Sensing the rising tension between them, So Raon clapped his hands once.
— Alright, let's just leave the wardrobe issue for now.
Lo Dan instantly chimed in:
— Exactly! And besides, there's something much more important.
— What would that be? — So Raon asked.
Lo Dan's face lit up.
— Tomorrow's dinner menu! Before something this important, we all deserve a good meal, don't you think? I'd suggest tonight, but it's already late… The President gave me his card, so tomorrow we'll eat somewhere with a view of the night lights of Merai. Maybe that floating restaurant Heaven's Channel?
At his words, Kang Ji-han, So Raon, and even Ryu Seon-yeon turned to him in silent disbelief. Ji-han muttered darkly:
— You could try thinking before you speak for once…
— Oh, come on! Honestly, is there anything left we can teach Seon-yeon now? All that's left is for everyone to play their roles properly. Right?
He wasn't wrong.
If they'd wanted to train him in card games, they should've started long ago. But everyone — including Seon-yeon himself — was relying on Hypnosis, not on poker skills, so no one really tested his ability.
So Raon said carefully:
— Mr. Ryu, do you have any specific concerns? Of course, you'll do well… but with the operation tomorrow, it's normal to be nervous. Especially after what happened to Ji-han…
Seon-yeon took off his jacket and hung it up calmly.
— Lo Dan's right. Training would've taken time. But I'm not completely helpless, so don't worry.
— Oh, that's the spirit! — Lo Dan beamed. — Honestly, I don't think you'll fail. What matters more is what we'll do afterward.
Then his expression fell, his shoulders dropping.
— But… that means once the mission's done, we won't see you again? I've already grown kind of attached, you know. Watching you.
Lo Dan's blunt honesty shocked everyone.
Seon-yeon blinked. He hadn't expected someone to admit to surveillance so openly.
— Since when?
— From the start. Oh, not in detail, of course. Just location tracking. You were with Ji-han anyway.
…
Lo Dan had become a target of West Medical for hacking, so his moral compass was clearly flexible. Or maybe he just said whatever popped into his head.
Ji-han quickly added:
— We're not tracking you anymore. Honestly. I swear.
So Raon immediately followed:
— We only monitored a little, just in case. If that bothered you, I apologize. It won't happen again.
Seon-yeon felt awkward but replied evenly:
— It's fine. I get it. You never know what can happen in this world.
Unexpectedly, Lee Hoon gave a low hum of agreement, nodding slightly — perhaps meaning he hadn't expected to be working with a vampire either.
So Raon continued:
— Actually… we were here two years ago. Hired a professional player then, but it was a total loss — money down the drain. This time, we tried a new approach, but in the end, we circled back to the old one. — He paused, then added softly, — I hope it works this time.
Seon-yeon smiled faintly.
— It will.
At that, Lee Hoon yawned, and Loh, her eyes red from fatigue, said quietly:
— …Let's rest. Mr. Ryu, your room is right here.
She handed him a new keycard.
— What a relief, — Seon-yeon joked. — I was starting to worry we'd all have to sleep together.
— Of course not.
Ji-han spoke up:
— And me?
— You'll be next door to Mr. Ryu, — Loh replied. — Sharing with Senior So Raon.
Seon-yeon's expression soured. Ji-han right next door… and he'd been planning a confidential call as soon as he got to his room.
— Can I switch with someone?
— Uh… Lee Hoon and Lo Dan already took their room, and So Raon unpacked earlier. Unless you want mine…
She offered her keycard. The numbers read 4903 for Loh, 4902 for Ji-han, and 4901 for Seon-yeon.
Even if he switched, Ji-han would still be in the middle — impossible to avoid.
— No, it's fine.
He forced a small smile and met Ji-han's burning gaze for a fraction of a second. For some reason, a chill went down his spine. Apparently, only he and Loh had single rooms.
— Then I'll rest. I'm exhausted.
— Breakfast at seven! We'll eat together! — Lo Dan called cheerfully.
Seon-yeon waved him off and left. Room 4901 was at the opposite end of the hall.
***
The room was nearly identical to the others, except the window was half the size — likely chosen by Loh to minimize sunlight exposure.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. Having been practically kidnapped from Shinwu Clinic, he hadn't brought anything else.
The screen flashed: 12 missed calls, 50 messages — all from Oh Rian. He should've called him first, but chaos had delayed it until now.
Seon-yeon entered the bathroom, checked every corner for hidden cameras, locked the door, and sat down on the toilet lid. The moment he pressed Call, Rian picked up, voice groggy:
— …Hyung? Are you okay?
— Ah, sorry. Did I wake you? — Seon-yeon whispered.
Surprising that he'd been asleep — it was three in the morning, and Bloody Rose usually pulsed with life at this hour.
