# Chapter 26
The Smoke Fox had a characteristic of emitting black, smoke-like haze from its body. This haze didn’t leave residue when touched and was affected by wind just like real smoke. While touching it didn’t cause any negative effects, the haze itself functioned as the Smoke Fox’s protective shield. The standard strategy was to blow away all the haze with strong winds and then attack the exposed body.
And among all reported Smoke Fox sightings thus far, there had never been any mention of one transforming into a stain and crawling along walls. If such a trait existed, it would have made countermeasures much more difficult, and its classification would have increased by at least one level.
“This is the analysis report.”
As Iyeon carefully read what Heesu handed him, a question formed in his mind. At the very bottom of the report, in the analyst’s comments section, was an unbelievable statement:
Gi-ryeok reaction detected inside the mutant.
“According to the analyst, a gi-ryeok reaction was detected every time the Smoke Fox transformed into a stain.”
What he was about to discuss was among the most classified information within the Superpower Management Office.
The transcendent abilities of mutants and the superpowers of superhumans were not corresponding systems. At first glance, mutants appeared to use abilities similar to superhumans, but strictly speaking, it was ambiguous to call those “superpowers.”
Mutants were literally creatures that were simply ‘born that way.’
Unlike superhumans who used superpowers through gi-ryeok, a common energy they were born with, for mutants, abilities were no different from having an extra limb. They used their abilities as naturally as swinging a tail attached to their body. Naturally, there had been no cases where the concept of gi-ryeok was discovered in mutants.
“Then…”
“Yes.”
Heesu, with a grave expression, concluded:
“It seems to be a new type of mutant capable of using superpowers.”
Silence filled the office. If this was true, it would be such a momentous discovery that it would cause an uproar in the field of mutant studies.
“Shouldn’t you be calling an emergency meeting at the Superpower Management Office instead of coming to us?”
In response to Iyeon’s skeptical question, Heesu smiled awkwardly.
“Unfortunately, I have less influence than I thought.”
Since the establishment of Chohosi, the Superpower Management Office had become the city’s highest public institution and gained considerable authority. Its scale had grown steadily as the registration of superhuman information became mandatory and it took charge of their classification and management.
It’s hardly surprising that a large ship would have multiple helmsmen.
Being the grandson of the first Director of the Superpower Management Office was both an honor and an empty shell. Many people manipulated him under the guise of assistance.
When Heesu came to his senses, he realized there was nothing he could do with his own hands.
“I brought it up, but the atmosphere was largely dismissive.”
The sentiment was that it was merely the emergence of a mutant that could use superpowers—what major difference did that make? On the surface, there wasn’t much difference between a mutant’s inherent abilities and superpowers, so technically, that wasn’t entirely wrong.
The final directive was silence to prevent public confusion.
“But I still felt uneasy about it.”
More information was needed to assess the situation. However, without approval from above, he couldn’t use official authority, so the only option left was a private request.
Heesu glanced at Sano, who was quietly listening to the conversation beside Iyeon. There was no better place to entrust this request.
There weren’t many situations where a high-ranking official like Jin Heesu could employ a high-tier superhuman like Je Sano.
The more powerful superhumans were often key personnel in large companies, and the moment a director-level official like Heesu requested help, it would instantly spiral into political power struggles. That was true even for public requests, let alone confidential ones like this.
However, among the many high-tier superhumans, Je Sano was a rare independent. Sano held no position in Jesan, the company he created. He didn’t particularly care about the company’s development nor did he exert any special influence. He merely employed two secretaries on a dispatch basis. His administrative record was completely clean.
Of course, that didn’t mean entrusting Je Sano with a request was easy either. First of all, his personality was too self-centered and uncooperative.
He rarely showed himself and didn’t make his whereabouts clear. Even among the Superpower Management Office staff, the vast majority had never seen Sano’s face. He was practically a recluse.
Normally, Heesu wouldn’t have even been able to find Sano to make a request, but by a very fortunate chance, he had recently encountered him. One of the suspicious pair who had been with his nephew turned out to be Je Sano.
The fact that the other person of the pair was the one who had captured the Smoke Fox was nothing short of divine providence.
The CEO of a small company called Chageum. If Iyeon had belonged to another company, it might have been problematic—most companies specializing in mutants prohibited private requests outside the company. Fortunately, he was practically an individual business owner.
