurd.
That day, Jun-su had come home after completing a grueling eight-hour surgery, hoping to savor four hours of precious rest. On his way back, he had already envisioned the rarest kind of luxury in his hectic life—sprawling on the sofa with a cold can of beer and letting himself relax. But instead of being sprawled across his sofa, beer in hand, he found several unfamiliar animals fast asleep there in a row And not just ordinary animals, but pitiful creatures already halfway transformed into Mutant Beasts through cruel experiments.
With a heavy sigh, Jun-su carefully laid a penguin down beside an alpaca, then began examining each animal one by one. After checking all five thoroughly, he decided to attempt treatment on the owl—the one that seemed to be resisting the beastification process the most. No veterinarian alive could properly treat an owl that had already begun to mutate. So the best option was to handle it himself.
Jun-su was the type who poured everything he had into ensuring that nothing—human or animal—died once it was placed in his care.
***
When live news footage revealed the inside of N Building, the laboratory’s Director immediately gathered his research and fled. But he didn’t get far before Beom Do-il blocked his path, and in that moment, the Director was forced to watch his life’s work slip away.
Hyun Tae-oh had already predicted this—that the Director would try to escape with both the data and the most critical results. So before the incident even began, he’d instructed Do-il to keep an eye on him. Sure enough, as soon as chaos broke out, the Director attempted to flee with his research papers and the heart of the Mutant Beast specimen.
Do-il struck when the car hit the highway, binding its tires with water-attribute ability and stepping in front of it.
“Move!”
The Director shouted, slamming the accelerator.
But his opponent was an Esper. The urge to run him down was strong, but the man had no power against supernatural force.
Do-il yanked open the passenger door, seizing both the documents and the beast’s heart. The Director fought desperately to protect the heart, but no ordinary man could overpower an Esper. Robbed of both, he tried to force open the driver’s door, but a mass of water sealed it shut, trapping him inside.
Do-il pressed his earpiece.
“Got him. Just like you said—he was trying to run with the data and the specimen.”
– Destroy it all. You can record with your video beam, right? The World Peace Committee will want proof it’s been completely eliminated.
It was Tae-oh’s voice.
At his order, Do-il gave a short nod, ended the call, and tapped the video beam hanging from his neck to begin recording. He glanced at the Director and said with a grin:
“Wanna see something neat?”
He lifted the documents and the beast’s heart into the air.
“No! Don’t!” the Director screamed, thrashing against the door. “Do you know what that is?! It’s my life’s work—our greatest achievement—!”
“Great achievement, my ass.”
With a scowl, Do-il summoned a whirling torrent of water that swallowed the papers and the heart whole. Inside the vortex, they dissolved into pathetic scraps, no better than soggy tissue.
The color drained from the Director’s face. That was the fruit of decades of research, priceless beyond measure. With that alone, the lab, the Central Bureau—even the entire nation—could have soared to power and wealth. And yet, that treasure was being reduced to worthless pulp.
No—it already was pulp.
The Director’s body shook violently. The sheer amount of Ridune used to create that heart was staggering, impossible even to calculate. And it had just been destroyed by a mere A-rank Esper.
If only he’d thought to shield it with an ability barrier. But he hadn’t anticipated this, and so he was helpless. At least he had saved the method of creation separately on a USB. That was some comfort. Perhaps no one in this country would sponsor such research again, but if not here, surely some other nation would.
In the long run, his work was indispensable to Ability Users everywhere.
Yes, Kang Chi-yu’s power was required—and that was a problem. But even if Tae-oh and Chi-yu clung to each other like lovers, no relationship lasted forever. And even if it did, sooner or later Tae-oh would neglect him. They could secure Chi-yu’s ability then.
The Director reassured himself that saving everything on a USB had been the right precaution—even if he’d never imagined things would come to this.
Without realizing it, his hand pressed against his pocket, feeling the USB, as he glared at Do-il.
But then—
“Well, that’s done.”
Do-il casually washed away the shredded remains with water and began walking toward the driver’s seat.
The Director tensed, fully aware of the USB in his pocket, and barked at him.
“Wh-what are you doing?!”
“There’s still one left, isn’t there?”
Do-il smiled brightly.
“W-what?! What’s left—?!”
It happened in an instant. The moment the driver’s door cracked open, a thin jet of water slipped inside, darted into the Director’s pocket, and snatched out the USB. It flew straight into Do-il’s hand.
“No! Not that—!”