Rian cleared his throat and spoke in a suddenly brisk tone:
— I'm fine. I was worried sick! I'm glad you're safe. I wanted to visit you at the clinic, but Ji-han never gave me the address—
— No, don't visit. And sorry for not calling earlier. Anyway, did you handle that waiter?
— Yes. I scattered what was left of him over the Sea Gates.
A short pause followed.
— …Good work. Nothing strange happened while I was gone? No new hires? No visitors?
Rian's voice twisted with disgust, even over the phone.
— I decided not to hire anyone for now. Actually, the place is closed. After they attacked you — and all that blood… I couldn't get that image out of my head. So I shut it down. I should've told you sooner.
Seon-yeon's face softened slightly.
— Good. That's why you were asleep.
He double-checked the locked bathroom door and lowered his voice.
— Listen. Shut it down completely.
— …What?
— Don't sell immediately — that'd be suspicious. Tell Park Ki-chul you're going on a month-long vacation and have him watch the place. Quietly pack and leave for Beyond the Wind Border within three days. Tell Ki-chul you'll pay well. Don't mention debt clearance — he'll smell something.
Rian was speechless.
— Hyung, this is so sudden—
— It's been overdue. Just do it naturally. Got it?
Seon-yeon's tone hardened.
— No one must know. Especially Kang Ji-han. He's got four associates — I'll send you their info. And don't even look toward Shinwu. I don't know how many lackeys they have, but probably plenty.
— Then… are you leaving too?
— I'm already gone. I'm in Merai.
— What? Merai?!
— I'll explain later. There's a hacker here — one who can tap even street cameras. Leave quietly. Go out like you're grabbing a drink and disappear. If possible, leave the Homeland entirely. If not — hide in some rural place with no cameras.
— Hyung… are you really okay?
His voice had lost all sleepiness.
— I'm fine. But if I vanish, those bastards might come for you first. So be careful.
— …Understood.
— Remember — disappear in three days. No trace. I'll do the same.
He sighed heavily and ended the call.
When he left the bathroom, the suite was silent. Somehow, he felt certain Ji-han was pressed against the wall, eavesdropping. He quickly jotted down everything he remembered about So Raon, Loh, Lee Hoon, and Lo Dan and sent it to Rian. It felt like finishing a report.
Leaving the door ajar, he stripped and sank into a hot bath. The warmth melted away his exhaustion. After some time, he stood, wrapping himself in the white robe hanging nearby.
And then—
Ding-dong!
The sudden ring startled him. Peering through the peephole, he found — to his dismay or amusement — Kang Ji-han. The man stood outside in a gray T-shirt and black sweatpants, looking exhausted.
"Seriously? This maniac… at three a.m.?"
With a sigh, Seon-yeon opened the door, leaning on the frame.
— If it's not urgent, can it wait till morning?
Ji-han flinched as Seon-yeon appeared — his chestnut hair damp, droplets sliding down his neck, steam still rising from his skin. His cheeks and throat glowed faintly pink, and the open robe exposed a glimpse of his chest. The faint scent of warmth and soap clung to him.
Ji-han's gaze met his. Though Seon-yeon's eyes were black, for a fleeting moment they gleamed crimson.
Suddenly flustered, Ji-han pushed him gently back into the room — stepping inside himself as the door clicked shut behind them.
— What? Why are you—
Before Seon-yeon could finish, Ji-han averted his eyes and held out a heavy black bag.
— So Raon-hyung told me to give you this.
— What is it?
— Packs of hemoplasma. Bought in Merai. He could only get five since he just arrived.
— …That's enough. I already drank two before the flight — this'll last five weeks.
— Good.
But Ji-han didn't leave.
Seon-yeon stood by the bedroom doorway, blocking the exit.
— Anything else?
Ji-han hesitated.
— …I wanted to continue our previous conversation.
— What conversation? Whatever it was, tomorrow. Go sleep.
Without replying, Ji-han snatched back the bag and brushed past him.
— They need refrigeration.
— What— you just barge into people's rooms now?
Ignoring him, Ji-han crouched before the minibar, pulling out all the bottles and stuffing the blood packs inside. Seon-yeon frowned.
— Wow, since when is Kang Ji-han this considerate?
— If they spoil, So Raon's effort would go to waste.
— You're unbelievable.
It was almost comical, how this "bear" of a man mentioned So Raon in every sentence like a security blanket.
Seon-yeon sat on the bed. His robe loosened with the movement, revealing more of his chest and the pale curve of his thighs.
When Ji-han closed the fridge and turned, his eyes flickered away immediately.
Seon-yeon swung his legs idly.
— If you've got something to say, say it and leave.
Ji-han paused.
— …I don't think you'll fail tomorrow.
— Hah, me neither.
Silence. Then Seon-yeon snorted.
