“Oh? And what exactly do you expect to gain from meeting me like this?”
Hyun Tae-oh asked again.
At his blunt question, Sung Ji-yeol’s face wavered for a moment, but he quickly gathered himself and replied with practiced ease.
“I figured the best answer would be that I just wanted to get closer to you.”
Tae-oh’s expression immediately soured. Even so, Ji-yeol kept his smile fixed in place, forcing it to remain light and friendly.
“I’ve always thought it’d be nice if we had a chance to talk. And now, the opportunity finally came along.”
Tae-oh’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp and dangerous.
Ji-yeol raised a hand quickly, waving it as if to smooth things over.
“Ah, don’t misunderstand. It’s not like I plan to pester you.”
A low chuckle slipped from Tae-oh’s lips.
“You already are.”
“This is a pretty minor request, though. Compared to me spilling your secret, isn’t this much easier?”
“Are you finished?”
“If you don’t accept my proposal, I’ll have no choice but to report everything I’ve seen and heard directly to the Association President.”
“Finished?”
Tae-oh repeated calmly.
That composure rattled Ji-yeol. He pressed his point again, reminding Tae-oh of the card he believed he was holding.
“I know the matter of the Marking would be a serious problem if it ever got out. Isn’t it something you want to keep hidden?”
“Finished?”
The repeated question unsettled him. Ji-yeol raked a hand through his hair, his irritation showing.
“Wasn’t the whole point of calling me out here to shut me up?”
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation, and Ji-yeol’s face froze.
“Then why…?”
“I just wanted to hear exactly what you were so desperate to say in private.”
“……”
“But I didn’t expect it to be such utter bullshit.”
“…I think you’re misunderstanding something. I never planned to stay quiet just because we—”
“Say it.”
Tae-oh cut him off, his voice flat.
“Go ahead. Spill everything you’ve seen and heard. Every last detail.”
“…!?…”
Tae-oh stood up.
Panicked, Ji-yeol scrambled to his feet as well.
“No! That’s not what I meant—I wasn’t actually going to—!”
The hand he reached out to grab Tae-oh stopped short in midair.
Because Tae-oh’s expression had turned glacial—cold enough to freeze him in place.
“Do whatever the hell you want. Just don’t ever show yourself again. If you cross paths with me or Kang Chi-yu one more time… I can’t guarantee what I’ll do, so take this as your warning.”
The blood drained from Ji-yeol’s face.
Before he could stammer another word, Tae-oh vanished in an instant, teleporting away.
Left pale and rigid, Ji-yeol finally exhaled a shaky breath, pressing his hand against his forehead.
Everything had gone wrong. Every single assumption he’d made had been off. It had all been a delusion.
Hyun Tae-oh didn’t care whether he talked or stayed silent.
No—more than that, even if it did matter, it wasn’t the kind of secret worth covering up by giving in to Ji-yeol’s demands.
His mistake had been thinking he’d finally gotten hold of real leverage and acting recklessly.
If only he’d stuck with his original plan—building a connection with Kang Chi-yu. That would’ve been far smarter. But now, with Tae-oh warning him never to appear before either of them again, even that was no longer an option.
Ji-yeol buried his face in both hands and let out a long, heavy sigh.
Everything was ruined. He’d already earned Tae-oh’s hatred, and there was no way to recover from that.
For someone like Hyun Tae-oh, crushing him would be effortless.
Ji-yeol let out another sigh, sinking into despair at a situation beyond repair.
***
“Why do you think Esper Yoon Do-jae ended up with the title ‘Central Bureau FM’?”
The Production Director posed the question.
Do-jae paused as if considering, then answered with his usual bluntness.
“I don’t know.”
It was such a typical Do-jae response that Beom Do-il couldn’t hold back.
“Say more. Longer.”
He nudged Do-jae’s arm with a whisper.
Do-jae cleared his throat, then added,
“I’m not entirely sure. But I think the nickname first came about not long after I joined—right after an Emergency Assembly. I followed the Central Bureau’s protocols to the letter instead of listening to my senior Esper. I didn’t want to break the rules. That’s probably when it stuck. I got scolded a lot for being too rigid.”
The Production Director and cast members chuckled quietly.
Min Yu-hyun and Lee Jun-hyung exchanged a look. They agreed—Do-jae really was inflexible.
He was the type who obeyed Bureau regulations down to the last word, even inefficient ones. So much so that it often frustrated his partners, which was why he’d been branded “the Central Bureau’s FM.”
“I see. Then, next—a question for Guide Lee Jun-hyung. In the past, you went through something… difficult, didn’t you?”
At those words, Jun-hyung, Do-il, and Kang Chi-yu all stiffened.
There could be no doubt what he meant: the death of Jun-hyung’s Imprinted partner.
It wasn’t exactly an out-of-line question. Jun-hyung had already spoken about Jeong Moo-young’s death in a previous broadcast interview. Still, the words landed heavily.
“Excuse me, Director.”
Do-il’s voice was sharp, his eyes narrowed. Clearly, the question didn’t sit well with him.
