There was nothing in the car—no radio, no music, not even the sound of breathing.
Only the hiss of tires over wet asphalt.
Kang Ji-han held the steering wheel with both hands, but his eyes were hollow—as if he wasn't looking at the road, but inside himself.
Ryu Seon-yeon, sprawled in the passenger seat, pretended to be asleep at first, just to avoid conversation. But toward the end of the drive, he really did drift into a shallow, uneasy doze.
When the neon signs of the city flared outside the window, midnight had already passed. Liren slept—a rare thing for a city that usually breathed even at three a.m.
They stopped in front of the "Ark-16" residential complex. Ji-han stepped out, lit a cigarette. The night rain had turned into a cold mist. Smoke mingled with it and dissolved. It didn't bring any answers.
He tossed the cigarette, went around the car, opened the door, and—without hesitation—lifted Seon-yeon into his arms.
Not like before—thrown over the shoulder like a sack of sand. This time carefully, almost gently: one arm under his back, the other beneath his knees, as if afraid to wake him.
The elevator was silent. Only their reflections in the mirrored wall—one tense, the other peacefully asleep.
Sixteenth floor. Familiar code. Click of the lock.
The apartment smelled clean, with something light, almost sterile. Hard to believe a vampire lived here.
He laid Seon-yeon on the bed. White sheets, chestnut hair, soft light slipping under the curtains. Too quiet.
Ji-han stood for another minute, watching him. Then, as if catching himself, he left.
Twenty minutes later, his car was racing toward the outskirts.
An old red-brick house, three floors, narrow yard, peeling windows.
The place where it had all begun—the O Rian base.
Once a hangar-workshop, later their small group's "headquarters."
First floor—office. Second—Rian's home. Third—Lee Hoon's.
It was also where Seon-yeon had once been held, a sack over his head and a gag in his mouth.
It was past one a.m. now. O Rian slept on the couch, curled up in a blanket, nose buried in a pillow. The monitor opposite still glowed—lines of code, a blinking cursor.
Ji-han poked his shoulder.
— Hey. Wake up.
— M-m… what… — Rian rubbed his eyes, then yelped. — Damn it! Hyung! You almost stopped my heart!
— Get up. We need to talk.
— You look like you crawled out of hell… What happened? Don't tell me he— Rian sat up sharply. — Seon-yeon escaped?! When?! Where?! I can hack the street cams—
Ji-han's heavy hand pressed on his shoulder, stopping him.
— Shut up. It's not that.
— …He didn't escape?
— No. He's asleep. I just carried him home.
Rian blinked in confusion. — Then why do you look like you killed someone?
Ji-han sat down, rubbed his face with his hands, and muttered hoarsely:
— Did you know Ryu Seon-yeon volunteers at an orphanage in South Liren?
— Whaaat?.. — Rian blinked. — Yeah, I think I saw something like that in the database. Donations, personal visits. Why?
— You knew—and didn't say anything.
— What's the big deal? You barged in at three a.m. over that?
Ji-han stared at the floor. Rian started waving his arms irritably.
— Look, if he wants to haul rice bags around voluntarily, that's his problem. Maybe guilt, maybe he just likes kids. Everyone's compensating for something in this world.
— No, you don't get it, — Ji-han cut him off. — He's not pretending. He's serious. And when he looks at the kids—his eyes change. As if he…
He fell silent.
Rian squinted suspiciously.
— Wait a sec… You didn't fall for him, did you?
— Shut up.
— Seriously? Already?! I told you—vampires are dangerous! He's hypnotized you!
— No.
— I've seen movies like this, hyung! They breathe on your neck and boom—you're their slave!
— Rian, if you don't shut up, you'll be breathing into the floor.
He went quiet. Ji-han leaned back, staring into the dark.
— I still don't get why he does it. He could live however he wants—steal, manipulate—but instead he hauls crates in an orphanage.
Rian yawned under the blanket. — You're burned out. Maybe it's his drama. Or PR. You heard about Mateo from Eon Core? He donates millions to kids. Same type of saints.
— But Seon-yeon's not a businessman. Why bother?
— And why are you digging into him? Listen to yourself. One day together and you're fretting like a wife.
Ji-han clenched his fists. Rian raised his hands.
— Okay, okay! Joking! But if he tries to mess with your head—jab him with venom. I'll give you the antidote when he brings back a ticket from Eon Core.
— …Forget it.
He stood up, heading for the door.
— You seriously came here at night to talk about volunteering? — Rian yelled after him.
No answer.
***
The next evening, the doorbell rang so suddenly that Seon-yeon dropped a bowl of roasted chestnuts.
He sighed and went to open. Kang Ji-han stood there, looking as annoyed as ever.
— You're home, yet you take five minutes to open.
He walked in uninvited, like he owned the place. Seon-yeon blinked.
— You know the door code?
— I do. But it's rude to enter uninvited.
— Now I've heard everything.
Ji-han glanced around. — Smells like roasted chestnuts.
— Giving them to a friend.
— I like them too.
— So?
— So I'll eat them. I worked too.
Seon-yeon slowly raised an eyebrow.
— You're a child?
— No. Just honest.
He grabbed the bowl, sat cross-legged on the floor, and started chewing chestnuts with the shell still on.
— Not like that. — Seon-yeon sat beside him, handed him a knife. — You cut them first, or the flavor's gone.
