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The gaze that seemed to pierce straight through him gave Ha-gyeom chills, but he masked it and asked calmly.

“…Do you remember me? When you woke up, I was in Dr. Kim’s lab.”

Ah-rang nodded.

Strictly speaking, this was only their second meeting, yet there was not a trace of unfamiliarity in her expression. Her energy, too, was no longer the red hue he had sensed before—it now glowed blue. Just by appearances, it was hard to believe this person could have killed anyone. She looked fragile, even meek.

And yet, the unaffected calm in her eyes made sweat bead on his palms. It wasn’t a threatening atmosphere, but the confidence with which she stared at him, without asking a single question about this uninvited encounter, was unsettling.

“I’m…”

The moment Baek Sa’s fingertips had brushed the pale nape of her neck still lingered vividly in Ha-gyeom’s mind. Tension and jealousy struck at once, but he didn’t let that immature emotion show.

“I’m Shin Ha-gyeom. As you’ve probably already sensed, I’m a guide like you. I’m also currently… Baek Sa’s assigned guide.”

It was a formal introduction, yet his voice trembled. Ha-gyeom’s face flushed red. It felt less like he was telling her something new and more like he was flaunting his position to someone who already knew.

But why? She was supposed to have lost all her memories. Even if she had seen him that day, there was no reason she’d know anything about him…

“Baek Sa’s…”

She trailed off, murmuring the name. A strange smile tugged at her lips. Her low, intelligent voice didn’t feel grounded in reality.

More than anything, Ah-rang didn’t look like someone who had forgotten Baek Sa’s name. Ha-gyeom quickly followed up.

“I heard you lost your memory.”

This time, she didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes. Beneath her lids, her eyes flicked restlessly back and forth.

“You don’t… seem like someone who did.”

The moment he voiced his instinct, her eyes stopped moving. When she opened them again, her steady gaze swept over Ha-gyeom from head to toe. Frozen in place, Ha-gyeom held his breath and endured the blatant scrutiny.

She didn’t give a clear answer, but it felt as though they were already communicating without words. Was Baek Sa lying? Or was it that Ah-rang was only revealing her true self to him, because he was a fellow guide?

Even if Ah-rang hadn’t lost her memory, Ha-gyeom couldn’t tell whether her willingness to engage him came from goodwill or caution. Still, he didn’t stop.

“I heard you also entered the anomaly… like I did.”

He wanted to know more about someone connected to Baek Sa. Maybe, as a fellow guide, he also wanted someone who would understand what he had experienced.

Ah-rang nodded slowly. She raised her bound wrists, as if the shackles were bothering her, causing the chain to rattle with an unpleasant clinking sound.

“I saw… something in there…”

“……”

“And I thought you might understand… so I came here.”

She had been waving her arms casually, but now she suddenly stopped. Her body still seemed stiff and sluggish, as if not fully recovered, and her eyes met his with deliberate slowness. Ha-gyeom’s throat bobbed with a heavy swallow, uncertain of what would come next.

“In Dr. Kim’s lab… your energy was—ugh!”

At that moment, Ah-rang’s energy surged violently. Just like the day he had first encountered her awakened form, the energy shifted to a blazing red in an instant, expanding around her body with a menacing intensity. That alone was terrifying enough—but then, as if crushed by the sheer force of it, Ha-gyeom found himself unable to move.

“Ugh…”

It was like invisible threads had burrowed into his nerves, binding his entire body. Panicked, Ha-gyeom felt his vision seized as well. Just like back inside the anomaly—when those tiger-like eyes had locked onto him—Ah-rang’s gaze now held him completely captive.

And with the binding came pain.

The urgency to escape collided with the reality of the situation. Ha-gyeom was alone here with Ah-rang—there was no one he could call for help now. From the start, he hadn’t even considered the possibility that someone might find or rescue him.

“Why… are you… doing this…”

His voice was hoarse, barely coming out. His chest heaved repeatedly with sweat pouring down like rain from the pain. Though it was invisible to the eye, he could clearly feel the red energy surging toward him.

