The Villainous Director Is Raising a Child!

The Han Jewoon — the man famously allergic to public appearances!

And at this institute, a state-secret facility, no less!

Personally bringing back the test subjects the Director had taken out!

On top of that, to the question of where the Director had gone, he'd left a single cool line and vanished.

["That guy's got some business left with me. Won't be back for a while."]

That day, the institute's internal messenger server blew past overloading and outright crashed.

[Nest Research Institute Anonymous Chat (106 participants)]

[Anon82]: yo insane;;; you see the lobby this morning Han Jewoon showed up. [Project R] experiments... I mean, brought the kids in.

[Anon27]: huh? when did the kids go out? no wait, why is the Sword Emperor even here?

[Anon05]: I'm a [Project R] researcher, Director took the kids out yesterday saying he was doing "secret training."

[Anon17]: but why did only the kids come back and not the Director? and what's Han Jewoon's deal?

[Anon91]: no clue;;; the Director... how deep does his network actually go? Kim Sunja and now Han Jewoon on top of it? whew.

[Anon22]: for real... poached Kim Sunja not long ago and now Han Jewoon? guy just flexing the ambition out in the open now?

[Anon18]: what ambition? someone fill me in?

[Anon97]: you don't know this? there's a folder going around, apparently the Director declared "I'm going to make my dolls the strongest in the world";;; word is he said he's going to eat everyone alive.

[Anon75]: holy hell;;; recruiting S-ranks as instructors to build his own private army;;;

[Anon77]: insane... seriously what's the Director's big picture? is he actually gunning for Bureau Chief... or higher than that?

[Anon10]: shush! [@Anon 77] you nuts? you want your IP traced?

The chat became a shrine to conspiracy theories in the space of minutes.

Naturally, all three chiefs were in that room too.

"Everyone, get back to your posts! Want work to grind to a halt and to be writing a formal apology?!"

Lee Jinwoo screamed himself hoarse, drove every last one of the zombielike researchers who'd been pouring into the chief's office out, and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Haah... haah..."

A silence like the aftermath of a passing storm.

The three of them slumped onto the couch, drained.

But there wasn't a moment of rest — their devices were vibrating like they'd lost their minds.

Watching the Director's big picture theory ballooning in real time, they let out sighs laced with hollow laughter.

Han Soeun watched the messenger scroll fly by and spoke.

"I mean... it's not wrong, is it? The Director's aiming much higher than this. He straight-up told us he was going to make the kids the strongest in the world."

"Yeah, that part's true! But does the rumor have to spread this far?!"

Lee Jinwoo shot back, half in tears.

"Now there's a rumor going around that this 'higher' is the Bureau Chief's chair! If that reaches the Chief's ears, it's actual catastrophe!"

"..."

But what was really twisting their guts was something else entirely.

"The most maddening part..."

Lee Jinwoo clutched his head.

"...is that even we — supposedly his closest circle — don't know jack about what the Director is doing out there."

He pounded the desk and let his frustration out.

"Think about it! Last time, he suddenly vanishes with the kids and then brings back Teacher Kim Sunja, a living legend! This time, he sneaks out again and then out of nowhere Guild Master Han Jewoon shows up!"

There was no reading the pattern at all.

The Director was only tangling himself up with Korea's absolute top-tier players, and the actual working staff — them — were completely in the dark. It was maddening.

"So earlier, I couldn't take it anymore, and I cornered Teacher Kim Sunja — the one who'd come in with them — and begged her: where in the world is the Director, what's he doing?"

"And?"

"The answer came back beautifully simple."

Lee Jinwoo, expression hollow, mimicked Kim Sunja's words.

["That kid? Got a bit banged up, he's being treated at Bawi Guild. He's not dying, so stop worrying about it."]

She'd said a bit banged up, but the kids had been crying every day until their eyes were swollen shut, and the Director hadn't shown his face in a week.

The story didn't line up in any direction, and Lee Jinwoo had ended up, the day after Han Jewoon showed up, calling the Director's personal device.

