“Damn it, those guys are real thugs.”
Someone muttered it in exasperation during the meeting, but Joo Inhyuk stayed silent the entire time.
A headache was building. It was already an all-too-familiar symptom, but the intensity was severe.
He instinctively sensed Kang Iseo’s unstable emotional state. For someone who had contributed to what could almost be called a commendation-worthy mission, Kang Iseo’s current emotional condition was clearly off.
‘What’s going on in Haebaek?’
Joo Inhyuk clenched his fist without anyone noticing, digging his nails into his own skin. Even in a situation where he needed absolute composure, the symptoms of the bond were surging sharply.
If he was feeling this much, Kang Iseo must be suffering several times worse.
“Regarding the matter, we will discuss it with the Association President and make a decision. This meeting is adjourned.”
“We don’t need that much, Director. Just reject it outright. Those bastards really think words are law. When they called about the ratio adjustment, Cha Wooshin personally contacted us. Do you know what he said? ‘The ratio is 8 to 2. You get the 2, obviously.’ Click. Then he hung up like that.”
The room buzzed again. Most of them were red-faced, criticizing Cha Wooshin’s character.
Joo Inhyuk said nothing and pressed his temple, holding his breath. The source of his headache was coming from multiple directions.
***
Past midnight. A notification arrived that a shared file had been sent from Kang Iseo.
Although it wasn’t the scheduled time, most reports and documents were usually sent around this hour.
Joo Inhyuk rubbed his face with a tired hand. His nerves were frayed.
Did you get injured?
Unnecessary concern could burden the other party. However, this was not “unnecessary” concern—it was “essential” concern as a bond partner.
When their nervous systems were directly linked, such worry was only natural.
But the situation wasn’t that simple. As an S-class Awakened, Joo Inhyuk could exert full mental and physical control over his bonded partner—or at least, he should have been able to.
There was no rank above S-class, and even if two equals formed a bond, differences in innate ability and mastery created significant gaps.
However, Kang Iseo was a special case. Control didn’t work. If anything, it felt like he himself was being dominated.
He had reviewed multiple recorded cases of bonds reported to the Association, but found no clear precedent. One thing was certain—Kang Iseo had become Joo Inhyuk’s greatest vulnerability.
(Kang Iseo)
I was injured during a joint raid.
I already know the details.
He wanted to hear something else.
In this absurd condition, they must have relied on medication to endure it—but was it not working? Were they even taking it properly? Concern welled up.
(Kang Iseo)
Ah… yes.
‘Ah, yes?’
I asked in case there were other injuries.
(Kang Iseo)
There are no other issues.
‘Always “no other issues.” And yet you’re in pain like this? And because of me…’
A sigh escaped him involuntarily.
Then it must be bond side effects. Is the medication not working properly?
(Kang Iseo)
It doesn’t seem to work as well as last time.
‘Then they should’ve said so earlier. If they just endure it in silence, who’s supposed to know?’
Uncharacteristically sharp emotions surged.
There were various symptoms of bond side effects. Heightened senses, emotional instability, uncontrollable irritation.
I understand. I’ll prescribe a new one and send it.
(Kang Iseo)
Okay.
By the way, how did you know?
Are you hurt?
A series of messages followed. Joo Inhyuk felt unexpectedly flustered. Text lacked tone and expression, leaving interpretation limited.
I’m not injured.
He sent that brief reply first, before composing a longer message. Even then, he wasn’t sure why he was saying such nonsense.
‘I should be reviewing pending documents instead of this… Is this also a side effect?’
It would be good to light an aromatherapy candle by your bedside. AD Company developed one with a new medicinal compound. I recommend the “Planeon” scent. It’s lavender-based with a mild intensity, so it shouldn’t be unpleasant.
(Kang Iseo)
Have you tried it?
I use it occasionally.
In truth, almost every day. Even right now…
(Kang Iseo)
That’s interesting.
What is?
(Kang Iseo)
You don’t seem like the type to rely on that sort of thing.
He didn’t respond for a moment.
That was because it was wrong. If anything, he depended on such things heavily. Without medication or supportive treatments, he could barely endure a single day in a sane state.
It wasn’t just because of the bond. Joo Inhyuk had many aspects of himself he wished to keep hidden.
He did not want to reveal his weaknesses, even if he had to throw his body into the world.
There were many who believed in him. Some were comrades, some were strangers, some were medals pinned beneath his shoulder, and some were even himself—reciting penance without changing expression.
It was the product of excessive glory. He had never desired any of it. He simply walked the path he believed was right.
***
For a moment, he dozed off—and the sun had already risen.
Dust floating in the light by the window drifted like an illusion.
“You’re awake.”
“The dust…”
“Yes?”
“It’s a lot.”
Joo Inhyuk murmured in a hoarse voice, still in a booting state.
“Should I call maintenance?”
“No. Leave it.”
He’s in bad condition today, Kim Eunseok thought, and pulled up a video.
“What is it?”
“Live feed. From the South Branch Management Headquarters reception room. Cha Wooshin requested a meeting and arrived 30 minutes ago. And… reporters are flooding the lobby. It seems Cha Wooshin’s side leaked information.”
“Turn up the volume.”
“Yes.”
Kim Eunseok raised the volume to maximum.
Cha Wooshin, accompanied by his guild members, was casually fiddling with his phone.
Beside him sat Kang Iseo. At first Joo Inhyuk thought the video was frozen, but the timestamp confirmed it was playing in real time.
He let out a faint, dry laugh. No guild normally entered Association buildings so casually. If anything, they were dragged in—not walking in voluntarily.
Especially not like this, as if they had stopped by a convenience store.
The Association was a government institution, managing all Awakened individuals in the country. Guilds were subordinate, regulated organizations.
‘Have they grown too large?’
It had been especially so under the previous administration, which had allowed the Haebaek Guild, led by the Guild Alliance leader, to expand unchecked.
Kang Iseo, who had been staring forward blankly, leaned slightly toward Cha Wooshin and whispered something.
Joo Inhyuk frowned slightly. The lips were too small to read.
But Cha Wooshin, who had been lounging lazily, suddenly became lively. He straightened his posture and smiled widely.
He started talking animatedly—mostly nonsense.
“Wow, look at his tone. He’s completely insane,” Kim Eunseok muttered.
Joo Inhyuk said nothing, only watching the screen.
Then Cha Wooshin pulled Kang Iseo into an embrace. It seemed familiar enough that Kang Iseo didn’t react much.
Instead, Song Seokwoo looked flustered and handed something to Kang Iseo.
A letter, apparently delivered on behalf of Park Juhwan.
“Wow. He’s burning it. Isn’t that workplace harassment within the guild? Has Cha Wooshin always been this strict with his guild members? Kang Iseo must be quite ambitious to stay by his side like that. A purification-type support healer like him is such a waste.”
None of Kim Eunseok’s words registered anymore.
Joo Inhyuk stared at Cha Wooshin on the screen with a cold expression.
“Contact Team Leader Song Seokwoo. Tell him to hold Cha Wooshin there.”
“Pardon? Right now? You mean immediately?”
“Yes. Now.”
