TS 033

The rusty metal door creaked open with a spine-chilling groan. Han Suryeon selected a military-grade combat knife from the tray by the entrance, its blade gleaming under the dim lights. He strolled towards the lone figure seated in the center of the room, his movements slow, deliberate. The man was bound to a metal chair, his thighs secured with leather straps, his arms twisted behind him, his ankles tightly bound to the chair’s legs. It was a meticulous, almost artistic display of restraint. 

『Mmph…!』

As if sensing Han Suryeon’s approach, the man’s head jerked up, his eyes widening in terror as he struggled against his restraints. His body trembled, a violent tremor that wracked his frame. 

“Hello.” 

Han Suryeon’s greeting, delivered in a language the man didn’t understand, only amplified his fear. 

“There’s a saying in Korea… something about having ‘guts’.”

Han Suryeon tested the knife’s weight, twirling it expertly between his fingers. A rusty light fixture hanging from the ceiling flickered ominously. 

“What possessed you to come here?” 

He knew the unfamiliar language would only amplify the man’s terror, yet he continued speaking in Korean, his voice calm, almost conversational.

While he preferred Han Suryeon to Liliya, he hadn’t used Korean during an interrogation before. Not in five years. 

The face was a blur, lost to time, but the voice… that he remembered vividly. It had been five years, and the man’s voice would have changed, matured, but the memory still lingered. 

He’d heard it in a filthy, dimly lit alleyway, the air thick with the scent of blood and cigarette smoke. Yoon Taehwa’s voice. 

He hadn’t even seen his face, just… heard his voice.

‘And yet, it made quite the impression.’ 

He’d liked the sound of it, the low timbre, the cadence of his words, so he’d started using Korean, even during casual conversations with his father, until it had become a habit, slipping out unexpectedly, even in moments like this. 

And then he’d discovered that his interrogation subjects found the foreign language unsettling. 

“Cat got your tongue?” 

The man, his mouth gagged, could only whimper, his eyes pleading. 

“Espers are notoriously difficult to kill, so… I’m going to have some fun, okay?” 

Han Suryeon’s smile, a gentle curve of his lips, his tone light, almost apologetic, was a stark contrast to the chilling words. 

『Mmph…!』

The knife, specially designed for piercing through flesh and bone, plunged into the man’s collarbone with a sickening thud, a feat of strength impossible for an ordinary human. 

『Ugh, keugh, ughhh…』

The man thrashed against his restraints, but the heavy metal chair held firm. Han Suryeon withdrew the knife, its tip dripping with blood, and pressed it against the man’s skin.

“I hate blood…” 

He wrinkled his nose, his expression a mask of distaste. 

Not that anyone enjoyed the sight of blood, but Han Suryeon’s aversion was visceral, an instinctive revulsion that made his stomach churn. He didn’t faint, he didn’t tremble. It was simply… repulsive. Thankfully, his pale complexion hid any outward signs of his disgust. 

“But as the leader, I gotta do what I gotta do, right?”

Han Suryeon smiled, asking a question to someone who couldn’t even understand his words. 

He had his duties. And sometimes, those duties involved blood. After all, power came with responsibilities. 

He glanced down, watching as the man’s flesh began to knit itself back together. He’d only broken the bone, not shattered it completely, which meant, given time, it would heal perfectly. Unfortunate for the man. 

『Uaahh, uuuhhhh…』

The man tried to speak, but the gag muffled his words, making them unintelligible.

“Sorry, I can’t understand you.”

He repositioned the knife, pressing it against the man’s skin, just above the wound, applying pressure. The blade, slick with blood, cut through flesh, inching its way upwards. 

『Kkkeuuuu… Ugh! Ugh!』

The man’s strangled cry made him hesitate, the knife stopping just below his Adam’s apple. 

THUD THUD THUD!

As if sensing his impending doom, the man thrashed violently, the chair legs scraping against the concrete floor. Han Suryeon, unfazed, tightened his grip on the knife. 

『Uh, mph!』

The trail of blood, starting from his collarbone, ending just below his chin, stopped just shy of the gag. 

Han Suryeon paused, his brow furrowed in thought, before flicking his wrist, slicing through the fabric.

『Talk.』

His voice, low and dangerous, was in Russian, devoid of the playful lilt he usually adopted when speaking Korean.

『Cough, cough! Cough, haaa, cough…』

The man coughed violently, spitting out the blood-soaked gag. His ragged gasps, harsh and grating, filled the room. His accelerated healing, usually a blessing, was now a source of agonizing pain. 

『Not listening, are we?』

He plunged the knife into the man’s thigh without a second thought.

