Chapter 293

Baekgyeong’s thick brows furrowed, a deep crease forming between them. Seeing his hard expression, the researcher’s face lit with triumph, and she spoke in a voice full of certainty.

“That frown confirms it even more. You’re not Andy LeClair.”

“That’s right.”

“No! Definitely not. I saw you on the news, pointing your finger at a journalist. It was all over when people said the youngest son of the Vile Group had gone missing. Your face went viral online—I remember it.”

She pulled her phone from her pocket, as if ready to search the internet and compare his face to the photos from the articles. Baekgyeong tugged the hood forward, shading his face further, and replied curtly.

“Researcher. It would be best for you to pretend you never saw me. If anyone finds out you talked to me today, you’ll be hunted down too.”

“What?”

“Why else would I leave a mansion with a pool and come to this shabby little institute? I’m being chased by the people who kidnapped Dr. Baker.”

The researcher jolted forward in her seat, nearly shouting.

“You know who kidnapped Baker?”

“To some extent. I only have guesses, though.”

“Who are they?”

Baekgyeong deliberately ignored the question. Realizing he had no intention of answering, a look of disappointment crossed her face.

“Did you at least try reporting it to the police?”

“The police are in on it. If you were planning to try that, drop it.”

“Then... is what Dr. Baker was researching connected to the kidnapping?”

At that, Baekgyeong slowly nodded.

Just as Dr. Baker and his team had tried to cross-edit the genes of Asian elephants and mammoths to create a new hybrid species, the one behind Hybris was clearly preparing the next generation of alphas. He couldn’t guess what role Siron played in it, but whoever was responsible was thinking of something horrifying beyond imagination.

Looking straight at the researcher, Baekgyeong said in a firm, commanding tone:

“So you’d better be careful too. Don’t trust the media, don’t trust the police—don’t trust anyone.”

The color drained from the woman’s face. Since she was working in the same field as Dr. Baker, if he hadn’t been kidnapped, she might have been taken instead.

After what amounted almost to a threat not to do anything, Baekgyeong hurried out of the institute. It was because of Isaac — the one constantly tugging at his nerves.

He’d better not have woken up and escaped while I was gone.

If Isaac had taken the van and fled, it would be a problem, but so would the weapons filling the vehicle he’d parked in the university lot. The firepower inside that van could raze a small town in minutes. If a thief tried to steal it, things would become far more complicated.

As he rushed toward the parking area, crowds brushed past him on every side. Normally, Baekgyeong was indifferent to every life but Yoon Siron’s, yet today, for some reason, the faces of the strangers around him stuck vividly in his mind.

He subconsciously recalled the missing-persons photos he’d seen on Spencer’s drive—people swept up in someone else’s desires, gone without a trace. And among them was the brown-haired man he’d met on Camptiva Island, whose name he had never learned.

“Fuck, stop thinking about it.”

His chest tightened, as if a stone had been laid upon it. Breath caught in his throat. He forced the thought away and quickened his pace toward the lot. The Ford van was still parked exactly where he had left it.

Isaac lay motionless on the mattress in the back, like a corpse. Relief flickered through Baekgyeong—but alongside it, a flash of irritation, the urge to kick the unconscious man just to vent.

Climbing into the back seat, he changed the bandages around Isaac’s wounds and checked the injuries. The sutures had closed, though the center of the wound still glowed faint red.

It was a healing rate no ordinary human could dream of, but there was no way to see inside; there was no guarantee the internal damage was recovering as quickly.

“They said no major organs were destroyed...”

By now, he should have woken up. Maybe the anesthetic mixed with the transfused blood was keeping him under. Baekgyeong didn’t care whether Isaac lived or died—but he couldn’t afford to lose the knowledge inside that head. He couldn’t let the method for transforming a beta into an omega vanish with the man’s death.

Besides, he had killed to keep Isaac alive. When he thought of the brown-haired youth who had died with a peaceful, sleeping expression, a faint pang stirred in him. The image of that pale, bloodless face—the last exhaled breath chilling through his veins—refused to fade.

The longer the thoughts spun, the harder it became to breathe. He steadied himself against the front seat’s backrest, staring blankly at the loosened bandages, inhaling and exhaling in slow, deliberate rhythm.

