“Did you talk things through with Guide Sung Ji-yeol?”
Chi-yu asked as Tae-oh slid into the chair beside him.
Tae-oh gave a curt nod, meeting his gaze.
“That bastard kept spewing so much crap I just threatened him and left.”
“Why does he keep hovering around you, Chi-yu?”
Jun-hyung frowned in irritation, and Beom Do-il immediately agreed.
“Yeah. What’s an Anti Club operator doing always sniffing around? Gives me the creeps.”
“What exactly did he say…?”
Chi-yu pressed. Instead of answering, Tae-oh leaned in and brushed a quick kiss against his lips.
“Hey—!”
“Ugh, seriously.”
“Cut it out, you’re killing my appetite.”
“……”
Beom Do-il, Min Yu-hyun, and Jun-hyung all grimaced at once, muttering complaints, while Yoon Do-jae quickly smoothed over the fleeting bitter look on his face and focused on feeding the Catdog.
He understood what was going on, but watching such blatant affection was still tough. After all, he still liked Chi-yu enough to cling to his doll and refuse to hand it over to Tae-oh.
“What were you doing earlier?”
Tae-oh caught Chi-yu’s hand as he tried to push him away.
Chi-yu glanced at Tae-oh, who playfully nibbled at his fingers, and explained about the interview—and how Catdog had healed so fast it was soon fluttering around him again.
Tae-oh nodded, lifted his fork, speared a piece of meat from Chi-yu’s plate, and held it out. Chi-yu ate it, then naturally offered Tae-oh a bite of his own.
“So, what did Guide Sung Ji-yeol actually say?”
Chi-yu pressed again, knowing Tae-oh wouldn’t answer otherwise. Tae-oh chewed slowly, eyes fixed on him.
“Yeah, spill it. I want to know why that guy called you out,” Jun-hyung added.
Only after swallowing did Tae-oh finally reply.
“He said if I met him ten times for two hours each, he’d keep his mouth shut.”
“What!?”
Jun-hyung’s face contorted in outrage.
Yu-hyun clicked his tongue, while Chi-yu stared silently at his plate.
He’d intervened instinctively, sensing right away that Sung Ji-yeol was aiming for Tae-oh. And, as expected, he’d been right. Maybe that’s why Tae-oh insisted on meeting him in Chi-yu’s presence—because he knew exactly where things were headed.
No matter how narrow-minded Tae-oh could be, he wouldn’t have bristled if Sung Ji-yeol hadn’t shown obvious intent.
Feeling irritation boil up, Chi-yu stabbed at the vegetables on his plate.
“So what did you say to him?”
Jun-hyung asked. Tae-oh’s brows furrowed.
“Are you insane?”
“What if he actually talks?”
Yu-hyun asked worriedly. Chi-yu immediately turned to Tae-oh.
Tae-oh stroked his cheek with his thumb.
“Even if he does, it’s fine.”
“No. If the Marking issue gets reported upstairs, you’ll be the one who ends up trapped.”
Yu-hyun argued, frustration in his voice.
Tae-oh shook his head.
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t matter.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Yu-hyun scowled at the evasive answer. Tae-oh’s expression turned serious.
“The N Building?”
“…Just like you thought. They were manufacturing mutant beasts.”
As if waiting for the question, Yu-hyun pulled a small projector from his pocket and set it on the table. A glowing blue orb appeared, drawing every eye. It flared bright and began replaying a video.
From the way the camera passed through N-Zone’s elaborate security without hesitation, it was clear Yu-hyun hadn’t been the one holding it.
“Who is that?”
Do-jae asked.
Yu-hyun shrugged.
“My fan.”
Everyone stared at him, then turned their eyes back to the projection in unison.
The infiltrator presented an access card to the receptionist. After a swipe, the heavy gray door slid open.
Nodding politely to the staffer, the camera moved deeper inside, panning slowly as though documenting everything.
Dozens of massive test tubes filled the lab. Around eight researchers bustled among them. Inside the tubes floated unmistakable mutant beasts.
Yu-hyun and Tae-oh realized in that moment: all those times they had secretly disposed of unregistered mutants and collected samples under the pretext of state secrecy—it had all been feeding this research.
The longer they watched, the grimmer their faces became. But when the camera turned to the rows of smaller test tubes at the back, all color drained away.
Inside were animals eerily similar to Catdog. Dogs, cats, squirrels, rabbits— Even owls and parrots.
One tube stood empty, marked with the number 39.
No one needed to say it. They all knew that was where Catdog had been kept.
Catdog, who had been happily eating from Do-jae’s hand, suddenly bolted into Chi-yu’s arms, trembling violently.
Chi-yu hugged it tight, stroking its back to soothe it.
“Those bastards…”
Beom Do-il muttered, glancing between the projection and the quivering creature.
“Why would they do something like this…?”
Do-jae whispered, shocked.
Yu-hyun answered flatly.
“The exact reason? Only the Bureau Chief, the Association President, and a few executives probably know. But according to the lab staff, it’s for the preservation of Espers and Guides.”
