“Captain Seo! What’s going on?”
Lieutenant Colonel Jang Tae-san approached them, having just finished confirming the kills on the last of the β-creatures.
Seo Eui-woo shook his head in response. Then, he leaned in and whispered to Kwon Jae-jin.
“Jae-jin, you saw it too.”
His voice was strained—so unlike him that it was painful to hear.
“…Saw what?”
“Those bastards. They were aiming for me.”
“…Yeah.”
“For now… haah… We can’t trust anyone. We don’t know who gave them the order. I need to dig into their minds, pull the memories straight out. That’s why I left them alive in the first place.”
“…….”
“Just wait. As soon as I recover enough to use my telepathic abilities, I’ll—those five—”
Five.
The moment those words left Eui-woo’s lips, one of the bodyguards made his move.
Until now, he had remained hidden, holding back until the very last moment. He was the most cautious, the most meticulous of the six agents assigned to this mission by Brigadier General Oh.
And now, he attacked.
His psychic ability exploded outward, aiming straight for Eui-woo and Jae-jin, while his rifle fired off suppression shots.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The bullets struck with no time gap between them, accompanied by an overwhelming surge of telekinetic force.
An A-rank Esper—one with the same ability as Seo Eui-woo.
Eui-woo tried to throw up a barrier, but his powers hadn’t recovered yet. If he used his abilities now, he would cross the threshold—he would lose control.
Blood gushed from his nose and eyes. His damaged heart pounded out an erratic, broken rhythm. A fresh wave of dark stains spread up his throat.
His breath came out heavy and ragged, his body threatening to collapse.
Still, he tried to push back against the attack, clawing at what little strength he had left.
He tried.
But he was too late.
Because Kwon Jae-jin had already moved first.
Honed instinct screamed at him.
The culmination of endless battles, of countless brushes with death.
Jae-jin’s body knew what was about to happen before his mind could even process it.
Seo Eui-woo was going to lose control.
No—he would lose control.
And this was the last chance to stop it.
For some reason, at that moment, Kwon Jae-jin knew.
It wasn’t a simple hunch.
It was a revelation, an undeniable truth, a certainty woven into reality itself.
Maybe this was what Seo Eui-woo had meant when he spoke about resonance.
“Kuh—!”
Jae-jin stepped in front of Seo Eui-woo, taking the attack head-on.
The telekinetic force tore into his chest, followed immediately by the impact of a bullet.
If Seo Eui-woo lost control, it would become a disaster.
An A-rank Awakened going berserk was enough to wipe a small city off the map.
An S-rank losing control?
That would be a catastrophe beyond anything recorded in history.
But Kwon Jae-jin was a guide—one without the risk of going berserk.
The damage he took would end with him.
And even if he was injured, there was still the healing factor.
And even if he died—
“…Jae-jin?”
Seo Eui-woo stared at Jae-jin’s back.
The black combat uniform was torn, soaked through with something dark and wet.
Blood—deep red—cascaded from Jae-jin’s upper body, running all the way down his waist. His chest had been punctured by the telekinetic blast, the bullet embedding itself in the shredded flesh.
Seo Eui-woo’s gray eyes snapped wide.
“Jae-jin!”
He yanked his pistol from his holster and blew the bodyguard’s head apart in an instant.
Then, without hesitation, he grabbed a healing factor, cracking it open with shaking hands before jamming the injection into Jae-jin’s body.
Jae-jin’s legs gave out, and he collapsed limply into Seo Eui-woo’s arms.
The injuries were severe.
The front of his body was nearly unrecognizable—his uniform ripped to shreds, revealing raw, torn flesh.
The white glimpses between the mess of red—those were ribs.
“W-what… What the fuck, Jae-jin—what the hell were you thinking?!”
Seo Eui-woo ripped open another healing factor, hands trembling so violently he could barely hold it steady.
His face had gone deathly pale, his eyes flickering with panic.
Tears welled up in his eyes, mixing with the blood smeared across his face. Red streaks ran down his cheeks—like bloody tears.
“F-fuck, it hurts, right? Just—just hold on. You’ll heal, you’ll be fine—”
“I… I’m fine…”
“YOU ARE NOT FINE!”
Seo Eui-woo snapped, his voice breaking with rage.
His entire body shook with uncontrollable fury.
Lieutenant Colonel Jang Tae-san and the surrounding special forces soldiers gathered around, but Seo Eui-woo saw nothing except Kwon Jae-jin’s wounds.
“Never… never do this again. Please. I’m begging you… please…”
“…….”
“Fuck, why is the healing so goddamn slow… ugh…”
Tears streamed down Seo Eui-woo’s face.
Jae-jin’s body felt limp, drained of all strength. His arms and legs wouldn’t obey him, his weight kept sinking toward the ground. Seo Eui-woo tried to hold him up, but realizing the position might be painful, he carefully laid him down instead.
