Chapter 29

“Hold him down!”

“Over here! The chains are about to snap!” a soldier screamed in pure terror.

It took only a single step into the bunker for Myeong-joo to realize how catastrophically mistaken he had been.

Inside the reinforced chamber, a thick iron collar was clamped around Yi-tan’s neck—virtually indistinguishable from a restraint for a rabid hound. The collar bore eight heavy iron rings, each hooked to a thick chain. Soldiers were anchored in squads of two or three, throwing their entire body weight backward to pull the chains taut in eight directions. Beholding the nightmare, Myeong-joo froze dead in his tracks.

A heavy blindfold covered Yi-tan’s eyes, and dark blood dripped from fingertips where the fingernails had been torn completely away.

“What in the world is this…?”

Yi-tan was roaring in agonizing torment. As he flung his head back, unleashing a guttural bellow that shook the reinforced concrete like thunder, thick cords of muscle and swollen veins stood out along his neck.

At the same time, Yi-tan clawed maniacally at his own chest. Blood poured from the raw meat where his nails had ripped free. Each time those jagged fingertips gouged into his torso, skin parted and crimson gore welled up through the gaping gashes.

Yet bizarrely, the ghastly wounds were already knitting back together. The grotesque cycle of tearing flesh, pouring blood, and frantic regeneration evoked the ancient myth of a titan whose liver was devoured daily only to regrow anew. He looked so utterly stripped of humanity that the desperate effort to collar and chain him seemed like the frantic restraint of a mythical beast.

Just then, an officer wearing a peaked cavalry cap strode over. “Is this the one paired to the Second Lieutenant?” he demanded sharply.

“That is correct, sir,” Hee-wan answered from behind.

Having materialized at Myeong-joo’s shoulder without him realizing, she stood rigid. Myeong-joo took an involuntary step back, only to realize there was nowhere left to run. Catching sight of the three silver diamonds upon the man’s shoulder boards, he noted the officer was a captain.

The captain barked at Myeong-joo with venomous impatience, “Then what are you gaping at?! Get over there at once!”

Baffled and shaken, Myeong-joo looked toward Hee-wan, who offered only a firm, somber nod. Having no other choice, Myeong-joo forced his feet forward.

Through his recent training, he had studied theoretical doctrine on administering harmonization to an Aberrant in the terminal stages of a supernatural rampage, but that was strictly classroom theory. He had never once executed it in a live drill. Judging by the captain’s furious demeanor, however, such excuses would invite immediate violence. Furthermore, with Yi-tan thrashing in such horrifying agony, turning his back was impossible.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Myeong-joo took another step. In his mind, he frantically reviewed the sequence: for an Aberrant past the critical threshold, deploying ranged emission—projecting harmonization substance from a distance to establish an initial stabilizing tether—was the absolute first requirement.

Muttering under his breath like a madman, Myeong-joo approached the thrashing Lee Yi-tan, his face drained of color. He had only ever practiced ranged emission on inert dummy targets, never on a living, breathing subject. Since he had failed to master the technique even under controlled conditions, deep dread weighed upon his limbs.

Exhaling several long breaths, he raised his trembling hands and attempted to channel harmonization through his fingertips. All the while, Yi-tan thrashed with terrifying violence; with each convulsion of that massive frame, the soldiers gripping the chains were dragged across the concrete or hurled violently to the floor. Only now did Myeong-joo understand that Hee-wan’s ruined face might not have been caused by demonic fiends at all—it was far more likely an injury inflicted by Yi-tan when his mind tore apart.

Myeong-joo’s heart battered his ribs. He could not bear to watch Yi-tan suffer another second, yet unleashing ranged emission was no simple task. An ordinary Harmonizer might have projected it instantly, but for Myeong-joo, afflicted with harmonization saturation, isolating pure, refined harmonization from the turbulent vortex swirling through his meridians was an excruciating ordeal.

To emit harmonization substance required an internal mental filter; in Myeong-joo’s case, while the raw volume of his energy was immense, his fledgling technique meant the filter he could erect was laughably narrow. He had to focus his entire consciousness into a single needlepoint, but the violent churn within his chest made concentration agony.

Before he could stabilize the flow, internal pressure ruptured capillaries in his throat, and a mouthful of warm blood welled over his tongue.

“Why are you dragging your feet?!” the captain roared furiously.

“I am doing it now.”

Myeong-joo spat the bloody phlegm onto the floor and refocused his mind, ignoring the livid officer. The coppery stench of iron hung thick in his nostrils.