“Preservation?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Do-jae and Jun-hyung both demanded.
Yu-hyun explained what his fan had uncovered.
“You’ve all noticed how Gates have been opening less frequently, right?”
Do-jae nodded.
“Yeah. Hardly any appear these days.”
Chi-yu and Jun-hyung agreed, and Yu-hyun went on.
“Not only that. The beast populations in habitats are steadily declining. Compare the workload from a few years ago to now—the number of exterminations has dropped drastically.”
Do-jae and Do-il nodded grimly. Tae-oh just toyed with Chi-yu’s ear, silent.
“My guess is, if Gates vanish completely, the Central Bureau and the Association will be out of work. Maybe that’s what they’re afraid of.”
“You’re saying they made beasts just because Gates stopped opening?”
Do-il asked incredulously.
Yu-hyun shook his head.
“Not because Gates stopped. More because beast numbers are dwindling overall.”
“How’s that any different?”
“It is. It means they’re trying to secure a steady environment where Ability Users can keep working.”
“……”
“If habitats shrink and Gates stop opening, Espers and Guides will have nothing left to do.”
“That’s ridiculous. If we’re not needed here, we can just help other countries.”
Do-il scoffed.
Yu-hyun countered,
“True. But I checked. Globally, Gate openings have dropped thirty percent compared to three years ago.”
“……”
“So it’s not just our country.”
“Then other nations are making beasts too?”
“Not sure. Honestly, few countries have research facilities as advanced as ours. And nations without SS-rank Espers are required by law to report all experiments to the World Peace Committee. They probably can’t pull this off openly. Of course, if they really wanted to, they could run secret projects—but it’s much harder than here, since we don’t report to the Committee at all.”
“Yeah. With Hyun Tae-oh, everything our lab does is automatically classified.”
Yu-hyun nodded.
“Exactly. Tae-oh’s research is the most tightly guarded national secret.”
“So this is all because of him.”
Do-il pouted. Tae-oh raised an eyebrow.
“What did I do.”
“Anyway, fine. But why use animals? Do they need some kind of host to make a beast?”
Jun-hyung asked.
Yu-hyun shook his head.
“From handling confidential disposal jobs with Tae-oh, I realized—mutants are being made from the samples we collected and from Ridune. Every disposal job included sample collection.”
“Ahh…”
“And using animals…”
Yu-hyun’s eyes slid to Chi-yu.
Tae-oh’s hand, which had been fiddling with Chi-yu’s ear, stilled.
“It’s probably because of Kang Chi-yu.”
Everyone’s eyes widened—except Tae-oh’s. He remained calm, gently rubbing Chi-yu’s shoulder as if to reassure him.
“What do you mean? Because of Guide Kang Chi-yu?”
Do-jae asked, serious.
“The higher-ups have been trying to extract his ability for a while now. Everyone knows that.”
“They created Catdog to steal his Rampage Recovery?”
Jun-hyung said quickly. Do-il and Do-jae’s eyes went wide.
Yu-hyun nodded.
“I don’t know the exact method. But my fan said those creatures were test subjects made for that purpose. They wouldn’t explain why Rampage Recovery was so vital, but I think the experiments keep failing because the subjects rampage out of control. That’s why they need Chi-yu’s ability.”
Chi-yu looked down at the trembling Catdog in his arms.
Everyone—Tae-oh, Do-jae, Jun-hyung, Do-il, and Yu-hyun—followed his gaze.
“…They made it just to steal my power…?”
Chi-yu whispered.
Yu-hyun quickly added,
“It’s not certain. Even the lab staff don’t know everything. The only sure way to confirm would be to ask the Bureau Chief.”
“As if he’d ever tell us.”
“Exactly. Anyway, that’s all I’ve got.”
Yu-hyun shut off the projector and tossed it to Tae-oh, who caught it one-handed.
“Keep it. That’s solid evidence, and I’d just risk having it confiscated.”
Tae-oh nodded, summoned his Cube, and stored it with his gloves before dismissing it again.
Yu-hyun asked at once,
“So what now?”
“…Not sure.”
Tae-oh toyed with Chi-yu’s ear again.
“This is insane. The World Peace Committee needs to know about it.”
Do-jae burst out, exasperated by Tae-oh’s detached tone despite the enormity of it all.
Jun-hyung and Do-il nodded in agreement, while Chi-yu looked up at Tae-oh and said they couldn’t just let it slide.
Tae-oh gave a small nod.
“Yeah. Normally, I couldn’t care less what they’re up to, as long as they don’t touch you. But since this involves both you and the Catdog, I’ll make sure it’s dealt with.”
Yu-hyun folded his arms, muttering uneasily,
“But if the higher-ups don’t plan things like this, we might end up with beast depletion and lose our reputation and standing. I honestly don’t know which is worse.”
Do-jae’s brow furrowed at once.
“No one has the right to gamble with civilian lives for the sake of reputation or status. That’s a crime. Even the Central Bureau can’t just walk away from this.”
As expected of Yoon Do-jae.