『AAAAAH! Agh! Ugh…』

The blade had gone deeper than intended. 

Han Suryeon clicked his tongue, frowning. While he was proficient with firearms and a master of psychokinesis, he’d never quite mastered the art of wielding a knife. It hadn’t mattered before, when his targets were monsters, creatures he could dispatch without a second thought. But with humans, with the need for precision, his control faltered.

“You’re making this difficult…”

Even though he mastered everything he could, in case his ability were ever suppressed, for some reason, knives never felt right in his hand.

Technology had advanced, enabling the forceful suppression of an Esper’s abilities, but its limitations – the need for specialized drugs or equipment, the requirement for the target to be either caught off guard or incapacitated – made it a risky proposition. But Han Suryeon wasn’t one to take chances.

Despite the Guild’s polished facade, their public image of dungeon clearing heroes, they were, at their core, not that different from the Red Mafia organizations they’d evolved from. 

Power struggles were a constant: vying for government contracts, competing with other Guilds. It paid to be prepared. Espers who relied solely on their abilities were vulnerable, their necks easy targets. 

『I said talk. Where is Pavel?』

『I-I don’t…』

『Don’t insult my intelligence. You and Pavel are Ant bastards.』

『W-What do you m-mean? I, I was n-never part of Voron to begin with…』

『Hmm, is that so?』

Han Suryeon nodded slowly, as if considering the man’s words, twirling the knife between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the healing wound.

Kim Hye-na, entering the room, hesitated at the sight of blood splattered on the floor. She glanced up at Han Suryeon, her expression exaggerated, as if she were about to vomit. 

『Leader, can I throw up? Please?』

『No.』

『Why use a knife? You hate blood. Why not just… use your ability?』 

Having worked with Han Suryeon for years, she was well-acquainted with his… preferences. He avoided bloodshed unless absolutely necessary. With his ability, it was an easy enough feat. 

She’d sometimes wondered if his aversion was genuine. The way he’d occasionally blanch, the subtle paleness that would creep into his features. But looking at the carnage before her, it seemed she’d been mistaken.

‘Of course, it’s all an act.’ 

Borein, Kasatka’s elite strike team, was known for their ruthlessness, their reputation for merciless efficiency. And Han Suryeon, the Vice Guild Master’s son, their leader, had played a significant role in cultivating that image. 

『It’s a message.』

Kim Hye-na, carefully navigating the bloodstains, approached them. Her brown eyes widened as she took in the sight of the man slumped in the chair. 

『What the… He’s dead?』

『Yes.』

『The Guild Master wanted him alive!』

『It’s a mistake.』

『You relied on brute force again, didn’t you?』

『How else am I supposed to use it?』

How else?  Kim Hye-na wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he grasp this simple concept?  

『With finesse, like you use your ability!』

『My ability and my physical strength… they’re not the same thing. I was trying to be gentle… Perhaps A-rank Espers are just weak.』

『Why practice on a human? You’re not a bloodthirsty maniac.』

『Thanks for the compliment.』

Kim Hye-na, having confirmed the man’s death, sighed, getting to the point. 

『Where did he say he was going?』

『Korea.』

『Korea?』

『He said there’s a high-ranking Ant there. Monomorium, I think.』

『Hmm… there’s a theory that they originated in South Korea.』

It wasn’t confirmed, but there were rumors that the woman who first organized the Ants was a Korean Ability User. 

『By the way, what are you gonna do? The Guild master said to keep him alive. If he finds out this guy’s dead, he might send someone after you, Leader… Or maybe you’ll get disciplined? Sounds like a pain in the ass.』

Han Suryeon, as if recalling something annoying, made a bothered expression before muttering to himself while fiddling with his cheek.

『Korea… wouldn’t be so bad, right?』

『You’re not planning to go after Pavel yourself, are you? All the way to Korea?』

『I am.』

『When? The Vice Guild Master would never allow it.』

Han Suryeon, meeting her bewildered gaze, said, seemingly out of the blue:

『When I was younger…』

『Younger?』

『I asked my mother why she married my father. Do you know what she said?』

『What did she say?』

He recalled his childhood. 

He was his mother’s son, inheriting not just her features, but her personality as well. 

She had been a woman of insatiable appetites, the only daughter of a wealthy family, accustomed to getting everything she wanted. And she had wanted his father. 

A foreigner, with no ties to their world. A man with no Russian blood flowing through his veins, she had defied conventions and claimed him as her own. 

Like mother, like son. 

Even he, who cared little for material possessions, had his… weaknesses.

Han Suryeon’s lips curved into a predatory smile. 

『She said he… sparkled.』

And crows couldn’t resist shiny things.