His breath hitched violently as his knees gave way beneath the pressure. “Ngh…”

After several frantic attempts, the harmonization finally broke through. The trouble was that, unable to regulate the volume, a catastrophic deluge of pent-up energy burst forth uncontrolled. Because the overflowing wave was so vast, the harmonization washed not only over the rampaging Yi-tan, but engulfed the squads of soldiers straining on the chains as well.

“What on earth are you doing?!” Hee-wan shouted, shielding her face with her forearm as the shockwave rolled past.

The sudden blast of foreign harmonization had caught her completely off guard. Even the soldiers clinging to the chains turned toward Myeong-joo in wide-eyed stupor, the sheer shock momentarily making them forget the crisis. In that split second of slackened tension, Yi-tan gave another violent heave, and several soldiers were hurled headlong across the floor.

Lacking the leeway to apologize, Myeong-joo wiped his mouth and pushed another wave of ranged emission forward. Because every soldier in the bunker was an Aberrant, the stares directed at him were uncomfortably sharp, their faces flushed with sudden heat. But Myeong-joo had no luxury to register their gazes. Merely swallowing down the continuous surge of blood and keeping his focus pinned on Yi-tan consumed every shred of his will.

Then, at last, the harmonization struck its mark.

The man who had been thrashing so violently that the links shrieked against the anchors suddenly froze. Slowly, Yi-tan turned his head toward Myeong-joo. Though a thick blindfold covered his eyes, Myeong-joo felt with absolute certainty that their gazes had locked.

“Ah…!”

In the next instant, the floor vanished from beneath Myeong-joo’s boots. His body lifted into the air. In startled panic, another wave of harmonization spilled from him like water from an overturned bucket while the soldiers in the bunker stared blankly at the Harmonizer levitating toward the ceiling.

At the end of that terrifying trajectory, Myeong-joo plummeted straight into Yi-tan’s waiting arms. The sheer velocity threatened to crush his chest, but an instant before impact, the invisible force decelerated, catching him against solid muscle.

“Ngh…”

Yet the violent deceleration, combined with the internal trauma of forced harmonization, sent agony ripping through his organs. Onto Myeong-joo’s lips, which dripped with fresh blood, something equally bloodied and burning pressed down with bruising force.

It was Yi-tan’s mouth.

Before Myeong-joo could assemble a single thought, his limbs flailed on instinct. It felt as though the trunk of a great tree had coiled tight around his waist, crushing his ribs in an iron vise.

A choked gasp tore from his throat as the room spun. “Mmh…!”

Something pushed forcefully between his teeth. Wet, heavy, yet rough in patches, he could scarcely comprehend what was happening before his breath was cut off entirely. His nose pressed hard against Yi-tan’s cheek, engulfing him in the man’s familiar cologne mingled with the acrid stench of cordite, fresh blood, and damp trench mud. Only then did Myeong-joo register that Yi-tan was kissing him with savage hunger.

“Ngh… ah…”

Before reason could intervene, the reality of that wet tongue invading his mouth became undeniable. Even as the relentless intrusion stirred nausea in his stomach, a sickening wave of shame crashed over him at the realization that, despite his shock, he did not find it repulsive. He knew they were putting on a shameful spectacle before a room full of soldiers, yet he could not bring himself to push away the scent he had secretly loved for years. Consequently, his resistance faltered, and the strength drained from his flailing wrists.

A shudder wracked his frame as the internal heat flared. “Mmh…”

The tip of Yi-tan’s tongue scraped across the sensitive palate of his mouth, leaving trails of fire. Just then, the turbulent essence beneath Myeong-joo’s solar plexus churned again, and he coughed up another surge of blood. In the very next breath, sheer horror seized him: Yi-tan swallowed every drop of the blood flooding his mouth without breaking the kiss.

“Wh-What are you—” Myeong-joo stammered, shoving hard against Lee Yi-tan’s brow. “Stop…!”

Panicking, Myeong-joo shoved against Yi-tan’s forehead with both hands. To his surprise, the man who had remained an immovable fortress parted his lips with sudden compliance. In that movement, Myeong-joo’s fingers caught the edge of the blindfold, pushing it aside until he found himself staring directly into Yi-tan’s exposed eye.

“Lieutenant…” Myeong-joo breathed weakly.

“…”

The words died in his throat. Yi-tan’s eye was utterly unfocused. The pupil had blown wide, the central black void swallowing the iris until almost no pale brown remained.

