The Villainous Director Is Raising a Child!

"I've got high hopes for this evaluation."

The Bureau Chief wore a grin from ear to ear the whole way down the corridor.

"Just look at those record-breaking numbers from last time. Isn't that a height we couldn't reach by a hair's breadth, no matter how many years of experiments we poured into it?"

At that, the color drained out of Park Wonjin's face, going the shade of clay.

Because the man who had led those years of experiments and delivered nothing to show for them was none other than himself.

His insides were seething, but he choked down the string of curses that had climbed all the way up his throat.

"Ha... indeed. The Director's brilliance really is beyond anyone's reach. Remarkable, sir."

"Mm. My son or not, he's the real thing."

The Bureau Chief's grinning stride came to an abrupt stop.

When he turned, the laughter had evaporated from his eyes, as if it had never been there.

"But this time..."

That razor-sharp gaze bored into Park Wonjin's chest like it might pierce clean through his heart.

"...there won't be some idiot who screws up like last time, will there?"

At the killing intent tightening around his windpipe, Park Wonjin bent at the waist so fast he nearly folded in two.

"Of course not! I stake my neck on it! There will never be a mistake like that again!"

At Park Wonjin's desperate vow, the Bureau Chief finally clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, patting it a couple of times.

"Good. That's how it should be. This is the evaluation, of all things."

He added, in a voice that was gentle but carried a pressure there was no refusing.

"Just how important I consider this project... you of all people know best, Deputy Director."

"Ah, of— of course I know!"

Park Wonjin wiped away his cold sweat and quickly guided the Bureau Chief to the VIP seats, which looked down over the whole training hall.

Sinking into the plush leather chair, the Bureau Chief propped his chin on his hand and asked.

"So how does it work this time? Do you summon virtual monsters like last time?"

Park Wonjin's lips were just parting to answer.

"I'll be the one to answer that."

Bang—!

The heavy control-room door was flung wide open.

Startled by the sudden noise, Park Wonjin turned to find the Director, wearing a self-assured expression, striding in with three Head Researchers trailing after him like a bodyguard escort.

"Oho... you, Junhyeok?"

The Bureau Chief's eyes lit with interest.

The Director shrugged and gave a triumphant grin.

"Yeah. I planned this evaluation myself."

At that, Park Wonjin clenched the fist behind his back hard enough to break it.

The truth was, right up until the last evaluation, Park Wonjin had used the objectivity of the experiment as a shield to keep the Director thoroughly shut out of it.

If the Director, who functions as the key independent variable, intervenes directly in the experimental design, it could introduce serious bias into the data and contaminate the entire experiment.

Thanks to that plausible-sounding hypothesis and pretext, Park Wonjin had been free to set up the board and rig things from behind the scenes with an easy mind.

But after the Director nearly died during Kim Sihyeok's overload last time, everything had gone sideways.

That accident had handed the Director a powerful pretext — "safety management" — and from then on the Director's influence had started creeping into the evaluations.

Damn it...!

However much Park Wonjin might strain his neck raw crying out for "the independence of the experiment," there was hardly anyone left in this institute who would lend his words an ear.

The tide had already turned.

Of the hundred-odd researchers, thirty-two were on Project R alone.

Add the Director's sympathizers falling in line and reading the room, and it came to over eighty.

He was, quite literally, a gourd cut loose from its string — good for nothing.

...But that's only for now.

He glared at the Director's back with venom in his eyes.

That's right. Strut around all you like. Once today is over... that grand little kingdom of yours is finished too.

With no idea that Park Wonjin was sharpening a knife inwardly, the Director gestured at the screen and began his briefing.

"The concept for this evaluation is simple. Defense, taken to the extreme."

The Director pointed at Sea-ah's information displayed on the monitor and curled the corner of his mouth up.

[Name: Lee Sea-ah (Test Subject 02)

Age: 9

Ability: B-rank barrier user

Position: Tanker]

The virtual training-room simulation on the screen was blanketed in a red grid of warning lights.

"See it? Full 360 degrees, ceiling to floor — there's no blind spot anywhere. The entire wall surface is high-output laser turrets."

The Director drew a light line through the air with his finger and smirked.

