#16

My father was a man who had achieved everything. He had climbed to a position that shone with success and privilege, enough to consider himself someone special. But even he couldn’t be kind to everyone like Senior Junghoo. Kindness was something rare, something that couldn’t be attained through mere effort or accomplishments. It was something only people who knew how to humble themselves—like Senior Junghoo—could truly possess.

His kindness was a form of strength. And I was drawn to that strength. Watching Senior Junghoo made me want to become someone who could reach that same kindness. It was a talent our family didn’t have.

“Do you have low standards or something?”

Wei Chen’s voice pierced into my head. I glared at him, but he just smiled lightly.

“Try meeting someone like me. Wouldn’t it be way more exciting to deal with a guy who’s stimulating and dangerously unpredictable every day?”

Seriously, he’s not in his right mind. What’s with that absurd confidence? No, it wasn’t just confidence—it was the attitude of someone who thought this was all a given.

“I could erase that guy from your head completely, you know.”

The confidence he had wasn’t just bluster or a joke. He truly believed I’d end up liking him more than Senior Junghoo.

“Too bad. I’m not really interested in erasing him.”

Wei Chen was the complete opposite of Senior Junghoo. Junghoo’s kindness came from a place of genuine care for others. But Wei Chen? He twisted people around his finger, lured them in with strange words, then left them disoriented, finishing it all off with a sly smile that made them look ridiculous.

And yet, strangely enough, beyond the irritation, I couldn’t help but keep looking at him. Was it because of how unpredictable he was? Like staring at a horned horse out of curiosity, maybe it was just because he was so unusual.

Sometimes, I even wondered if he was really human, the way he seemed utterly devoid of empathy, acting purely wicked—only to realize, after thinking it over once or twice, that it had actually been an act of subtle consideration. That peculiar balance of extremes coexisted within him.

“What are you staring at like that?”

“It’s nothing.”

The danger that’s visible on the surface—you can guard against that.

But Wei Chen was someone who could see right through people from beyond those boundaries. Sometimes, when he looked at me, it felt like he already knew all the secrets I had. He was like someone walking a tightrope—teetering on the edge, yet always managing to stay balanced with a smile. And in some moment I hadn’t even noticed, he was pulling me toward the end of that rope with him.

“Judging by that look, you’re already halfway into my trap. See? You like the thrill, don’t you?”

I gripped the strap of my bag tightly and shot back.

“My stomach’s too weak for that kind of stuff.”

But then he tilted his head a little, flashing that infuriatingly relaxed smile.

“Even if it gives you stomachaches, you’ll keep craving it.”

Wei Chen didn’t get tired of belittling Senior Junghoo. I gave up on responding altogether and turned my head to stare out the window in the opposite direction.

* * *

Not a single day passed without being consumed by the mutation.

I was always holed up with Wei Chen in the lab until late into the night, and the day only ended when I finally collapsed, crying out, “I can’t do this anymore!”

With failure repeating again and again, I started to feel disillusioned. Midterms were just around the corner… I was starting to worry that I’d be stuck in this lab until the exam day itself, clenching my body so much I’d end up farting from the effort.

At this point, I even missed the time I transformed into a crow. Funny how memories always get romanticized. That terrifying, unfamiliar feeling had already faded a lot after just a few days.

1 a.m.

As usual, Wei Chen and I stayed in the lab late into the night and came out into the living room with nothing to show for it. I stumbled over to the sofa and flopped down like I was about to pass out.

“Ughhhhhh…”

“Drink some water.”

Clink. Wei Chen set a cup on the table. I reached out blindly, fingers twitching in the air, and he ended up placing the cup directly into my hand. Still lying down, I lifted my head just enough to gulp down the whole thing. Turns out I’d been really thirsty without even realizing it.

After regaining a bit of composure, I wiped my mouth and set the cup down.

“So, about this nectar thing.”

“What are you getting at now?”

