Chapter 346

A sudden impulse struck Isaac—he wanted to know what Siron was doing right now. Even though he knew they would meet again soon, unnecessary thoughts kept intruding.

Perhaps what he was really curious about was Siron’s day in his absence—the time that continued to flow for him without Isaac there. Was he mindlessly flipping through TV channels? Standing by the window looking outside? Nodding off in a half-doze? Meaningless, inefficient imaginings flooded his mind one after another.

Trying to stop thinking about Siron, Isaac forcibly shifted his thoughts. He had a pile of critical problems that required careful consideration and resolution.

First, there was the location of the Memory Card Jackson Cliff had mentioned. Jackson had said he had been sending Memory Cards containing corruption material to a postal box in Manhattan. And Isaac had obtained that Manhattan postal box address from the pursuer who had been chasing Malcolm Knox. Coincidentally, it was the same postal box address Jackson had used to send the Laptop to Angela.

There was a strong possibility that Jackson had also left the Memory Card with the same postal box company. They would need to go there and confirm whether it was being stored. Thanks to Malcolm Knox’s unexpected involvement, they had learned the address of the postal box company and now had a clear next destination. In that sense, they had been fortunate.

If the Memory Card truly existed there, their next course of action would depend on the nature of the data it contained. Through the media, they could expose corruption and bring criminals before the judgment of the law. But those were only auxiliary methods. Isaac had always believed more in private judgment than in the law.

The second issue he needed to focus on was how to handle the coins that would soon come into their possession. The coins Jackson had intended to leave to Angela and his child Joshua were nothing less than a poisoned chalice. That money—tainted by the blood, sweat, and tears of victims—was the very force that drove the Hybris organization. It did not belong to any individual; it should be returned as rightful compensation to Hybris’s victims.

But victim relief was not Isaac’s priority. He did not have much time left. The information about victims and perpetrators was unclear, and the boundaries of responsibility were blurred. If they began a plan to assess damages and compensate victims, the process could take not months but years. And Isaac did not have that kind of time. At best, he might have a year left. Or perhaps not even a month.

Even as his life was being worn down moment by moment, the Designer still lived. Despite multiple attempts, Isaac had only managed to delay the Designer’s plan by reducing the number of Alpha; he had not overturned the board. He could already see the future where he would meet death having solved nothing. He felt regret at the thought of enduring such a worthless end—yet at the same time, he felt a secret, quiet relief. That had been the kind of life he could die without attachment—until something unwanted had begun to take hold.

Before Siron’s face could spread through his thoughts like a hazy fog, Isaac shifted his thinking once more. This time, he thought about the Designer.

In Isaac’s judgment, the Designer was not the type of leader who handled practical operations. Rather than managing administration or coordinating detailed policies necessary to run Hybris, he seemed far more interested in propagating Alpha supremacist ideology and delivering messages. The reason Jackson had been able to siphon off cryptocurrency and independently build up evidence of the organization’s corruption was likely because Jackson had stood at the center of its operations.

The Designer was undoubtedly charismatic, but in some respects the word “delusional” suited him better. He was intoxicated by the myth he himself had written and doubted nothing. He had given Cliff too much authority—and paid the price with bitter betrayal.

By now, the Designer would be cornered. With Jackson Cliff’s disappearance, the organization was on the verge of paralysis, and its operating funds had vanished. Yet the real problem lay elsewhere: his followers had been wiped out.

Those who drowned in the underground drainage tunnels had been someone’s children—and among them were the children of high-ranking officials. Hybris had operated by holding those children like hostages, using them as shields against the powerful. But now those hostages were all dead.

The incident might be buried for a short time, but eventually the truth would come out—that Alpha had died en masse in the drainage tunnels. Whatever plans the Designer might have, Isaac expected that before Hybris’s true nature was revealed to the world, the Designer would first label Isaac Bazelli—the one who flooded the tunnels—as a public enemy and concentrate all anger on him. A public enemy was an effective way to unify the inside.

But an unpredictable variable had appeared: the death of Police Commissioner Angus Stone. He had jumped from a Hybris branch building in Baggers City. Used like a chess piece by the Designer’s threats, he had chosen suicide after the death of his child.

Given his deep involvement with Hybris, the Commissioner would have realized that Isaac Bazelli was responsible for the flooding incident. Isaac could not understand the decision to choose death over revenge when there was a clear target. If the Commissioner’s death had been murder, then it was highly likely the Designer had acted, sensing danger in whatever move Angus had made. And Isaac believed the Commissioner had been killed.

For now, there was no clear link between the Commissioner’s death and the Designer’s movements. Even so, Isaac was certain that before long, the reason the Designer had needed the Commissioner’s death would be revealed.

