Chapter 52: Familiarity

It was nearly lunchtime, but the interview room was silent, the air tense with anticipation. The next group of applicants had just entered when Seo-woo's phone buzzed loudly on the table. He glanced down, his heart stopping for a moment when he saw the caller ID.

Mr. Lee.

Something was wrong.

Seo-woo answered immediately. "Hello?"

Mr. Lee's voice came through the phone, urgency and worry dripping from every word. "Mr. Ryu, Seo-min—he—"

Seo-woo's chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood up, the panic in Mr. Lee's voice setting off every alarm in his body. His hand trembled as he gripped the phone tighter.

"What happened?!" His voice was sharp, almost desperate.

The room fell into stunned silence. Min-ho, who had been watching the applicants, flinched at Seo-woo's tone. He turned to look at him, his usual smirk immediately fading when he saw the sheer panic on Seo-woo's face—his eyes wide, his breathing uneven, his hands clenched into tight fists.

Min-ho stepped closer, his voice low but firm. "Bi-yong, what's wrong?"

Seo-woo's lips quivered as he swallowed hard, his throat dry. "One of my kids... had an accident," he choked out, his voice unsteady. His eyes were already glistening with the threat of tears. "He's in the hospital."

A heavy silence settled in the room.

Min-ho's eyes widened for a brief second before his expression hardened. "Then what are you still doing here? Go!"

Seo-woo turned his attention to the applicants who had just arrived and the co-interviewers beside him, his guilt weighing on him as he bowed deeply. "I'm sorry. I—" His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed through. "I have to go. I have an urgent matter to attend to."

One of the applicants, Bae Sung-min, recognized him from earlier in the bathroom. His eyes followed Seo-woo as he rushed toward the door, confusion and a strange mix of concern and curiosity flashing across his face.

Min-ho grabbed his coat and followed Seo-woo outside the room. "I'm driving you."

But Seo-woo shook his head frantically. "No, you need to be here. Don't mind me; just continue interviewing the applicants. I can't wait—I need to be there now."

Min-ho stared at him, jaw clenched, clearly frustrated. "Bi-yong—"

"Sorry, please let me go!" Seo-woo snapped, voice tight with anxiety. "I don't have time to argue!"

"Seo-woo, just calm down", Min-ho came closer to him and whispered it as he was comforting him.

"I'll take a cab," Seo-woo muttered, still dazed.

Min-ho snapped his head toward him, eyes flashing. "Are you insane?"

Seo-woo barely had time to react before Min-ho yanked him forward, his grip tight, firm, unrelenting.

"We're taking my car. NOW."

"But—"

Min-ho shot him a glare so sharp it could cut glass. "Shut up and move."

After the two went out, the interview room remained silent.

Bae Sung-min stood frozen, a strange lump forming in his throat.

Was it a coincidence? Did the CEO want to excuse himself too after seeing me in front of them? I planned to apologize for my boldness earlier and the last time we met. I arrived earlier than my appointed time to make sure there was no problem, but I made a mistake.

---

The sterile white lights of the laboratory flickered, casting cold shadows against the metallic walls. The hum of machines and the rhythmic beeping of monitors filled the room, creating an eerie backdrop to the stillness inside.

In the center of the room stood a cryogenic capsule, its glass surface fogged over, concealing whatever lay within. The air was heavy with the scent of disinfectant and chemicals, yet beneath it lingered something more sinister—secrecy, desperation, and the unmistakable weight of wrongdoing.

Suddenly, the lab doors burst open.

A man stumbled in, panting, his face slick with sweat. His clothes were damp, sticking to his skin as if he had run for long without stopping, then swiftly rode a taxi. His hands trembled as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small syringe filled with dark red liquid.

Blood.

A figure in a white lab coat turned around at the intrusion, his sharp blue eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

Inoue Ren.

His gaze flickered between the breathless man and the syringe in his hand. His expression darkened.

"You got the blood?" Inoue Ren asked, his voice low and controlled, but laced with an underlying urgency.

The man nodded wordlessly and stepped forward, extending the syringe. The deep, thick, and fresh crimson liquid swirled inside.

But the sheer amount of it made Inoue Ren's stomach twist.

He reached out, snatching the syringe, his knuckles going white around it. His brows furrowed in confusion.

"This is too much," he muttered. Then, his head snapped up, eyes burning with suspicion. "How did you get this?"

The man hesitated.

"I used a syringe," he finally admitted, his voice flat, indifferent.

Inoue Ren's face darkened instantly. A wave of anger surged through him as he took a threatening step forward.

"You drew this much blood from a child? Are you an idiot?!" Inoue Ren hissed, his fingers twitching with the urge to throw something.

The man shrugged as if it didn't matter. "The kid passed out before I even finished."

Inoue Ren's stomach dropped.

His heart slammed against his ribs as he gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling beneath his skin. "You were only supposed to take a small amount—just a few drops from a fingertip or heel! Do you have any idea what you've done?"

If the child developed complications, if his condition worsened, it would be traced back to them.

And if that happened—

They were finished.

