Chapter 82: The Price of Control

Early in the morning, when Yoo Hiiro left the general store, his mood was far from pleasant. Even spending an entire day glued to Seong Ji-woo wouldn’t have been enough for him—so the fact that he had to waste his time on something so utterly worthless irritated him to no end.

Worse still was the thought of having to face those same faces he never wanted to see again. It felt like torture.

As he got into the car, Hiiro thought that if he’d known it would come to this, he should have wiped out the Hunter Association back then—even if not the X-Gate.

Unlike when Seong Ji-woo sat in the passenger seat, his driving now was ruthless and efficient.

Yoo Hiiro arrived at the Hunter Association in the shortest time possible. A parking attendant who recognized him politely guided him to the underground parking lot.

Seong Ji-woo seemed to believe that the Association had summoned him because of the guild’s founding, but that wasn’t their real purpose.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t bring up that matter again after our last discussion.”

The moment he saw the Association President, Yoo Hiiro spoke sharply. The president feigned composure, remarking that Hiiro was getting straight to the point without even exchanging greetings.

After already exposing his true colors in their previous meeting, pretending now felt laughable.

“There seems to be some misunderstanding. What I agreed to overlook was the arson incident. I simply promised to keep you from rotting in prison.”

The president tossed a black file folder onto the desk in front of Hiiro.

“Records can disappear. People don’t.”

Printed boldly on the cover were the words: HERO PROJECT. Hiiro opened it at once. Inside were documents detailing the experiments conducted on him.

Compared to the past, the file was thin, but nearly all of the crucial information was there.

Crunch.

Hiiro clenched his teeth as the president lit a cigarette and took a drag.

Gray smoke quickly filled the office, which had no open windows. Hiiro frowned—not because of the man, but because Seong Ji-woo, a non-smoker, hated the smell of cigarettes.

“We had quite a hard time putting this together. Even resorted to hypnosis. You know—the kind they use on witnesses when making criminal composites.”

In short, the file was the result of squeezing every last memory out of the remaining researchers’ minds.

“You went to a lot of trouble for nothing.”

“Is that so? I feel like I’ve recovered a national treasure.”

If they thought he would obediently let himself be dragged back into a lab, they were gravely mistaken.

Hiiro’s shadow silently expanded. By the time darkness had spread across the floor of the office, the president spoke again.

“Why don’t you check the spine of the file?”

Hiiro closed it and turned it sideways. A white number was printed there.

01

“….”

It meant his project had been the first. Using the ‘successful case’—him—they intended to create a second experimental subject.

“So?”

“We need your cooperation. As you know, we’ve secured most of the key data, but we’re lacking in minor details. And while we’re at it, we’d like to hear some feedback from the test subject.”

At that, Hiiro began to laugh.

The quiet chuckles soon grew louder. Even with the experiment halted, they still regarded him not as a human being, but as a specimen—something to be used and discarded at will.

After laughing for a long while, Hiiro muttered coldly,

“Guess I should’ve killed you all back then.”

“Childish threats won’t work.”

Did he even know what kind of end Hiiro had met in his previous life? He should’ve been grateful his head was still attached to his neck.

With a shameless expression, the president continued to needle him, clearly convinced that Hiiro’s warning was nothing but empty bravado.

Like a frightened dog barking loudly.

“To think you still believe your experiment succeeded.”

The experiment had failed. Hiiro had merely inherited Yoo Ji-eun’s ability. Abilities were never passed down genetically to begin with.

Yet Hiiro had received hers—which meant Yoo Ji-eun had lost her own in the process.

For an ability to take root in a foreign body was nearly impossible. That was why, in his previous life, no matter how many stimulants he was injected with, he could never use his power—his body rejected it.

What they’d done was closer to transplanting an ability than gene manipulation. Knowing the violent rejection that would occur in an already-born human, they chose an unborn life as their test subject.

Just as gates and monsters had cores, abilities did too. It was Yoo Ji-eun who had discovered this fact. The core was both the source of power and the source of life.

Even if she hadn’t died in that accident, Yoo Ji-eun wouldn’t have lived long.

Her ability devoured the cells in Hiiro’s body like cancer, slowly growing larger and larger.

Then, when the moment came, it exploded. It was no different from a mutation. Yoo Ji-eun’s ability wasn’t darkness or shadow.

It was duplication.

She could create another living being by dividing her own life force. It was only B-rank, but extremely rare.

No one knew what her duplicate had been. She’d lost her ability before Hiiro was born.

“I didn’t become an ability user because of the experiment. I was destined to awaken from the start.”

That was what Hiiro believed—he wasn’t an artificial success, but someone who had always been meant to awaken.

“You already know that.”

The conclusion Yoo Ji-eun reached in her final experiment before her death was simple.

They could sense the latent ability within a subject, but they couldn’t draw it out. The subject was merely in a pre-awakening state—in other words, the experiment was a failure.

None of the awakeners, activators, or stimulants created based on Yoo Ji-eun’s power had worked on Hiiro. Even if he awakened later, it would have nothing to do with the experiment.

