“W-Woo-jun, you…”
The man stared blankly at Park Woo-jun, as if seeing a stranger. That icy, lifeless expression didn’t look like the son he thought he knew.
From the short conversation between Woo-jun and Lee Han-seo, he’d figured out that his son had learned quite a bit about his own origins. Still, he hadn’t worried much. After all, this was Park Woo-jun.
The boy who, no matter how unfairly he was treated or how cruel the world had been, could only curl up in a corner with hollow eyes and cry—that Park Woo-jun.
The child he hadn’t spared a glance for in over ten years had, somewhere along the line, grown up. His shoulders no longer slouched, and his gaze—clear and unflinching, as if he no longer craved even scraps of affection—looked exactly like his late brother’s. Maybe the old saying was right: the seed never lies.
“No matter how hurt you are, is that any way to speak to your father?!”
He shouted through clenched teeth, more out of stubborn pride than actual authority. Of course he was afraid. Logically, he knew now wasn’t the time to lash out—he should’ve been trying to placate Woo-jun, reel him back in.
“I’m not asking for you to bow and scrape, but really… Tsk. This is why you never raise a beast with black hair.”
But standing face to face with his son—who now looked like a ghost of his dead brother brought back to life—this was the best he could do to hold onto what little rationality he had left.
That older brother, born of the same womb but blessed with elegance and beauty so unlike his own, had always been a walking reminder of his inferiority.
That brother, who effortlessly snatched everything he secretly longed for with his sharp mind and handsome face, had filled him with constant, boiling jealousy.
He never dared show it while his brother was alive—he’d been too spineless for that.
But when he got the call that his brother had died… beneath the waves of sorrow, a small, quiet joy had bloomed in his chest.
And whenever he saw his nephew—his brother’s mirror image—being trampled under the weight of his own son, his heart raced with a sick, twisted thrill.
At first, he’d hated himself for it. But over time, even that disgust had faded. The way the boy—his son, his nephew, his brother’s reincarnation—would tremble and cling to him, begging for forgiveness at the slightest show of force… it gave him a thrill beyond words.
“Apologize. Now.”
“……”
“Apologize, and tell that bastard Lee Han-seo to clean up the mess he made. If you don’t—”
“If I don’t, what? What are you going to do?”
“If you don’t, then—!”
The mouth that had been running nonstop suddenly shut tight. Normally, his ever-obedient son would’ve backed down before he even got to this point.
And even on the rare occasion he needed to push further, all it took was a vague threat—no school trip money, no help with college tuition—and Woo-jun would shrink back and kneel, tail tucked between his legs.
“Why aren’t you saying anything now?”
“Euhhh…”
“You were so confident earlier. Talking about how you’d kick me out of the house, telling me to know my place.”
Woo-jun stepped forward and gave the man’s shoulder a light tap. The man, who’d been awkwardly half-standing out of his chair, collapsed like a house of cards and slammed into the backrest.
For a civilian of his size, he’d likely never experienced such a stark difference in strength. And finally, in his eyes—mixed with the simmering rage—real fear began to creep in.
Woo-jun, aware of the CCTV in the room, tilted his head slightly and lowered his voice.
“Sorry. I haven’t had a proper Guiding session lately, so my strength’s hard to control. You know, my Guide’s recovering from… an unfortunate incident.”
Killing this man right here would’ve been easier than breathing.
He knew his own strength better than anyone. Even without seeing it, he could imagine how much pain Lee Han-seo must’ve been in when he took that blow.
But Han-seo never told him about the meeting. Never mentioned being hit. He’d simply left the Center, quietly, and gone to see his father.
And Park Woo-jun understood exactly what that meant. He couldn’t ignore that kind of choice—not from Han-seo.
He lowered himself, face-to-face with his trembling father, and whispered:
“I’ll say this once. So listen up.”
“……”
“The pathetic loser you used to call your son? He’s gone.”
“W-Woo-jun, please… I—I was wrong. We—we were all wrong…”
As his father’s hand shook pitifully, Woo-jun grabbed it and sealed the air around his nose and mouth. In less than a few seconds, the man’s eyes rolled back, his body convulsing as he gasped and choked.
He stood perfectly in the CCTV’s blind spot. No evidence. No trace.
Then, just as smoothly, he let go and straightened up.
