Chapter 44: A Prophetic System and a Lingering Shadow

Jung Hyun-woo, a doctor with a Ph.D., had no reason to be interested in a system, unless it was related to medical technology. If that were the case, he would have said he was researching the system.

His mention of ‘investigating’ implied there was something dubious about it.

“What kind of system is it?”

“A prediction system. More precisely, it constructs virtual reality to derive the most probable outcomes. And the foundation of this system is data from espers with prophetic abilities.”

Sa-yoon straightened up, his face hardening as he looked at Jung Hyun-woo.

Espers with prophetic abilities were exceedingly rare. Even national organizations that shared information on all espers kept details about prophetic espers highly classified. This was because their power surpassed mere physical might.

And Myeong-ah was also a prophetic esper. Due to an abnormal manifestation, our poor Myeong-ah became an Irregular, erased from all records the moment he enlisted, effectively becoming a ghost.

“A prophetic esper… could it be?”

“Nothing is certain yet. But if we search, we’ll find out. Whether Myeong-ah’s information is in that system. And if so, for how long he was utilized.”

Sa-yoon clenched his fists, veins throbbing visibly on his forearms. For years, he had scoured every unit, yet found not a single line of information related to Myeong-ah.

Stories about Irregulars were managed with the utmost secrecy, and information on prophetic espers was equally difficult to access. He had even tried approaching it as an S-rank esper, hoping to uncover more.

The results were devastating. Even the data Sa-yoon finally managed to access after becoming a team leader contained no information about Myeong-ah. All Sa-yoon had salvaged was information regarding Irregulars.

Even that pertained to Irregular experiments conducted decades ago. The horrific scenes still haunted his memory—videos of people being sawed alive, their tongues ripped out, enduring nothing but agony.

He had spent countless sleepless nights then, consumed by a sense of powerlessness. Dawn often broke as he wallowed in self-reproach, wondering how high he would have to climb to find Myeong-ah. But the information now was different.

“I’ll investigate it too. If it’s a system under development, finding related documents should be easier.”

Classified and sealed data was handled differently from a system still in development. There was a high probability that its progress was shared on the intranet. This was information Sa-yoon could access with his current rank.

“I can’t extract the information immediately, but I’ll contact you as soon as a related mission comes up. Even a similar one.”

“Take your time. Rushing might lead to bigger problems.”

Sa-yoon nodded.

“I should head back now.”

“Alright. As always, be careful. And, well… this is just my concern, but it might be best to deal with Han Do-hoon at an appropriate time.”

Hyeon-woo had emphasized Han Do-hoon’s name several times today. Sa-yoon scratched his cheek. He knew Jung Hyun-woo always saw him as young, but today, his concern felt particularly strong.

Han Do-hoon’s office, even on a return visit, remained an exceptionally bleak place. It resembled its owner, yet somehow felt alien. Sa-yoon sat back comfortably, crossing his legs in a space he found difficult to grow accustomed to.

He munched on chocolate cookies that hadn’t been there before, washing them down with cider.

“So that’s what happened.”

“So, I think we need to coordinate what to tell Levian…”

Sa-yoon trailed off, looking at Han Do-hoon. He had just finished recounting his lengthy conversation with Levian. The situation was simple: Levian seemed aware of the close relationship between Sa-yoon and Han Do-hoon, but he didn’t yet know the specifics of their contract.

This seemed straightforward, yet it was a difficult situation to answer. If they claimed they weren’t ‘that kind of couple,’ Levian would never believe it. He might even stick to them 24/7 to verify it.

However, bluntly stating, “We’re s*x partners,” would also be problematic. The information might leak to others besides Levian. While Kang Ah-jun, who might catch on, could be reined in by Sa-yoon, Levian was not someone who could be so easily controlled.

Han Do-hoon stroked his chin in thought, then subtly furrowed his brow before speaking.

“I apologize. You’ve become entangled with an bothersome fellow because of me.”

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault, Han Do-hoon.”

Han Do-hoon’s frown deepened.

“Of all people, for him to show up. I’ll take care of Levian myself. Our relationship shouldn’t be revealed to others.”

Sa-yoon silently nodded. In truth, Sa-yoon had already broken the contract, as Jung Hyun-woo knew about their relationship. Sa-yoon tacitly agreed with Han Do-hoon’s suggestion.

“If I give him a warning while I’m at it, he won’t carelessly blab, I imagine.”

