Sometimes, Han-gyeol seemed to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders, as though he believed it was his responsibility to handle everything alone. That aspect of his personality appeared to be at play now.
I thought he trusted me enough to leave the Alpha Team guides entirely in my care, yet when it came to our relationship, it felt like he was making all the decisions on his own.
In my view, relationships should be built on equality. My parents always said that two people should support and adapt to one another, making decisions together and sharing the burden of hardships.
Of course, knowing this didn’t make it easy—my naturally independent nature often made it difficult to rely on others. But now, I felt as though all control had been taken from me.
I understood that his traumatic experiences with his mother likely influenced his extreme actions. Still, despite understanding his reasons intellectually, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of unease.
“Is it hard for you to accept?”
Noticing my silence, Han-gyeol cautiously studied my face and asked.
“Yes. It feels wrong that such discussions happened without me, especially since you didn’t even hint at it before taking action.”
Hearing my response, he couldn’t even pretend not to be hurt. His expression revealed genuine dismay. The situation had already escalated too far, and there was no turning back. It felt as though he’d acted impulsively, carrying everything on his own.
‘I thought Song-yi was lying when she told me, but it turns out she wasn’t….’
More than anything, this fractured my trust in him. He knew better than anyone how much I hated being excluded from decisions, yet here he was, saying it was unavoidable.
“When I saw you and Yu-geon in the meeting room filling out the pair request form together, I realized I couldn’t just stand by anymore.”
He spoke with a self-deprecating smile, his voice low as if recalling the moment.
“Part of it was to keep my family from interfering, but I’d be lying if I said jealousy didn’t play a role.”
“Why Yu-geon? There’s nothing between me and Yu-geon.”
“Maybe not for you. But I’ve spent 15 years circling around you, unable to express how I feel, while Yu-geon ended up standing by your side.”
“That’s…”
The two brothers were polar opposites. Han-gyeol worked tirelessly to steer situations toward his desired outcomes, while Yu-geon would charge ahead recklessly, relying on sheer determination to achieve his goals.
It seemed Han-gyeol misunderstood my relationship with Yu-geon. While I had spent time with him recently, it was only because he’d discovered my secret.
I quickly tried to clear up the misunderstanding.
“It’s not because Yu-geon is better than you that I stay close to him. And it’s definitely not because of your family or your mother that I’m pushing you away.”
I could see how much it would hurt Han-gyeol if he thought his mother’s tragic past was the reason I was distancing myself. I needed to assure him that wasn’t the case.
After all, this was something we needed to address before even considering a romantic relationship.
“Just as you had reasons in the past for not being able to be with someone, I have my reasons too.”
No matter how much he cleared obstacles and laid a foundation for us, it would be meaningless if I couldn’t overcome the fact that I was a Cremon. I spoke vaguely about the fundamental reason why we couldn’t be together.
“That reason… you can’t tell me yet, can you?”
“…No.”
“But Yu-geon knows it, doesn’t he?”
“…”
His probing question left me silent. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t tell him yet—I might never be able to. If he knew the truth, his hatred for Cremons might only deepen.
I couldn’t help but glance at the scar on the inside of his neck, just visible above his collar—the scar his mother had left when she attacked him. That scar seemed to say that we could never be together.
Above all, I didn’t want to reopen his old wounds or create new ones.
For a moment, I wondered if Han-gyeol’s actions stemmed from the same fear I felt. Perhaps he, like me, had been hiding his vulnerabilities and making these decisions out of fear.
If the roles were reversed—if I wanted to be with him—I’d likely try to shoulder the burden of being a Cremon alone and only approach him once I’d resolved it.
Because deep down, I was convinced that if he knew the truth, he would hate me.
Revealing the truth about being a Cremon to hear his opinion felt far too risky. Could he truly remain unchanged if he knew?
Even setting aside romantic feelings, would he still choose not to kill me?
What if, as the Alpha Team captain, he decided to conceal the fact that I was a Cremon? What consequences would that bring?
The more I thought about it, the bleaker it all seemed. The grim reality surrounding us was enough to make my fingertips tremble at the mere thought.
“Alright. I’ll respect your thoughts. This is only our second date, after all. Take your time. Whatever decision you make… I’ll accept it.”
His large hand gently covered mine, a gesture so tender that it only made my heart feel heavier.
It became increasingly difficult to face the hope in his expression—the hope that our relationship could become something more. After fifteen years of building this connection, the idea of it changing into something else felt like unleashing all the buried turmoil at once.
