Chapter 121: The Choice Before the Blackout

Early in the morning, just as he arrived at work, Son Seong-cheol’s phone began to ring. By now, the caller ID was no longer surprising—it was the Association President.

He used to think of the man as someone impossibly distant and untouchable. Now, whenever the word Association President appeared on his phone, a sigh escaped him faster than his heart could race.

A few subordinates in the office glanced at Son Seong-cheol, gauging his mood. His constant low spirits lately had soured the atmosphere in the office as well.

With no energy to care even about that, Son Seong-cheol left the office with a grim expression. Right after work hours began, the break room was usually empty.

The cleaning staff member who had been emptying the trash read the room and quietly excused herself. Son Seong-cheol gave her a small nod of thanks, then stood beside a potted plant in the corner and answered the call.

[-A fine morning, isn’t it.]

“Yes. Good morning, Chairman.”

Pointless pleasantries followed. When asked whether he’d arrived safely, Son Seong-cheol swallowed a sigh.

“Yes, I have. Are you feeling better today?”

Even now, trying to play the part of a functioning member of society, he rattled off insincere words of concern.

The night before, the Association President had summoned him to a drinking party.

He hadn’t wanted to go, but he had no real grounds to refuse—and he feared the consequences of doing so. So he attended. And there, Son Seong-cheol saw clearly who was riding the Association President’s coattails.

When the President draped an arm around his shoulder and said, “This is an employee I’ve been keeping my eye on lately,” Son Seong-cheol felt his body tremble under the gazes directed at him.

Those who had looked at him warily soon wore broad smiles, approaching with bottles in hand, urging him to drink. These weren’t the cheap soju or beer common at office dinners, but expensive foreign liquors that cost hundreds without a second thought.

As he accepted those unfamiliar, hard-to-pronounce drinks, Son Seong-cheol felt his insides burn. It wasn’t just a metaphor—the liquor truly was brutally strong.

And the people who drank it like water looked even more poisonous.

When everything had been out of sight, he hadn’t known. But meeting those powerful figures in person made him realize just how foolish he’d been.

These were not people he could afford to provoke. There were those riding the Association President’s line—but there were also titans that even the Association President himself was riding behind.

Feeling like a frog trapped in a well, Son Seong-cheol trembled with fear. Afraid that the Association President might already know about his collusion with Sung Ji-woo. Afraid he might know that Son Seong-cheol had orchestrated meetings without his permission.

He focused all his energy on not making a slip of the tongue and never even got drunk. Among those venomous men, he clenched his teeth and endured.

Because the moment that matter was brought up, he knew it wouldn’t end with something as simple as being fired. He didn’t even want to imagine how those polite, smiling faces might change.

And just after midnight, the Association President declared the gathering over, saying he was tired. Even then, he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary.

As Son Seong-cheol escorted him out, breathing out a sigh steeped in alcohol, he despised himself for feeling relieved that he hadn’t been exposed.

Perhaps that moment of relief was the problem.

Before the burning in his stomach had even settled, a chilling remark pierced his ears.

[-Just in case, let me ask you this… do you really think there’s something I don’t know?]

“……”

He couldn’t bring himself to brazenly ask what that meant. He didn’t know how much the man knew, but one thing was certain—this wasn’t fishing. He was speaking from knowledge.

[-I find your courage admirable. In fact, that boldness makes you seem even more trustworthy.]

“……”

[-Great ambitions are needed for great undertakings.]

Son Seong-cheol froze, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. Pale as a corpse, he clutched the palm-sized device in his hand as though his life depended on it. His fingertips turned white.

[-Of course, I’m not forcing you. It’s your decision.]

“……”

[-I’m going to give you an address now. There’s something I’d like you to do there.]

Without giving him time to write it down, the Association President began reciting the address. Short. Precise. Even with pen and paper, it would’ve been impossible to keep up.

And yet, Son Seong-cheol memorized it instantly. Whether it was instinct or sheer will to survive, the President’s voice echoed vividly in his mind without effort.

[-I hope you make a wise choice.]

With those final words, the call ended unilaterally.

He wasn’t told what he was supposed to do there. Just that he’d know once he arrived—a vague and irresponsible dismissal.

