# Chapter 39
“Why do you go to such lengths?”
Iyeon asked glumly. The dedication that Jongchan and Jonghee showed went beyond simple loyalty to their boss. Their job was managing Je Sano, and their hobby was also managing Je Sano. From what Iyeon could tell, their special talent appeared to be managing Je Sano as well.
“Sano-nim saved us.”
“He saved you instead of trying to kill you?”
This bastard tried to kill me the moment he saw me… Before Iyeon could dwell on his indignation, Jonghee continued.
“Have you heard of the Superpower Development Laboratory?”
The ban on superhuman experimentation had only been implemented about ten years ago. Even after the law was established, people openly committed illegal acts. Aside from the many benefits that came with becoming a superhuman, there were countless people who believed superpowered individuals had value simply for their abilities alone.
Jongchan and Jonghee were victims of that greed.
“If we had stayed there, if Sano-nim hadn’t saved us, we would be dead.”
“Je Sano…”
Only after the Superpower Management Office poured enormous resources into improving public awareness and conducting major crackdowns on illegal laboratories did these sinister desires begin to fade. Though not completely eradicated—they simply retreated into the shadows—it was still a remarkable achievement in terms of containment.
That was about four years ago, when Je Sano began his activities as a superhuman.
“Sano-nim knew we had nowhere to go, so he employed us.”
He did something that thoughtful? There must be some subjective interpretation involved here. Iyeon grumbled inwardly, but he was a bit surprised.
“Since then, we’ve devoted ourselves completely to supporting Sano-nim. There’s nothing about Sano-nim that we don’t know, you know.”
To Jongchan’s boastful face, Iyeon replied indifferently:
“Did you know Je Sano likes bright colors?”
“What!”
Jongchan roared at this unprecedented information. Only after asking “Really?” about ten times did he finally take out his notebook and preciously record the new information. Next to him, Iyeon, who had to give the same answer ten times, closed his eyes tightly. It was exhausting.
“Oh, and about the people Sano-nim rescued this time.”
“The seventeen people transported at dawn the other day,” Jonghee added. Ah, the club laboratory. Iyeon nodded. It seemed Jonghee was the person Sano had contacted at that time.
“Their bodies are weakened from continuous gi-ryeok extraction, but there are no other abnormalities. They’ve been diagnosed to recover with sufficient rest and are currently recuperating. There will be an investigation after their recovery period.”
“Ah, thank you…”
It’s certainly convenient having someone handle these things. After Iyeon awkwardly expressed his thanks, Jonghee added in a crisp tone:
“And if you happen to meet those people later, I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention anything about Sano-nim.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“Sano-nim’s follower capacity is at maximum.”
“…”
Iyeon considered correcting their enormous misconception that everyone in the world wanted to be Je Sano’s footmat just because they did, but instead he quietly changed the subject. He didn’t want a repeat of having to give the same answer ten times like he had just moments ago.
Besides, there was something he wanted to ask these people who knew Sano well.
“Je Sano said he needed human excrement—do you know what that means?”
A brief silence followed Iyeon’s question. Jongchan, who had been blinking calmly, suddenly stiffened.
“…I’ll do it for him.”
“Pardon?”
“Whatever Sano-nim wants, I’ll do it for him.”
“…Excuse me?”
That statement sounded incredibly ominous. Iyeon, his complexion turning somewhat pale, looked at Jonghee, who stared back at him without wavering.
“You should pay your own credit card bills.”
“…”
It appeared these people had no idea either. Iyeon deliberately ignored their implications and turned away. He didn’t want to face them, feeling like their gazes might burn holes in the back of his head. After desperately avoiding eye contact and whining about how long they needed to stay there, Iyeon was finally able to get back into the car.
On the way back to the city, Iyeon gazed out the window and casually murmured:
“…You know, you don’t have to sacrifice everything to repay a debt of gratitude.”
Jongchan, who was turning the steering wheel, snickered.
“This isn’t about repaying gratitude; it’s a hobby, you know.”
*
“A hobby?”
“Yes. Can you show me what it is?”
“Yes!”