Do-il pinched the USB between his fingers, glanced at the Director as he lunged forward, and pressed down.
Crunch.
The USB crumpled flat.
“Y-you lunatic!”
The Director lunged wildly, but Do-il easily subdued him with a whip of water and pressed his earpiece again.
“Mission ‘All’ clear.”
He exaggerated the word All playfully, as though clearing a stage in a game.
“You insane Esper bastard!!!” the Director shrieked, veins bulging in his neck.
“Yeah. What, you crazy bastard?”
“W-what did you say?!”
“Guess you’ve gone deaf after burying yourself in research all these years. So why the hell were you screwing around with that kind of shit in the first place, Director?”
“Y-you—you—!!”
“Oh, right. My mistake.” Do-il pressed a finger to his lips in mock apology. “You’re not a Director anymore, are you? Just an old man.”
Bound tight in coils of water, the Director roared in fury, thrashing until Do-il lazily twirled his finger. The water wound around him like rope, binding him even tighter before lifting him into the air.
The man cursed and screamed until the moment Do-il teleported them both away.
***
Having rescued all the laboratory animals and relocated them to Myung Jun-su’s home, Hyun Tae-oh and Yoon Do-jae joined forces with Central Bureau Espers to shatter every test tube in the N Building. They destroyed everything to ensure the experiments could never be repeated. They even raided the researchers’ homes and private labs, erasing all data on Mutant Beast creation.
The World Peace Committee passed laws forbidding any future attempts to create Mutant Beasts or deliberately open Gates.
All of the country’s leadership was replaced, with new officials chosen strictly through voting.
The revelation that not only the Central Bureau and the Association, but even research labs and broadcasting stations had been complicit had left the public reeling. Civilians and Ability Users alike cast their votes with extreme caution.
There were no flashy campaigns, no TV appeals begging for support. People voted solely on the candidates’ past actions, their integrity, and their character.
Tae-oh and his comrades voted just as carefully.
But perhaps that caution had its own unintended consequences.
Somehow, Myung Jun-su—the top doctor in the Central Bureau Esper Ward—ended up as the new Director of the RISG laboratory.
When asked who might replace the ousted Director, Tae-oh had merely mentioned in passing that Professor Myung had provided invaluable help, and still did. That single comment was broadcast nationwide, and before long, Jun-su was installed in the position.
Jun-su exploded, protesting that he was a doctor, not a researcher. But Tae-oh only smiled and said
“Then from now on you can just focus on research.” The words sent Jun-su’s blood pressure through the roof.
Some RISG researchers balked at having a doctor as their Director. But when they saw the teleport coordinates for N Building that Jun-su had created in a matter of days, the telepathy-blocking method he devised, and his treatment records of the owl that had resisted beastification despite repeated attempts, they were forced to recognize his ability.
The Esper Ward, however, refused to let him go, sparking a tug-of-war between the two sides over Jun-su’s future.
In the end, Jun-su was forced to propose a compromise. He would train apprentices in the Esper Ward, passing on his expertise in complex and dangerous surgeries, while appointing RISG’s most senior and skilled researcher to share his title at the lab.
Thus, the lab ended up with two Directors, and the Esper Ward gained doctors who could inherit Jun-su’s surgical skills.
Of course, this arrangement all but guaranteed his life would become busier than ever. But the decision had been made, and since the position had come through a national vote, he couldn’t refuse. He resolved to accept it as fate.
The life of a genius was nothing if not exhausting.
***
Ahn Byeong-mun, forced to step down as Bureau Chief, grew uneasy when he saw how quickly new leadership filled the vacuum. As soon as he resigned, he conspired with several Central Bureau Espers to slip out of the country. As Espers, they could keep their coordinates hidden and escape quietly.
While preparing, he received a message from RISG’s senior researcher. The man claimed to have a USB containing all the N-Zone research data and begged to be taken along.
After the Director had lost everything, that USB was as precious as a lifeline. With it, there would surely be nations eager to purchase the research.
Byeong-mun agreed readily. But greed has no end.
Once he had the chance to reclaim the research, he realized the project’s final step still required Kang Chi-yu’s ability.
Of course, in the current situation, asking for help in extracting Chi-yu’s power was impossible. And yet, the senior researcher’s words carried a dangerous temptation.
“There is a way to extract Guide Kang Chi-yu’s ability without bringing him into the lab. But it was abandoned because it couldn’t guarantee Guide Kang Chi-yu’s survival.”
At those words, Byeong-mun’s eyes flashed cold.
