Chapter 101: A Door Opened by Guilt

The one who called Seong Jiwoo was Son Seongcheol.

After witnessing a series of scenes inside the research facility, he had returned to the Association trembling with anxiety.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen something he was never meant to see. Yu Hiiro hadn’t spared him a single glance until the very end, while the Association Chairman merely smiled—as if to say see for yourself.

Son Seongcheol knew his subordinates were whispering behind his back, but none of it registered.

He was frequently summoned to the Seoul headquarters, to the point where he could barely set foot in his original post at the Gyeonggi branch. But like most management positions, operations didn’t suffer whether he was there or not.

Staring at a pile of overdue paperwork, Son Seongcheol let out an irritable sigh. The cigarettes he’d sworn he would quit for his family were already gone—an entire pack smoked without him realizing it.

If he wasn’t doing something, it felt like he’d lose his grip on sanity.

Why had he followed them there? Why had he insisted on seeing it with his own eyes?

If he hadn’t, he could’ve dismissed it as a distant story—something happening in another world.

Every time he closed his eyes, the image resurfaced like an afterimage, forcing him to snap them open again. By now, his office was thick with cigarette smoke.

Even in the suffocating, acrid air, Son Seongcheol did nothing but sigh repeatedly. His thoughts drifted back to the conversation he’d had with the center director before leaving the research facility.

‘When Yu Hiiro was transferred, Hunter Seong Jiwoo requested a visit through me.’

‘And?’

‘……As far as I know, unless there’s a valid reason, visits are permitted when a hunter is hospitalized or isolated by the Association.’

‘There is a valid reason.’

The “valid reasons” referred only to cases where the hunter was a criminal, in a berserk state, or a terrorist.

Yu Hiiro was none of those.

And yet the director had shamelessly claimed there was justification. Watching him trample over established rules at will made Son Seongcheol feel ridiculous for all the years he’d risked his life trying to climb the ranks in a place like this.

‘No matter what, don’t let him visit. Look how obedient he is right now—how convenient. If he meets that Seong Jiwoo or whatever, the spirit we worked so hard to kill will come back to life.’

‘……’

‘And if that happens, he’ll try to tear the Association down no matter what. Can you handle that? As you know, back in high school he already fooled the public once and caused a fire. He’s capable enough to clear an X-Gate with his bare body. You seem not to know, so let me tell you—Yu Hiiro isn’t a monster.’

‘……’

‘He’s already surpassed that.’

That was how Son Seongcheol had become a liar.

He had tried to persuade Seong Jiwoo—but he had never meant to deceive him.

He hadn’t expected things to spiral this far. The snowball he’d set rolling had grown into something massive, and now innocent people were about to be crushed beneath it.

With dead eyes, Son Seongcheol muttered a stream of meaningless curses.

Then he picked up his phone and began searching for a contact.

“Hello?”

Seong Jiwoo answered immediately, without hesitation. Beside him, he could feel Park Sujin staring at him with desperate eyes.

[-……]

But there was no response. Thinking the call might have dropped, Seong Jiwoo checked the screen. The call timer was still running.

“Hello?”

[-……Haah.]

A faint sound—somewhere between noise and a sigh—came through. Expecting that the call would finally bring the answer he’d been waiting for, Seong Jiwoo grew increasingly anxious.

“Yu Hiiro—is he really okay? He woke up, right?”

He decided to ask about Yu Hiiro’s condition first—the truth the news had stopped reporting.

[-……Yes. He woke up.]

The voice was quiet, but Seong Jiwoo caught every word. Only then did his strength drain away, and he realized how rigid his body had been.

Seeing this, Park Sujin silently mouthed,

What did he say?

Seong Jiwoo nodded with visible relief. Recognizing it wasn’t bad news, Park Sujin relaxed as well.

“Where is he?”

[-……]

“Where is Yu Hiiro right now? If I’d known you’d hide him this tightly, I never would’ve sent him there.”

[-……]

“It’d be better if you told me before I go to the reporters.”

He’d actually considered it. The life or death of a hunter—especially a HERO—would be a national headline.

If it became public knowledge that the Association was hiding Yu Hiiro, plenty of people would take interest. Then the Association, pretending to be an institution of justice, would be forced to reveal him.

