13 — Chapter 13

Beomjin reread the message again and again. The words weren’t difficult to understand—accepting them was. The result was beyond anything he’d imagined.

The face of the “civilian victim” burned into his memory rose vividly before him. The most brutal of the corpses, the one seething with hatred. And now, that had been the husband?

“There is no husband. He ran off as soon as he learned I was pregnant.”

Her voice carried no emotion. Instead, a faint, dreamy smile lingered on her lips, like she was savoring the aftertaste. Huiseon kept her eyes on Yujeong, who was sliding down the playground’s slide.

“I knew it might come to this, but I had no choice. I couldn’t lose my daughter. No matter the cost, no matter the sacrifice—I could never give her up.”

“That doesn’t excuse the four people you murdered.”

“I don’t expect it to. And yes, it may sound shameless, but if this means my daughter lives healthy… I’m satisfied.”

She waved at Yujeong. The girl slid down, clapping happily—until she doubled over in a harsh cough. Huiseon bolted to her side.

“Yujeong, are you okay? Can you breathe?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Really, I’m fine.”

The little girl, not even in elementary school, answered with composure. She hugged her mother, grinning to show her teeth. But no smile could hide the strain beneath it.

Huiseon stroked her daughter’s face again and again, forcing back tears.

“You have to tell me when it hurts, okay? No matter what.”

“Are we leaving now?”

“Not yet. You’re really sure you’re okay?”

Huiseon asked one more time, then walked back to the bench.

“Are you satisfied? Even after taking four lives, nothing has changed. Your daughter knows it too. The only thing your crimes will do is weigh on her.”

Beomjin’s words cut like knives. Gyusang bristled, but Huiseon stopped him.

“…I know. My selfishness led us here.”

She covered her face with both hands. Tears slipped between her fingers.

Jinyoung and Uwan finally arrived at the playground. They had caught enough of the conversation to understand—and their faces were grave. But duty came first. Jinyoung offered her hand, and Huiseon took it without resistance. Only Yujeong’s cries echoed across the playground as her mother was led away.

Through the Special Beast Investigation Unit, Huiseon was sent to trial.

Her reason for killing four people was exactly as she said: desperation to cure her sick daughter. University hospitals had found no cause, and in her despair she turned to superstition.

The shaman, Jung Nain (Horse), had been introduced by Lee Hyunjeong (Sheep), a close neighbor. Multiple gut rituals had drained their savings, and debt followed. Hyunjeong had provided the loans, connected them with the moneylender Moon Sajun (Snake), and dragged them all into this spiral.

Huiseon had passed Gyusang off as her “husband,” borrowing money under Sanghyun’s name. Eventually, Sajun himself became a sacrifice. Along with Snake, Sheep, and Horse, the ritual required blood from family. She lured her real husband—Kim Sanghyun, Yujeong’s father—under the pretext of insurance money and used him as the final victim.

Beomjin, Jinyoung, and Uwan all believed Gyusang had helped her, but Huiseon insisted she acted alone. With no evidence to the contrary, only she was punished.

“A terrible case, but at least it was solved quickly. You all did well.”

Director Lee Suchan offered his encouragement from the Chief’s office, even shaking each of their hands in turn. His booming laughter tried to lift the room’s heavy air.

Beomjin accepted quietly. “Director, I have one request. Could you allow Choi Huiseon’s daughter to be examined by the Unit’s medical staff? There’s something troubling me.”

“Our staff? I thought the hospitals couldn’t find a cause.”

“That’s why I’m asking. It’s not too much, is it?”

Suchan glanced at Jinyoung and Uwan. Neither objected, so he nodded. “I’ll pass the word along. But approval alone won’t smooth everything over. You’ll have to convince the doctor yourself.”

At that, Beomjin bowed. He already knew who awaited him—Professor Yoo Hojun, head of the Unit’s medical division. A man renowned for brilliance… and for being impossibly exacting. Beomjin’s heart beat faster at the thought.

“Thank you. I’ll speak with him right away.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Unless there’s more to discuss?”

“You’ll continue as consultant, then?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. Then here—this is yours.”

Uwan produced a brand-new ID card. Beomjin’s Special Beast Investigation Unit badge, photo and all.

“Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

“Good to have you with us. A Tiger as consultant—what a comfort!”

Suchan laughed heartily. Jinyoung clapped begrudgingly, unable to hide her displeasure.

As they left the office, she pulled Beomjin aside.

“Wait. What exactly are you planning for that girl?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yujeong. What are you asking the medical staff to do?”

“It’s just a request. Why are you so worked up?”

Jinyoung sighed openly.

“Do you even know who you’re supposed to meet right now?”

“I know. Enough that you don’t need to worry. Professor Yoo Hojun, right? I’ve already heard the rumors about him.”

And more than that—they were close.

In his late forties, Hojun had treated Beomjin like a nephew. He’d been someone who gave help freely, though he always demanded favors in return. But he was also warm, never forgetting to repay what he owed.

“You really think Professor Yoo can cure the child?”

