Chapter 345

After crossing the border of Maryland, they split up and moved according to assigned roles. Isaac and Hannah each went out to look for vehicles, visiting used-car lots and car dealerships to purchase replacements. Their current vehicle was uncomfortable because the back seat had been removed, and there was also the risk that its information had already been exposed to Hybris. In the meantime, Baekgyeong abandoned the car along a quiet roadside in a district packed with shops, leaving the key in the ignition. Some thief or delinquent teenagers would deal with it on their own soon enough.

Meanwhile, the remaining members of the group and the Chihuahua Bambi waited at their newly secured lodging. It was a farmhouse obtained through a home-sharing app, with the nearest inhabited house twelve kilometers away. They had hurriedly found the place because they could not simply leave the injured Malcolm and Angela’s three young children stranded by the roadside.

Although Siron had unexpectedly gained a moment of rest for the first time in a while, he could not release the tension wound tight inside him. It felt like running a race where he had to keep up his speed on the track without even knowing where the finish line was.

The Designer knew Yoon Siron’s name. At first Siron had not taken that fact very seriously, since almost no one in the United States knew him. Only after he confessed it and saw the rigid expressions on Isaac’s and Baekgyeong’s faces did he realize how serious the situation actually was.

Then again, it would have been stranger if the Designer did not know his name. Even a simple internet search of Baekgyeong’s name almost automatically produced Yoon Siron’s name alongside it. Anyone who had ever seen Siron’s face even once online would not easily forget him.

Even though he knew it was pointless, Siron obsessively searched his own name on the internet. He could not sit still, worried that someone might have posted information revealing his recent whereabouts. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—there were hardly any posts mentioning the faded celebrity even in Korea, let alone in the United States. Just in case, he searched for Omega as well, but there was no mention of Trait Holders.

Nine times out of ten his searches ended with Yoon Siron and Omega, but occasionally he also searched for Alpha. Now and then he noticed posts asking about the manufacturing method for the Rut Suppressant, and posts claiming to testify about life after being reborn as an Alpha. Even so, people still did not believe in the existence of Alpha. It seemed to be because no credible media outlet had covered Trait Holders.

But it was only a matter of time before news of the new human race appeared in headlines across every media outlet. Somewhere, someone was surely preparing a massive exposé already.

With an anxious heart, Siron turned on the television. The news channels still carried no report whatsoever related to Alpha. Just as he pressed the remote to change to another news channel, a child sitting on the sofa reading a picture book suddenly spoke up.

“I want to watch cartoons.”

“Me too!”

They were Angela’s eldest daughter and her second son—young children who had only just stepped over the threshold of elementary school and kindergarten.

“Oh, sure. I’ll change the channel.”

Siron flipped through channels before stopping on an animated show. On the screen, brightly colored cartoon characters chased and were chased by one another. The children quickly became absorbed in the show.

Watching television with them absentmindedly, Siron eventually shifted his gaze toward the woman who had been bothering him for a while. Malcolm’s daughter, Angela Knox. A woman of mixed African American and Korean heritage, she was a plain yet striking beauty. Her skin was a light brown, and her large almond-shaped eyes were long and elegant. Yet in those strangely beautiful eyes there was not the slightest trace of vitality.

She sat in a single rocking chair on the terrace, staring at the surrounding scenery with a dry, expressionless face. Outside the window stretched an enormous rye field after the harvest. Straw lay scattered across the ocher-colored soil, and in the distance sycamore and oak trees, having shed half their leaves, tinted the forest a pale yellow-brown. It was scenery beautiful enough to lose oneself in, yet Angela did not seem to be looking at it because she was drawn by its beauty.

She looked utterly lost. Angela had to take responsibility not only for her own life, but also for the lives of her three young children. Even though Siron had become an Omega, his situation—only having to take care of himself—almost seemed easier by comparison. Siron stepped out onto the terrace and spoke to her.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Angela shook her head.

“I don’t need anything.”

With a single sentence she rejected every gesture of kindness Siron had tried to offer. After a long pause, she finally asked him a question.

“What will happen to my family from now on?”

“...Uh, well. I suppose you’ll stay in the Hudson Valley for a while.”

