Chapter 15

The ability of an Esper to see through objects was akin to X-ray vision, allowing them to view skeletal structures, muscles, and more beneath the surface. This ability was particularly advantageous in combat, enabling them to identify weak points or detect hidden weapons.

However, what Kang Yu-han saw when he focused on Sergeant Kim was far from ordinary. Unlike a normal human, his entire body appeared pitch black from head to toe.

It was only for a fleeting moment, but it was enough for Kang Yu-han to realize that what he was looking at was not a healthy, functioning human body. Only a minuscule part of the brain showed any signs of activity—a faint thread that barely kept Sergeant Kim’s rationality intact.

“Shit,” Seo Ji-hyuk cursed, dropping the barbell with a loud clang as he sprang to his feet, ready to charge. Kang Yu-han quickly extended an arm to stop him.

“Don’t.”

“Wait? For what?”

Seo Ji-hyuk’s sharp reflexes and telekinetic prowess meant he could obliterate a target at a cellular level in seconds if he wanted to. It wouldn’t take him long to reduce Sergeant Kim to dust.

“Just a moment,” Kang Yu-han urged.

“Are you kidding me, Kang Yu-han?”

Ignoring him, Kang Yu-han reached into his pocket and pulled out the ampoule. It was imperative to test its reaction with Sergeant Kim’s skin while he was still alive. Observing the chemical effects of the liquid was their priority for this mission.

Clutching the ampoule tightly, Kang Yu-han began running toward Sergeant Kim, who instinctively reacted to the perceived threat. His limbs twitched and convulsed, his body trembling in agitation. Yet, despite his grotesque appearance, Kang Yu-han caught a fleeting sense that some humanity still lingered within him.

He hesitated for a moment, and in that instant, his arm faltered.

“Agh!”

The ampoule slipped from his hand, landing right at Sergeant Kim’s feet. Kang Yu-han’s heart sank. He had to retrieve it immediately, or they would face a disaster.

Springing off the ground, Kang Yu-han lunged toward Sergeant Kim, just as the man swiped wildly with his claw-like hands. One of Kim’s nails caught the collar of Kang Yu-han’s shirt, tearing through the fabric with a sharp rip.

“You bastard!”

Seo Ji-hyuk leapt, tackling Sergeant Kim from behind and locking his elbow around the Variant’s throat. Kim gagged and thrashed, his eyes rolling back as he struggled to breathe. While Seo Ji-hyuk restrained him, Kang Yu-han smashed the ampoule against Kim’s nose, shattering the vial.

The clear liquid spilled onto Sergeant Kim’s face.

“Aaargh!”

Blisters the size of golf balls erupted on his skin, quickly bursting and releasing a black, acrid smoke. The sight was both horrifying and fascinating, confirming the chemical reaction the researchers had described.

“Got you now, bastard!”

Seo Ji-hyuk shouted, his eyes narrowing as he channeled his telekinetic power. A wave of energy pulsed from his body, visible only to Espers and Guides. Exactly three seconds later, Sergeant Kim collapsed to the ground, his entire body lifeless and slack, with black blood trickling from his mouth.

“I caused internal bleeding. Figured they’d want to perform an autopsy,” Seo Ji-hyuk remarked coldly.

“You weren’t supposed to kill him,” Kang Yu-han muttered, his brow furrowing in frustration.

“What?”

“The orders were to capture him alive. How are we supposed to investigate now? The higher-ups are going to be furious.”

Kang Yu-han bit his lip anxiously, thinking about the repercussions. Their mission had been to capture a live Variant for study, but with Kim dead, the results they could gather would be limited. Seo Ji-hyuk, however, didn’t seem fazed.

“Is that really what you’re worried about right now?” Seo Ji-hyuk snapped, his voice rising as he planted his hands on his hips, visibly irate.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d already be dead. You should be thanking me.”

“I should be thanking you?”

“Of course! I could’ve let you die, but I didn’t. Consider yourself lucky.”

“…”

“If you hadn’t gotten in the way, I wouldn’t have killed him! I was going to capture him alive, damn it. But no, it’s all your fault!”

Seo Ji-hyuk’s anger flared hotter with each word, his voice laced with frustration. To Kang Yu-han, however, it felt oddly like concern—a confusing contrast to his sharp tone and harsh words.

