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chapter 35
It was the worst.
Facing Baek Ihyeon, who so smoothly admitted his emotions, Jang Seok-ju realized once again just how deeply every step this man took impacted the political landscape.
The consequences of Baek Ihyeon openly declaring he had feelings for Seol Ah-yeon were too grim to imagine.
He dropped his gaze without meaning to. His bandaged right hand throbbed.
Baek Ihyeon’s voice reached his ears, crisp and unwavering.
“From the first moment I saw her, I thought she was beautiful. Interesting. You could call it love at first sight. I’m certain she’s someone I’d like to know personally—assuming circumstances were different.”
Jang Seok-ju lifted his head. Baek Ihyeon cut every word cleanly.
“I know my place.”
A thread of hope appeared, and Jang Seok-ju hurried to speak.
“Sir, if you show personal interest in Seol Ah-yeon, the Great Houses will inevitably move. S-Ranks and Tuners don’t require personality to function. As long as the body is intact, they can operate. The accuracy would drop, of course, but—”
“That’s why you suggested that to Kim Do-un? To kill Seol Ah-yeon’s soul?”
“She’s an outsider anyway.”
“Lieutenant Kim wouldn’t appreciate hearing that.”
His tongue caught. Only then did Jang Seok-ju realize his mistake. What had Kim Do-un’s expression looked like? He couldn’t remember. Pushing down the unease, he focused on what needed to be said.
“Even on this ship alone, we have Min Seo-rin of June. I heard she already tried once—attempted to poison Seol Ah-yeon.”
“Do I look like someone incapable of protecting one woman?”
A soft alert chimed as the work panel on Baek Ihyeon’s desk lit up. Without even glancing, he flicked it downward—leaving only Seol Ah-yeon’s footage visible. He looked back at Jang Seok-ju.
“I am neither dull to my emotions nor foolish enough to forget my station over a woman.”
“Your marriage is a major national affair.”
“I’m aware. Do you not trust me?”
“Because I trust and rely on you completely, I cannot allow any variables.”
“Have I made any misjudgment regarding Seol Ah-yeon?”
“That…”
Jang Seok-ju opened his mouth but shut it again.
No. Not yet. Everything so far had only been signs that Baek Ihyeon was drawn to her—but none of it had influenced his actual judgment.
In fact, after the polygraph, he’d immediately ordered her thrown into mock-battle trials, and even said they would dispose of her if her status window didn’t appear.
Given all that, the excuse that they’d wanted to eliminate her first because they feared he would fall for her sounded pitiful even to himself.
“I’ll ask again. Was there a misjudgment?”
“…No, sir.”
“There won’t be one. If you trust me, don’t touch Seol Ah-yeon. Especially not by using Kim Do-un.”
Baek Ihyeon’s voice dropped lower.
“And watch your words around him. He may smile kindly, but he isn’t naïve. He’s one of our battalion’s core forces, and his condition greatly affects his performance.”
“…Understood.”
Baek Ihyeon stared him down for a moment, as if pressing him into place, then finally lowered his gaze. Picking up a tablet from his desk, he spoke.
“You asked whether we should authorize her screening.”
He typed. Soon, Jang Seok-ju’s wrist-watch vibrated—permission received.
“I authorize it. But if she adapts too quickly, her thinking may stiffen. Keep training minimal and send her to field duty as soon as possible. And one more thing.”
Baek Ihyeon set down the tablet and looked at him.
“Did Kim Do-un say anything else?”
The sudden question caught him off guard.
“No unusual reports.”
“I think Seol Ah-yeon saw her status window.”
As he spoke, he tapped the air. The footage of Seol Ah-yeon, which had been replaying on loop, turned slightly and stopped facing Jang Seok-ju.
Jang Seok-ju leaned in, watching closely.
Now that he’d been told, he saw it—the way her gaze fixed on an empty spot in the air just before she stumbled, her pupils widening in realization.