“No, that can’t be right. How often do coincidences like that happen? We know that researcher tried to smuggle you out. It’s far more likely she falsified the records and claimed the experiment failed.”

People who only saw what they wanted and believed what suited them would never accept the truth. Hiiro felt no reason to continue this conversation.

He even regretted coming here to prevent any trouble that might affect his or Seong Ji-woo’s lives.

To summon him just to spew useless, trash-filled words—

“If that’s all, I’ll be going.”

“You founded a guild.”

“…So?”

“Guilds are independent organizations that merely cooperate with the Hunter Association. We have no authority to interfere.”

The president began reciting clauses of the agreement between guilds and the Association. Hiiro raised an eyebrow, wondering what trick this was.

“However, the Association may issue emergency orders, and guilds are required to comply.”

“After abusing your authority with fake missing-person cases, now it’s emergency orders? The public would love to hear about that.”

“We’re not a government agency. Whether the public likes it or not is irrelevant.”

It was nonsense. Though it pretended to be independent, the Hunter Association was firmly under government influence.

“Don’t you want revenge?”

At that word, Hiiro looked at the president.

“I did some digging. You were quite close to one of the researchers.”

“….”

“Unfortunately, she died in an accident…”

The president trailed off—his voice that of someone who already knew everything. Hiiro’s gaze sank into ice.

“If you cooperate, we could turn that accident into a case. You wouldn’t have to dirty your own hands.”

Tempting? Not really.

Once, he’d wanted to tear them apart piece by piece—but he’d already done that in his previous life.

It had only left him hollow, realizing how cheap human lives were. It wasn’t enough retribution, but he also had no desire to stain the precious present any further.

More than anything, he didn’t want nonsense like this reaching Seong Ji-woo’s ears.

Still, it was an interesting offer.

One of those researchers had been the laboratory director’s child.

The president was offering a deal that promised the downfall of both the director and that child.

Hiiro found it absurd how confident the man sounded, utterly failing to grasp what Hiiro truly wanted.

As if expecting Hiiro’s lukewarm response, the president nodded. He hadn’t shown his full hand yet.

He still had bait Hiiro couldn’t ignore.

“Are you controlling your ability properly?”

The sudden question wiped the faint smile from Hiiro’s face. He stared at the president with emotionless eyes.

His expressionless face was colder than frost.

Just as expected.

The president smirked.

“The first research predicted countless side effects. The researchers remembered those more vividly than the experiment itself.”

“….”

“Stimulants, awakeners, activators—everything imaginable to forcibly draw out an ability. It’d be stranger if your body wasn’t damaged.”

Leaning forward, the president’s murky eyes gleamed beneath his graying brows—an old predator still very much a predator.

“Did you dye your hair? Doesn’t seem like a very effective countermeasure.”

Hiiro blinked slowly. He knew the Association had been tracking him, but he hadn’t expected this much detail.

The man was right. The drugs he’d been exposed to had accumulated in his body, creating side effects.

Light brown hair and eyes darkening to black—proof that his own ability, darkness, was consuming him.

“As I said, we still have excellent researchers. Just a few videos of you were enough for them to deduce the side effects.”

“….”

“Judging by your eyes, you don’t have much time left. One thing’s certain—when the time comes, you’ll die by our hands. Legally.”

Legal execution of an ability user was only permitted in cases of rampage.

Hiiro ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

No matter how much they knew, he wasn’t in a fully advantageous position. As the president said, a rampage wasn’t far off.

Others might not remember it, but Hiiro did—clearly. What happened when an S-rank ability user like him lost control.

A future he never wanted to imagine.

He couldn’t even guarantee Seong Ji-woo’s safety.

By the time they reached the final floor of the X-Gate, Hiiro had already been nearing his limit.

His glass was filled to the brim, sloshing just before overflowing. Fortunately, it had held—perhaps because he hadn’t needed to use his power. Since leaving the X-Gate, even the warning signs of a rampage had faded.

Using his ability again in Dohwari brought the crisis back, but he’d managed to suppress it without anyone noticing.

How long could he keep hiding it?

If his body showed even the slightest abnormality, he would have to leave Seong Ji-woo immediately—go as far away as possible.

Just imagining it made the back of his head throb and his chest tighten.

“One of those brilliant minds left us a hint. We’re developing a drug that can slow the corruption. It’s nearly complete.”

That ‘brilliant mind’ was undoubtedly Yoo Ji-eun. Even now, they were exploiting her.

Hiiro’s face hardened, but the president spoke on calmly, almost cheerfully.

“What we want is simple. A few statements—and some samples for research.”

“….”

If their words were true… if this could guarantee Seong Ji-woo’s safety and his own future…

Lost in thought, Hiiro remained silent for a long time. The president rose leisurely and walked to the window.

“You’ll need time to think. I won’t give you much. Next time, I hope to hear an answer that satisfies us both.”

Such an answer didn’t exist.

With nothing left to say, Hiiro stood.

He crossed the lavishly decorated office and reached the door—but before his hand touched the knob, it slid open on its own.

A massive shadow fell over him.

Standing there was Park Su-jin, his former lead researcher.