Until 10 a.m., when the morning meeting was scheduled to begin, Son Seong-cheol stood frozen in that spot. Only when a subordinate came looking for him did he finally pull the phone away from his cheek. The screen had long since grown hot.

“I won’t be attending today’s meeting. Please tell everyone that an urgent matter came up.”

The subordinate nodded blankly. Without even confirming the reaction, Son Seong-cheol hurried out of the building.

Sung Ji-woo stared at the massive door before him. One glance told him it was heavy—and it seemed to bear secrets just as weighty.

He flicked his gaze toward the glass panel beside it. Nothing was reflected there. That was thanks to the invisibility potion he’d taken just in case.

When he’d contacted Chae Min-jung out of the blue that morning, she’d handed him the potion without asking a single question.

After a long discussion with Park Sujin—who had seemed ready to drive off immediately—they’d agreed to prepare thoroughly and deal with the situation the following day. As a result, Sung Ji-woo had returned to the research facility for infiltration.

Though it wasn’t yet official work hours, perhaps because of the bright morning light, his mouth felt painfully dry with tension. Only after confirming once again that no one was around did he cautiously enter the building.

He wasn’t here to see Yoo Heero today, so he turned away from the recovery wing. If everything went well, he told himself, he’d be able to see him as much as he wanted afterward.

Tracing his memory, he followed the path he’d previously seen from Yoo Heero’s perspective.

At the end of what looked like a dead end stood an elevator. And that elevator sat there, doors wide open.

“…Huh?”

Seeing the brightly lit interior, Sung Ji-woo let out a dumbfounded sound. He’d expected this point to be difficult—he’d thought that without a dedicated keycard, the elevator might not even work.

But this… he hadn’t expected at all.

While he stood there, unsure what to do, his eye caught a narrow gap. What looked like an ordinary wall had a section tilted inward, creating a seam.

A hidden passage disguised as a wall.

When he pushed it, the door opened easily, revealing a concealed space. Inside was an emergency stairwell. With no windows or lights, the darkness was chilling enough to raise goosebumps.

There was no other choice. Judging by its proximity to the elevator, this stairwell had to connect to the same area.

Sung Ji-woo muffled his footsteps and moved deeper inside. Not knowing which floor he needed, he opened every door and wall he passed as he descended.

After going down about three floors, he felt something was off. There was no sign of life anywhere in the building. It was eerily silent—like an abandoned structure where no humans existed.

When he finally reached Basement Level 5, where the stairs ended, Sung Ji-woo understood why.

“…Hngh!”

The moment he threw the door open, a wave of intense heat slammed into him. The scorching air was so hot he couldn’t even open his eyes, forcing him back.

His eyes burned, tears spilling out from sheer physical reaction. In the underground space, massive heat haze rippled, warping his vision.

Sung Ji-woo barely managed to steady himself. Behind him, the iron door slammed shut with a heavy clang—it had been blocking the heat from leaking outside.

Boom!

A deafening explosion roared from within. Compared to this hellscape, the silence outside felt like an illusion.

The space was utterly devastated, debris scattered everywhere. Sung Ji-woo realized that everyone who had been here had fled. The open door cracks, the stopped elevator, the empty building—everything pointed to one conclusion.

This place had been abandoned.

There weren’t even traces of the guards who should’ve been stationed here.

“…This is insane.”

Sung Ji-woo cursed under his breath, overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. He feared that the researchers might have fled together—leaving Yoo Heero behind.

As he debated whether to go back up and evacuate Yoo Heero first, another massive explosion erupted. Instinctively, Sung Ji-woo covered his head and flattened himself against the ground.

From around a bend just ahead, unrecognizable fragments of debris came flying like a storm.

Unable even to scream, Sung Ji-woo pressed himself tightly against the wall and finally caught his breath.

Beyond this wall was where Jung Suhan was being held.

Which meant—the one causing these explosions was Jung Suhan himself.

Ability overload.

Every instinct screamed at him to run. Jung Suhan’s overwhelming presence crushed the air itself, rejecting any approach.

There was no time.

Sung Ji-woo had to choose—right now.

“…f*ck.”

Sweat was already dripping down his heat-soaked face. As he roughly wiped his chin with his palm and tried to stand—

Pop.

The sound rang out softly.

And the world fell into darkness.

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