Chapter 40

“Who is that…?”

Jinyoung’s eyes followed the man—the Vermilion Bird. Even under his casual clothes, she could sense something emanating from him, an aura that didn’t belong in the human world.
He looked much younger than Seo-eun and Seoseong, yet from the way the three spoke, it was clear he stood above them.

“…I don’t know,” Beomjin replied.

He wasn’t completely sure yet, and he didn’t want to tell Jinyoung prematurely—so he kept the Vermilion Bird’s identity to himself.

The Vermilion Bird? That Vermilion Bird?

The image of him standing silently beside Jin Geonmyeong flashed in his mind—eyes that seemed to look through everything without a word. That same gaze lingered now, only his face looked decades younger, as though time itself had turned backward.

“They’re moving.”

Before Beomjin could organize his thoughts, the three began to walk. No farewells, no hesitation—each step deliberate, like people going to deal with something rather than meet someone.

“What do we do? They’re splitting up,” Jinyoung asked.

The siblings and the Vermilion Bird started walking in opposite directions.

There was no need to think twice.

“I’ll follow the man.”

He couldn’t explain why, but he couldn’t afford to lose sight of the Vermilion Bird.

“You go after Seoseong. If anything happens, call me.”

“Fine. Just don’t ignore me this time.”

They exchanged a brief look and went their separate ways.

Beomjin followed quietly, silencing even his breath.

If only I had a hawk’s eyes.

Cursing himself for the thought, he blended into the passing crowd, tailing the Vermilion Bird.

The Vermilion Bird moved through the city like someone living in a slower world. He bought a can of cola from a convenience store, took a sip, and turned into a narrow alley. Beomjin didn’t rush in. He observed, keeping just far enough behind to see.

Like a cat hiding its claws, he walked softly—until a voice came from behind.

“Knew you’d follow this far.”

He’d been caught.

The voice sounded like that of someone barely past adolescence, but the killing intent in it was enough to pierce the throat.

Beomjin turned slowly, forcing composure.

The Vermilion Bird was watching him. Eyes so deep and clear, they didn’t seem human at all—like they could see straight through him.

He had expected this, but facing it in person sent a chill crawling up his spine.

“You didn’t have to follow me. Still too impulsive, I see.”

He spoke like a man standing far above, his tone detached, looking down from a great height.

“What do you mean by that? What’s your connection to Kang Seoseong?”

The Vermilion Bird ignored the question and gave only a faint smile.

“It’s not your turn to interfere yet.”

A warning. He walked past Beomjin and continued down the alley, just like before—like watching the same moment repeat.

Beomjin tried to follow, but his body wouldn’t move. He wanted to call out—say something, anything.

“W-wait!”

The Vermilion Bird stopped and turned. The dim light swallowed his face, making him look like something out of a horror film—inhuman, eerie, beautiful in a way that hurt to look at.

“Who… who are you?”

He wanted to say You’re the Vermilion Bird, aren’t you? but the words stuck in his throat.
He wanted the man to say it himself—to admit it.

The Vermilion Bird answered instead.

“You already know. We’ll meet again soon… Dog-Head.”

Then he vanished down the alley, leaving nothing behind.

Only then could Beomjin move again. He leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly.

It wasn’t mere confusion. It was pressure—something coiling deep inside him, a primal warning that his life was not his own.

He’d faced countless Beast-Blooded and thought himself immune to fear. He was wrong.

This wasn’t like facing the gorilla, the bear, or even the imugi. This was something else entirely.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t resist.

Fear—and something deeper. A forgotten realization. This was the instinctive terror felt by prey before a predator.

I’m still far from ready.

That young, indifferent face. That indescribable presence. The Vermilion Bird wasn’t just a Beast-Blooded—he was beyond them.

A fracture in the world itself.

Even the thought of reaching out to touch him felt impossible. And yet, Beomjin didn’t plan to run.

There were still pieces left unfinished.

Seo-eun.

He would have to start again from her.

Just then, his phone buzzed—it was Jinyoung. She reported that Seoseong and Seo-eun had arrived at Jumbo Hof.

Beomjin took a slow breath, shaking off the bitter chill that clung to him. Then, heavy with resolve, he began to walk.

Jumbo Hof was still dark. Even from a distance, it was clear the bar hadn’t opened yet.

[Arrived. Where are you?]

He sent the message to Jinyoung, and a reply came quickly.

[Seoseong left the place a while ago—I’m following him now. Not sure if Seo-eun’s still there. You’ll have to check yourself.]

From the front entrance, Beomjin carefully peeked inside. A faint silhouette moved within the dark interior.

Seo-eun?

His hand was already on the doorknob, but instead of entering, he circled around to the back.
As expected, the rear door was half open. The smell of alcohol drifted out—along with the quiet murmur of voices. Seo-eun wasn’t alone.

He slipped in silently. Empty bottles, messy tables, and half-finished side dishes covered the place. At the center of it all sat two people facing each other.

Seo-eun—and Incheol.

Seo-eun leaned her arm on the table, while Incheol bent slightly toward her, speaking in a low voice. The air between them was thick—intimate.

Beomjin held his breath and scanned the surroundings again. No sign of Minyul.

