72 — Chapter 72

Beomjin muted his footsteps and walked straight into the office.

On the whiteboard beside the door, layers of memos were pinned together—scraps of newspaper articles, photographs of people, handwritten notes—all connected with red thread in a meticulous web.

“Scholars are the problem. Once they see results right in front of them, they can’t sit still. That’s why stiff, principled people are easier to handle.”

Hojun, who had been rummaging through the desk and wiping sweat from his forehead, froze in place. His fingertips trembled.

When he noticed Beomjin, he staggered back.

“…Why are you here?”

The color drained from Hojun’s face. His eyes darted rapidly around the room, one hand reflexively groping across the desk as if trying to hide something.

Beomjin watched the movement closely before speaking.

“Three people are dead because you used that mask to push them into a pit.”

Hojun’s eyebrows twitched violently.

“Wh-What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything…! Whatever they did, I don’t know! I only conducted research!”

“Research?”

As Beomjin stepped forward, Hojun backed away.

Behind him was a door. Two locks were fastened onto an otherwise ordinary windowed frame.

“What’s in there?”

Hojun didn’t answer. His eyes screamed denial. Pressing his back against the door, he spread his arms wide, trying to block Beomjin’s view.

His pupils shook faster, his breathing turning ragged. This wasn’t just panic. It looked like he couldn’t bear the moment itself.

“This—this is government oppression! Trespassing! This is my lab, private property! You can’t just barge in and disrupt my research—I’ll sue you!!”

Hojun’s desperate voice cracked, turning metallic, like it would burst into blood if he shouted any louder.

But such clumsy threats weren’t enough to scare Beomjin. Without even twitching an eyebrow, Beomjin moved closer. Hojun was now within arm’s reach.

Before the tiger, the owl’s shoulders trembled like leaves in a storm.

“…It’s too late now. Step aside, Professor.”

Beomjin’s gaze sharpened, piercing straight through the door.

“No. This is ridiculous. This can’t happen. There’s no law like this!”

“Tigers aren’t known for patience.”

Beomjin lifted his eyes and growled.

“…No. Never.”

Bang!!

The sound of the door shattering was short and violent.

The moment Beomjin’s foot smashed forward, a heavy impact rang out. The locks snapped free, and the door flew inward.

Hojun, unable to keep his balance from the shock, rolled inside.

“Guuh…!”

He didn’t get up right away. Clutching his kicked stomach, Hojun gasped out short, wheezing breaths.

Beomjin stepped into the room.

On the cold concrete floor, the inner half of the room was sealed off with iron bars.

Crouched inside, between welded steel like a cage, was a man.

His mouth was gagged with cloth. His wrists and ankles were bound tightly with layers of fabric. The skin around his wrists was swollen red, marked with old signs of resistance, and his eyelids were bruised dark blue.

He was an ordinary human.

There was no scent of a Beast-Blooded. No trace of power.

Awakened by the loud commotion, the man looked at Beomjin and trembled faintly.

Catching that gaze, Beomjin looked down at Hyoil. Hyoil stared back at him as if at an enemy, tears pooled in his eyes.

“Yeah, go ahead and call the police. Say I broke in, beat you up, and trashed the place. Try suing me. Go on—claim this was all legitimate research!”

At Beomjin’s sudden shout, Hyoil flinched and collapsed backward onto the floor. His face went ashen, his mouth hanging open, unable to close.

“Th-That’s… that person is… I didn’t do anything…! It was just a simple experiment. To see how people reacted to the Jangsan Tiger mask…”

“A simple experiment?”

Beomjin’s eyes flashed.

“You kidnapped an innocent person and locked them in a cage… for a ‘simple experiment’?”

Hyoil couldn’t answer. His jaw trembled, lips twitching without sound.

Beomjin walked right up to him and spoke in a low, solid voice.

“Four people died. Three were killed by someone you drove mad with that demon mask, and he died too. People who could’ve lived happy lives if you’d just left them alone—ruined because of your selfish curiosity!”

Hyoil slowly pushed himself to his feet.

Standing in front of the shattered door, he smoothed down his crumpled shirt and stared at Beomjin with bloodshot eyes.

“This… was for everyone.”

His voice shook, but the conviction in it was firm. Beomjin looked at him coldly.

“For everyone? Who exactly is this for? The one who died under the mask’s influence? Or the three people he killed?”

“No. For us! For Beast-Blooded!“

Hyoil raised his voice, eyes blazing.

“If we use the Jangsan Tiger mask, even powerless humans can sense our presence and follow us. If we just control the aggression properly… they’ll accept us out of fear!”

“For us? Forcing acceptance by manipulating their minds and driving them into despair?”

“It’s not manipulation. It’s adaptation.”

Hyoil stepped closer, his gaze sharp.

“Humans should fear us. Following those with power is the law of nature! If we use the Jangsan Tiger mask correctly, we can integrate them naturally into a society we lead. Coexistence… this is for everyone!”

Beomjin exhaled and shook his head.

“That’s insane. Coexistence doesn’t work like that!”

“I just… didn’t have enough time!”