"On the start signal, dozens of beams will converge on the center. There's only one target."

The avatar modeled after the Director, standing dead center on the screen, blinked red.

"That's me. My virtual data, to be exact. Sea-ah has to protect that thing through the storm of fire."

"Oho... virtual data, is it."

"For the record, she hasn't got the faintest clue that's a scrap of data."

The Director's eyes gleamed like a mischievous brat's.

"I nearly took the road to the underworld last time — can't very well go and die a dog's death again, can I? So this time I planted a stand-in of myself, nice and safe."

He gestured at his own data on the screen and puffed himself up.

"Physical mass rendered at 100%, personality algorithm cloned to perfection — no way for her to catch on."

"Oho... now that is interesting."

The Bureau Chief stroked his chin, genuinely impressed.

Making someone believe a fake is real and driving them to the extreme. It was a cruel setup, but a rather appealing one.

"The test runs from Stage 1 through ten stages total. The higher the stage, the more the lasers multiply, and the patterns and intensity ramp up exponentially. Let's have some fun watching how the bond affects her ability."

No sooner had he finished than—

Kudugung—

The tightly shut gate of the training room on the screen opened, and Lee Sea-ah appeared, wearing a composed expression.

Park Wonjin swallowed dry down a throat that felt scorched.

All you have to do is drop the barrier at the right moment...!

Sea-ah, stepping slowly into the training room, fixed her gaze on a single spot at once.

A man bound tight to a chair sitting all alone in the dead center of the wide space, his head drooping weakly.

It was unmistakably the Director.

Precisely speaking it was virtual data that perfectly reproduced the Director's appearance, but to Sea-ah it would look like the real thing, no question.

"Director? Director!"

Sea-ah gasped and rushed over.

She grabbed his slumped shoulders and shook him hard, but he didn't so much as stir, as if sunk in a deep coma.

"...!"

On instinct, Sea-ah sensed something was wrong. She planted herself in front of the Director and scanned the room, eyes sharp.

At that moment.

[ Beep——! ]

Along with an eardrum-splitting shriek, a flat mechanical voice rang out across the training hall.

[ Test Subject 02, Lee Sea-ah. The public evaluation will now begin. Commencing Stage 1. ]

The instant the announcement ended, a chilling red light flashed in the empty air.

Chiiing—!

The first laser shot in a straight line toward the brow of the Director, whose eyes were shut.

Paaang—!

A transparent hexagonal barrier unfurled right in front of the Director's face.

The red laser struck the barrier and scattered harmlessly into the air.

But there wasn't even a moment to breathe.

[ Beep— ]

Along with the mechanical tone, another muzzle flashed on the left-hand wall.

Chiiing— paaat!

An eardrum-splitting shriek.

This time it came from behind.

At first she seemed thrown, but after a few exchanges her expression settled into calm.

Piyung—! Kwajijik!

Murderous beams rained down without pause from every direction, but it came to nothing.

Tuk, tak.

With a single light flick of her hand, Sea-ah was batting away every last one of the attacks, as if humoring a small child at play.

She even held the barrier flawlessly intact as she turned and laid a hand against the neck of the Director bound to the chair.

Cool enough to check whether his pulse was beating, whether he was still breathing.

Watching the monitor, the Bureau Chief's eyes sparkled with interest.

"Impressive. Checking the hostage's condition in a situation like that. A remarkably composed child."

But the Director beside him seemed dissatisfied. He kept his chin propped on his hand and bit down on a bored yawn.

"Boring. What's there to evaluate at this level?"

Without mercy, the Director jabbed the microphone button.

"Crank it up!"

At that, the flat mechanical voice split the air of the training hall.

[ Advancing to Stage 2. ]

The moment the words ended, the tempo changed.

[ Beep—! Beep—! Beep—! ]

The intervals between warning tones grew far shorter and sharper.

At the same time, the wall panels all around opened mechanically, and beams far thicker and deeper red than before poured down like driving rain.

Kwaaang—! Peeong!

The very impact against the barrier was different.

If Stage 1 had been the level of a light stone-throwing, Stage 2 sent a heavy vibration through it, as if the barrier were being battered with a giant hammer.

But Sea-ah's response was unchanged.

"..."