Tiny hands rummaged through a colorful bag. What emerged from the bag—large enough to cover the child’s entire body—was a mobile phone. With perhaps a bit of exaggeration, the phone was almost as big as her face. After fiddling with it for a moment, Mirae held it high above her head.
“Hello! My uncle asked me to show my hobby, so I turned this on. This is Mirae!”
“Ah…”
“Uncle, say hello!”
“Hello. I’m Jung Iyeon…”
Iyeon waved halfheartedly at the camera lens.
“This place is, umm, where uncle works! Not Iyeon-uncle but just uncle, um…”
Mirae’s eyes rolled around until they landed on Heesu. Heesu, who was sitting at his desk reviewing documents, answered after a three-beat pause.
“…Superpower Management Office.”
“It’s the Superpower Management Office! Uncle works here all day long!”
Mirae cheerfully exposed the Director of the Mutant Response Department’s overwork, then pointed the camera back at Iyeon.
“Mirae’s hobby is making vlogs!”
“Wow, that’s impressive.”
Iyeon clapped his hands.
“Today is a day off from academy, so it’s a day with uncle. We’re going to eat something delicious later!”
After concluding her spiel with determination, Mirae stopped recording, put the turned-off phone back in her bag, and sat on the sofa. Iyeon sat down next to her and asked:
“Is that all you need to do?”
“Yep! Just capture everyday life. It’s like a diary! I record going to school, playing with friends, and eating food too. I recorded dinner yesterday…”
“Mirae. Didn’t I tell you not to use your phone at the dinner table? The auntie who prepared the meal would be sad seeing you distracted in front of the food she worked hard to make. Grandma would worry too.”
At Heesu’s words—spoken without even looking up from his documents—Mirae’s lips jutted out in a pout.
“Uncle only nags.”
“Mirae!”
Heesu finally lifted his head from his paperwork. His expression showed clear shock, as if he never expected to hear such words.
“Nagging? Uncle is just worried about you.”
“You don’t even eat meals with me.”
“Th-that’s because I’m busy with work…”
“You don’t even know what I’ve been eating.”
“That’s…”
“That’s why I’m showing you through vlogs, but uncle doesn’t know anything.”
“Mirae…!”
Suddenly, a touching atmosphere formed.
Heesu jumped up from his seat, embraced Mirae, and confessed that he was actually a loyal viewer of her vlogs. As he continued with flattery about how talented she was as a YouTuber and how she would soon receive a Gold Button, Mirae proudly patted his large back. He went on for another five minutes, essentially repeating how adorable his Mirae was, before finally letting her go.
Then his eyes met with Iyeon’s, who had been blankly watching the scene.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…Let me report on the progress of the request.”
“All of a sudden?”
“I am a busy person.”
Standing up with a sudden serious expression, Heesu returned to his desk while maintaining a solemn face. Iyeon, who had only contacted Mirae to play but somehow ended up in the director’s office, narrowed his eyes slightly. However, since there was nothing wrong with seeing how much Heesu loved Mirae, he let it slide.
“There hasn’t been much progress yet.”
When Iyeon first reported the situation, Heesu had been utterly shocked. Throughout the entire explanation about illegal experimental laboratories involving not only variants but also ordinary people—activities they thought had been eradicated—his face remained pale, and even after the report ended, he couldn’t speak for a long time.
According to Hyegang’s investigation—after copying the entire database before shutting down the research facility—there were no records of Smoke Foxes in the club laboratory’s variant experiment logs. All variants handled by the club laboratory were Grade 7 or lower.
Despite being a laboratory that conducted superpower injection experiments on variants, they had no data on Smoke Foxes, which was the starting point of this request. The implication was clear:
There is more than one such laboratory.
In other words, the club laboratory had been a dead end. However, since the experiments conducted there were estimated to be very similar to the Smoke Fox case, they weren’t entirely unrelated. By investigating Dr. Kim further, they might obtain more information.
After a long silence, Heesu finally broke it by requesting a change to the original request. Accepting this request, Chageum was currently monitoring the movements of Dr. Kim—their only lead.