At the very least, they’d have to disclose what kind of treatment he was receiving and why he was being kept there.

[-……]

Perhaps because of the pressure, the other side fell silent again. Seong Jiwoo’s patience was running out fast. After several sleepless nights, his thoughts were sluggish, and a headache surged like a rising tide.

He blinked slowly, longing to just bring Yu Hiiro back and take a long, lazy nap.

[-He’s at a research facility under the Association.]

“Well, obviously. That’s not what I’m asking.”

[-……He’s in a restricted area.]

That much had been expected. Seong Jiwoo sighed. After hearing Park Sujin’s suspicions, he’d braced himself—but the Association had far too much rot to dig up.

“Then you need to tell me exactly where that restricted area is—”

[-……]

Despite his sharp tone, the other party stayed silent. Frustration surged, curses climbing up his throat.

At that moment, Park Sujin tapped Seong Jiwoo’s shoulder.

This time, he spoke out loud.

“I know where it is.”

“…What?”

“Ha. So they really put the kid back there.”

Seong Jiwoo looked at him in disbelief. Park Sujin nodded.

“Looks like they reopened that lab.”

“….”

Park Sujin took Seong Jiwoo’s phone.

“Let’s ask just one thing.”

[-Wh—who is this—]

“Doesn’t matter. Is the current test subject there Yu Hiiro, or a third party?”

It was a gamble. Park Sujin rapidly ran through countless possibilities in his head.

[-……]

“Tell me. Did Yu Hiiro go there to be put through that fucked-up experiment again, or was there another reason?”

Park Sujin’s words grew short and sharp. His voice carried a cold, oppressive threat. From the other end of the line came a sigh.

[-I… I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t know what’s going on, or how it ended up like this…]

“Tch.”

Park Sujin clicked his tongue. The man was crying now. He was clearly a small fry—someone who hadn’t even glimpsed the edge of the Association’s truth.

Thinking he might be a useful insider since he’d been assigned to Yu Hiiro had been a mistake. If anything, he’d been completely toyed with by that cunning old bastard.

How many people had been ensnared like this? A truly vile hobby, befitting his personality.

Deciding there was nothing more to gain, Park Sujin moved to hang up.

[-The weather’s really shitty today.]

At that pointless remark, Park Sujin bit down on his lower lip.

“f*ck. Are you f*cking with us now?”

At the murderous tone, Son Seongcheol let out a short laugh. Then, as if he’d let go of everything, he said,

[-I’ll arrange a visit.]

Seong Jiwoo immediately snatched the phone back.

“How? When? Where?”

At the barrage of questions, Son Seongcheol hesitated before replying.

[-……As soon as possible. I’ll try to make it happen.]

“…You call that an answer?”

[-I can’t promise anything. But, hell… I just keep wondering if this is right. I only knew the kid for a few months—don’t know why I got attached. He was a stubborn brat who never listened… but seeing him like that in there… Ha… And there was a child. A really young kid, too…]

“….”

[-I’ll contact you separately. For now, please don’t contact the Association. I’m asking you.]

That last line was essentially a declaration that Son Seongcheol would act on his own.

The call ended.

Seong Jiwoo felt a chill of fear. Whatever Son Seongcheol had seen in that place must’ve been terrifying—terrifying enough to steal his words.

And yet—

“Can we trust this?”

A single promise from Son Seongcheol wasn’t enough to erase their distrust of the Association.

“No.”

It could be a trap. Or mockery.

As Seong Jiwoo and Park Sujin exchanged silent looks, the phone vibrated briefly.

A text message.

[Let’s limit the visit to Seong Jiwoo only.]

“Ha. Look at this.”

Seong Jiwoo scanned the ominous message and let out a hollow laugh. Park Sujin frowned as he read it too.

There was no way they could send Seong Jiwoo alone to a place like that.

Park Sujin was about to suggest another plan, but Seong Jiwoo spoke first.

“But what choice do we have, f*ck. They’ve got Yu Hiiro as a hostage.”

Even if it was a trap, he’d jump in.

With dull, lifeless eyes, Seong Jiwoo muttered to Park Sujin.

Park Sujin couldn’t stop him.