She narrowed her brow slightly, seeming to pull her concentration higher — and that was all.

When she gave a slight twist of the fingertips stretched into the air, the transparent barrier moved fluidly and swallowed up the pouring bombardment.

Not a single beam of light, not one fragment, so much as grazed a hair on the Director behind her.

Flawless, absolute defense.

"Oho..."

The Bureau Chief leaned toward the monitor, genuinely impressed.

"Reading the trajectories of the attacks and deflecting them with the barest minimum of barrier — that mana efficiency is extraordinary."

The Director propped his chin on his hand and smiled, the picture of ease.

"After all the training I've put her through, she'd better be blocking this much in her sleep."

"Heh. My son, all right."

Behind the warm father-and-son exchange, Park Wonjin's face crumpled to the color of clay.

He grabbed the control microphone and snapped, on edge.

"Move to Stage 3!"

Wiing—!

The turrets fixed to the walls began sliding along rails at high speed.

Moving targets.

Accuracy drops, and the blind spots shift faster.

But.

Kwaaang—!

Sea-ah's barrier didn't hesitate.

With a single gesture she twisted the barrier's angle and picked off the fast-moving turrets with perfect precision.

[ Stage 3 clear. ]

With no time to breathe, the difficulty spiked straight up.

Stage 4, laced with homing missiles that dug into the blind spots.

Stage 6, pressing in from floor and ceiling at once.

All the way to the indiscriminate barrage of Stage 9, pouring down alongside a vision-blinding smokescreen.

Peobeong! Kwagwang—!

But the outcome was the same.

Through the flood of raining bombardment, Sea-ah broke through every stage at a breakneck pace without letting a single hair on the Director come to harm.

[ Stage 9... clear! ]

"Haah... haah..."

Sea-ah swallowed her ragged breaths and wiped the cold sweat beading on her forehead with the back of her hand.

Her legs were shaking, but she quickly steadied her disordered breathing and glanced back once at the Director behind her.

Once she confirmed that he — still unconscious — was unharmed, she straightened her rumpled clothes and added, low.

"If this is the level, let's end the evaluation here. Whatever else you bring out, the result will be the same."

At Sea-ah's confident declaration, gasps of admiration broke out around the control room.

"Oooh...!"

"Incredible. That kind of flawless defense, at that age."

"Honestly... at that level, isn't she better than most active-duty tankers?"

"You said it. The mana control, the instincts — she's already past most established Hunters."

The researchers marveled at the poised girl on the monitor and gave her a thumbs-up.

But the Bureau Chief, seated in the VIP section, was lukewarm.

"Hmm... she's clearly good, but..."

He rubbed his chin and tapped the waveform graph on the monitor with his index finger.

"But that's as far as it goes. Right now she's just a Hunter who fights well — a Second Awakening looks unlikely."

At that, the Director's eyebrow twitched.

"Ahem. There's still one stage left!"

The Director quickly shouted at the researchers.

"What are you doing? Run Stage 10, now!"

"Y-yes, sir!"

[ Entering Stage 10. ]

[ Warning: high-density compressed beams deploying. ]

This was another level entirely from the stages before.

Along with a high-frequency whine, as if space itself were screaming, the air began to burn white.

Chiiiik—!

"...Ngh!"

A groan burst from Sea-ah's mouth.

The solid hexagonal barrier that had seemed like it would never be breached began to melt away in an instant, like ice touched to a furnace.

Beyond the barrier, sizzling and burning, a murderous heat came rushing through.

Chik—!

Its force was diminished, but a sharp red beam that had survived and pierced through the barrier leaked in through a gap.

Its path ran precisely toward the heart of the Director in the chair.

"No!"

Sea-ah reflexively flung her arms around the Director's neck and threw herself sideways.

Kudangtang—!

The chair went over, and the two of them rolled across the cold floor in a tangle.

Chijik!

It was a hair's breadth. The beam that had been aimed at the Director's heart cut through empty air. But there was a price she couldn't avoid.

"Ugh...!"

As they rolled across the floor, a red flash grazed Sea-ah's shoulder before she could get clear.

Along with the smell of burning flesh, red blood streamed down through the torn gap in her shirt and wet the floor.

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