Once I find Yoon Siron, everything will be all right.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. It was less a comfort than a command—a whip to keep himself awake.

“Everything’s going to be fine.”

“How was it? Tasty, right?”

The pie had a dense cracker crust base, filled with lime juice and sweetened condensed milk—Key lime pie, Helso’s signature dessert.

The oven dish had been full, enough for a family of four, but Anna had eaten almost the entire thing. Wiping cream from the corner of her mouth with a tissue, she avoided Rachel’s expectant gaze.

“It’s so sweet I think my blood sugar’s spiking.”

“You’re the one who ate nearly all of it. That’s a weird way to say you liked it.”

Anna laughed dryly at her complaint. Watching Rachel grumble lightened her mood a little, easing the sense that the day had been wasted.

They had spent over half the day on foot, scouring every place that might hold the drainage schematics—City Hall’s Public Works Department, the state library, the central library—and found nothing. The blueprints were gone, and not only them: every record related to the Deep-Drainage Branch Tunnel, past or present, had been completely erased.

“These tunnels are part of the city’s infrastructure archives. How can there be absolutely no records?”

“Maybe they hid them for security reasons?”

“You said Garrett told you the tunnels could serve as public shelters in emergencies. If that’s true, they shouldn’t be hiding them this tightly.”

While researching, Anna had learned that in some states, parts of underground drainage systems were designated as federal or state-level nuclear-air-raid shelters. Helso had been one of the states exposed to Soviet nuclear-strike threats during the Cold War, located between the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico, facing numerous Latin American countries. Given its military sensitivity, it was plausible that the tunnels also contained emergency shelter facilities. But Anna couldn’t find a single public document mentioning shelters—or the Deep-Drainage Branch Tunnel at all.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t they at least use it for publicity? They could brag that the state keeps the Nathan River from flooding.”

Rachel carefully placed the ceramic dish into her knitted bag so it wouldn’t crack, then looked at Anna with worry.

“So the records were deliberately destroyed, huh?”

Anna nodded firmly. Every trace of the Deep-Drainage Branch Tunnel had vanished as if it had never existed—so perfectly erased that it could only be intentional.

“So if we want to find the drainage tunnel, we’ll have to go in through the sewers?”

Just picturing the rats, the roaches, the stench made her stomach churn. The good mood the dessert had briefly lifted came crashing down. Anna shuddered, suppressing the nausea that surged up her throat.

“No, no. Drainage tunnels don’t mix with household waste. They don’t smell. They only fill with water when it rains—otherwise they’re dry.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

At least following a stormwater channel meant she wouldn’t have to deal with stench. The problem was how to descend safely through a nearly hundred-meter drop from surface to depth.

Anna checked the weather. The next three days would be dry, but starting on the twentieth—rain.

Even a little rainfall could raise the water level and speed enough to make the tunnels deadly.

“It’s supposed to rain starting on the twentieth. Today’s the seventeenth, so we don’t have long. We should prepare today and start exploring tomorrow. It could be dangerous, so you’re not coming, Rachel.”

“Are you serious?”

Anna nodded slightly.

“I have to do something. Doing nothing feels worse.”

“Still, won’t it be physically hard? If the pipe’s too narrow, you won’t fit through.”

That was indeed what she feared most. If she got stuck in a tight space—or lost underground—it would be over. But the drainage tunnel wasn’t a maze she could just trace with a thread like Ariadne’s.

Thinking hard beside her, Rachel covered her forehead with her palm and leaned back. Then, suddenly brightening, she clapped her hands.

“The Gulf Line City Library! I forgot about it.”

“What?”

“They closed for renovation from 2012 to 2013. My friend works there—I remember.”

“You think there’s material there?”

“Yeah. She said they stored the collection in a warehouse during construction. They were worried about humidity damage...”

Anna started the car before Rachel even finished.

“Your friend still works there?”

“Huh? Uh-huh.”

“Perfect. Let’s go now.”

“At this hour? It’s over an hour away, and they close at seven.”

“I don’t care. Tell her to keep the doors open for us.”

It was already close to six. Anna pressed down on the accelerator, heading straight for the library.