“I did. There wasn’t one.”
“You’re not lying, right?”
“Why would I lie about something like this? If nothing else, the fact that I’m still alive is proof, isn’t it?”
I had meant to reassure him, but instead, I saw the flames reignite in his eyes. Feeling awkward, I muttered again, almost to myself.
“I’m not lying.”
Yu-geon ran a hand down his face, then spoke in a resolute tone.
“I’m never giving you my blood again.”
“That’s a relief. Took you long enough to start valuing your own body.”
I had felt guilty about how easily he kept offering his blood. But somehow, my words came out sounding more like sarcasm.
It almost felt like he was taking back something he’d already given.
More than anything, though, my body felt… strange.
I had drunk more than enough of his blood yesterday, yet I was thirsty again.
My throat burned, and my skin felt unbearably dry. But unlike before, I didn’t feel the usual urge to bite him—I just wanted to touch him.
I licked my lips absentmindedly and stole a glance at him. Yu-geon was gripping the steering wheel firmly, focused on the road, but the scent of his blood still filled the car, making it harder to ignore the discomfort gnawing at me.
Something was definitely wrong.
“Why are you trying to die?”
His face was more serious than ever. I thought I had dodged the conversation, but apparently not. His expression was still riddled with unease, though it had eased slightly.
“It’s my life. Stay out of it.”
“Fine. I get it. I won’t interfere. But at least be honest with me. I just want to know.”
His frustration boiled over in his voice. I didn’t understand why he even wanted to hear this miserable, depressing story.
But maybe because I was already drowning in my own thoughts today, I found myself speaking, as if flipping through the pages of my past.
“Even if I become human again, my past sins won’t disappear. If people ever found out I was Cremon, it would be humiliating.”
I turned my gaze to the window. In the distance, the city lights glittered like stars against the night sky. But right in the middle, there was a void, as if a black hole had swallowed part of the skyline.
‘Must be a newly formed Gate.’
Whenever a Gate appeared, the surrounding area would be thrown into disarray by unstable energy waves. If one was unlucky, the shockwave from its creation could be fatal.
“Yeah… the dead don’t come back.”
Yu-geon accepted my words quietly.
In this era, it was rare to find someone who hadn’t been directly or indirectly affected by creatures.
Everyone had lost someone—a friend, a family member, a lover, a neighbor.
If my identity was revealed, I wouldn’t just fall from grace—I would plummet from the pinnacle of the Awakener hierarchy straight to rock bottom.
From a hero who protected the nation to the monster that threatened it.
As someone who had been raised under the weight of expectations as an S-Class Awakener since childhood, the gap was too enormous. It was crushing.
“But why don’t you just think about your future instead?”
Yu-geon’s voice broke through my thoughts. He sounded like he just couldn’t accept this.
“I thought you weren’t going to interfere.”
“…It’s just a suggestion.”
He was good with words, I’d give him that.
Still, it felt like he was just being stubborn for the sake of it.
“The dead are already in the past. Nothing you do can change that. No matter how much you atone, it won’t bring them back. The only thing you can do is not repeat the same mistakes. Isn’t that what really matters? Doesn’t it piss you off? You weren’t even in your right mind when you got turned.”
He wasn’t blindly taking my side, either. He was just looking at things objectively.
“It does piss me off.”
I knew the past couldn’t be changed.
I knew I hadn’t been in control when it happened.
I knew the deaths caused by other creatures and Cremons weren’t my fault.
I knew I hadn’t killed anyone since then.
But still—
“Then….”
“But do you think people will believe that just because I don’t repeat the same mistakes?”
No matter what I did, no matter what I said, people wouldn’t believe me.
“If my identity is exposed, none of that will matter. No one will care whether I lost control that day or not. They’ll just see me as a monster. I’ll be executed in front of everyone while they call for my blood.
And I don’t want to see that happen. If that day ever comes and I have a way out, I’d rather take my own life than be paraded around like that.”
Fate had dealt me this hand of misfortune, but why should I have to fight against it?
This wasn’t even something I had brought upon myself—so why should I have to atone for it?
I didn’t want to struggle through it. I just wanted to let go.
At the very least, I wanted to have control over how my story ended.
Was that really too much to ask?
If I had one wish, it was that I wouldn’t become a horrible memory to the people who had known me.
If I couldn’t become human, if I had to live every day in fear, then finding my core and dying on my own terms was the better choice.
“Then what about the people you’ll leave behind?”
“…….”
“The people who care about you, even if you’re a Cremon?”
How many of my acquaintances would still accept me if I revealed everything? I didn’t want to think about it. But even without putting much thought into it, two people came to mind immediately.
Emily.
And probably Baek Yu-geon.
“They’ll be a little sad, I guess. But sadness doesn’t kill people.”
