Chapter 16

Beomjin’s uncle was on the fifth floor. The hallway buzzed with coughs, whispers, YouTube videos, and TVs while nurses bustled about their duties.

His uncle’s name hung on the door of a four-person room at the very end of the corridor. As he approached, voices drifted out. His aunt was chatting with a few others inside. When Beomjin entered, the conversation stopped.

“Oh my, Beomjin, you’re here.”

His aunt greeted him warmly. A middle-aged woman and a young man lying in bed sat up as well—the sources of the scents he’d caught in the corridor.

“Good. You came. Nothing bad happened, right? Go ahead and greet them—they’re sharing the room with your uncle.”

At her gesture, Beomjin bowed slightly. The two neighbors moved stiffly, like they’d been anesthetized, their forced smiles tight and awkward. Pretending not to notice, Beomjin made his way to his uncle’s bed. Behind the curtain came the sound of rough, labored breathing.

“He fell asleep a little while ago. Still, his condition has improved a lot. If you hadn’t chased after him that day, it would’ve been disastrous.”

His uncle looked even more worn than right after the accident. Hollow cheeks and deepened lines at his lips made him look starved. But the thunderous snores carried relief, easing some of the weight from Beomjin’s chest.

He sat on a folding chair, waiting. The two neighbors excused themselves, saying they’d get some air.

“That young man hurt himself riding a motorcycle. Said he was fine when suddenly a truck slammed into him. Luckily, it was just a stretched ligament in his leg—nothing worse.”

His aunt spoke with all the excitement of someone recounting a UFO sighting. Beomjin played along, feigning surprise. But thinking of his uncle’s accident still sent goosebumps prickling down his arms.

“Your uncle nearly died crashing into a utility pole, while someone else gets run over by a truck and walks away with only a leg injury. You never know how life turns out.”

She handed him a drink from the fridge, then tidied the messy chairs and beds. Each time a blanket flapped, the lingering scents of the other patients drifted out—heavy and damp, like piles of wet leaves. Beomjin focused, trying to place them.

One in particular sparked recognition.

He remembered her now: they’d gone on a few dates in the past. Small and cute, she had followed him everywhere, looking up to him like a hero.

…A squirrel! That was it. If she’d been paying attention, even a truck bearing down on her would’ve been something she could dodge with ease.

The realization lifted the weight off his chest, and he tapped his foot lightly in satisfaction. At that sound, his uncle stirred awake.

“Uncle, I’m here.”

Slowly shifting his gaze, his uncle blinked several times, then drew a careful breath.

“You came quickly. Thank you.”

“You don’t look well. Are you really okay?”

Forcing a smile, his uncle raised a trembling arm and let it fall into Beomjin’s palm.

“I’ve no plans on dying yet.”

He gestured for the bed to be raised. Sitting upright, his breathing eased.

“How’s… that matter… going?”

Beomjin flicked his eyes toward his aunt. She sat politely, smiling as though none the wiser. It seemed she had no idea about Beast-Blooded affairs.

“I’m adapting,” he said.

“That’s right. Didn’t you say Beomjin just got a new job? You said it was in the public sector, didn’t you?”

Public servant… not exactly wrong.

“There was a special recruitment opportunity. More stable than boxing, so I took it.”

“You did the right thing. Your uncle worried you’d chosen something even harder, but nothing’s as secure as a civil job.”

“True enough.”

His uncle motioned for his aunt to give them space, then mimed writing.

“You want a notepad?”

She immediately understood, pulling a small notebook from her bag. With wide eyes, his uncle scrawled something crookedly, then handed it to Beomjin:

[Seoul Station Subway] [Ha Sanmu]

“What is this?”

Leaning close, his uncle whispered.

“Black Tortoise. Find him.”

“Seoul Station? You mean he’s there?”

His uncle blinked firmly, then pulled a small pouch from under his pillow. It was about the size of an eyeglass case, smooth like silk, patterned with bright stripes like a traditional hanbok.

“Your mother… left this. She said to give it to you once you were ready.”

Beomjin accepted the pouch, gripping his uncle’s hand. His aunt leaned in, face full of questions, but footsteps echoed in the hall—along with a scent arriving before the sound.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I’ll explain it to them,” came a gentle voice.

A petite nurse entered, her bright smile radiant. Behind her, the squirrel-blooded neighbors slipped back inside, quickly drawing their curtains like he wasn’t even there.

“Hello,” the nurse greeted warmly.

Beomjin’s eyes, however, were fixed on her wrist. A silver pendant dangled from her bracelet.

“Here for a visit? Could I have a word?”

He quietly followed her into the corridor. The moment they were far enough from the room, she spoke softly.

“I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“No, it’s fine. I understand the situation,” he replied, apologetic himself. Judging from the neighbors’ fear earlier, it wasn’t hard to guess what had been said. And though the nurse hid it better, her twitching fingers and wandering eyes betrayed her tension.