Ji-han sighed and obeyed. Big hands, tiny nuts—surreal sight.
They sat in silence, just the crackle of shells and voices from the screen.
— You like these dramas? — Ji-han asked.
— Yeah.
— Strange.
— Why? I like watching people fall in love.
— Why?
— Because it's something I'll never have.
Ji-han suddenly smiled—rare, awkward. — You always talk like you're already dead.
— Aren't I? — he said softly.
On-screen, the heroine shouted, "I choose Nam-ju!" Both of them looked up at the same time. Silence stretched between heartbeats.
— You're thinking about Lo? — Ji-han asked.
— …
— Don't worry. Those weddings were fake, all by plan. I wasn't even the groom—Lee Hoon played my part.
— Seriously?
— Mhm. So your guilt was wasted.
Seon-yeon sighed.
— I thought you really suffered.
— Had to hit you for realism.
— Could've just said so, asshole.
— You'd still have worried.
— I don't touch what's not mine.
— And you are what's not mine.
Silence again. Seon-yeon stood first. — I'm going to bed. Stay, eat, watch whatever—but be gone by morning.
— As you say, — Ji-han murmured.
***
Four days passed.
Ji-han didn't show up.
Seon-yeon lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Night. Silence.
He didn't know what he felt—relief or an odd emptiness.
Sometimes he thought of running. But in his mind, as soon as he stepped outside, a needle would pierce his neck, a voice would whisper: "Got you, undead bastard."
The phone was silent. The contact "Kang Ji-han" flickered on the screen, but no messages appeared.
"Funny. Wanted him gone, now don't know why it's so quiet."
The doorbell cut through the stillness.
Seon-yeon jumped. On the intercom screen—So Raon.
— Hyung, you home?
— Yeah… Come in.
Raon slipped inside the narrow hallway, dressed all in black as usual.
— We need to talk. You asked me to dig up info on Kang Ji-han?
— …You found something?
Raon opened a folder.
— Aurora Labs. He's listed as a researcher there.
— What?!
— I double-checked through a private agency. Documents are real.
Seon-yeon scanned the paper. Second page: "Kang Ji-han / 29 / Aurora Labs."
He stared for a second, then laughed hoarsely.
— You're kidding. He looks more like a loan shark than a scientist.
— They found photos. He's often seen with Lo—the daughter of Aurora's chairman.
— Wait… Lo? — He sat up. — So she's not just a manager from Vermilion?
— On record, no. She's the chairman's daughter.
— And their rivals?
— Eon Core.
Silence dropped like a blow.
— Perfect, — Seon-yeon said. — So I was used for corporate espionage.
Raon scratched his neck.
— Maybe it's not that simple. He asked about you, too.
— About what?
— How you two met. What kind of person you are. Family. Marriage…
Seon-yeon narrowed his eyes.
— And you told him?
— Just about the judo thing and the hospital help.
— And about your father?
— No!
Seon-yeon sighed in relief.
— Good. If he asks again—say I forbade it. And remember: he's dangerous. Hypnosis doesn't work on him.
Raon paled.
— Maybe he's police?
— Don't think so. But definitely not human.
He stood. — Let's go to Vermilion.
***
The bar glowed red. Music thumped softly through the speakers.
Behind the counter worked a new guy—thin, smiling, name tag reading "Myeong-jun."
— New one? — Seon-yeon asked.
— Yeah. The old crew quit suddenly. He's temporary.
Myeong-jun bowed politely.
— Nice to meet you!
— Likewise, — Seon-yeon nodded shortly. — Just stop staring at the clients.
— Of course!
He vanished into the crowd with a tray. Raon smirked.
— Good kid, but too pure for this place.
— The pure ones stain slower, — Seon-yeon murmured.
He stepped into the side alley beside the club. The lighter clicked; the flame briefly carved his face out of the dark.
Smoke curled upward. The air was cold, metallic.
"Why are you doing this?"—Ji-han's words echoed in his head.
He exhaled. — And you? What are you doing, damn scientist from Aurora Labs?
But the answer came on its own.
A shadow fell across the brick wall, and a familiar voice cut the air:
— Quit smoking.
Seon-yeon's head snapped up.
Kang Ji-han stood before him. Wet coat, narrowed eyes. The streetlights seemed to dim around him.
He calmly plucked the cigarette from Seon-yeon's fingers, crushed it out.
— Raon said you were on shift. Didn't see you inside.
— So you staged a raid?
— Something like that.
They stood facing each other again, measuring with their eyes.
— Thought you disappeared, — Seon-yeon said.
— Busy.
— Spying?
— That too.
He smirked. — You and Raon act like family. Didn't expect that.
Something in those words stung.
— What's it to you?
— Just an observation.
Seon-yeon pressed his lips together. If Ji-han was digging into his past, it was time to dig into his.
While he stayed silent, Ji-han said suddenly:
— Come on. New café opened across the street. They've got a dessert.
— Go alone.
— I'll buy you one too.
He grabbed Seon-yeon's hand and dragged him across the road. Seon-yeon swore but didn't pull away.
The city hummed. Neon shimmered in puddles, mingling with their shadows.
And in the dark alley, where the cigarette ember had just died, Myeong-jun quietly stepped out.
He watched them go, unblinking.
His face, lit by the red "Vermilion" sign, was empty—like a doll's.