Chapter 22: The Master of His Own Maze

“You didn’t get lost and found your way here just fine, didn’t you?”

The moment he stopped in front of the building, Seonghye had turned around and slung an arm around his shoulder as if they were old friends. Jung-sik had been stunned. As far as he knew, Seonghye wasn’t supposed to know he even existed. The entire premise of his job—tracking Seonghye and erasing his trails—depended on that anonymity.

“I’ve only been here a few times, so even I get confused. Have you been inside? It’s even more of a maze in there.”

It was the third year of his life as a shadow secretary/bodyguard, a path he had never planned for.

“Don’t look so shocked. …Did you really think I wouldn’t know? I’m not exactly a pushover.”

His existence had been laid bare to the one person who was never supposed to find out. As a panicked Jung-sik reflexively reached into his pocket for his phone, Seonghye’s long fingers tapped him mockingly on the forehead.

“Stop the bullshit. What, are you calling the police? Or Secretary Choi? Choose wisely. Do you think they’ll get here faster, or do you think I can drag you inside and finish you off before anyone’s the wiser?”

There was nothing but irritation in the rasp of Seonghye’s voice. Facing this version of the man—completely different from the polite, well-dressed, exemplary model student he usually pretended to be—Jung-sik was rendered speechless.

“Don’t follow me inside. Stay here and wait. Let’s see if you’re good at following orders.”

The grip on Jung-sik’s shoulder was so tight he couldn’t help but let out a groan. Seonghye chuckled at the sight and vanished into the building. Jung-sik’s knees buckled the moment he was alone. He collapsed onto the stairs, staring at the commercial building with a look of utter bewilderment.

…Since when did he know?

Jung-sik bit his lip, looking back and forth between his phone and the derelict building. He thought of Secretary Choi, who had told him to call if anything happened. His thick fingers hovered over the green call button, but he hesitated. The building, now dark after Seonghye’s entrance, gave off an eerie vibe, and Jung-sik’s eyes filled with an inexplicable anxiety.

He didn’t make the call. When Seonghye finally emerged much later and saw Jung-sik still sitting on the steps, he let out a satisfied laugh.

By the next morning, Jung-sik was still shaken as he followed Seonghye on his morning walk. Seonghye stopped, turned back, and said something even more outrageous.

“You’re a bit slow today. Were you that surprised yesterday?”

“…Since… when…?”

“Since three years ago. Oh, and.”

“…….”

“Forget what you saw yesterday. It only happened because you were following me without any discretion.”

Jung-sik had thought his career as a secretary was over, but surprisingly, he wasn’t fired. Instead, he was officially hired by Seoil Shielders, a subsidiary of the group, which at least meant he didn’t have to worry about being “disposed of” secretly.

However, in the six months that followed, Seonghye’s safety was compromised several times, and Jung-sik felt the metaphorical blade at his throat more than once. Surviving those near-death hurdles had turned him into a man who didn’t blink at much.

That remained true in this moment.

“I’ll contact you before I come next time. You go in and rest,” Jung-sik said, turning to open his car door.

Losing his memory? That was nothing. Compared to what Seonghye had been through, it wasn’t even that shocking.

But then—

CRACK! SMASH!

A violent, ear-splitting sound erupted right beside him. Jung-sik reflexively covered his head and jumped back, cursing under his breath. The sound of something being crushed and destroyed continued in rapid succession.

When he looked up, his face contorted in shock.

“What—what are you doing?!”

Seonghye was there, his face completely expressionless, smashing something against the car window. When Seonghye opened his palm, a cracked miniature camera and a fountain-pen-shaped recorder fell to the ground, emitting a faint, dying beep.

“Does my father know you’re doing this, Manager Park?”

The machines were crushed under Seonghye’s foot with a sickening crunch. With his hands shoved in his pockets, Seonghye looked down at the wreckage and muttered coldly:

“Crawling into someone’s room and doing this….”