The healing factor was working—fast, but to Seo Eui-woo, it felt agonizingly slow. The torn flesh of Jae-jin’s upper body gradually stitched itself back together, new skin forming over gaping wounds, as if nothing had ever happened.
Safe. Unharmed.
But something was wrong.
Jae-jin’s complexion wasn’t improving—it was getting worse. Moments ago, his face had been deathly pale, and now it was turning ashen.
“What the hell…”
“…….”
“Jae-jin, why…? No, this isn’t right—”
The wounds were healing, but Jae-jin wasn’t coming back.
His face remained rigid, drained of all color, his eyes vacant, staring into nothing. His fingers trembled faintly, like someone wracked with a terminal illness.
His body was growing cold.
Hardening.
Stiffening.
As if in denial, Seo Eui-woo tore off his gloves and pressed his bare hand against Jae-jin’s exposed chest, over his rapidly healing skin.
Reaching for his core.
“The core is an Awakened’s most fatal weak point.”
“If the core shatters, death is instant.”
“Healing factors may be able to revive the heart—but they can never restore a broken core.”
“Mutants have small, unstable cores.”
“They are more fragile, prone to cracking under stress.”
“Functionally, there’s no issue. But compared to others, they have a much higher risk of dying.”
A faint, weak pulse flickered.
Fragile. Brittle.
Splintering, breaking apart, fading with each passing second.
A crack had formed in Jae-jin’s core.
And even now, in this very moment—it was still breaking.
Seo Eui-woo looked down at Jae-jin, his expression one of utter disbelief.
And in that instant, as soon as Jae-jin saw his face, he understood.
Even without an explanation—he knew exactly what had happened.
And what was about to.
Another ending was approaching.
The sky stretched far above—clear, endless. The blue deepened, then gradually turned white.
His body felt like it was plummeting downward, sinking into the depths, while something lighter—his consciousness, his soul—drifted upward toward the sky.
Memories flooded past him, a rapid, condensed blur—his life flashing before his eyes.
And among them, only one person mattered.
Seo Eui-woo.
His face appeared again and again, relentlessly, to the point of exhaustion.
Seo Eui-woo laughing. Seo Eui-woo crying. Seo Eui-woo sleeping. Seo Eui-woo angry. Annoyed, frustrated, exasperated—and unbearably endearing…
That sharp yet youthful face had always been so close to Kwon Jae-jin.
The affection that poured from him had always been so raw, so blatant.
They had clashed, they had broken, they had been tangled together in ways neither of them could escape.
They had hurt each other and yet burned for each other all the same.
At some point, life without Seo Eui-woo had become unimaginable.
There was too much of him—everywhere.
In the living room, in the kitchen, in the bedroom—always at Jae-jin’s side.
His voice, calling out to him, arms slipping around his waist—”Jae-jin,” “Jae-jin,” “I love you,” “I love you so much.”
Jae-jin had thought it was only natural.
That it would continue for a long, long time, endlessly, uncontrollably—that his life would be filled with nothing but Seo Eui-woo until the very end.
There was so much he had wanted to do. So much he had wanted to give. So much he had wanted to build together.
Driving. Drinking. Camping. Traveling.
Anniversaries. 100 days, 200 days, a full year.
It was silly. Childish, even.
But everything was a first for Seo Eui-woo.
And Jae-jin had wanted to indulge him, just once.
A cake, candles, a ridiculous celebration. Fireworks, something flashy, something noisy—some stupid event that would make him ridiculously happy.
He had thought about it.
“…Eui-woo.”
Jae-jin called his name, barely above a whisper.
But Seo Eui-woo wasn’t in the right state to hear him.
“No. No, this isn’t happening. I’ll—I’ll inject another healing factor.”
“Seo Eui-woo.”
“I can fix this. I can heal you. I’ll get you to the infirmary. Just hold on, I’ll teleport us—”
Jae-jin grabbed Seo Eui-woo’s arm and pulled.
With a strength no dying man should have had, he yanked him forward.
“Stop.”
His voice was unwavering, sharper than it had been at any other moment.
Just a second ago, he had sounded weak, like a dying breath—but now, it was clearer than ever.
Jae-jin lifted his head, bringing their faces close.
Close—just like they had always been.
Close enough to touch.
“I’m going to die soon.”
“I know because I’ve been here before.”
“…….”
“So listen carefully. We don’t have time.”
Seo Eui-woo had once said something.
“You, Jae-jin, have always thought of your own life as disposable.”
“You were always prepared to die. Again and again, in every situation. And you meant it every single time.”
Not every word had been right.
But some of it was.
Jae-jin had always lived close to death.
He had died before. He had attempted suicide. He had planned for it. He had made peace with it.
Not just once or twice.
Not out of impulse.
Kwon Jae-jin—the meticulous, calculating, impossibly stubborn Kwon Jae-jin—had thought about it, over and over.
And in the end, he had made his choice.