["Hello?"]

But the voice through the receiver wasn't the familiar one.

Cool, sharply intelligent — and yet somewhere in it, a man's voice worn down with exhaustion.

["Who is this?"]

["Ah, um... I'm Nest Research Institute Chief Lee Jinwoo, but... pardon me, who am I—"]

["Ah, Chief Lee. This is Seo Jihyeok, Deputy Guild Master of Bawi Guild."]

["...What?!"]

Lee Jinwoo almost dropped the phone right there.

Seo Jihyeok. Codename Alchemist of All Trades.

Korea's fifth-ranked Hunter, Han Jewoon's right hand, the real power inside Bawi Guild.

Why on earth was a heavyweight like that answering the Director's phone?

["The Director isn't available at the moment. If it's urgent, you can tell me."]

The Rank 5 Hunter was playing — secretary? — so naturally that Lee Jinwoo couldn't ask another thing, and could only stammer "Ah, no, it's nothing. Please just tell him to call me when he's able..." before hanging up.

"Aaaargh!"

Coming out of the memory, Lee Jinwoo dropped his head onto the desk.

Every conceivable rumor and theory flying, and the man actually in charge nowhere to be found for a week.

And on top of that...

"Sea-ah's evaluation is tomorrow! What in the world are we supposed to do about that!"

The second public evaluation was right around the corner.

"And the Chief's coming this time too!!!"

A house with no master, and a tiger about to walk in.

"We absolutely have to postpone this."

Han Soeun rapped the desk.

"The whole point of the evaluation is to demonstrate how much data comes out of the bond between the Director and the kids. Without him there, how are we supposed to run it?"

Kang Taemin, who'd been listening in silence, folded his arms and nodded.

"We tell the Deputy Director."

"Park Wonjin?"

Lee Jinwoo's face pinched up.

Park Wonjin had been unnervingly quiet lately.

Ever since Hwang Dushik had been thrown out, he'd been playing it safe — sticking to his own team, keeping his head down.

But that absolutely did not mean he was in the Director's corner.

"Realistically, we can't report directly to the Chief. The reporting chain runs through him."

Han Soeun snapped it out, cold.

"With the Director gone, it falls to the Deputy Director to take responsibility and speak up."

"That's the right answer, but..."

While Lee Jinwoo hesitated, Kang Taemin stood up.

"I'll go."

"Hey, wait."

Han Soeun called him back, uneasy.

"Go and say what? Honestly, even we don't know exactly what the Director's doing right now or why he isn't back."

Lee Jinwoo backed her up.

"Right. What if you slip up and hand the Deputy Director a weakness to hold over him?"

But Kang Taemin was unfazed.

"Doesn't matter."

"Chief Kang..."

"Don't worry. I'll handle it."

He said the short, blunt line as if no further explanation were needed, then walked out of the office without a second glance.

The two left behind could only stare at the closed door and swallow.

They were uneasy, but for now, they had no choice but to trust that stone-faced back.

That evening.

In the Deputy Director's office, dark had settled in thick.

Park Wonjin sat at his desk, staring at a hologram screen with a tense look on his face.

On the far side of the display floated the expressionless face of Chae Ganghyeon, head of the Korean Awakened Management Bureau.

[Deputy Director Park.]

"Yes, Chief."

[You can't run it tomorrow, can you?]

"...I beg your pardon?"

At Chae Ganghyeon's low line, Park Wonjin's smile stiffened.

On-screen, Chae Ganghyeon kept flipping through papers without so much as looking at him, and went on, indifferent.

[My son isn't there right now. So how exactly do you intend to run the evaluation?]

"...!"

Park Wonjin's eyes wavered for an instant, but he pulled himself back together.

Come to think of it, it was obvious.

There was no way the Chief — the man who had this institute, no, the entire Korean Awakened community, in his fist — wouldn't have noticed that the Director of an institute directly under him had been absent for a week.

Park Wonjin forced down his pounding heart and opened his mouth.