Jung-sik’s face went rigid. Those were the cameras and recorders he had ordered his staff to install while Seonghye and Yunhwan were at the hospital. He had put them there as a precaution, but he never expected them to be discovered so easily.

After a moment of silence, Jung-sik cleared his throat. “…Those are expensive. Don’t be so rough with them.”

In response, Seonghye applied more pressure with his toe, grinding the camera lens into the dirt until it was unrecognizable.

“It’s just pathetic. It’s pathetic that my father is hiding me in the countryside while he’s still alive, and it’s pathetic that Hyung firmly believes you are my guardian.”

“Hey, the Chairman just has a fiery temper, but you’re his favorite child.”

At those words, Seonghye thought of his father, whom he had met in the hospital before coming back to Sanghui-ri. Compared to himself, who wasn’t even thirty, the man who walked through the door was an old man who wouldn’t be out of place on his deathbed.

When told that the man who couldn’t walk without a cane was his father, Seonghye had actually wondered about the secrets of his birth; the idea that a man of that age could still father a child felt almost grotesque.

It was a chilling thought to have about one’s own blood, but he couldn’t help the instinctive repulsion he felt toward his sire. And now, seeing that his father had sent Manager Park to pull a stunt like this, a slow crawl of anger joined his disgust.

Seonghye furrowed his brows as if suppressing an impulse.

“Go back and tell him. I don’t need this kind of ‘interest’ or ‘affection.’”

He kicked the mangled remains of the devices toward Jung-sik’s shoes.

“And tell your rats not to set foot in that house again.”

Seonghye remained standing there long after the man had left.

‘Why do you think that person is by your side right now?’

A sharp voice pierced his ears. The sentence scratched against his eardrum, reached his brain, and quickly grew in size.

‘It’s because you got hurt saving him on the mountain that day. Kwon Yunhwan is only helping with your treatment out of guilt. It’s not some destiny or imprinting; he’s just literally sorry. That’s why he’s staying.’

Seonghye blinked slowly and winced at the blazing sunlight.

‘Think carefully about whether Kwon Yunhwan will still be there once the treatment is over.’

The morning sun, busy clearing away the dawn, was exceptionally stinging today. He looked down and saw Manager Park’s car leaving the village. Since only one car was departing, it seemed a few “rats” were still lingering nearby.

After watching for a moment, Seonghye turned and walked toward the house. The summer sun clung stubbornly to the back of his head. As he climbed the stairs, he thought calmly.

‘Am I uncomfortable because I have no memories?’

Ridiculously, the answer was no. Although the trajectory of the last 29 years had vanished overnight, he could reconstruct it through others; it was simply a matter of filling in the blanks.

Seonghye surmised that “Min Seonghye” was a person significantly lacking in affection or desire for his surroundings—family, friends, or the past. In the house where he had stayed briefly before coming to Sanghui-ri, there were no traces of anyone except his mother.

‘Does that make me lonely?’

No, that wasn’t it either.

Seonghye still couldn’t forget the moment he first met Yunhwan at the hospital. The moment every blood vessel in his body expanded, every dormant sense woke up, and even the confusion of memory loss was rapidly buried.

Junseong had told him it was an “imprint,” and that it was natural for an Alpha who had imprinted to feel an irrational obsession and intense desire for the target.

‘From now on, Kwon Yunhwan will be the center of your entire life. At times, it might feel startling or overwhelming—’

‘Overwhelming?’

Startling? Hardly. Seonghye had laughed a little because Junseong’s words sounded so absurd, and the doctor had watched him with clear bewilderment.

‘Actually, I’m happy. Happy that I can feel him, that I can sense him.’

Seonghye recalled the first moment again. The man who had pulled back the curtain with the calmest face in the world and listened to his voice.

The power of that single moment was immense. An imprint had occurred without even leaving a mark on the other’s body. Specifically, a one-sided imprint from his side had been established.