Being a Mugunghwa Tier 2 and running a company suggested he didn’t have particular ambitions. Even if something went wrong, the chances of getting politically entangled were low.
This was indeed the best option.
“I would appreciate your help.”
It was Sano who answered.
“Alright.”
How unusual for him to be so willing! Iyeon and Hyegang opened their eyes wide and stared at Sano. In response to their gaze, Sano replied indifferently:
“You were going to accept anyway, weren’t you?”
“Je Sano… Thank you.”
Heesu’s expression brightened. With Sano expressing his willingness to help, the mission was already more than halfway to success.
Seeing that face, Iyeon’s eyes rolled slowly. Sure, Je Sano was a major asset, but being so obvious about it was still off-putting. We also have Lee Hyegang, a top-class hacker who walks the line between legal and illegal.
“Director, our personnel fees are quite expensive, you know.”
This addition was born from such pettiness. Not Je Sano’s personnel fee, but Chageum’s. Heesu, who couldn’t have missed the implication, soon put on a serious face.
“I apologize. I will provide support without any shortcomings.”
When someone makes such a determined promise while clenching their fist, it becomes difficult to press further. Faced with his readiness to empty his personal funds if necessary, Iyeon appeared to consider with a “hmm” before promptly speaking up with a fresh smile.
“I have some credit with Ms. D.S.”
“…Pardon?”
“Please go pay it off on my behalf, along with Mirae.”
Caught off guard by this unexpected request, Heesu stared blankly at Iyeon, who smiled sweetly.
“You must go personally. If you do that, I’ll accept just the basic fee.”
“Hyung, this is why we can’t make money.”
Hyegang grumbled. His hands never stopped manipulating the computer. The screens of three large monitors shifted rapidly. Hyegang’s gaze was busy, constantly opening and closing pages.
“What are you talking about? I said we’re getting the basic fee. And we cleared the credit too.”
“How much is that even worth?”
After staring at Iyeon with a dumbfounded expression for a while, Heesu nodded almost imperceptibly and left the office. He didn’t take the confidential report with him, but he left his business card, so they could return it when reporting the results later.
“I have a new friend, and her smile is pretty.”
“Friend?”
“I thought it would be nice if she kept smiling.”
Hyegang turned around with wide eyes.
“What? Do you have someone you like?”
“Hey. She’s eight years old.”
“What?”
Hyegang became serious, even stopping his work. His face was filled with contempt.
“Hyung, if you’re planning to commit a crime, tell me in advance. I should at least have time to cut ties, considering our history.”
“What kind of mouth interprets goodwill as crime?”
Iyeon pulled Hyegang’s cheek. Hyegang playfully whined, “Ow, ow,” before promptly resuming his work.
“Your meddling is impressive.”
Next was Sano. Everyone lacks tolerance, really. Iyeon pouted and grumbled.
“You’d make a terrible father.”
“Are you done talking?”
Why are you angry? Did you have family plans?
Hyegang’s internet search took quite a long time. Since he wasn’t just looking for fragmentary information but rather unclear data, it seemed challenging.
For the first while, the two men watched Hyegang from behind his chair, but at some point, they quietly moved back to the sofa. No need to hover and disturb when they couldn’t help anyway, Iyeon mumbled as if making an excuse. As soon as they sat on the soft sofa, their bodies naturally relaxed. Sitting really is the best. The sound of Hyegang typing became like background music. Sano had already taken out a tablet and was tapping away.
After acquiring Iyeon’s tablet, Sano often used the tablet instead of his phone. From what Iyeon glimpsed in passing, he seemed to be reviewing some kind of documents.
Despite all the talk about repaying favors, since Chageum rarely received work, there naturally wasn’t much for Sano to do. Most of what he did after coming to work was just lying on the sofa and fiddling with his phone.
It had seemed like he was always on his phone day and night whenever he had a moment, but apparently until then, he had been reviewing business matters on his phone. Iyeon reflected on his past prejudice of thinking Sano was addicted to his phone. He really wasn’t an idle person after all.
Iyeon didn’t know exactly what work Sano was doing on the tablet, and since it didn’t seem to be related to him, he didn’t bother asking, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. Is it related to the reason he’s settled here?
‘Director Jin Heesu… He seemed to know Je Sano.’
