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He started the engine and hit the gas. Forgetting the navigation, the first thing he did was call his uncle.
The ringtone went on, but no one picked up.
“Damn it! Of all times, he doesn’t answer when it matters!”
The car shot out onto the road, but Beomjin had no idea where his uncle had gone.
He leaned out the window, sniffing, hoping some trace of Beast-Blooded scent lingered. But the stench of exhaust, cigarettes, and alcohol drowned out everything.
Praying his uncle was headed home, he kept redialing.
At last, his uncle answered.
“Yeah, Beomjin.”
“Uncle! Where are you?!”
“Why are you yelling again? I’m on my way home, of course. Did I leave something behind?”
“No, that’s not it—”
He had called, but how could he explain?
Today’s the day you die. He couldn’t say that.
“There’s a car following you. I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I saw it.”
“Who’d follow me? Why? I didn’t drink, I didn’t run any lights.”
“No, it’s not the police. The car… it reeks of Beast-Blooded.”
BANG!!
A loud crash came over the line. He didn’t need to see it to know—it was an accident.
“Uncle?! Uncle!!”
Screeeech!!
The sound of metal collapsing, then silence. The call cut off.
Was this really happening?
Had he already been too late?
Beomjin’s hands trembled on the wheel like an earthquake.
“Uncle? No, no way… not like this…”
He could barely form words.
No time to waste.
He floored the gas, praying he wasn’t too late, that their paths hadn’t already split.
It wasn’t long before he heard sirens. Soon, up ahead, beside a snapped tree, he saw the wreck of a Sonata torn in half.
He slammed the Avante into park and sprinted. Shoving past medics, police, and gawkers, his eyes darted everywhere.
Beside the ambulance, a stretcher. His uncle lay on it, limp, soaked in blood from head to toe. Even the strongest heart would have sunk at the sight.
“Back up, please. We need to transport the patient.”
Drenched in sweat, a medic pushed the crowd back. Slipping through, Beomjin grabbed his uncle’s dangling hand.
“Uncle! Please, open your eyes!”
But he didn’t move. His chest still rose faintly—barely alive. The thread was thin, ready to snap.
“Wait—please! I’m his nephew. He’s going to be okay, right?”
The medic met his eyes, despair in his face, but forced a smile.
“…We’ll only know after tests.”
He slid the stretcher into the ambulance.
Watching, Beomjin lifted his chin, nostrils flaring. The copper tang of blood was everywhere, but mixed in—Beast-Blooded scent. And among them, that smell from before. He turned toward it.
There. Standing blank-faced among the onlookers.
Not tall, but with a long neck that made him stick out, the man’s gaze was fixed on the ambulance.
Snake. Oily, burnt musk—unmistakably a snake’s.
Beomjin cut around the crowd, closing in. The balding man only moved after the ambulance was gone, then spotted Beomjin coming near.
He’d tried to hide it, but Beomjin’s killing intent spilled out. The man flinched, body turning, then bolted—across the road, toward the dim streetlights at the edge of the block.
He vanished into the crowd, but to Beomjin his footprints were blazing. His nerves sharpened so keenly he swore he could hear the pounding of strangers’ hearts. He slowed, widening his vision. He’d track the snake, then crush him.
The man ducked into an alley by an old hardware shop, crouching behind soggy boxes and bulging black trash bags, holding his breath.
“One.”
Beomjin’s voice carried from afar.
“Two.”
The man pressed against the wall, eyes darting, searching for him.
“Three.”
He shut his eyes, shrinking down, even his breath stopped.
“Pathetic.”
The whisper came from above. Beomjin dropped from the roof, landing like a cat, and clamped the back of the man’s neck.
“Sa—!”
Instinctively, the man tried to scream, but Beomjin’s right hand crushed his throat. The cry died in a choking rasp.
“From now on, you only answer my questions. Do anything stupid, lie even once, and I’ll snap your neck where you sit. Got it?”
The man nodded frantically.
“That car crash just now… It was Dragon’s order, wasn’t it?”
His voice was calm, but the man shook his head.
Beomjin squeezed harder and shot the next question.
“Why target my uncle when he’s not even a Beast-Blooded?”
The man shook his head again.
“Where is Dragon right now?”
The man’s face twisted. He slapped desperately at Beomjin’s arm as his eyes rolled, ready to pass out. Beomjin finally let go.
“Keek—! Hhhkk… hhhuuff.”
Freed, the man convulsed and dragged in raspy, metallic breaths.
“You’re saying you don’t know anything?”
“I told you, I don’t!!”
Bloodshot eyes brimmed with tears as he shouted. He looked up pleadingly, but Beomjin only pressed his chest down with his boot.
“Then I’ve got no reason to let you live.”
“W-wait! No!!”
The man folded his hands together in a desperate prayer, but Beomjin gripped his jaw with both hands. With pressure from his fingertips, bone cracked beneath his palms—left ear, right cheekbone.
“W-wait a sec—!”
Crunch!
“Gyaaaahhh!!”