It seemed as though a chilling undertone lay beneath his polite words. Perhaps it was just his imagination. Even as Sa-yoon watched him, Han Do-hoon merely offered a gentle smile. Judging by the reactions of both Levian and Han Do-hoon, they didn’t seem to be complete strangers.

“I hope that’s enough to resolve it.”

“Levian isn’t the type to be overly interested in other people’s affairs. He’ll forget about it over time, so don’t worry too much.”

Han Do-hoon neatly resolved an issue Sa-yoon had been agonizing over for quite some time. Not interested in others’ affairs? That was a different assessment than the Levian Sa-yoon had observed.

“He seemed quite nosy to me.”

“That’s… because I was acting out of character. Once he realizes there are no feelings between us, his interest will quickly wane.”

While such firm assurances were good from Sa-yoon’s perspective, a nagging sense of unease persisted. Even if Han Do-hoon handled it, people’s mouths weren’t so easily silenced.

‘Besides, I can’t keep letting things slide like this. Should I look for another solution?’

He had always expected this day to come—the day their relationship would be exposed. For two prominent figures to spend so much time together, it was a testament to their careful handling that it had only just come to light.

Should they end things before anyone else found out?

Sa-yoon looked at Han Do-hoon. Unaware of Sa-yoon’s thoughts, he was probably contemplating how to deal with Levian with a lighthearted expression. Jung Hyun-woo’s words were indeed right; it was the opportune moment to gradually conclude their relationship.

Now was the perfect time. He could simply use Levian as an excuse to cleanly revert to being strangers. It was a reasonable justification that could preserve both their feelings. Yet, strangely, the words wouldn’t leave his lips.

“Hmm….”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a lot on my mind.”

Sa-yoon leaned back deeply into the sofa’s backrest and stretched out his legs, wiggling his feet on the armrest.

“I should probably go soon, but I feel lazy.”

“Then, why not rest here?”

Han Do-hoon stroked Sa-yoon’s ankle, which was exposed beneath his pants. The touch on his firm ankle bone and the delicate Achilles tendon behind it conveyed a very direct intention.

“Unfortunately, I have a guiding session scheduled.”

“For a special-type esper, Sa-yoon, your aura seems quite stable. You must receive guiding frequently.”

Han Do-hoon’s sharp question struck a chord, and Sa-yoon’s wiggling foot paused. Sa-yoon’s aura was beyond stable; it had never once wavered. He was actually receiving guiding more often than average to deceive Han Do-hoon’s perception.

“It’s stable precisely because I receive guiding frequently, isn’t it? Getting guiding often is good. It’s paid time off, legally speaking. Plus, there are no limits on the number of sessions. You have to take advantage of good systems.”

Sa-yoon pulled his foot away from Han Do-hoon’s hand. He then put on his shoes, which he had neatly placed under the sofa. Han Do-hoon probably hadn’t brought up the topic because he suspected Sa-yoon.

It was just a normal conversation about going for guiding and mentioning the frequency. Sa-yoon was merely feeling guilty and uncomfortable. He brushed off his wrinkled clothes and stood before the mirror, adjusting his collar.

Han Do-hoon simply watched Sa-yoon’s sudden actions, bewildered. How wonderful it would be if he could just explain everything clearly.

After spending a long time together, Han Do-hoon had become a truly comfortable companion. They maintained their boundaries, and unnecessary conversations were minimal. If Sa-yoon declined due to a busy schedule, he would accept it without question and arrange another meeting.

It was a remarkably clean relationship, almost unbelievably so. If Sa-yoon hadn’t been in such an uncertain situation, perhaps they might have become something akin to friends.

“You don’t need to worry, Sa-yoon.”

Han Do-hoon, misinterpreting Sa-yoon’s silence, approached him. He brushed Sa-yoon’s hair, reflected in the mirror.

“Levian won’t have the luxury of spreading strange rumors.”

It was a week later that Sa-yoon understood the meaning of Han Do-hoon’s low-spoken words. He looked down at the quiet parade ground. The people who had been noisily bustling about under the hot sun had all vanished at once. It had been several days since he last heard any news of Levian, whom Han Do-hoon had promised to ‘take care of.’

“It’s quite strange, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

Chae-jun, too, propped his chin on his hand, gazing out the window. The foreign espers, who had been the talk of the headquarters, had all been dispatched out of the unit on missions. Of course, this was to be expected, as such valuable personnel weren’t brought in just to tour the barracks.

The strange thing was that the domestic forces, who should have been the busiest—namely, Sa-yoon’s team—were quietly remaining at headquarters. Even other esper teams had been deployed, yet only his team stayed behind.