Just the two of them? Why?

Seo-eun kept running her fingers along Incheol’s arm and hand, her voice soft. He nodded over and over, smiling faintly the whole time.

“I’m really glad you were there. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be living under that bastard’s threats, crying every night.”

Her warm tone made Incheol laugh shyly.

“No… I’m just glad I could help. I’d do anything for you. Now that nothing’s in our way, about what we talked about before…”

His voice trembled slightly. He clenched and unclenched his fists, taking shallow breaths.

There was something between them.

Then Seo-eun’s nose twitched, and she turned toward Beomjin’s direction.

“…Who’s there?”

Beomjin clicked his tongue. He’d forgotten she was Beast-Blooded. He stood up slowly.

“Evening. Didn’t mean to interrupt the two of you.”

Seo-eun flinched, pulling away from Incheol. He, even more startled, sprang to his feet.

“Wh-Why are you here, Agent?”

Seo-eun’s face flushed red, words tripping over themselves. Incheol froze, glancing nervously between the two.

“Mind if I sit?”

Beomjin pulled out a chair and sat down between them.

“I heard you two were friends—but you seem closer than I expected.”

“We’re just friends. Incheol came to help me clean up the place. Don’t twist it.”

Clean up the place?

From her open bag, a few sheets of paper were sticking out.

“Clean up the bar?” he asked.

“This place… I started it with my boyfriend as a joint business. I don’t want to run it alone anymore, so I’m planning to close it.”

The pieces tangled in Beomjin’s head began to click into place.

“Well, that makes sense. It must be hard not to think about the victim. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? Running this place, dealing with stress, and being threatened over your brother’s mess.”

Seo-eun’s once calm expression froze solid. Incheol, who had been standing awkwardly, swallowed hard and stared at Beomjin. The air thickened, still as if time itself had stopped.

“…What are you talking about? You shouldn’t say things like that so carelessly.”

“I hear a lot of things in my line of work,” Beomjin said quietly. “You know Chuna Na-hyung, right? She held quite a grudge against the victim. She even said she was worried about you.”

Ha.

Seo-eun gave a small, dry cough. Her breathing grew uneven, her cheek muscles twitching. She was trying desperately to keep her composure.

“So, you killed him? Because he threatened you and made your life hell?”

“How could you say that—!”

Her glare was sharp, offended—but it only strengthened Beomjin’s suspicion. Her scent, fluctuating erratically, confirmed it. Every instinct told him he was right.

Seo-eun’s lips trembled. Incheol hesitated, then blurted out—

“How can you accuse her like that! Do you know what she’s been through? Seo-eun really loved her boyfriend—!”

He choked, unable to finish.

“Loved him? Truly?” Beomjin asked, eyes narrowing.

Incheol bit his lip and looked down.

“Why don’t we stop pretending?” Beomjin continued, voice calm but cutting. “The victim was drinking here the night he died, wasn’t he? You were both present. He used to treat you like dirt, always causing trouble. Never cared about the business, spent his time gambling in illegal dens, borrowed money from your brother—and when he found out about your brother’s laundering…”

“Stop it!!”

Seo-eun screamed. Her fists shook, her whole body trembling like a leaf.

Beomjin didn’t stop. He met her eyes and pressed on.

“The victim learned about your brother’s crimes and blackmailed you. You couldn’t take it anymore—and you killed him. Isn’t that right?”

“…No. No, that’s not true. How could I ever kill him…?”

“When a rat’s cornered, even it bites a cat. That night, you got him drunk, then used the knife you’d prepared…”

“Stop it! Stop! It’s not true!”

The quiet mumble from the side suddenly turned into a shout.

“It wasn’t Seo-eun! It was me! I killed him!”

Beomjin’s gaze shifted to Incheol.

“…What did you say?”

“I stabbed him! Seo-eun did nothing wrong!”

Incheol reached out, gently pulling Seo-eun into his arms.

“He threatened her. If I hadn’t killed him, she would’ve died. It was self-defense.”

“So you’re confessing… that you killed him to protect Seo-eun?”

Incheol nodded firmly.

“That’s right.”

Moisture welled at the corners of Seo-eun’s eyes. She took his hand, and though her face was pale, a faint flicker of relief crossed it.

Beomjin noticed.

“A touching story,” he said flatly. “But the law doesn’t move on feelings. You have no evidence, and Seo-eun has both motive and opportunity.”

Their eyes met. Seo-eun shook her head, but Incheol clenched his jaw.

“There’s evidence,” he said. “I gave him a ride that night. He was drunk. I stabbed him in my car. I haven’t washed it since—you’ll find blood stains inside.”

“Don’t. Don’t say that,” Seo-eun whispered, reaching toward him. But the tremor in her eyes was already gone.

Beomjin exhaled quietly.

Was this love—or blind devotion?

There was no regret in Incheol’s face. And on Seo-eun’s lips, faint but unmistakable, was the ghost of a smile.

At that moment, Beomjin knew. This wasn’t over.

Something was still hidden.

Rats had a habit of preparing for the very end. And if Seo-eun hadn’t transcended her instincts, then somewhere—behind that calm, she was still hiding her fangs.

They were slow, but certain, gaining weight with every breath.