His face twisted grotesquely. He writhed on the ground like a worm, clutching his dislocated jaw, tears streaming.
Beomjin pinned his back with a heavy step. Then he leaned down, whispering in his ear.
“I’ll start again. Think carefully before you answer this time.”
The man crawled like his life depended on it. Fingernails tore free, his dangling jaw scraped the dirt, but still he clawed forward—only, he hadn’t moved an inch. Beomjin’s boot was still planted firmly on his waist.
Lost in thought, Beomjin weighed his words.
So it wasn’t Dragon’s order, but the snake’s? Snake… snake…
He flipped through the “database” in his mind. From petty thugs to big names he’d rather never meet again. One face stood out, the bastard who had tricked him more than once. But Beomjin couldn’t be sure that guy had ties to Dragon.
No, it probably wasn’t him.
The man beneath his boot swore he never saw the face. Said he only got a single phone call. Just once.
Beomjin crouched to meet his eyes. The man shook like a leaf just from eye contact.
“Hand over your phone.”
The man fumbled inside his jacket and offered it with both hands. Beomjin stood and began rifling through it.
While his back was turned, the man’s hand crept down toward his ankle. Fingers found the sock and pulled free a hidden knife. Beomjin still seemed absorbed in the phone.
The man turned silently, sprang up, and lunged. The blade came down. Without even looking, Beomjin flicked it aside. The man stumbled, barely keeping his balance, face dark with despair. He groaned, then glared once more at Beomjin—before bolting out of the alley.
Screech!—Crash!!
The sudden dash ended with a bus. The man soared into the air and slammed down hard. Screams erupted as people rushed over.
Beomjin watched the broken body for a moment, then turned away.
11 a.m. The sun was already high.
Asleep on the living room sofa, Beomjin didn’t stir when his phone began ringing. It buzzed for nearly a full minute before falling silent.
Only when the zipper of the jacket he used as a pillow pressed into his eyelid did he finally wake.
“Ugh, what the hell…”
Beomjin pried his eyelids open and shoved the jacket off the sofa. He tried to sink back into sleep, but his phone buzzed again.
Groaning, he fumbled around until he found it.
The caller ID was blank, but he knew the number. Uwan from the Special Beast Investigation Unit. He hesitated, then hit accept.
“Hello.”
“Good morning, Baek Beomjin!”
Uwan’s over-energetic voice was more than enough to yank him fully awake.
“Not sure if it’s good, but… what’s this about?”
“Yesterday was quite a spectacle. Watching Seo Jinyoung collapse like that—what a rare sight. You’re stronger and more seasoned than I expected, Beomjin. As I said before, we need talent like yours. Have you thought it over?”
“Not yet. Honestly, I don’t like those hierarchical relationships. Tried it once before, and it wasn’t exactly pleasant.”
His past with the Special Beast Unit weighed heavily. He had learned a lot: information about Beast-Blooded, traits and habits of each animal line, tactics for facing them, techniques to handle them. But to gain those lessons, he had given up too much time and endured too many bitter moments.
He didn’t see the point in repeating it.
What mattered now was stopping the lunatic with dragon’s blood from seizing the world. For that, he had to awaken the feral instincts and tiger’s power still dormant in him. As he was, he was far too lacking.
“Still, for someone just opening their eyes as a Beast-Blooded, experience in the Unit would be valuable.”
Yeah, maybe.
Beomjin mouthed the words but didn’t say them out loud.
“Anyway, thanks for the call. But I’m exhausted, so I’ll end it here. Take care.”
He hung up and sat up straight.
Why had he fallen asleep on the couch when he had a perfectly fine bed? He retraced his memory.
Right.
He’d gotten in touch with his aunt and gone with her to the hospital where his uncle was admitted. They’d stayed late into the night, only returning at dawn. He’d lain down on the sofa for a moment… and passed out.
A message from his aunt had arrived in the early morning.
The dangerous period has passed, thankfully. You did well. Rest, and let’s talk later.
Relief washed over him, drawing a smile to his lips. Tears followed, which he wiped away quickly.
Then he spotted the phone tossed in the corner of the sofa. The one he’d taken from the snake who had died last night.
No missed calls, no messages. The contacts list was completely empty.
He tucked the phone away safely and headed to the bathroom. Time to get ready.
His body felt like lead with exhaustion, but there was no room to dawdle.
The priority was awakening the tiger’s power.
His sharp senses had dulled, his body’s energy only a faint trickle. It was like wearing dark sunglasses, pinching his nose shut, and clamping shackles on his arms and legs.
There are two main ways to awaken the power you’ve been given. Slowly, adapting over time… or quickly, forcing it open while enduring pain.
That was what Uwan had said with a sly grin. Back then, Beomjin had chosen the slower path.
Because back then, he hadn’t felt desperate.
Now, he finished getting ready and slid behind the wheel of his car. He turned the key and set the navigation.
[Jonggak Station Exit 3]
Insadong, Jongno-gu, Seoul.
A place where he could meet one of his seniors. And, at the same time, a place where he could force his power awake.
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