The hired man remained unfazed, shifting slightly as if he couldn't care less. "Relax. The brat's alive. I made sure no one saw or followed me here."

Inoue Ren frowned deeply, his mind racing.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

If anything happened to that boy—if his body reacted poorly to the sudden blood loss—this whole operation could crumble before it truly began. He needed to first check if Seo-woo's children and Woo-seok had a biological relationship. If it was confirmed they had a relationship, then Woo-sung and Seo-woo were his test subjects years ago; if not, he would test Haneul and Woo-seok's relationship to confirm.

Taking a deep breath, Inoue Ren forced himself to stay calm. He couldn't afford to lose control. Not now.

He pulled out a small envelope from his coat pocket and tossed it toward the man.

"Take your money," Inoue Ren muttered, his tone clipped. "And disappear."

The man caught the envelope effortlessly, flipping through the thick wad of bills before tucking it into his jacket. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said with a smirk before slipping out of the lab without another word.

Inoue Ren didn't watch him leave.

Instead, his gaze drifted back to the cryogenic capsule in front of him. His grip tightened around the syringe, his mind a storm of thoughts.

He had Seo-woo's child's blood now.

But at what cost?

And more importantly—

Would it be enough?

---

Min-ho, seated beside him in the car, gripped the steering wheel tightly, his sharp eyes flicking between the road and Seo-woo's trembling hands.

"Seo-woo," Min-ho's voice was gentle but firm, bringing him out of his panicked daze. "Your son will be fine. He's strong—just like you."

Seo-woo exhaled shakily, clutching his phone tightly. Jung-woo had messaged him minutes ago:

"He's stable. Private room 307. Sleeping."

Seo-woo clung to those words as though they were a lifeline.

The moment they arrived at the hospital, Seo-woo bolted out of the car, barely waiting for Min-ho to park properly. He rushed to the hallway. Min-ho followed closely, his presence solid and unwavering, ready to catch Seo-woo if his legs gave out from sheer anxiety.

Finally, Room 307.

Seo-woo pushed open the door, and the moment he stepped inside, every eye in the room turned toward him.

Jung-woo and Ji-woo were seated on the couch, comforting two small, trembling figures.

Seo-jun and Seo-jin.

The children's tear-streaked faces lit up the moment they saw their father, and without hesitation, they ran straight into his arms, their little hands clutching at his clothes as if afraid he would disappear.

Seo-woo tried—he really did—to hold back his emotions. But the moment he felt their tiny bodies trembling against him, his resolve crumbled. His lips quivered, and before he could stop himself—

Tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Dad... Sorry, we didn't protect Seo-min." Seo-jun's voice was muffled against his chest.

Seo-jin sniffled, tightening his grip. "Dad, we were scared...Seo-min got hurt. Sorry, I am the eldest, but I couldn't protect my younger sibling."

Seo-woo held them tighter, pressing soft kisses to their hair. "It's okay now. I'm here. Dad's here. And don't blame yourselves, it wasn't your fault."

Min-ho, who had been standing quietly near the door, observed the scene with a complicated expression. He wasn't sure what it was—maybe it was Seo-woo's raw vulnerability or the way the twins clung to him so desperately—but something about the moment felt familiar.

Something... achingly familiar.

But before Min-ho could fully process it, Seo-woo straightened, his eyes dark with determination.

"Where is your homeroom teacher?" Seo-woo's voice, though gentle to his sons, was sharper now.

Seo-jun hiccupped but answered, "Mr. Lee went to the police station to report the bad guy. He wanted to make sure they catch him."

"The school principal will come later," Seo-jin added in a small voice. "They said... they will formally apologize for what happened to Seo-min."

Seo-woo clenched his fists. Apologize? That wasn't enough. How couldn't they detect that there was a stranger inside the kindergarten?

He took a steadying breath, suppressing the anger threatening to boil over. But then—

"Dad," Seo-jin suddenly whispered. "The bad guy... he had a syringe."

Seo-woo's blood ran cold.

"A syringe?" His voice was eerily calm, but his fingers trembled.

Seo-jin nodded. "It had... blood inside."

Seo-woo's mind raced.

Someone wanted Seo-min's blood.

Why?

His stomach twisted, a terrible suspicion forming at the back of his mind. There was only one person he could think of.

Inoue Ren.

Seo-woo's breath hitched. It made sense. Ren was the only one capable of orchestrating something like this—the resources, the lack of morals, the fixation on whatever mysterious experiments he had been conducting in secret. How could he do this to my child? Was I the one he needed for his experiment? Everything deviated because of me.

And now... he had Seo-min's blood.

Min-ho, still deep in thought, stared at Seo-woo's children. There was something about them... something that gnawed at the edges of his memory.

Why did they seem so... familiar?

Just then, the door creaked open, and Jung-woo and Ji-woo entered, their expressions grim.

"The doctor is outside," Ji-woo said, glancing at Seo-woo. "You should hear what he has to say."

Seo-woo and Min-ho exchanged a look before stepping out of the room.

The doctor, dressed in a crisp white coat, stood just outside, flipping through a clipboard with a serious expression.