Panic surging, Myeong-joo cried out to the room, “The Lieutenant’s condition… something is terribly wrong with him!”

Having surrendered an immense wave of harmonization, he had assumed Yi-tan would have stabilized to some degree, but the madness in that gaze had not receded in the slightest. Terror struck that his own ability had proven useless.

The captain retorted with an amused smirk, “Right, which is precisely why you should finish what you started.”

Observing the scene like an idle spectator, the officer laughed, his face flushed with heat like the rest of the men in the chamber. A bizarre, restless excitement hummed through the ranks.

Their mirth felt grotesquely out of place. Was this crisis visible only to Myeong-joo? If Yi-tan had suffered from chronic harmonization starvation and teetered on the brink of rampage countless times before, perhaps these onlookers had grown utterly numb to it. When another man’s agony repeats without end, spectators inevitably come to treat it as ordinary theater. Myeong-joo could dimly fathom the unbearable isolation Yi-tan must have endured for his comrades to view his destruction with such callous detachment.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up and kiss him already!” an enlisted soldier bellowed after whistling sharply through his teeth. “Or are you two planning to press bellies first?!”

Raucous laughter erupted across the concrete bunker. The soldiers watched with a predatory, feverish gleam in their eyes, their gazes clinging to Myeong-joo like hot oil. In that moment, it struck him with sudden clarity that he was the sole Harmonizer in this entire room. Why that realization sent such an icy chill through him, he could not tell.

With wavering eyes, he looked toward Hee-wan. Frowning through her ruined face, she met his gaze, squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second, and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Though he could not decode her exact meaning, she seemed to be pleading with him to endure.

“W-Wait a moment…”

All the while, Myeong-joo remained pinned in Yi-tan’s grip. The man’s flesh was scorching, radiating heat like stoked embers that made drawing breath difficult. Even as Myeong-joo squirmed, the arms constricting him showed no sign of yielding. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have hurled blistering curses at the men jeering at him, but he possessed no mental leeway for pride now.

“Lieutenant, please let go of me,” Myeong-joo pleaded in a hushed whisper.

His mind flashed back to their encounter in the underground chamber weeks ago. There had been spectators then as well, and he had scolded Yi-tan for his impropriety. But the present circumstances were fundamentally different. Myeong-joo felt instinctively that something vital within Yi-tan had shattered.

Amidst the crude whistling, Myeong-joo focused entirely on the man before him. Through the heat of their contact, the truth was absolute: Yi-tan desperately needed a Harmonizer right now. And the only Harmonizer in this room was Cha Myeong-joo.

“I will do it,” Myeong-joo whispered firmly, steadying his resolve. “Just be still.”

Surrounded by soldiers laughing in lewd amusement, Myeong-joo lifted Yi-tan’s chin with trembling fingers and pressed their lips together once more.

A torrent far more potent than before surged from the depths of his meridians. Searing pain tore through his core again, making his fingertips spasm, yet alongside the agony came an entirely new sensation—a deep, resonant pull. The harmonization coursing through Myeong-joo’s body actively sought out the Aberrant touching him, pouring into him with singular focus. He could feel it roaring within his chest like a river breaking its banks. Moments later, an electrifying jolt pierced straight down his spine. While it did not ache like an injury, the sheer intensity left him breathless.

“Ah…”

Instinctively, Myeong-joo clutched Yi-tan’s lapels as his hands shook uncontrollably, a muffled whimper slipping past their sealed lips.

Presently, Yi-tan’s large hand slid beneath Myeong-joo’s shirt. Startled by the sudden intrusion of calloused fingers against his bare ribs, Myeong-joo pulled back slightly. Beneath the crooked blindfold, Yi-tan was staring intently into his face. His blown pupils had contracted somewhat, the pale tawny color returning to the edges of his irises.

Feeling a wave of relief, Myeong-joo relaxed his posture. “Lieutenant, are you back to your senses—?”

He never finished the question. Yi-tan seized the back of his neck and hauled him forward into another deep, breathless kiss.

Jeers and mocking cheers exploded through the bunker once more, the captain laughing boisterously, “Look at them! The Lieutenant is setting up his bridal suite right here! Someone go fetch them a blanket!”

Yet those raucous voices barely registered in Myeong-joo’s ears anymore. A towering wave of heat roared through his chest, swallowing his consciousness whole. Falling as if into a bottomless abyss, Myeong-joo’s vision darkened, and he slipped under.

***