Chapter 56
“Chanhee, you don’t actually—”
My father’s hand shook, as if he’d finally stumbled upon a truth too terrible to ignore.
“Don’t ask me how I found out.”
“Just—how did you—?”
“Does it matter if I heard it from Han Jaemin or some stranger on the street? To me, you’re still you.”
“Tell me! Who was it?!”
His eyes burned with fury, stunned that what he’d assumed was a secret between two people had been exposed—not just to anyone, but to his own child. I’d expected his reaction, but the sheer force of his rage made me laugh, bitter and hollow.
“It doesn’t matter. Not that part.”
“It does matter. Chanhee, you’re young—you don’t understand—”
“Do you think so too, Director?”
I turned to Kim Guhyeon. He was still pale, staring at me, his composure a stark contrast to my father’s unraveling.
“Like Chanhee said, maybe it doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe?”
“Spilled water. You can’t pour it back.”
“At least you’re more reasonable than my father.”
Kim Guhyeon’s lips twitched, almost a smile.
“Chanhee.”
Something in his cold gaze made me realize, again, that he wasn’t someone I could reason with.
“It doesn’t matter who spilled it.”
“What do you mean…?”
“What matters is whether you’re the kind of person who can clean it up.”
I stared at him, blankly. There was something fanatical in his eyes—a blind, unshakable faith. If that faith was loyalty to my father, what had my father ever done to earn it?
“That’s youth for you. Thinking no one in the world can clean up a mess.”
“……”
“You’re still young, Chanhee.”
“So what? What does that change?”
“Follow the adults’ lead.”
“Do I look like a child to you?”
“When I say you’re young, I’m not talking about your age.”
“……”
“I think someone as sharp as you would understand.”
***
I stormed upstairs the second I got home. I wrenched open the closet and started throwing clothes into a suitcase. My mother rushed in, trying to stop me, but I ignored her, packing with frantic hands.
“Chanhee, what’s going on? Let’s talk. Just explain—”
“I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? Where? Chanhee, calm down—”
“Anywhere but here.”
“Did you fight with your father? Is that it?”
“Fight?”
I paused, clothes half-stuffed into the suitcase, and looked at her.
“No. I wasn’t fighting. I was begging for forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?”
“Ask Father.”
“Chanhee—”
“Though I guess you already know, don’t you?”
I zipped the suitcase shut and grabbed the handle. My mother’s fingers dug into my arm, desperate. I stopped and faced her.
“This house, these clothes, everything in this room—it’s all unbearable.”
“Chanhee, please…”
“I’m the one who’s unbearable.”
“……”
“I should never have been born.”
Her grip loosened, her face stricken. As I stepped into the living room, suitcase in hand, I found Yu Hyunjae standing there, his expression tight with worry.
“Chanhee.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. I didn’t think I had the right. Hyunjae grabbed my wrist.
“I won’t ask what happened.”
“……”
“Just… stay for ten minutes.”
It was almost impossible to refuse. I slowly pulled my hand free and stood still. His eyes were steady, calm, even as chaos raged inside me. He seemed so much older than I felt. I hung my head.
“What should I do?”
“…About what?”
“What do I do to make this right?”
Even with my vague words, Hyunjae answered softly, his voice unwavering.
“Just stay like this.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“…I’ve done something unforgivable. Something so bad I want to erase myself.”
Hyunjae studied me, as if trying to separate my sincerity from my despair.
“If I decide for you, will you follow?”
A wave of emotions crashed over me. I didn’t know what the right answer was. Saying yes would be accepting a weight I wasn’t sure I could bear, but saying no would be rejecting him—and I couldn’t do that.
“I don’t know.”
“Then at least think about it.”
Hyunjae pulled me into a slow, firm embrace. My mother, standing behind me, seemed about to speak, but she held back. I closed my eyes in his arms. If only I could turn back time. Even the regression I’d once feared now felt like a desperate lifeline.
“Don’t go.”
“……”
“Don’t leave me.”
I couldn’t see his face, but I could imagine it. He spoke calmly, but I wondered how many times he’d rehearsed those words in his mind. How much easier it would have been to hear them when I knew nothing. When had that been? I couldn’t even remember.
***
“I never called for you.”
Han Jaemin lounged on the sofa as he greeted me. The top floor of the building required the owner’s approval to access, so his hostility was just for show. I answered flatly.
“It’ll be over next week.”
One of Han Jaemin’s eyebrows shot up, surprised by the news.
“Smarter than I thought?”
“I’m not in the mood for jokes.”
“Who’s joking? I figured you were just some empty-headed prodigy.”
Normally, I would’ve snapped back, but I didn’t have the energy. I’d barely slept for days, pushing my mana circulation to its limits.
“Think your body can handle it?”
Han Jaemin studied my pale face, his voice devoid of even a hint of concern.
“Since when do you care about my body?”
“Always. You’re a valuable asset.”
I let out a faint, bitter laugh—so quiet he probably didn’t even notice. I pulled two books from my bag and tossed them onto the table in front of him.
“I’m returning these before they become a liability.”
“Oh, so you’ve mastered them?”
“There’s still a chance of failure. Nothing’s ever certain.”
“You’re pretty objective for someone talking about their own death.”
Han Jaemin flipped through the books, their pages almost pristine. He set them down, intrigued.
“You’re really done?”
“You wouldn’t have even approached me if you thought I couldn’t pull this off.”
“True.”
Han Jaemin glanced at me, then continued in a clear, cold voice.
“If it weren’t for your natural talent and your dad—”
“……”
“—I wouldn’t bother with some high school kid like you. Got it?”
Make sure to thank your dad when you get home, okay? His mocking tone, like he was teasing a child, made my blood boil, even though I knew it was just a shallow provocation. I swallowed my anger and changed the subject.
“You’ve read them too, so you know—there’s a lot to prepare.”
Han Jaemin’s expression soured slightly when I didn’t rise to his bait. But he quickly recovered, replying casually.
“Obviously. I know. Don’t worry about it—just focus on honing your abilities.”
“……Can you actually find the Gate’s location first?”
“Why? Don’t believe me?”
“Even the Combat Division keeps that classified. How do you know?”
“I told you, Chanhee.”
Han Jaemin smiled, his voice icy.
“You don’t need to know if you’re just along for the ride.”
“You’re creepy.”
“Creepy? Good. Better than looking ridiculous. I was worried you might just see us as some pathetic joke.”
“As if I’d underestimate you, with spies planted everywhere.”
“Smart boy.”
Han Jaemin clapped his hands once, sharp and deliberate.
“Never forget—I’m always watching.”
“You’re being awfully polite for someone who’s just along for the ride.”
“Ever wonder how much I know that you don’t?”
I glared at him, silent. Han Jaemin met my gaze, smirking as he taunted me.
“I probably know you better than you know yourself.”
“What?”
“The you that you don’t know—I know that you.”