As Isaac calmly organized his thoughts, a chill crept into his chest. The Designer knew Yoon Siron’s name. It was easy to trace how—while investigating Baekgyeong’s surroundings, the Designer would inevitably have learned Siron’s identity. Isaac did not think that fact would immediately become a direct threat. After all, the Designer would also want to avoid publicly revealing that Yoon Siron was the world’s only Omega. He would want to retrieve Omega in as intact a condition as possible.

Isaac felt a strange irony. The Designer knew that Imprint originated from love. Considering Isaac’s original objective, an Omega incapable of Imprint was nothing more than a burden. From the Designer’s perspective, Isaac traveling with Omega would look like carrying a valuable bargaining chip.

He must be trembling, wondering if I’ll drag Siron down with me and die.

But that would never happen. For Siron—and for his own fate—Isaac would simply kill more Alpha. Yet exterminating Alpha was like a count that began at one and extended endlessly to two, three, and beyond. It was not a countdown from ten that would eventually converge to zero. Perhaps Siron’s tragedy had been inevitable from the moment Isaac had drawn him into this world.

Isaac’s thoughts circled back to the beginning again. Once more, he found himself thinking about Yoon Siron.

Before he realized it, they had arrived at their destination. An unfamiliar car was parked in front of the farmhouse. It seemed Hannah Knox had completed the vehicle purchase and arrived before Isaac. In the distance, he saw Siron’s back.

Siron was walking a Chihuahua with Baekgyeong. They followed behind the slow-moving, elderly dog, talking casually as they walked. The moment Isaac saw them, his heart began to pound rapidly. There was no immediate danger, yet his pulse surged and an inexplicable stress rose inside him.

Baekgyeong matched his pace to Siron’s as they followed the dog. He tried not to stare too intently at Siron’s profile, occasionally looking elsewhere. Then his gaze met Isaac’s.

Neither man looked away. If Siron had not jabbed Baekgyeong in the side and told him to clean up after the dog, they might have continued staring at each other until one of them yielded.

Baekgyeong looked in the direction Siron pointed and recoiled in disgust.

“You want me to pick up dog shit? With what—my bare hands?”

“...You can just wash your hands afterward.”

“Are you insane? Are you serious?”

Hearing footsteps behind them, Siron turned his head. When he spotted Isaac, his eyes widened. He moved away from Baekgyeong, who looked ready to hit him, and walked toward Isaac.

“You’re back?”

Siron greeted him with the expression of someone who had something urgent to say.

“I got the Laptop from Angela. I checked—there are coins inside.”

“That’s good.”

“Did you buy a car?”

“Yes. A large SUV.”

“So we’re moving now.”

“We have to. Immediately.”

It was time to conclude their unexpected encounter with the Knox family. There was no time to linger; they had to split and head toward their respective destinations.

Isaac entered the building and went to the bedroom where Malcolm was resting. Malcolm lay on the bed as still as if he were dead. His broken right arm was supported with a wooden splint and bound tightly with cloth. Sitting at the edge of the bed, Isaac injected him with a painkiller and gave him instructions.

“The painkillers will hold you for at most three days. After that it’s dangerous. You can’t treat this yourself—you need to go to a hospital.”

“If I do that... my information will leak.”

“Use the Mount Sinai emergency room in Brooklyn. You’ll get everything from X-rays to treatment immediately. Use only the card Baekgyeong provided.”

After explaining the necessary precautions, Isaac remained seated, staring at Malcolm. Then, lowering his gaze, he asked in an even tone,

“Did Gezar leave any last instructions?”

Malcolm struggled to sit up and looked up at Isaac with a weary face. Leaning back against the headboard, he spoke in a voice strained with pain.

“He did. It wasn’t like him, but it was... memorable.”

Malcolm paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, then continued.

“Love.”

He tossed out the single word, then studied Isaac’s face as if analyzing it.

“That was all Gezar left behind. ‘Love.’ It doesn’t sound like him. Is there some meaning in it that I don’t understand?”

“There isn’t.”

“Then?”

Isaac fell silent, his face thoughtful. After a moment, instead of answering, he shrugged and avoided the question.

“What happened to Gezar’s body?”

“It’s being kept in the municipal medical examiner’s morgue. Normally they wait three days after execution for the family to claim the body, and if no one does, they proceed with cremation. But I took custody of it.”

Isaac frowned, as if hearing something completely unexpected.

“I used a bit of influence at the medical examiner’s office. The body will be kept in the morgue for another month.”

“Why would you do that?”

At Isaac’s guarded gaze, Malcolm smiled faintly.

“I thought you might want to claim Bazelli’s body.”