116

Suppressing his nerves with effort, Ha-gyeom stepped into the drawing room to find the table still empty. He seated himself next to what appeared to be Assemblyman Tak’s head seat and laid the luxurious napkin across his lap.

“You’re here!”

A short while later, Assemblyman Tak appeared, dressed casually, as if he had just finished working out. Ha-gyeom stood and bowed politely, then sat back down at the man’s gesture.

“How’s your condition?”

“I’ve recovered quite a bit.”

He answered plainly and met his gaze. The man’s eyes roamed up and down without pretense, but Ha-gyeom didn’t care much about that.

“There’s no need to be so tense. This isn’t a formal setting. You’ve been through a lot, so it’s good to replenish your strength, and besides, there’s nothing wrong with using this chance to get to know each other personally.”

…Personally? It sounded inappropriate coming from a leader who should be managing both work and people meticulously. Still, Ha-gyeom pretended to agree as he fiddled with the napkin on his lap.

Assemblyman Tak rubbed his thick hands together, then shook out his napkin and tucked it into the neckline of his T-shirt. At that signal, dishes began to appear one by one on the table. There were spoons, forks, and knives placed on either side of the plate, meant to be used at specific times, but Ha-gyeom, not knowing the proper use, simply picked up any fork and reached for the appetizer.

Appetizer. Back at the Center, even the compartments in the trays were often left empty. The experience felt undeniably strange. He didn’t even want to think about the pigsty-like place where he’d been imprisoned as a child.

Perhaps his discomfort showed, because Assemblyman Tak suddenly reached over and cut the cooked vegetables into smaller pieces for him. When the back of the man’s hand brushed against the edge of his, a chill ran through Ha-gyeom. He immediately pulled his hands back and cast a wary look, but Assemblyman Tak showed no sign of concern.

Grinning, he asked warmly, “How was training? Just so you know, this is a personal conversation, not a debriefing or anything like that. No need to overthink it. Compared to the other leaders, I’m sure I’m easier to talk to. I might not look it, but I’m not a picky man. I don’t expect perfect manners from a greenhorn.”

A greenhorn? Hearing it from Tak’s own mouth made it sound all the more repulsive. But that was the kind of thing Ha-gyeom could easily let pass.

What troubled him was how to bring up what he needed to say. He was well aware he lacked the skills for deception or manipulation. It was difficult to find the right moment to make a request. If he was too blunt, it would seem suspicious. If he hid too much, that would also draw suspicion.

“So, how was the training?”

As he quietly observed the man, the question returned with a subtle pressure. Though Assemblyman Tak claimed it wasn’t an interrogation, the gleam in his eyes suggested he very much wanted an answer.

“I’ve already given my full report on the training to Baek Sa.”

That kind of stiff reply wasn’t likely to hold his interest. Still, Ha-gyeom silently studied his reaction. The assemblyman’s brow twitched with displeasure.

“You… like Baek Sa, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And Baek Sa?”

“…Probably.”

He hadn’t felt entitled to speak on Baek Sa’s emotions, so he kept it vague—but Assemblyman Tak seemed even more pleased by that uncertainty.

“Feelings are fine and all, but if you ask me, Baek Sa isn’t someone you can truly rely on.”

“……”

“I may have given him authority, but in the end, both of you are in the same position. When you really need someone to depend on, it’s not the powerful types you want—it’s someone like me. If only Ah-rang had realized that…”

The sudden mention of Ah-rang’s name made Ha-gyeom swallow dryly. The unknown gap between Baek Sa and Ah-rang had been brought up, sending a chill down his spine.

“At the very least, she wouldn’t be in that state now.”

The next comment was vague, as if bait to stir his curiosity. He was deeply interested in what had transpired between them, but that wasn’t the most pressing matter right now.

Assemblyman Tak seemed to blame Baek Sa, but Ha-gyeom didn’t believe every word. He only asked a small question in response to the way Tak kept flashing his authority.

“How much do you actually know, Assemblyman?”

“About what?”