“The clueless little kid who didn’t even know how to pay taxes? He froze to death when the heater broke in the middle of winter. Or wait… maybe it was during break, when the water got shut off and he couldn’t drink a drop for two days. Maybe he starved to death then.”
“Heuhhk… khh… kuh…”
“Don’t touch Lee Han-seo. Don’t show up uninvited, don’t call, and don’t even think about bothering him. Whatever he decides, take it without complaint. Understood?”
Even while wheezing for breath, the man nodded frantically. The sight of him—pathetic, broken, and desperate—was almost too pitiful to witness alone.
“Try laying a hand on him one more time, just once… I won’t be able to promise what I’ll do.”
Each word came out low and sharp, loaded with weight. His piercing glare was like a blade, stripping the last shred of dignity from the man before him.
And then, right after cutting him down to his bones, Park Woo-jun smiled. Standing calmly in the middle of the interrogation room, he smiled so sweetly it was almost tender. The way his eyes crinkled as he grinned—it looked so warm. So kind.
“I hope we never meet again. Please make sure to pass that on to Mom and Hyung too.”
His father couldn’t even respond. He just blinked rapidly, bobbing his head up and down like a broken doll.
“Good. I’m not exactly eager to go to prison for killing a family member. Not that I’d care about the sentence, really… but Han-seo would be upset.”
The door to the interrogation room felt strangely heavy as he pushed it open. Outside, the prosecutor looked like he’d aged ten years in the time they’d been apart, sighing heavily.
“What did you do, Team Leader Park? You didn’t actually hit him, did you?”
“Of course not. I’m not that reckless. There won’t be anything on the footage—just blur the audio a bit. You can manage that much, right, Prosecutor?”
“…God. My only crime was choosing the wrong friend. That’s what got me here.”
“Just tell my father and Han-seo that I don’t know anything. Let’s keep our stories straight.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now get lost—and don’t come back.”
“Sure. Next time, I’ll treat you to a nice meal somewhere.”
With one last polite bow to the prosecutor—who visibly shuddered—Woo-jun finally turned and started walking toward the dorm. It had been, compared to usual, a simple and easy task. And yet the way back felt endless.
***
Ding-dong.
“Whoa, you’re still up?”
It was nearly 2 a.m. when Lee Han-seo came through the door, grinning from ear to ear with a perfectly bright face.
Park Woo-jun, who’d been sitting on the couch like a statue, blinked slowly. At last, some life returned to his expression.
“I couldn’t sleep without you.”
“Aigoo, my hopeless baby. You really can’t live without me, can you? Come here, let me check your Guiding state first.”
Even after receiving treatment from a Healing Esper, which would’ve left his insides a mess, Han-seo didn’t show a hint of discomfort. He immediately went to check on Woo-jun.
Less than an hour had passed since the Healing Espers returned. Han-seo must’ve rushed straight to the medical unit, grabbed the first available Esper for treatment, and come right back.
It had been his right cheek that took the hit. His skin still shone flawless and smooth like always, but Woo-jun couldn’t help the wave of guilt washing over him. Using the Guiding check as an excuse, he leaned in and pressed his lips again and again to Han-seo’s right cheek.
“…How’s your mom?”
He knew it was just a flimsy excuse for conversation, but decided to play along anyway. When Woo-jun asked in a husky voice, Han-seo blinked as if just remembering.
“Oh—right. Yeah, she’s okay. I think she just overworked herself a bit. She’s doing better now that she’s resting.”
“You must’ve been worried.”
“Mhm. Yeah, a little.”
“…Are you okay?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
That radiant smile made something inside him twist hard. It wasn’t something he’d thought often—not since he met Lee Han-seo—but maybe… maybe things really would’ve been better if he’d never been born.
To hide the sudden sting behind his eyes, Woo-jun bent forward and buried his face in Han-seo’s chest, curling his shoulders in.
“Aww, look at you. You missed me a lot, didn’t you?”
“…Yeah.”
“Hehe, you’re like a baby. So cute.”
Han-seo… because of me. Because of someone like me… you had to suffer again.
It was always him. Park Woo-jun. The one stain marring someone as brilliant and beautiful as Lee Han-seo.
“I missed my baby so much too.”
And yet… the most shameful part wasn’t that he knew he was that stain.
It was that he had no intention of ever leaving his side.
