The alley smelled like fried batter, bleach, and damp brick — typical Mapo.
But to Seo Seung-min, what hit harder was the sight of the kid.
Hood up. Shoulders hunched. Tension wrapped around his frame like it had never left.
"You're not supposed to be here," Seung-min growled as the back door shut behind him.
"Christ, I didn't even know you were back in Seoul until that damn bus ping lit up half the grid."
Kyo didn't turn right away. Just said:
"Didn't plan on being here this long."
Seung-min walked closer, voice sharp.
"We agreed. If you were ever compromised, you'd warn me. You'd send the signal. Instead, I find out with the rest of HID that the Wanderer just saved a civilian on camera in Guro."
Kyo exhaled through his nose.
"Didn't have a choice."
Seung-min scoffed, all tired fury.
"Bullshit. You had a hundred choices — starting with staying out of Seoul. Staying away from her."
"It was her, Seo."
Kyo turned now. His hood dropped slightly, enough for Seung-min to see the toll: eyes sunken, jaw tight, exhaustion written in every line of his face.
"What was I supposed to do? Let it fall on her?"
"You weren't supposed to be here!"
Seung-min shoved the door behind him in frustration.
"You've been off-grid for ten goddamn years. And now you pop up in my sector — no signal, no contact — and trigger half of Karasawa's surveillance net like a goddamn fireworks display."
"I didn't mean to drag you in."
"You didn't drag me in, kid — you detonated around me."
Kyo's voice lowered. "I wasn't thinking about myself."
"No," Seung-min snapped. "You never do. You think that makes you noble? You think that's what she would want — to be the reason you're hunted again?"
Kyo flinched — just a flicker.
Then, quieter:
"The Constant is spiking."
That shut Seung-min up for half a second.
"How bad?"
Kyo pressed a hand to his sternum. "It's not volatile. Not yet. But it's constant. Like a low hum. Like it's… starving."
"It's because you're near her," Seung-min said. "Your system's reacting."
"No," Kyo said. "It started before. Months ago."
"Then why the hell didn't you contact me?"
"Because I didn't want to believe it."
Seung-min studied him — the sheen of sweat, the tightness in his jaw, the slight tremor in his right hand.
"You've been like this since before you got near her?"
Kyo nodded.
Seung-min didn't respond right away. A muscle worked in his cheek.
"Then maybe it's not proximity," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Maybe…"
The silence stretched again. Seung-min's jaw tightened.
"You need to leave Seoul. Now."
"I will," Kyo said. "But not yet. I just need one thing."
"Oh for f—" Seung-min turned his back, pacing. "If you say it's about her, I swear to God—"
"It is."
Kyo reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled something wrapped in cloth. Unfolded it. The metal glinted faintly — old, worn, personal.
The pendant. Star-shaped. Smoothed by years of regret.
"I carried this for ten years."
His voice cracked slightly, and Seung-min's breath caught.
"I just want to give it to her, Seo. That's all. One minute. Five steps. Hand it over. No words. Just... me and her. Then I'm gone. Ghost. For good."
"Then leave it on her damn doorstep!"
"No," Kyo said, a bit too sharply. "It doesn't mean the same. It has to be me. Just once."
"You're asking me to blow a surveillance hole wide open for a sentimental handoff?"
"I'm asking for one minute," Kyo said. "That's all I'll take. And I'll never come back."
The quiet that followed wasn't simple silence. It was cost.
Seung-min looked at him — really looked.
"You're burning yourself alive for her."
Kyo nodded.
"Then let me light the match," Seung-min muttered bitterly. "One minute. You get one. You screw this up, I swear I will be the one to drag your ass to Karasawa myself."
Kyo nodded again.
"I know."