Seo-woo swallowed hard. "Doctor... how is my son?"

The doctor looked up, his gaze calm but unreadable.

"There's something you need to know."

The hallway outside Seo-min's hospital room felt colder than it should have. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow, but Seo-woo barely noticed. His heartbeat was pounding too loudly in his ears, drowning out everything else.

Across from him, the doctor stood still, his grip firm on the clipboard in his hands. His face was unreadable, but Seo-woo could sense it—something was wrong.

Min-ho, standing beside Seo-woo, crossed his arms, his sharp eyes scanning the doctor's face as if trying to decode whatever bad news was about to come.

"Doctor," Seo-woo forced himself to speak, his voice wavering slightly. "My son—how is he?"

The doctor took a breath before closing the clipboard, holding it against his chest as he finally met Seo-woo's eyes.

"Physically, your son is stable," he began carefully. "We've administered fluids and monitored his vitals. However..."

However.

Seo-woo's breath hitched. He hated that word.

The doctor sighed, his expression clouding over. "He regained consciousness earlier... but when he woke up, he panicked."

Seo-woo's entire body tensed. "Panicked?"

The doctor nodded. "At first, we thought it was just confusion, but as soon as he saw unfamiliar faces—mine, the nurses—he screamed. He was thrashing, crying uncontrollably, and trying to hide. It took three nurses to calm him down, but..." The doctor hesitated, glancing at the room. "He eventually passed out again."

Seo-woo's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms.

"Why would he react like that?" Jung-woo asked, his tone laced with worry.

The doctor's gaze softened. "Your son is experiencing trauma. His reaction suggests severe fear associated with what happened to him. He might not consciously remember everything, but his body—his subconscious—does. Seeing unfamiliar people may have triggered the memory of the attack."

Seo-woo felt a wave of nausea crash over him.

His baby... his sweet, bright, energetic Seo-min... was so terrified that he passed out?

Seo-jun and Seo-jin, who had been listening silently, suddenly clutched onto Seo-woo's sleeves.

"Dad," Seo-jin mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Min-gom was so scared..."

Seo-jun sniffled, rubbing his teary eyes. "He didn't even recognize us at first. He just kept crying, calling for you."

Seo-woo felt something inside him shatter.

Min-ho, standing quietly beside them, noticed how Seo-woo's breathing grew unsteady, his hands trembling at his sides.

Before he could collapse under the weight of his emotions, Min-ho placed a firm hand on Seo-woo's shoulder.

"Stay strong," Min-ho said, his voice low but steady. "Your son needs you."

Seo-woo inhaled shakily, forcing himself to swallow the lump in his throat. He couldn't break down now—not when his child was suffering.

The doctor gave them a moment before continuing. "For now, I suggest keeping him in a familiar and comfortable environment. When he wakes up again, it's best if he sees people he trusts first—you, his brothers, his uncle. The last thing we want is for him to experience another episode."

Seo-woo nodded, his mind racing. "What about his blood? Is there any substance?"

The doctor's face replied professionally. "The attacker just only drew your son's blood. That's all. But I will analyze your son's blood if there is something in it. But we will inject him with an anti-tetanus vaccine just in case."

Seo-woo's stomach churned with rage.

His jaw tightened. His mind immediately flashed back to Inoue Ren—his laboratory, his obsession with blood samples, his cryptic words about needing "a special kind."

Min-ho, who had been deep in thought, finally spoke. "Doctor, can we see the results as soon as they're available?"

"Of course," the doctor agreed. "In the meantime, we will monitor Seo-min closely. If anything unusual happens, I'll inform you immediately."

Seo-woo nodded weakly, his body heavy with exhaustion.

Just then, the hospital room door creaked open, and Seo-jun peeked out.

"Dad?" his small voice wavered with worry.

Seo-woo immediately softened, wiping his face before kneeling to his son's level. "Yes, Junnie?"

"Is Min-gom gonna be okay?" Seo-jun's big eyes were full of fear, but there was something else—determination.

Seo-woo pulled Seo-jun into a hug, holding him close. "Yes. Min-gom is strong. Just like you."

Seo-jun's tiny fingers clutched at Seo-woo's shirt before whispering, "Dad... I'll protect Min-gom and Jin-yong from now on. I won't let any bad guys hurt them again."

Seo-woo's chest tightened painfully. He shouldn't have to hear these words from his son. He shouldn't have to see his children shouldering fear like this.

But Seo-woo cupped Seo-jun's face, pressing their foreheads together.

"You don't have to protect anyone alone," he whispered. "That's Dad's job."

Seo-jun sniffled but nodded.

Min-ho, standing behind them, watched the exchange with an unreadable expression.

For some reason... the way Seo-woo held his child... struck something deep inside him.

It was something he had forgotten, but he instantly remembered his late father, who had pampered him when he was young—just like Seo-woo's children.

And yet—

He couldn't look away.

---

"I'm sorry, host! I was away when the accident occurred. I was busy fixing my virtual body to accompany you."

Seo-woo heard a deep voice inside his mind.

"System?"