‘Don’t misunderstand this.’

Kang Yu-han told himself.

‘Seo Ji-hyuk is yelling because I made a mistake, not because he cares.’

The stench of blood wafted heavily in the air, grounding Kang Yu-han in reality. There was no time to indulge in misplaced interpretations of Seo Ji-hyuk’s behavior.

“We don’t have time for this,”

Kang Yu-han said firmly, straightening his posture.

“Let’s call the cleanup team and wrap this up.”

* * *

That night, Kang Yu-han couldn’t bring himself to leave his desk. The dormitory he shared with Seo Ji-hyuk had a small office space, separated from the bedroom by a single door. He had been wrestling with his laptop for hours in that cramped corner.

He needed to write a concise report detailing the incident with Sergeant Kim earlier in the day. But each time he began typing, his hands froze on the keyboard.

His mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts. Chief among them was the oppressive guilt of feeling like a murderer. Though eliminating a Variant was part of his duty in the Variant Detection T/F, it didn’t change the fact that Sergeant Kim, who had once been human, was now dead at the hands of two Espers.

The last look of fear in Sergeant Kim’s eyes lingered as a haunting afterimage in Kang Yu-han’s mind.

What unsettled him further was the peculiar sight he had observed during his scan of Sergeant Kim. A tiny part of the man’s brain had remained active, suggesting he retained a trace of human fear—an undeniable mark of his lingering humanity. Until the very moment of his death, that sliver of activity persisted.

This was why Kang Yu-han couldn’t shake the feeling that they hadn’t killed a monster but a human being.

Sighing heavily, Kang Yu-han leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the top rail as the pale glow of the overhead fluorescent light filled his eyes. He closed them, but the afterimage of the harsh light danced behind his eyelids.

Beyond the burden of killing Sergeant Kim, something else had unsettled him: Seo Ji-hyuk’s behavior.

It’s just anger. There’s no way he’s actually concerned about me.

But the thought refused to leave him. The possibility that Seo Ji-hyuk had shown genuine worry gnawed at him, though he knew it was just a foolish fantasy. He felt pathetic for indulging in such an impossible notion.

Opening his eyes, he realized nothing about his situation had changed. He was still in the same isolated office space, typing a meaningless report.

I need to get out of here.

He couldn’t concentrate with the knowledge that Seo Ji-hyuk was asleep just beyond the door. There was no reason to stay cooped up in the dormitory when he could move to the 24-hour shared office space in the common area to finish his work.

Grabbing his laptop, Kang Yu-han opened the door cautiously. The faint light from the hallway spilled onto Seo Ji-hyuk’s resting form, highlighting his muscular silhouette. Assuming he was asleep, Kang Yu-han tiptoed toward the door—until a voice startled him.

“Where are you going?”

Kang Yu-han froze, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn’t expected Seo Ji-hyuk to be awake.

“Out,” he said hastily, as if caught doing something suspicious.

“Why?” Seo Ji-hyuk asked without missing a beat.

Kang Yu-han struggled for a response. There was no way he could admit that he couldn’t focus because of him. As he fumbled for words, Seo Ji-hyuk sat up in bed.

“If you’re going out, I’m coming with you.”

“Huh?”

Kang Yu-han couldn’t hide his confusion. Since moving into this shared dormitory, not once had they spent any personal time together. Seo Ji-hyuk’s sudden declaration caught him off guard, and for a brief moment, a flicker of hope sparked within him.

But it didn’t last long.

“You can’t handle it if a Variant shows up,” Seo Ji-hyuk added flatly. “You’d be toast without me.”

Ah.

Making sure his sigh was inaudible, Kang Yu-han suppressed his disappointment. Seo Ji-hyuk always made it difficult for him to keep his emotions in check. No matter what, Kang Yu-han knew he couldn’t let his feelings slip. That struggle made every interaction with Seo Ji-hyuk exhausting.

Seo Ji-hyuk threw on a jersey over his t-shirt and headed out first. Kang Yu-han stood there for a moment, collecting himself, before following him.

As they walked to the shared office, Kang Yu-han’s eyes were drawn to Seo Ji-hyuk’s broad back. His thoughts swirled with all the things he wanted to say, but none of them could leave his lips. He felt a pang of frustration and self-loathing at his inability to speak his mind, but there was nothing he could do about it.