I deliberately kept my tone detached. I knew how painful it was for those left behind, but I didn’t want that to stop me when the moment came—when I truly wanted to die.
Grief was temporary. People found ways to move on.
Even I barely remembered the deaths of my parents now.
I couldn’t recall the taste of my mother’s cooking. I no longer remembered how warm my father’s hands had been.
Memories faded with time. Those who mourned me would eventually tuck me away in some quiet corner of their minds and continue with their lives.
“I’d probably die.”
Yu-geon’s voice was low and strained. When I turned to look at him, he quickly added, as if trying to explain himself.
“Not in that way… but if I can’t get guided by you, I will die.”
We had just entered a tunnel, casting shadows over his face. I thought I heard a hollow laugh.
“You could still survive with another Guide at Stage Three—”
“No. I’d die.”
He cut me off without hesitation.
“…It would be really hard for me.”
His voice sounded utterly miserable. You’d think I was planning to die tomorrow.
I had spent years working at the center, witnessing death regularly, even before I became a Cremon.
Yu-geon, on the other hand, had only recently become an Awakener.
Maybe he had never felt death so close before.
Maybe that was why he seemed so shaken.
It wasn’t a funny situation, but I found myself smiling.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“It’s not drama. I’m saying this because I wouldn’t just be a little sad. So if possible, live.”
“We’ll see.”
“Hah… I don’t even know why I bother talking to you.”
He scoffed, sulking like a child, and turned his body slightly away from me. But the tunnel had passed, and I could clearly see his sulky expression.
Watching him, I felt something strange—like an emptiness inside me had been filled, just a little.
It was selfish.
Knowing someone would grieve for me, that my death would hurt them, made me feel reassured. Even pleased.
For the first time, his complaining didn’t seem so bad.
“When you feel like dying, think about my life, too. You’re selfish, but you wouldn’t make a decision like that so easily if it meant taking someone else down with you. Doesn’t that make you less likely to want to die? Hm?”
“Not really.”
“…You’re seriously awful.”
“Let’s drop it. I don’t even know if I’ll become human.”
I cut off the conversation instead of trying to comfort him.
I didn’t want to lie to him.
And more than that, this was just a pointless discussion if I couldn’t become human.
If. If. If.
If I became human.
If I got my core back.
If that incident had never happened.
I was exhausted by all the ifs.
I had already given up too much to start hoping now.
“And for the record, I don’t want to die because of guilt. It’s just that I don’t want to be exposed as a Cremon in front of everyone.
If I can hide it and become human, then there won’t be a reason to die.
And while I’m a Cremon, I don’t even have a core—so I can’t die anyway.”
“Then that means you won’t die.”
“We’ll see.”
“Say it. Say you won’t die. Or I’m taking the highway to Branch F right now.”
“Do whatever you want.”
“I mean it. I’m pulling off.”
“Fine, fine, I got it.”
He really started to change lanes, but at my words, he jerked the wheel back.
Only after successfully wringing out a reluctant answer did Yu-geon let out a shallow sigh and fall silent.
“Then don’t get in my way if I try to become human. Or you’ll die, too.”
“Then you stop talking about dying. I’ll make sure you become human no matter what.”
“You’re even going to apply to be a researcher now?”
“If I could, I already would’ve.”
After that, Yu-geon kept making ridiculous remarks—like how some civilians could join the center as researchers if they studied hard enough, so maybe he should start researching antibiotics.
As if it was that easy.
If it were, why was the competition in the thousands every year?
Not to mention, wasting an S-Class Esper with telekinetic abilities on lab work was absurd.
“When I was still a civilian, my father wanted me to work at the center, so I studied for a bit. I quit because it was boring, though.”
“You wouldn’t have made it anyway.”
“You’ve got a bad habit, you know that?”
“What habit?”
“Looking down on people and cutting them down like it’s nothing.”
“I only do it to you.”
He practically exploded.
Since he was driving, he couldn’t do anything dramatic, but his expression was priceless.
Despite the heavy conversation, we ended up talking lightly until we arrived at the center.
As he dropped me off at my dorm, he spoke again.
“It’s too dangerous. From tomorrow, I’m escorting you everywhere again.”
His face was firm with resolve.
Ever since the night at my dorm, his attitude had been subtly stiff, but now, he seemed back to his usual self.
“That’s—”
“I’m not taking arguments. See you.”
And with a loud rev of the engine, he sped away.
“Ugh, idiot.”
Despite my grumbling, I found myself smiling.
* * *
The next morning, Yu-geon and I arrived at the center early and sat in the first-floor cafeteria to discuss our next move.
“Let’s put Ji-han aside for now and find the Delta Team Esper first. Since you’re with me, we can use the Cremon attack case to request their cooperation.”
Right now, I had three suspects.
Two mind-type Espers.
And Ian.
Today, we planned to start with the Delta Team Esper, the one we had the least information about.