Heavy and slow, like molten lava…

The energy, slicing through the air and pressing in on him helplessly, carried aggression unlike any energy a guide should possess. Its sharp form clawed at and damaged his own energy. Even espers, who used energy for combat, didn’t typically possess the ability to attack or disrupt another’s energy directly—let alone a guide. And until now, Ah-rang was the only guide from whom Ha-gyeom had ever sensed such energy.

When Ah-rang’s eyes, consumed by red light, suddenly gleamed, Ha-gyeom was finally sure.

‘That’s not Ah-rang.’

If it wasn’t Ah-rang, then… who was it?

“Urgh…!”

It didn’t end there.

The moment doubt formed, his breath was squeezed tight, and even his consciousness began to dim. Everything around him wavered like a heat haze, bathed in red energy. It felt as if he’d been dragged back into the anomaly—reality growing thinner and more distant by the second.

He couldn’t be sure how long the blue energy protecting him would last. He didn’t know what the red energy was trying to do, but every instinct in him screamed that he must not be consumed by it.

“Ghh…!”

Ha-gyeom withstood it with every last bit of strength. But even using all the power he had, he couldn’t stop the energy from seeping in through the cracks. His voice wouldn’t come, yet he cried out silently, trying to hold on.

“……”

Eventually, a sense of helplessness washed over him—like someone who realizes too late that they are drowning, believing there’s nothing more they can do.

His entire body burned, feverish, and even as the blue light began to flicker out, he could no longer control his energy.

At last, Ha-gyeom was enveloped in a red vision, as if he were floating helplessly inside a pool of blood.

“……!”

Only then could he see it—that lone black figure standing at the center. Flickering like smoke—it was the same entity he had seen inside the anomaly.

What would he do if that incomprehensible voice returned?

What does it want from him?

But the next moment, it wasn’t the entity’s voice that came.

“……!”

Though he couldn’t speak, Ha-gyeom didn’t even dare groan. What struck him now was an onslaught of memories—memories he had never lived, belonging to someone he did not know.

They were Ah-rang’s memories, seemingly absorbed by that entity.

Like a lantern-lit film reel flashing too quickly to process, the images passed through him, leaving his entire body numb.

Her growth, her resentment, her anger, her hatred…

Ah-rang had endured the construction of the 0 District, the corruption, and the evil. What shocked Ha-gyeom most was realizing that he, too, existed within those memories.

They began from the chaos of the evacuation shelter. And at the end of those memories were Assemblyman Tak, the district’s leaders, the espers—and Baek Sa.

“……!”

How long did it take for him to process it all?

Still bound, Ha-gyeom trembled in pain. In the end, he couldn’t even exhale, like someone who had forgotten how to breathe.

He simply sat there helpless, staring at the black figure standing in the red glow. At some point, he could no longer think clearly at all.

Boom—!

A deafening crash tore through the space, and the red light that had devoured everything vanished in an instant. The sound had come from someone throwing open the steel door.

Through the suddenly clear air, Ha-gyeom saw Ah-rang’s calm eyes staring back at him. The red glow in her pupils had completely vanished. She looked exhausted, and her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something.

‘Ah-rang…?’

He knew instinctively.

That had been a fleeting moment of Ah-rang.

Footsteps approached—steady, deliberate. Even without turning, Ha-gyeom knew who had entered. Even if the terrifying energy still lingered, that person wouldn’t have seen it. He wasn’t a guide—he was an esper.

Sweat clung to Ha-gyeom’s temples, running down his cheeks and chin. Tears that had pooled in the corners of his eyes followed the same path. Though unshackled, his hands were pinned behind him as if bound. Like that, he stared at Ah-rang’s slowly fading eyes.

“……”

And then, when that light vanished from her gaze, as if her soul had slipped away, he felt someone’s rough hand grab the collar of his shirt.

His body jolted violently, and only then could he breathe again. Ha-gyeom doubled over and coughed, his breath ragged and strained. The suffocating pain had been overwhelming, like teetering on the edge of death.

Before he could even catch his breath, Baek Sa lifted his sweat-drenched body into his arms.

Without a word, he left the room—leaving Ah-rang behind.

Ha-gyeom barely managed to glance up. The quick glimpse he caught of Baek Sa’s face showed that it was completely drained of color.