Hyoil shouted in grievance. His eyes gleamed unnaturally—no reason left in them, only obsession.

Beomjin frowned coldly and spoke.

“You’re wrong. Admit it.”

At Beomjin’s verdict, Hyoil stumbled forward like a man whose last lifeline had snapped.

“No! You don’t understand! I’m not wrong yet!”

Beomjin pushed him away without a word. Hyoil stumbled and fell. He no longer had the strength to resist.

Beomjin walked toward the display stand holding the Jangsan Tiger mask. Like a predator holding its breath before the hunt, its form was steeped in an eerie stillness.

He stopped in front of the mask. His breathing quickened for no reason.

Between the red-painted eyeholes, he felt something disturbingly alive. The upturned corners of its carved mouth looked as though it were enjoying the situation.

Stab!

A sharp pain drove into Beomjin’s side. Heat and a burning sensation spread, followed by the thick stench of blood.

“Ghk!”

Beomjin bent forward and turned around.

The man—half-lidded eyes unfocused—was standing there clutching a knife. His face was stiff, his skin slick with sweat. Even as he staggered, there was unmistakable intent as he charged at Beomjin.

“Kill him!! Kill that bastard!”

Hyoil’s voice rang out sharply from where he had opened the cage.

Beomjin gritted his teeth and shoved the man wielding the knife away. Even with a weapon, even after managing to wound him, the man was no match for Beomjin.

The man was flung back, slammed into the wall, and collapsed.

Clenching his jaw, Beomjin grabbed the display stand with both arms. The glass-covered case creaked as it lifted off the ground in one piece.

At that moment—

“That’s mine! My treasure!!”

Hyoil screamed as he grabbed a clothes rack from the side and swung it down at Beomjin.

Fear, desperation, and chilling madness were tangled together in his eyes.

Beomjin staggered, but he didn’t let go of the display stand. His vision flashed white, but this wasn’t a moment to show weakness.

“Give it up already!”

Hyoil was kicked away, sliding across the floor as he fell. The clothes rack snapped in his hands.

“You’ll face judgment under the law. And you’ll carry the label of a failed researcher.”

A failed researcher.

At those words, Hyoil’s eyes bulged. He surged up and clung to Beomjin.

“I won’t let you! You can’t end my research like this!”

That was the moment.

Hyoil suddenly twisted his body.

“…Kgh….”

His lips trembled violently as his breath stopped. Blood slowly spread across the front of Hyoil’s shirt.

Protruding from his chest was the jagged, broken end of the clothes rack.

Hyoil stared down at his own chest as if he couldn’t believe it. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Behind him, the man who had been trapped behind the bars let go of the clothes rack and staggered back.

Beomjin released the display stand and caught Hyoil as he collapsed. But Hyoil was already falling apart.

“My… research…”

His voice sounded like his throat was being scorched dry.

“…No one… understands….”

With his head drooping, Hyoil went still. The faint sound of his breathing slowed, then faded into silence.

Beomjin slowly drew in a breath, lifting his gaze while pressing down hard on the heavy guilt settling deep in his chest.

Beneath the cloth, the white Jangsan Tiger mask seemed to smile faintly. And before it stood someone horrified by the sight.

“Aaaaaah!”

Tearing through the cold air, the man from inside the cage rushed forward. Throwing his body into it, he grabbed the display stand and slammed it to the floor before Beomjin could stop him.

Crash!!

The glass shattered, shards flying in every direction. Sharp fragments sliced the man’s arms and face, but he didn’t stop.

Instead, he stomped down violently on the Jangsan Tiger mask inside the case. Glass embedded into his feet, blood streaming out, but he didn’t care.

“Uaaaaaaaa!!”

The man collapsed to his knees and began smashing the mask with his fists.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Each time the white mask was slammed into the floor, blood sprayed, and pieces shattered and scattered.

“Die, die!! Just die already!! Get out of me!!”

Tears poured from his eyes as blood dripped from his hands and feet. He destroyed the Jangsan Tiger mask.

Among the fragments of the shattered mask, the man’s movements slowly came to a stop.

His chest heaved violently.

“Haa… haa….”

Beomjin approached the man, who sat there dazed, catching his breath.

Covered in blood and dust, he continued pounding the bare floor with clenched hands. From his mangled fingers came the sound of bone grinding against bone.

“That’s enough now.”

Beomjin hesitated mid-step as he tried to stop him.

The man’s shoulders were trembling, ever so slightly.

Thud.

The man collapsed forward. Then, like a child, he began to sob uncontrollably.

“W-Waaaaaah…!”

The suppressed tears finally burst free. There, without anything left to lean on, was a single human being broken down.

Beomjin said nothing. He simply let the man cry in silence for a while.

For a wail mixed with guilt, regret, and fear, there were no words that needed to follow.

He slowly turned his gaze.

The shattered display case. The mask fragments scattered everywhere. Glass pieces crusted with dried blood.

The eyeholes of the broken white mask were fixed on Beomjin. Its vivid, blood-colored gaze looked as though it were watching a distant future.

The mask was gone now.

But something like it was already setting its sights on someone else.