"My apologies. The matter was so sensitive I couldn't report it sooner."

He carried on, feigning a rueful tone.

"The Director's conduct... is well past out of line. Setting aside taking the test subjects outside as he pleases — Kim Sunja, Han Jewoon... he's been keeping company with dangerous elements — the very people who stand opposed to the Bureau."

Park Wonjin paused briefly to gauge the reaction, then delivered his decisive blow.

"I'm afraid he may be mistaking the institute for his personal playground... as a subordinate, I find myself deeply concerned."

Tak.

Chae Ganghyeon's hand, which had been flipping through papers, stopped dead.

He lifted his head and stared at the screen.

[A playground, huh.]

Chae Ganghyeon twisted the corner of his mouth up.

[The institute is a playground, that's right. A toy I tossed my son to play with.]

"...I beg your pardon?"

The unexpected reaction sent a chill down Park Wonjin's spine.

[But... you're not wrong either.]

"..."

[If he gets too caught up in playing dolls and forgets what he's actually for, that's a problem. That kind of thing — as a parent, one has an obligation to put a stop to it, no?]

Chae Ganghyeon stared, fixed, at Park Wonjin through the screen.

The eyes were dry, but behind them sat a cold philosophy.

[You see. I believe every human being is born into this world with a clear purpose.]

He tapped the desk lightly with a finger.

[An object whose purpose has run out is discarded. That's the natural order. Why would humans be any different?]

"Th-that's right."

[So then, Deputy Director Park. What do you think the value of your own existence is?]

"I-I... assist the Director and—"

[No. That's what the three chiefs are for, isn't it?]

Park Wonjin's mind went white.

"Th-then, my... value..."

[The Hwang Dushik affair was a waste.]

"...!"

[If you were going to plant a watcher, you should've picked someone smarter. Putting an idiot like that in — really.]

Park Wonjin's face went ashen.

On instinct, he slammed his forehead against the desk and flattened himself down.

"I'm sorry! Chief! I only—!"

[Hah! Lift your head. I'm not chewing you out. If anything, well done.]

Chae Ganghyeon laughed, hearty, and waved a hand.

"...?"

Park Wonjin, dazed, cautiously raised his head.

On-screen, Chae Ganghyeon wore an amiable, easy smile.

[You know? Children, if you raise them in too clean a sterile room, they end up weak as anything, no good.]

He propped his chin on his laced fingers and murmured, low.

[You've got to pick up a few viruses along the way, roll around in some dirty water... that's how immunity develops, that's how they get stronger.]

The smile on Chae Ganghyeon's mouth twisted into something strange.

That wasn't the smile of a father who loved his son. It was closer to the look of a researcher anticipating results from a well-cultivated specimen.

[I want you to play that role for my son. Appropriate hardship. An appropriate virus.]

That was when a courteous knock sounded from the far side of the screen.

Knock, knock.

Chae Ganghyeon glanced toward the door and clicked his tongue.

[Ah — is it that time already. I'd better be off.]

He rose from his seat without a second glance, then threw one last meaningful smile Park Wonjin's way.

[Don't worry about Junhyeok — think a little harder about the value of your own existence. Right, then. See you at the next evaluation.]

Click.

The call cut off without ceremony, and the hologram screen went black.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"An... appropriate virus?"

Park Wonjin's mouth twisted, grotesque.

Crash—!

Park Wonjin swept the contents of his desk to the floor in one rough motion. Nameplate and papers scattered across the ground.

It was pathetic.

He'd given his whole life to reach this seat, and to Chae Ganghyeon this place was a playground — and he himself was nothing but an extra there to make the protagonist — Chae Junhyeok — look better.

"The value of my existence...?"

The fear drained out of his eyes, and pitch-black killing intent took its place.

"All right... if that's what you want, I'll be the hardship you're so eager for..."

Park Wonjin gave a dank little laugh in the dark.

"Only... it won't be appropriate. When the virus is too potent... the host tends to die."

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