The Hudson Valley was the region along the upper Hudson River in New York State, where the Knox family would hide for some time to avoid Hybris’s pursuit. The area was lined with grand estates used like vacation homes by wealthy New Yorkers and famous artists, and Baekgyeong’s father had also built a villa there long ago.

Behind the large main residence stood a separate annex where caretakers once lived. Baekgyeong had said that his father kept caretakers at the estate while he painted in the second-floor studio of the main house. But after Baekgyeong had once committed the mad act of destroying every single one of his paintings before an exhibition, his father had never picked up a brush again.

With time, the place had become abandoned. Renovation work had stopped midway, the caretakers had long since left, and the property had faded from everyone’s attention. Baekgyeong had offered to give the Knox family the annex of that estate.

“How long will we have to stay there?”

Angela asked weakly. Siron answered honestly.

“I’m not really sure either. But Baekgyeong is rich, so he’ll probably make sure you have everything you need without holding back.”

“I suppose having a lot of money is a good thing. It lets you live without any restrictions when it comes to fulfilling your dreams.”

Angela smiled faintly, though her expression looked hollow.

“After Joshua was born, I lived in a Manhattan penthouse Jackson bought for me. When I opened the curtains in the morning, the green of Central Park poured inside, and at night the lights of the city sparkled like stars in space. ...That time probably won’t come again.”

She gently brushed down the hair of her youngest son, Joshua, who rested in her arms.

“I never imagined Jackson was that kind of person. I only thought it was strange that a psychological counselor had so much money. In truth, there were times when something about him felt suspicious, but I think I chose to pretend not to notice.”

Dark shadows had settled beneath her eyes. Angela looked down at Joshua, asleep in her arms.

“Why did I make that choice? Looking back now, I don’t even think I loved him that passionately. ...Was it because I liked his money?”

Was she regretting having a child with Jackson Cliff? The motherhood Siron had learned about through dramas and films was noble and sacrificial, but Siron—who had spent his life separated from his own mother—already knew from experience that reality was not always so simple.

Because he had never lived a life responsible for another person’s existence, Siron did not offer her empty comfort. She did not seem to have opened up to him because she needed consolation from a man she barely knew anyway. So Siron spoke the simplest truth he knew.

“Whether you met him because you loved his money or because you loved him, what difference does it make? You chose to become Joshua’s family. That means you take responsibility for it.”

Meeting her gaze, Siron answered with a seriousness that did not allow his sincerity to slip away lightly. Perhaps surprised by his refusal to offer useless comfort, one of her eyebrows twitched slightly.

After a long time passed, she closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh, as if resigning herself.

“Well... what can I do about it now.”

Shaking her head as she murmured to herself, she stood up and adjusted Joshua in her arms. Leaving the terrace, she went inside the house, then reappeared before Siron a moment later. In one arm she held Joshua, and in the other she carried a laptop bag.

“Take the laptop.”

When Siron still made no move to accept the bag, she extended it toward him and repeated herself.

“Take it. It’s heavy.”

Siron was bewildered. Angela was handing over an enormous fortune to a man she had met only yesterday, without the slightest hesitation. Somehow, without realizing it, he seemed to have earned something like her trust. It felt as though he had simply wagged his tongue for a moment and been rewarded far beyond what he deserved. Feeling awkward for no reason, Siron accepted the bag from her with an embarrassed expression.

“Handle it carefully. So I won’t regret it.”

Holding the laptop cautiously against his chest, Siron asked,

“Won’t you regret it?”

“Not at all.”

Unexpectedly, Angela shook her head firmly.

“Honestly, if it had been money earned from something like drug trafficking, maybe I would have been tempted. ...But this money isn’t like that. I can’t handle it.”

Having answered calmly, Angela turned away as if her business were finished. Just as she was about to step into the room and close the door, she suddenly seemed to remember something and spoke again.

“The laptop has a password set. The password is ‘Anemone.’ It’s a flower whose meaning represents both hope and abandonment.”

She paused for a moment, unable to continue immediately. Lowering her gaze as though tracing back through long-buried memories, she added quietly,

“It was a flower Jackson and I... both liked.”