TS 026

Instead of heading straight for the director’s office, Yoon Taehwa changed course, making his way towards the meeting room. As expected, the three people he was looking for were already gathered there, their heads bent in serious discussion. 

“Oh, Team Leader.”

“Team Leader, are you alright?”

Kang Jaemin shot out of his chair, his eyes wide with concern. Hae Na-eun turned to face him, her expression mirroring the younger man’s worry. Yoon Taehwa waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for them to sit down, his gaze settling on Kim Su-an.

“Su-an, are you injured?” 

“I’m fine, sir. I’m so sorry.”

His face was pale, shadowed with guilt. He clearly blamed himself for Yoon Taehwa and Han Suryeon’s injuries, believing it was his failure to contain the flames quickly enough that had led to the disaster. 

“There’s no need to apologize. It was my responsibility to ensure your safety.”

“But you could have been seriously hurt!  I talked to the bomb disposal team, and they said if it wasn’t for Suryeon…you could have been really badly injured. Even an S-rank… they said the medical team would have had their hands full.”

Kim Su-an’s words weren’t an exaggeration. It had been an Esper suppression bomb, after all. 

“I should have stayed by your side from the start. I could have left the fire suppression to the others.” 

“We’re both alive, that’s all that matters.”

“Team Leader, how’s Suryeon hyung? The medical team said he’d be fine, but I haven’t had a chance to see him. They said it was best to avoid contact, since we’re both psychokinetics.” 

Kang Jaemin’s question brought the memory of Han Suryeon’s injuries rushing back: the bandages wrapped around his shoulder, the glimpse of blood. 

‘But his regeneration abilities are better than most.’

His injuries, while serious, hadn’t been life-threatening. 

“Go see him if you’re so worried. He just woke up.”

“Oh, he’s awake? I’ll go visit him later, after you leave. You must have something important to discuss if you’re here.” 

The relief in Kang Jaemin’s voice, the way his shoulders slumped, was a testament to the anxiety he’d been carrying. 

“Su-an, did you see how Han Suryeon used his ability?”

Yoon Taehwa’s reason for coming here was twofold: to assess the situation, and more importantly, to try to understand how Han Suryeon had used his ability to save them from the blast. 

An Esper’s ability was instinctive. Just as humans couldn’t explain how they controlled their fingers, or how demihumans moved their tails, Espers often struggled to articulate the mechanics of their abilities.

Which is why outside observations were crucial. Sometimes, a fresh perspective was all it took to unlock the secrets of their powers.

“No, sir. I was focused on containing the fire at that point. But then there was that second explosion, and… it was like a chain reaction or something. The fire I’d been controlling flared up again. I managed to contain it as quickly as I could, and when I got there…  Suryeon hyung was shielding you. It was chaos.” 

How had Han Suryeon used psychokinesis to extinguish the flames?  He considered asking Kang Jaemin, but the younger Esper’s control paled in comparison to Han Suryeon’s. He probably wouldn’t be able to provide any insight.

“Any information on the bomb?”

“I brought the report with me.”

Hae Na-eun handed him a tablet. The file contained a detailed analysis of the explosive device: its type, origin, and detonation mechanism.

“They weren’t kidding about it being an Esper suppression bomb.”

“It’s a new, miniaturized model. They call it the Acorn.”

“Team Leader, look at this video. It moves like a spider!” 

He pressed play, his eyes widening as he watched footage of the bomb in action. Its movements were so precise, so spider-like, that it was almost impossible to discern its true nature. 

“Track down its origins.” 

“Yes, sir. The management team is already on it.”

The bomb disposal team would handle the technical aspects, while the medical team took care of their comatose target. His task was different.

Yoon Taehwa’s gaze swept over his team members, his tone brisk, businesslike.

“Did you call Woojin hyung?”

Lee Woojin was Team 1’s designated Guide, an S-rank, a rarity in South Korea. They were close in age, having joined the Center around the same time, and their relationship had evolved from professional colleagues to trusted friends.

“Yes, sir. I received Guiding already.”

“Jaemin and I had ours earlier. Woojin hyung was worried about you. Should I call him?” 

“No, it’s fine.”

Yoon Taehwa stood up, not wanting to burden Lee Woojin with unnecessary Guiding. He wasn’t in dire need of it. 

He paused at the door, a thought striking him.