“They say it’s a one-of-a-kind experimental drug that Baekun poured a massive fortune into developing, right? But how do you know if it’s a success or a failure?”

“The fact that you’re alive without any side effects is proof enough.”

“What’s the point of just being alive?”

I tapped the cup with my finger and continued.

“I can’t even control this thing. And wasn’t I the first human subject? I just want to know if this is a failure or a success.”

Wei Chen, who always answered right away, was suddenly silent. I glanced over at him in surprise, but his face was as unreadable as ever. His lips, closed for a moment, finally parted.

“You’re not the first.”

“…What?”

“My younger sibling took it.”

His voice flowed calmly, but the words themselves were shocking. My eyes widened, and I exclaimed, “What?!” Sitting up straight, I was immediately pushed back down by Wei Chen, who muttered, “Don’t make a scene.”

“Because of my sibling, we confirmed the results of nectar.”

His voice was as indifferent as ever as he explained further.

“So stop thinking about pointless things and focus on control.”

His tone was sharp, like a blade. But one thought kept circling in my head. I turned over his words and asked again.

“Wait a minute.”

I was so shaken, I didn’t even realize my voice was trembling.

“Didn’t you say I was the only test subject? What happened to your sibling?”

“The more you know, the shorter your life. If you want to live long, don’t pry.”

With a faint chuckle, he grabbed my empty cup and headed to the kitchen.

He just dropped a bombshell and strolled away like it was nothing.

Wei Chen told me not to care, but I couldn’t take that at face value. From what I remembered, Xian had insisted nectar existed as only a single sample, and that I was the first to take it.

So did that mean Wei Chen lied to me? Or was Xian completely unaware of this? Knowing Wei Chen’s personality, lying didn’t seem like his style.

If what Wei Chen said was true, another question arose. If he needed research results from someone who took nectar, why not experiment on his own sibling? Why drag me around and even play bodyguard? Could it be that something went wrong because of nectar?

A sudden, terrifying thought gripped me. I immediately followed Wei Chen into the kitchen.

“Why did you tell me about your sibling?”

“You seemed unsure. Without trust, nothing will work.”

“What if I tell Xian about this?”

He paused, then smiled slightly.

“Oh, you caught on that Xian doesn’t know? You really are a Seoyeon student.”

“Don’t mess around!”

“Go ahead and tell him. It’s not even a state secret. He’ll just be a little shocked.”

His demeanor felt like a solid, immovable wall. He didn’t flinch at all.

I stared at him, then asked,

“Why haven’t you handed me over to Baekun, even with all this risk?”

The more I thought about it, the more suspicious it became. Starting with how he was oddly invested in my well-being, his motives were completely unclear.

“You said your sibling took nectar. If you’re that curious about the results, why not just use their data?”

Wei Chen slowly turned around. His shadow stretched across my face. His emotionless eyes looked down on me, unreadable as always. Yet something indescribable lingered in them.

“Because I can’t. That’s why I’m keeping you close.”

His voice was low and firm.

“……”

“If I hand you over to Baekun, I won’t get what I want.”

I swallowed hard and asked,

“What is it that you want, Wei Chen?”

He took a step closer. Our bodies brushed, and I instinctively stepped back. My back hit the cold wall. But he moved in even closer, his large foot sliding between mine.

“Is that really something you need to know?”

He was warning me not to cross the line. Wei Chen was always hard to read, but he usually spit out answers bluntly when asked. Maybe that’s why his refusal to answer now felt so unfamiliar.

Unable to ask more, I pushed against his chest. I felt his low chuckle above me. The tense air suddenly dissipated like a snapped thread.

When he finally stepped back, I slipped away through the gap.

I could feel how my whole body had tensed and relaxed with each of his movements.

“…How long do I have to keep training in that lab?”

I asked cautiously.

Wei Chen’s lips curled into a slow smile. There was a mischievous glint in his expression that, for some reason, only made me more anxious.