“Thank you for understanding. Those patients have been under a lot of stress at the shelter. They don’t mean any harm.”

“Of course. I don’t take it personally…”

But then his gaze lingered again on her bracelet—and her mention of a “shelter.”

Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? He gave himself a bitter smile.

“That bracelet,” he said.

“…Yes?”

“Where can I get one?”

“I didn’t buy it. I donated to the shelter and received it.”

“I see.”

If it were Horyeon… where would she hide when her life was threatened? Not among ordinary people—that would only make her stand out more. No, she’d vanish among Beast-Blooded. Somewhere the homeless and lost gathered. A welfare center.

“Thank you. I should go before I disturb anyone further.”

He searched the center’s location on his phone as he thanked the nurse, then hurried back to his uncle’s room. Peeking in from the door, he caught his aunt’s eye. She gestured that his uncle was asleep. With a silent bow, he slipped out of the hospital.

Welfare centers for Beast-Blooded were tragically scarce. Near the massive city of Seoul, there were only three—hardly enough, and the countryside had none at all. But right now, with time short, that fact worked to Beomjin’s advantage.

The nearest one to Horyeon’s home was in Siheung.

Parked in an empty lot not far from the subway’s Line 1 tracks, Beomjin knew he was in the right place. The air was thick with scent—layer upon layer, as if countless beasts had marked their territory.

What looked like an abandoned warehouse was the center itself. The paint peeled in blotches like ringworm, graffiti scrawled across the walls. Broken planters, dented trash bins, smashed AC units, and bicycles missing tires littered the grounds.

On a bench out front, a few people loitered. Beyond them, children played on a seesaw and slide in the back yard.

“What do you want?”

Even at a distance where they could barely see his face, the people on the bench were already wary. They rose, one after another, forming a wall. Hands lifted as if to block him.

“I’m looking for someone.”

Beomjin raised his open palms. From a man in his thirties to a frail woman in her fifties, all four of them glared without blinking.

“No one here but beasts! Go back!”

“That’s right, only animals live here.”

A woman shouted first; a man in his forties, face flushed like he’d been drinking, added with a sneer. The others laughed with him.

Beomjin stepped closer. He wasn’t afraid of them—but wasting time with pointless fights would only delay finding Horyeon.

The first to blanch was the older woman. Sniffing, she smacked her neighbors.

“Hey, hey! It’s a tiger, a tiger! What’s he doing here?”

“A tiger?!”

“Stop right there! Don’t come closer!”

The red-faced man leapt in front, shouting.

“What are you here for?”

“I’m looking for someone. Specifically, a fox-blooded Beast-Blooded.”

“A fox?”

A scruffy-haired man in his thirties muttered. He might’ve gotten away with it, but the older woman whispered to the one beside her.

“Could it be… that kid?”

“Ssshh…!”

The bulldog-faced man clamped a hand over her mouth. But Beomjin had seen enough.

“I don’t want trouble. It’s an emergency, so please, I’m asking for your help.”

His voice was polite, calm. Still, silence stretched until the drunk-looking man finally barked.

“No! Leave! Outsiders are forbidden!”

“I’m not suspicious. I’m from the Special Beast Investigation Unit.”

“Special Beast… what?”

The moment he introduced himself, their expressions all twisted the same way. The woman bolted, clutching her pants. From the building, more people rushed out, eyes blazing. They rolled up sleeves, spat on the ground, bristling with hostility.

“A government stooge.”

“…Why’s a government dog here?”

The mutters grated, but Beomjin kept steady.

“Is there perhaps—”

“Get out! Government trash, get out!”

“The government needs to leave us alone! Don’t interfere!”

Their jeers drowned his words.

Why this reaction?

A stone whizzed past his head. Then more, bigger. Forced back, he heard a booming voice.

“What the hell’s going on? Why’s everyone throwing rocks?!”

The crowd fell silent. Pushing through came a massive man, beard wild, arms unusually long, hands huge. Despite his brutish look, his round eyes blinked wide as he scolded them.

“It’s so damn noisy I can’t even nap!”

The mob hesitated until someone piped up.

“Boss! A government guy’s here! Says he’s after someone—they’re trying to drive us out again!”

They pointed at Beomjin. The big man turned.

Beomjin searched his memory but drew a blank. That scent—strong, primal—was one he’d never encountered.

“Government? You came to harass us again?! Get lost! Right now!”

He stomped, and the crowd roared with him. Their primal shouts and tribal gestures were enough to shake Beomjin’s composure. For a second, he almost considered retreat. But Horyeon’s whereabouts had to be confirmed.

“I’m looking for someone. It’s urgent. Please—let me speak to the person in charge here.”

Again and again, the same words. He swallowed the heat rising inside.

“The person in charge?”

The bearded giant rolled up his sleeves. Tattoos like ancient murals coiled around his arms. When others tried to hold him back, he shrugged them off with a snarl.

“So what if you’re a tiger? I’m a gorilla!”