Chapter 18

“I really don’t know… I swear.”

Ji-yu kept insisting on her innocence, but not even Guho looked convinced. Beomjin only glared at her, silent, then opened the container of aegidol and dumped the contents onto the floor.

“Hey! Are you crazy?! What the hell are you doing?!”

Ji-yu lunged at him in a panic, but Beomjin easily caught her. His hand closed around her slender neck as he calmly began crushing the aegidol beneath his heel.

“Aaagh! You bastard!!”

Her scream tore through the room.

“Tell me the truth.”

She thrashed wildly, but his grip only tightened.

“Kh—! I… can’t… breathe…!”

Her face turned crimson, veins bulging, eyes bloodshot as she pounded on his arm.

“Fine…! I’ll talk… I’ll tell you!”

Released, she collapsed like a child, gasping for air. Tears of hatred streamed down her cheeks, but Beomjin’s gaze never softened.

“Don’t stall. Answer.”

“All right, damn you!! I’ll talk!”

When Beomjin lifted his foot in warning, Ji-yu fell onto the scattered aegidol and frantically gathered it into her arms as though it were treasure. Only after hugging it close did she finally speak.

“I’ll tell you, but I don’t know if you’ll find her. You should just give up.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Ji-yu clicked her tongue, venom burning in her glare.

“You’re already too late. That arrogant bitch—I sold her off. Came crawling here like she had nowhere else to go, then acted like she was better than me.”

Her muttering quickened, like she was talking to herself. A twisted smile crept across her lips.

“I pretended there was somewhere safer, pretended I cared. She thanked me for it, can you believe that? What an idiot. Must’ve killed someone to deserve it, huh? Thanks to her, I got my hands on this much aegidol. Hihihihi.”

Her laughter, blissful and deranged, scraped against his ears. Beomjin forced down the urge to kick her.

“Where is she now?”

“…At the gambling hall. By now, she’s probably—”

“Where?!”

“The gambling hall!! I sold her to the aegidol dealers!!”

Outside, Beomjin drew in slow breaths. Ji-yu’s manic laughter buzzed in his head. He calmed his racing heart and called Jinyoung.

“Hello?”

Crunching sounds carried through the line as she answered.

“I found out where Horyeon is.”

“Yeah? Where?”

Her tone was flat, like she was humoring a call from some guy she barely knew.

“I don’t know the exact spot yet, but bad people are involved. It looks dangerous.”

“So what? You want me to help because it’s dangerous?”

Now she sounded almost eager. But that wasn’t why he’d called.

“No. I don’t need help.”

“Then why call at all?”

“I’m at the welfare center, and I found aegidol here. So finish your snack and come clean it up.”

“…What? You’re seriously asking me to do the dirty work?”

“I’m not forcing you. But I told you—it’s here. Don’t complain later.”

“You… unbelievable. You’re really the worst.”

Muttering, Jinyoung hung up. Good enough. With her nature, she’d never just ignore it.

Guho followed him out, clearing his throat to remind him of his presence. Beomjin only gave a half-hearted nod and headed for his car.

He had only gone a few steps when Guho shouted after him,

“You bastard! Next time we meet, you’re dead—don’t let me catch you at night!!”

But when Beomjin glanced back, the man had already bolted back inside.

Ji-yu’s directions led farther out to the edge of Gyeonggi Province, only ten minutes from the shelter. Crossing Sorae Port, passing through apartment complexes, Beomjin entered an industrial district. Somewhere among the gray buildings, Horyeon was waiting.

It was daytime, but the district was deserted—only roads, massive trucks, and low warehouses stretching as far as the eye could see. No pedestrians, not even stray cats. Yet Beast-Blooded scent hung thick, not scattered, but running in straight lines like rails.

Following his navigation, he passed a brick wall until his destination appeared: Neungwol Trading Company.

Past an unlocked metal fence lay a yard and the main warehouse. Broken plastic crates, torn trash bags, and a dust-caked one-ton truck sat abandoned.

No guards. No workers. Beneath the bright sky, silence gnawed at his nerves.

Gravel crunched underfoot as he approached the main building. The sound of his steps fell like a dreary rain. He gripped the cold handle of a side door.

It was damp.

Drops clung to the threshold, streaks of liquid marking the gap beneath.

What is this?

Not blood. Water? No—the smell was wrong. Harsh, chemical.

The handle turned without resistance. Beomjin stepped inside.

Dim lights revealed a bleak interior. At first glance, it looked like any warehouse—boxes stacked to the ceiling, trash scattered carelessly. But the air was thick with the dry stench of aegidol.