“Did Han Suryeon receive Guiding?”

“I don’t believe so. The medical team took over immediately after the incident, and since it wasn’t an emergency, they… bypassed that step. He refused, anyway. I offered to assign an A-rank Guide, but he kept refusing. His aura was stable, so we decided to monitor the situation.” 

“Are you sure that’s okay?” 

Kim Su-an, who had been listening quietly, winced, touching his bruised cheek.

“He’ll ask for it if he needs it.”

The man had allegedly gone three and a half months without Guiding. He’d be fine. 

***

Director Shin was massaging her temples when he entered her office, her expression strained. Yoon Taehwa, forgoing formalities, took a seat across from her desk. 

“I hear he’s in a coma.” 

“Yes. We brought in an Esper from overseas, hoping to get some intel on Monomorium, and now this…it’s a setback.”

“What are the chances of him waking up?”

“He’s an A-rank Esper. We’re hoping for the best. But with telepaths…it’s always more complicated. He might be faking it, of course. But what happened exactly?”

Yoon Taehwa, his expression unreadable, voiced a dangerous accusation. 

“I think we have a mole.” 

“In the Center? …It’s not impossible, I suppose.” 

Director Shin sighed, leaning back in her chair before straightening up, her gaze sharpening. 

“We weed them out, but they always find a way back in.” 

“Some are coerced, others are persuaded.”

Not all terrorists were born into their affiliations. Many were recruited through intimidation, others through promises of power or wealth. Researchers weren’t immune, and neither were the Espers who worked for the Center.

“Tell me your reasoning. What makes you suspect a mole?” 

“You heard what Hae Na-eun said.”

“About the explosion? Yes. She said it was thanks to her illusions that the target wasn’t in the building when it went up.” 

Once Han Suryeon had pinpointed Pavel’s location, the Center had placed him under constant surveillance. 

The explosion had occurred at a time when Pavel was supposed to be inside. If not for Hae Na-eun luring him out with her illusions, he would have been killed instantly. 

“If that was the only anomaly, it could have been a coincidence. Whoever planted the bomb might have simply chosen a date that coincided with our operation.”

“And?”

“It changes things if the bomb was strapped to him, don’t you think?” 

“They might have been targeting you.”

Director Shin’s voice was low, her concern evident. A mission gone wrong, coupled with the possibility of a mole within the Center, painted a grim picture. 

“At first, I thought the goal was simply to eliminate the target. Since the building the man lived in collapsed, the bomb in his clothing could have been a backup plan in case of an emergency, considering the possibility that he might unexpectedly escape the building.”

“The timing’s too convenient.” 

Yoon Taehwa agreed.

“And the second detonation… Why did it happen when we were right there? If the objective was simply to kill him, the second bomb should have gone off immediately after the first.” 

“Exactly. To ensure his elimination.”

“And then there was that building collapse that diverted half the backup team.”

“That’s another thing. Buildings don’t just collapse out of nowhere. Especially not in the heart of Seoul. Even old buildings…” 

Director Shin, her gaze fixed on her meticulously manicured nails, finally met Yoon Taehwa’s eyes.

“Any suspects?”

“Every single person involved in this mission.”

The scale of the operation had necessitated the involvement of numerous personnel. Director Shin sighed, massaging her forehead.

“I’ll assemble a team to investigate.”

“Make sure they’re trustworthy.” 

“I will.” 

It was practically impossible to root out every single spy operating within the Center. Keeping tabs on every single employee was beyond their capabilities. But they had to try. 

“We need information on Monomorium. We can’t let this lead go cold… This is a mess.” 

“Use your ability, Director.” 

Yoon Taehwa’s suggestion was calm, almost casual, in stark contrast to the director’s evident distress. 

“You can access his memories, trace his steps, even in his current state.” 

Shin Ae-hi was an S-rank telepath, her abilities allowing her to delve into people’s minds, to witness their past with unsettling clarity. While the process of forcefully extracting memories was risky, with various safeguards in place to prevent irreparable damage, it was undeniably effective.

“Using my ability on someone in a coma… he could die.”

“He’ll die by Han Suryeon’s hand anyway…”

Yoon Taehwa’s response was matter-of-fact, his expression betraying no emotion.

“We might as well extract whatever information we can before that happens.”

A cold glint entered his eyes.