“The invasion, the espers, the anomalies, the gravity holes… Things like that. It’s been over ten years, but ordinary people still don’t know much. Why we’re going through all this, and what’s beyond those unreachable areas…”

He asked the question with practiced innocence, knowing Tak would welcome the chance to boast. As expected, the man leaned in slightly, closing the distance between them.

“You saw it too, didn’t you? What Ah-rang saw.”

“……!”

Despite the predictable lead-up, Assemblyman Tak suddenly hit the mark. It was clear he already had prior knowledge of Ha-gyeom’s plan to confess the truth and gain his trust. Ha-gyeom couldn’t hide the tremble in his eyes. Frozen with the fork still in hand, he flinched when Tak’s warm hand wrapped over his own.

“Ah-rang said it looked like someone was controlling the monsters. Do you think so too?”

Ha-gyeom nodded. Then, as if entranced, he asked,

“Does Baek Sa know this too?”

“Ha, Baek Sa? Ah-rang only told me, so of course not!”

He laughed heartily, slapping the table. The excessive behavior, as if claiming he was someone special to Ah-rang, made it easy to imagine how he might have treated her the same way.

Whether it was good or bad that Baek Sa didn’t know… Ha-gyeom wasn’t sure.

But now that the atmosphere had grown a bit more heated, this was the perfect moment. He deliberately lowered his eyebrows and spoke meekly.

“I want to see Ah-rang. Baek Sa said it was too dangerous and wouldn’t allow it…”

Tak seemed like the type to be pleased simply by having the power to grant any difficult request. Ha-gyeom’s gamble hit the mark—Assemblyman Tak smiled and squeezed the hand still resting over his.

“You clearly felt something too, when Ah-rang woke up. Don’t worry about Baek Sa. I also think it’s best you see her.”

The sensation of the damp palm was unpleasant, but Ha-gyeom obediently nodded.

“For the next report, I’d like you to bring it only to me. Not to Baek Sa.”

Ha-gyeom didn’t respond this time. But Assemblyman Tak took his silence as consent, and downed his drink in one gulp, smiling like a man who had just won.

---

Ah-rang was deep underground. After descending to a level too far to guess and stepping into the corridor, the mercenary guiding him came to a sudden halt, even though the corner was still a long way off.

“The last room at the end after you turn the corner. We’ve been ordered to stop here. Who knows what kind of mess could happen if we get too close…”

It was a careless order, but it didn’t matter. Ha-gyeom had no desire to push forward a mercenary who was already shrugging his shoulders and showing signs of reluctance. His mind was already fully prepared.

“Got it.”

Ha-gyeom replied dryly, unbuttoning the shirt he had kept tightly fastened in front of Assemblyman Tak, and headed further inside. He felt a chill in the air as he turned the corner and stopped in front of the last door.

It was impossible to guess its size as it was, but considering the nature of the 0 District, once this door opened…

Creeeak—

With the sound of metal scraping against the floor, the space that appeared was engulfed in complete darkness, impossible to measure or comprehend.

Ha-gyeom stepped inside and groped along the wall for a switch. After a long moment, his fingers found a protruding button, and when he pressed it, the lights above flicked on all at once.

Instantly, a massive space unfolded before him. The ceiling must have been at least five stories high, and the room itself was as large as a training hall. The gray walls and floor created the atmosphere of a huge warehouse, and not a single ray of sunlight reached inside.

‘Why would she be in a place like this…?’

Ah-rang was sitting alone at the center of it all. Her hands and feet were shackled. When Ha-gyeom saw her leaning forward with her long hair hanging down, his heart started pounding as if it might burst.

Even so, he didn’t hesitate. With every footstep sounding loud in the empty space, Ha-gyeom walked purposefully toward where Ah-rang sat. He pulled over an empty chair—likely intended for questioning—and sat down in front of her. Only then did Ah-rang’s head begin to move.

She slowly lifted her face. Her signature pale complexion came into view. As her half-lowered lids opened and she stared straight at him, her gaze felt strangely familiar.

“……”

Despite being shackled like a prisoner, Ah-rang wore no expression of pain. On the contrary, she smiled peacefully. In that moment, a sharp instinct struck Ha-gyeom—that face, which almost looked childishly innocent, was not truly Ah-rang’s.