Jun-hyung reached over and placed a hand on Do-il’s arm, a silent reassurance that it was fine. Do-il held back, but the air grew icy.
“Ah, I didn’t mean to deliberately stir up old wounds. It’s just that the viewer boards are flooded with questions about the incident. We thought it might be better to address it properly. And since you’ve already spoken about it on other programs, we thought perhaps you’d be willing to again. Of course, if you decline, it won’t be aired.”
Jun-hyung stared silently at the glass of water before him.
The silence stretched. Everyone waited.
Do-il, still fuming, looked like he was about to speak when Jun-hyung finally broke the quiet. His tone was calm, almost detached.
“As the media reported at the time, it was an accident that should never have happened.”
His face was as steady as his voice.
“My Imprinted partner, S-rank Esper Jeong Moo-young of the Central Bureau’s First Division, was… a bit like Esper Yoon Do-jae. Inflexible. That day, Gates were erupting everywhere at once. Normally, Espers band together in teams for support, but that day, there simply weren’t enough.”
“……”
“Of course, the proper thing was to wait for Association backup. That was the official order, too.”
Jun-hyung lowered his eyes, his voice dropping softer.
“The rules back then were different. At the time, if no backup arrived within ten minutes, the regulation required you to hold the Gate alone. That rule was changed after Moo-young’s death.”
Do-il’s throat bobbed heavily.
“Moo-young… followed the rule. And he lost his life to a mutant beast.”
“…I heard you weren’t there with him at the time. Is that true?”
The Director’s voice was quieter now.
Jun-hyung nodded.
“Yes. I wasn’t there. So I couldn’t stop him.”
“……”
“Even if I had been, he still would’ve followed the rules.”
“…If it’s too painful, you don’t have to answer this next one. But—could you tell us why you didn’t go with him that day?”
At that, Jun-hyung’s face faltered faintly. It was clear he was fighting back tears.
He swallowed hard, struggling to look composed.
Another pause.
“We fought.”
His voice trembled faintly.
“It was nothing—just one of those trivial arguments couples often have.”
Tears welled up in his reddened eyes.
“I was angry. So I ignored the Emergency Assembly order.”
The tears spilled freely, streaking down his cheeks.
“That must have been unbearable…”
The PD sighed softly.
“When I heard he’d died, and when I was punished for ignoring the order… honestly, I thought it was all a lie.”
Suddenly, tears gushed uncontrollably. Even Jun-hyung himself looked shocked by their force.
Do-il quickly handed him tissues. Jun-hyng accepted with a strained, awkward smile.
“Ah… I thought I was fine. It’s been so long.”
He wiped his eyes, muttered, then let out a long sigh.
“…Well, that’s the story.”
The smile he forced carried nothing but sorrow.
Do-il knew then—Jun-hyung still hadn’t let go of Jeong Moo-young.
And he realized something else: now wasn’t the time to ask Jun-hyung to let someone else take that place beside him.
The words Jun-hyung had once told him echoed again:
Meet many people. Date. Experience real love. And if, after all that, you still choose me—it won’t be too late.
Only now did Do-il truly understand what he’d meant.
Jun-hyung had already loved someone whose very memory still pierced his chest. Not someone he had chosen to part from, but someone impossible to erase. Even after years, the wound still throbbed.
To talk about the future lightly, with someone who carried such a burden—maybe that was selfish.
His own feelings weren’t shallow, but to Jun-hyung, they might be.
Do-il believed he could accept Jun-hyung entirely, scars and all. But there was a difference between believing and actually doing. No one could know if they’d truly be able to bear it.
Right now, he felt certain his feelings would never change. But he had no experience—never loved anyone, never dated, never even confessed to anyone but Jun-hyung.
How could he be sure he’d never waver?
Jun-hyung had been right.
He needed to meet others, fall in love, even burn in passion if it came to that. And if, after all of that, he still chose Jun-hyung—that would be proof it was real.
Better than chasing after faint, fading feelings born of years of one-sided love. Better to live it, to burn through it all, and then be able to say with certainty: Even after this, it’s you.
That was the kind of answer Jun-hyung wanted.
Not the naive, inexperienced Do-il who had never even had a casual romance. But someone who had lived, who had loved others, and who still, at the end, could only choose Jun-hyung.
Do-il looked at him and thought—
Of two futures: One where he fell for someone else, maybe even wanted to Imprint, and realized in the end that what he’d felt was only friendship. And one where, after everything, he still knew it could only ever be Jun-hyung.
Whichever future it was, he believed he and Jun-hyung would be smiling together.
That was what he chose to believe.
***
Tae-oh returned to the dorm around dinner.
Catdog, now fully recovered, was happily eating in front of Yoon Do-jae.
Tae-oh shut off all the cameras in the dorm with his ability, while Min Yu-hyun excused the staff.
They claimed the cast needed to discuss appearing in the second half of A Pair is Born, but in truth, it was to talk about the Catdog and the research institute.
It was a cover story—because if all the cast disappeared together, the staff would get suspicious. Annoying, but necessary.
Yoon Do-jae checked carefully for any mics that might still be live.