* * *
The conversation we had earlier weighed heavily on us, and the atmosphere in the car was somber. Han-gyeol kept glancing at my face, asking hesitantly,
“If you’re not feeling up to it, should we come back another time? We can head back and rest.”
“No, it’s a once-a-year performance. Let’s just go in and watch it.”
Although my emotions were in turmoil, I forced myself to push aside my thoughts. After all, today was meant to be a day of enjoyment, and dwelling on things wouldn’t change anything.
Whether I chose to be with Han-gyeol or not, that decision was only possible if I could truly become human.
“I’m fine, really. It would be a shame to leave now. I’ve been wanting to see this show, too.”
“Alright.”
I grabbed his hand first and smiled deliberately. Han-gyeol’s expression, which had been stiff, softened in response.
The performance venue was vast, with a tank the size of a stadium taking center stage. People seated close to the tank wore raincoats, ready for the inevitable splash.
Our seats were at the very top, in a private glass room where there was no risk of getting wet.
“I figured you wouldn’t like being in a crowded area or getting splashed, so I chose the upper seats.”
“Yes, this is perfect. Should we grab something to eat while we watch?”
While some people might enjoy getting drenched for fun, I absolutely hated it. No matter how clean the water, the thought made me uneasy.
Han-gyeol returned with beers and a variety of fries from a passing food vendor. The cold beer and salty snacks enhanced the atmosphere, reminding me we were here to relax and have fun.
“It’s starting.”
With a loud fanfare, the aquarist appeared in the middle of the stage. Three orcas swam powerfully into the expansive tank, drawing cheers from the audience.
“Wow!”
The orcas moved smoothly around each other, circling the arena. Then, gathering in the center, they leapt high into the air before splitting off in two directions.
Splash!
“Eek!”
Waves surged out of the tank, drenching those in the front rows. Instead of complaints, the soaked crowd erupted into cheers.
The orcas performed a variety of tricks—kissing the aquarist, somersaulting, waving their fins.
‘I’ve heard orcas are intelligent, but I didn’t realize it was to this extent.’
One orca even intentionally splashed water toward the seats with many children, as if aware of the delight it brought. Their movements seemed almost human-like.
Then, a new orca entered the scene, different from the others. Instead of the classic black-and-white pattern, this one shimmered with a blue hue.
“Wow, it’s Marine!”
The orca, named Marine, was the star of the show and the reason it was so famous.
The audience’s cheers and camera flashes intensified. Marine’s sparkling blue hue resembled a gentle galaxy.
When Marine leapt above the water and sprayed a stream from its mouth, the water formed a circular ice ring.
The other orcas jumped through the ring like hurdles before breaking it with their bodies. Marine then created more intricate ice formations, transforming the tank into an orca playground.
“Incredible. How does it manage such precise control?”
Marine was renowned for its glowing blue body and its delicate ice creations. Every time it spouted water, the aquarist, a skilled Awakened with cryokinetic abilities, would freeze the spray, making it seem like Marine itself was wielding the power.
“Apparently, the aquarist is highly skilled. I heard from the Lima Team that they’re not strong enough to enter gates but have honed their control to perfection.”
The Lima Team managed animals, often training combat animals for gate missions or supporting Awakened who worked closely with animals.
“Amazing,” I nodded, focusing on the show.
Marine, following the aquarist’s hand gestures, moved like a brush painting on water, freezing parts of the surface as it swam.
Soon, a massive ice castle formed in the center of the tank, while the other orcas danced around it, creating beautiful streams of water.
“Wow!”
The crowd’s excitement reached a fever pitch as Marine leapt high enough to match the height of our seats.
Although the orcas’ earlier jumps hadn’t splashed us, this time, droplets splattered against the glass.
Up close, Marine appeared at least three times larger than the other orcas.
For a brief moment, it felt like Marine’s gaze met mine mid-air, its face turned toward us. Its size and presence were overwhelming, and I instinctively leaned back in awe.
Marine dove back into the water with a powerful splash, sending waves crashing like rain across the venue.
The audience watched the tank intently, waiting for Marine’s next move.
However, Marine didn’t resurface immediately.
“What’s it doing? Is it planning something?”
“Don’t get too close—it might jump out suddenly.”
The crowd’s anticipation grew, everyone speculating about what Marine might do next, unwilling to miss even a single moment.