— You came to cheer me up?
Ji-han hesitated, then looked him straight in the eye.
— …No. I came to ask — what if we keep working together after this?
— What?
— If you get the ticket, maybe stay with us. Until we take down Im Jin-tae.
— …Excuse me?
Seon-yeon jumped to his feet. He knew they saw him as a valuable card, but he hadn't expected a proposal this soon.
— Is that a threat?
— …No.
— And how do you prove that?
— If you agree, I want to make a real contract.
Seon-yeon laughed softly.
— Contracts only work if both sides benefit. You have plenty to gain from me. I, on the other hand… what could I possibly want? Money? Shares in Shinwu? A fake passport?
Ji-han faltered, then met his gaze. His next words hit like a blade.
— …Don't you want to be human again?
Silence fell heavy between them.
For a moment, Seon-yeon froze — maybe dizzy from the hot bath, maybe from disbelief.
"Why would I? Eternal youth, strength, wealth… what else could anyone want?"
But aloud he said only:
— Why are you asking that?
— Because… if you want to, we could try to make it happen.
Seon-yeon stared at him as if struck. Ji-han — joking about something like that? Impossible.
It was too brutal for humor, too absurd for deceit. Yet Ji-han's expression held no mockery.
Seon-yeon's eyes flickered red, then dimmed again. He couldn't explain why the one man immune to his Hypnosis infuriated him so much.
"Do I want to be human again? Of course I do."
But that wish had long rotted away. Immortality was just a curse of endless loneliness — watching everyone else die.
No one had ever understood that. Those who knew what he was tried to use him — or kill him.
That was why Ryu Seon-yeon clung so desperately to false connections. Only near others could he pretend to feel warmth. He'd done it for 180 years.
He was endlessly alone.
Whatever Ji-han knew, this wasn't a manipulation. It wasn't a bluff.
— Your jokes are terrible, — Seon-yeon said coldly.
— I'm not joking. Didn't President Lee Kang-in tell you about the Shinwu research? The one developing a cure to restore forcibly turned vampires to humans?
Ji-han's tone was deadly serious.
Suddenly, Seon-yeon remembered the small blue vial Loh had shown him.
— You mean Blue-5?
— Yes.
Seon-yeon smirked.
— You mean that drug that lasts forty-eight hours?
— No! That's the early version. We're still testing. Some show reduced sensitivity to sunlight, less blood dependency. We've made progress.
Seon-yeon folded his arms.
— So it works now?
Ji-han's voice lowered.
— Not yet… But some patients take doses monthly instead of every two days. Their symptoms ease. It's expensive, but—
— …
— Ultimately, we want them to live without it. Even if we kill Im Jin-tae, we can't just slaughter everyone he turned.
A heavy silence lingered.
"Once a month… not bad. No — incredible."
For the first time in ages, Seon-yeon felt chills run down his arms.
Who thought of vampires like this — as people to save?
To the world, Ryu Seon-yeon was something to destroy. Even Mateo, centuries ago, saw himself as a cursed demon. Yet Shinwu… wanted to heal them.
"Impossible… but if they really succeed…"
If 21st-century science could do what even ancient alchemists couldn't—
He caught himself before hope could bloom.
— Fine. Suppose it works. Would it work on me?
— Of course—
— Your test subjects were humans transformed by force. I was bitten — and came back from the dead.
Ji-han's lips closed. He hadn't thought that far.
Seon-yeon expected the silence — yet still felt a sting of disappointment.
"Why am I even disappointed? Obviously, he's just trying to keep me here."
Noticing his darkened expression, Ji-han spoke quickly:
— If you agree, we'll build a special research team for you. We won't stop until we find a way. So Raon and Loh will work as scientists.
— I'm sure they will.
— Don't doubt it. We've already discussed it.
Seon-yeon blinked in surprise. They had actually talked about this — seriously.
Even a cynic like him couldn't deny it: Ji-han's concern was genuine.
"But… why?"
It was tempting. Yet Ji-han had no reason to offer it for free.
— You don't trust anyone, — Seon-yeon said quietly. — How can you work with someone you don't trust?
— I do now.
— I don't.
Then something unexpected happened.
Ji-han — who looked ready to punch him a moment ago — stepped forward instead, leaned down, and before Seon-yeon could react—
Warm hands cupped his face.
And Ji-han kissed him.
— …?!
The touch was brief — soft lips, heat, and shock.
When he pulled away, Ji-han's voice was steady.
— That wasn't a mistake.
A pause.
Then, even quieter—
— …I don't want to pretend what happened in the car didn't happen.
For a heartbeat, Seon-yeon forgot to breathe.
Then Ji-han's lips found his again — deeper this time — and Seon-yeon felt the spark shoot through him like lightning.