Jinyoung shadowed him closely, her tone casual but her eyes betraying concern. Clearly, Yujeong had been weighing on her mind as much as his.

“Whether he can or not, I can’t stand to leave a sick child alone, cut off from her mother. There’s something I need to confirm.”

The two stepped into the elevator, Beomjin pressing the button for the fourth floor.

The Unit’s medical facility occupied the fourth floor. Beomjin moved with familiarity, heading straight for the front desk. Three nurses manned the long counter, busy with paperwork.

The middle-aged nurse at the center greeted them.

“Hello. How may I help you?”

She radiated feline elegance, her polite smile barely concealing a stiffness that hinted she wasn’t easy to deal with.

“I’m Baek Beomjin, consultant with the Special Beast Investigation Unit. I’d like to see Professor Yoo Hojun. Is he in? His office is here on the fourth floor, or the fifth?”

“Professor Yoo? Do you have an appointment?”

At the mention of his name, even the other two nurses perked up, openly curious about who dared to ask for him.

“No, nothing official. I just wanted to pay my respects and make a request.”

“…A request? I see. Please wait here a moment.”

Her tone said otherwise, but Beomjin heard it as: Let’s see if you can pull this off. Glancing sideways, he saw Jinyoung smirk, clearly enjoying his predicament.

The nurse dialed the phone, clearing her throat before speaking.

“Yes, Professor, good afternoon. There’s a visitor in the fourth-floor lobby. No, it’s his first time here. Yes. Yes… ah, he’s a Tiger. Yes. Yes, I understand.”

She hung up and eyed him carefully.

“The professor says he’ll see you for a short while. Follow this corridor straight down—you’ll see his name on the office door.”

“Thank you.”

Beomjin wasted no time, striding quickly toward the end of the hall.

The plaque on the door was familiar. So were the potted plants lining the corridor, even the faint trace of his scent in the air. It was almost as if he heard the echo of that familiar voice: Hey, Baek Beomjinnie! Got time to help with something today?

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,” came the reply.

Inside, a cramped office lined wall-to-wall with bookshelves. Sitting there with long hair cascading over his shoulders was Professor Yoo Hojun.

“What brings you here? Are you sick?”

The refined face of a middle-aged man, the sharp scent that stirred old memories—everything about him tugged at Beomjin’s chest.

“Hello. I’m Baek Beomjin, consultant with the Special Beast Investigation Unit. I’ve heard your reputation, so I came to see you.”

“Baek Beomjin? Ah, right. Director Lee Suchan mentioned you earlier. So, what’s the matter? Sit down.”

Beomjin sat on a round stool. The familiarity of the office put him at ease; even Hojun’s gaze, which might have unsettled others, barely registered anymore.

He got straight to the point.

“There’s a Rabbit child. About six, maybe seven years old. She was caught up in a case. She has weak lungs, can’t run long, and seems to suffer frequent dizziness.”

Jinyoung shot him a look, How do you know all that?

“A Rabbit child with respiratory issues, weak legs and back, frequent faintness. The university hospitals couldn’t identify the cause. I’d like you to examine her.”

“Me? And why ask me, specifically?”

Though not a doctor himself, Beomjin was almost certain. If anyone could uncover the truth of Yujeong’s condition, it was Yoo Hojun.

“My personal opinion is that it’s caused by a lethal allele.”

Hojun’s brows rose. “A lethal allele, you say? Do you even understand what that means?”

“For Beast-Blooded, isn’t it the clash between animal and human genes that sometimes triggers fatal disorders?”

“…And how exactly did you reach that conclusion?”

“Experience. Which is why I’m here asking you.”

“Hah. A lethal allele, is it? Hahaha!”

Hojun threw his head back, laughing from his belly. Beomjin clenched his fists unseen. The laughter wasn’t dismissal—it was interest. He’d succeeded in catching the professor’s curiosity.

“You’re an amusing Tiger. Still young, but bold. I like it. I like you a lot.”

The professor stood, pulling two thick volumes from his shelves before sitting again.

“All right. I’ll see the child. But in return, Baek Beomjin, you’ll do me a favor.”

Jinyoung sighed audibly, but Beomjin ignored her.

“Tell me what it is, and I’ll do my best.”

“It’s not difficult. I need you to find someone. A contact I’ve lost touch with. I’ve been worried, but it’s not the kind of thing I could ask just anyone. You, though—I think you could handle it.”

“I don’t see a problem with that. Give me the details, and I’ll look.”

Hojun paused, uncharacteristically hesitant. His usual boldness gave way to unease as he pressed his lips together.

“She’s technically a relative of mine. My niece, in a way. Twenty-three years old this year. Her name is Yoon Horyeon. Like me, she’s a fox. But she’s… difficult, prickly. That’s why I worry.”

Horyeon.

Beomjin froze.

He repeated the name, dredging up the memory that surfaced like ice through his veins.

Yoon Horyeon.

A young gumiho—already on the Unit’s wanted list. He had once tracked her himself, only to find her too late. Lying cold and lifeless.