The scent of Beast-Blooded was there too, tangled with the acrid bite of chemicals. And blood—tiny red stains spattered the floor like scattered drops.

He’d found the right place. Anxiety spurred his steps deeper inside.

From deep within the warehouse came a faint sound. Someone was there. As trivial as a rat scurrying by, but Beomjin sharpened his focus.

He slid between stacks of boxes, moving toward the noise. Beyond a wall of metal frames lay an office. And on the floor nearby—scattered bodies. Men in work clothes and sweats, all collapsed.

Someone else had arrived first.

But who? How?

Edging closer, Beomjin caught sight of a figure rifling through the office.

“…Ah. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Letting out a weary sigh, Beomjin stepped out openly. The man inside turned at the sound of footsteps—fluttering sleeves revealing none other than Kim Gyeonseok of the Samjokgu.

“You?”

Seeing Beomjin, Gyeonseok barely reacted. They stood like estranged classmates meeting after years apart.

“How’d you know to come here?”

Beomjin eyed him, then the room. Gyeonseok didn’t answer—just jerked his chin toward the floor. Following his gaze, Beomjin froze.

A head. A man’s head lay discarded, his face contorted in agony, frozen in death.

“Shit! Who the hell—?!”

Beomjin quickly grabbed a wad of paper and draped it over the face.

“…A comrade. Or so I thought.”

His tone was stripped bare of emotion.

“What? You did this?”

“Or do you think it was these warehouse bastards he was feeding information to?”

Two more men lay nearby—one sprawled belly-down on the floor, another slumped across a coffee table. They were still warm.

“You’re saying one of the Samjokgu was a traitor? Seriously?”

Gyeonseok finally turned to face him. Exhaustion shadowed his eyes, yet his presence cut sharper than ever.

“My intel’s been leaking. I tested a few people, set a trap. He walked right into it—passing information from me to them. So I took care of it.”

He said it like recording a diary entry.

“You brought a severed head here? Are you insane?”

“More effective than pretending nothing happened, like the rest of them.”

He had a point. Threatening with a grenade wouldn’t have left half as much impact. Beomjin found himself nodding.

Still, there was no sign of Horyeon. If Gyeonseok was here, that meant even he had hit a dead end.

“You came chasing after your girlfriend… and now you’re stuck too, huh?”

At those words, Gyeonseok slammed his hand onto the desk. Clutter exploded into the air like fireworks.

“Hey, hey, calm down.”

“…Shut it.”

“I get you’re desperate, but losing your head won’t help—”

“I said shut up!”

His glare was ice.

Beomjin brushed past him and yanked open a steel cabinet against the wall. Locks meant nothing—he simply bent the door until it gave.

Inside: rows of glass beakers, plastic canisters like bleach jugs.

Even Gyeonseok’s killing intent faltered under the sharp chemical stench.

“You really didn’t know? The reek hits you from the entrance.”

Beomjin inspected the labels, setting aside a few bottles on the table.

“You sure you know what you’re pulling out?”

“Of course. Basic training in the Unit.”

He uncapped them, inhaling one by one, until he isolated three. Each was noticeably lower than the rest.

“Dexmedetomidine and xylazine—both anesthetics. And this… an additive. They definitely used them.”

“Why two anesthetics?”

“Because you, me, and your girlfriend aren’t normal humans.”

“You’re saying they drugged her.”

The blood drained from Gyeonseok’s face.

“You Samjokgu really are slow. This is bad. She’s unconscious. We have to move fast.”

“I know. You think I’m here for fun? If I knew where she was, I’d already be there.”

His fists trembled, knuckles white.

“To come this far, only to…”

Beomjin swallowed down his own memories, the grief clawing at his chest. Comfort was pointless.

It was certain: Horyeon had been sedated here, then moved elsewhere. As for who was behind it, there was no need to guess.

Dragon.

If he claimed the fox bead, the battles to come would be hopeless.

“…Tch.”

Anxious, Beomjin rummaged further, scanning the wreckage. His foot kicked a small picture frame. He bent down and picked it up.

A hiking group photo—men in sunglasses and caps, clearly gangsters with bulked physiques. No familiar faces. He tossed it aside.

Then froze.

He snatched the frame back up.

There, in the center, was a man giving a thumbs-up. On his arm, unmistakable: the arm-wrestling tattoo.

The same one inked on Gwak Guho’s arm.

So that muscle-headed fool hadn’t been clueless after all. He’d been playing everyone.

“That bastard’s been toying with us.”