It was only a moment, and her movements had been so quick and natural that without Baek Ihyeon’s comment, he might never have noticed. He cursed his own dullness.
“There’s no way Kim Do-un missed it.”
Silently, Jang Seok-ju agreed.
Kim Do-un was sharp and quick, missing nothing—not the slightest shift in atmosphere. He simply chose not to show it, smoothing things over with a mild demeanor.
He had also been the only one—other than Jang Seok-ju—to notice Baek Ihyeon’s emotional change.
“If he didn’t report it, he’s probably keeping silent.”
“…I’ll confirm.”
“No need. If a third party interferes, it will disrupt her training. Just monitor them. Intervene only if Kim Do-un’s information control becomes excessive.”
Jang Seok-ju agreed with the assessment.
Kim Do-un reacted sensitively to anything involving him—not because he was naturally anxious, but because he’d been raised to survive that way.
Even when he was tense to the bone, he put on a pleasant smile. The image of him uncharacteristically nervous around Seol Ah-yeon flickered in Jang’s mind.
“Any remaining questions?”
Jang Seok-ju knew he should withdraw now. But the deepest fear inside him still hadn’t been resolved.
“…If you truly knew Seol Ah-yeon before—and your memories return—what will you do?”
It wasn’t a baseless hypothetical.
In fact, it was becoming the most likely explanation. They could no longer dismiss her as a spy sent by the Church.
When they had first discovered she had two bodies, church interference seemed obvious—but if she was a Tuner who could see her status window, it changed everything. She didn’t need the Church.
She was too powerful—practically a fragment of God. A threat to the Church’s monopoly.
The Emperor, who relied on the Church’s divine power but feared their influence, would welcome her. The Church, who used divine authority to control the Emperor, would see her as something to eliminate immediately.
So they had to reconsider her earlier claim—one they had dismissed outright—that she and Baek Ihyeon had once been close friends.
Swallowing the rising anxiety, Jang Seok-ju watched Baek Ihyeon lean back against his chair, eyes closing and opening slowly.
Was he annoyed by the constant questioning, suppressing irritation? Or was he genuinely considering it?
Then Baek Ihyeon spoke—without hesitation, his voice clear.
“Even so, it would only concern a previous life. It has nothing to do with the present.”
Jang Seok-ju could not believe it.
The look in Seol Ah-yeon’s eyes when she saw Baek Ihyeon was far too deep to be simple friendship.
Feelings that heavy were never one-sided. Either they had once reciprocated, or he had felt even more.
And this Baek Ihyeon had just admitted he fell for her at first sight. It was difficult to shake the intuition that they were intertwined long before now.
Jang wanted something more explicit from him.
A promise that he would not abandon the Vana lineage because of Seol Ah-yeon. A vow that he would not allow civil war worse than any battlefield.
But what came out of Baek Ihyeon’s mouth was something else entirely.
“When the Vana clan was exterminated, I was beside the head of the house.”
Jang’s throat dried. He knew of it. He knew Baek Ihyeon had watched the annihilation of a powerful Great House with his own eyes.
When the clan head—strongest among them—opened the family’s power to face the enemy, every blood relative became linked.
When he suffered his mortal wound, he tried to sever that link. He failed—by a fraction of a second.
He survived only moments longer by devouring the lives of every relative connected to him—dying last.
“I stood there while he killed and kept killing the family he loved, just to stay alive. I watched him close his eyes only after losing everything. No amount of love could defy that fate.”
It had been beyond his control. The ancient family oath acted on instinct—to preserve the head’s life by draining his bloodline.
Had Baek Ihyeon shared even a drop of blood with them, he would have died as well.
“When I remember that, I question what the human heart even is. Or whether it’s anything meaningful at all.”
A faint shadow crossed his composed face—not hatred, not cynicism—just exhaustion long accumulated.
“I trust this answers your question.”
He raised his hand, shutting off Seol Ah-yeon’s footage and pulling up the work panel again. His gaze dropped to the sea of reports, dry and businesslike.
“You may leave.”
