Dirty Switch

The last image Seo Baekhan saw before closing his eyes was of Joo Taehyun, still not looking back, doing what needed to be done in the moment. Reporters and all sorts of people swarmed him like a pack of dogs, but Joo Taehyun remained calm.

Good. Seo Baekhan closed his eyes, feeling somewhat at ease. He was glad, too, that Taehyun wouldn’t have to witness the disgraceful sight of him fainting after bleeding out.
***
『…Assemblyman Seo Hongkyu, who visited the site, refrained from answering reporters’ questions and quietly assisted with the aftermath. Officials are speculating that some level of advance collusion took place among registered attendees, and as of now, campus lockdowns remain in place. Reportedly, the assemblyman personally arranged boxed meals for the guests who could not leave, and strongly urged on-site staff to ensure proper emotional support for civilians likely traumatized by the incident. Meanwhile, the National Security Office—』

『Citizens who heard the news are in shock. (Gangnam Station) When I first saw it on social media, I thought it was fake news or something. I mean, Prince Yi Hwang and his consort were scheduled to attend, along with foreign dignitaries—how could something like this happen…? Even now, I can’t wrap my head around how it could take place inside a university…』
『(Pyongyang Station Waiting Room) Ah, it was just so heartbreaking! I still vividly remember him toddling around Pyongyang with his grandpa and dad when he was just a baby! For folks my age, Seo Baekhan’s like a son or grandson! But now he’s been stabbed—I was stunned, and I just started crying…』
Tired of the endless flood of praise for Assemblyman Seo and sympathy for Baekhan, Choi Yeonjun flipped through TV channels, then gagged theatrically.

“Ugh, if only they knew what he’s really like.”
Even so, just remembering the moment he’d heard the news gave Yeonjun the chills. He shook his head hard.
“Hey. You’re really okay, right? Look at this again. Can you even read it?”

“They said it wasn’t a major surgery. Just stitched it up. What’s there to be ‘okay’ or not about?”
“Jesus, listen to this guy. Talking like he got double eyelid surgery or something. You were bleeding like hell!”
He then threw in some nonsense about how Baekhan must’ve had the surgery without anesthesia like Zhuge Liang or something. “I’m knocked out for an hour from a simple colonoscopy, and this bastard’s acting like nothing happened?”

Seo Baekhan thought about correcting him—he meant Guan Yu with the poisoned arrow, not Zhuge Liang—but couldn’t be bothered. The fact that Yeonjun even remembered a name from Romance of the Three Kingdoms was surprising enough.
Tsk. The fact that he found it annoying to argue meant he really wasn’t back to normal yet.
“Still, that assemblyman is something else. His kid gets stabbed and he doesn’t even visit?”

Looking around the empty hospital room, Choi Yeonjun pouted, clearly bothered. He seemed more upset than Baekhan that none of the man’s family had shown up—not even the father.
“They’re probably all busy. No one died, the surgery went fine—no reason to rush over.”
Right. The surgery had gone as perfectly as one could hope.

An abdominal stab wound was no joke. But according to Dr. Han, Baekhan’s attending physician, “It sounds strange to say, but the knife went in really cleanly.”
“As you’ll see on the CT, the blade didn’t plunge in horizontally—it was more like it made a shallow vertical cut. That’s how it looks.”
Because the knife hadn’t twisted or stabbed wildly inside, there was no perforation or organ damage. A visible scar would remain, but all things considered, it was incredibly lucky.
“To be honest, I rushed over expecting the worst, but when I didn’t see the knife still lodged in the wound… I mentally braced myself. You know as well as I do, Director—when the blade’s still in, it’s easier to manage. Pulling it out the wrong way can damage internal organs and cause uncontrollable bleeding.”

Dr. Han had clearly just meant to explain how lucky he’d been. But instead, it left Seo Baekhan feeling utterly disgusted.
This wasn’t just luck. It felt like exactly what a professional stabber intended to happen.
Maybe he wasn’t the intended target after all. Maybe it was Joo Taehyun. Maybe the stab had gone exactly where they wanted.

He’d known there were dumbasses out there who threw around words like “patriotism” and “conservatism” while doing completely unhinged shit.
Looking back, the attackers had seemed like pathetic clout-chasers, the kind desperate for social media views. Maybe that’s why security had let their guard down.
Of course, it was the kind of thing that should never happen—but public institutions always ran more sloppily than they looked from the outside.

Still, since it didn’t seem like a real terrorist act, he’d figured the inside collaborators would be easy to identify. But the more he recalled Dr. Han’s explanation, the more things didn’t add up.
Could a bunch of amateurs really leave behind a wound this precise? Those guys had been shaking too much to even speak. And yet they were calm—composed even—when it came time to stab someone?
Flip it around. If he were the attacker, he’d have lost his mind. He would’ve stabbed wildly in panic, not controlled himself like that.

To cause no death, but just enough visual shock.
What the hell was this stunt really for?
Who was behind it?

Was it really just hatred for trait-bearers? A protest against related legislation? Or… something else?
“Man, hospital rooms are really nice these days.”
Choi Yeonjun, trying to lighten the mood after sensing Baekhan’s heavy thoughts, suddenly raised his voice.

“This place looks like a hotel! Even got a smart TV? Damn, it’s huge.”
『I’m telling you, Joo Taehyun has a shady aura. That creepy face—ever hear that saying, “born to devour your husband”? That’s the exact vibe he gives off.』
Poking at the screen like he was playing a mobile game, Choi Yeonjun accidentally hit play on a raw short-form video, then jumped in surprise.

“What the hell is this?!”
『So he gets stabbed instead of his husband, and what does Taehyun do? Doesn’t even check on him. Just schmoozes with reporters. Word is, DH Group’s planning to launch Joo Taehyun into the National Assembly using Seo Baekhan as a stepping stone—』
“Hold on! I’m turning it off! Damn it… why won’t this thing shut off…”

Choi Yeonjun started smacking the TV in a panic, so Seo Baekhan calmly pressed the power button on the remote. Only then did the room fall quiet again.
“...Sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s them who owe Taehyun an apology.”

“Yeah, uh… Right. Taehyun—he’s in the next room, right? Should I go check on him for you?”
“It’s fine. I told him to let me know as soon as he wakes up.”
“Come to think of it, did Taehyun’s family come up from Seoul? I mean, they’d have to, right? Bet his house is in chaos.”

“Mm. Too much attention right now. They’ll probably come tomorrow evening.”
Joo Taehyun had been admitted to Pyongyang University Hospital too. Right after Baekhan went into surgery, apparently.
He hadn’t been in good shape even before the incident, so now—he might actually be in worse condition than Baekhan himself.

“Director!”
Just then, the door burst open with a knock.
“What—what is it?!”

Seeing the urgent look on Dr. Han’s face, Choi Yeonjun leapt up in a panic.
“Something went wrong, didn’t it? Don’t tell me you left something inside Baekhan’s abdomen—like in those nightmare news stories! Or is it Taehyun—”
“Choi Yeonjun. Out.”

“…What?”
“You’re making my head throb with your yapping. Get out.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. You {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} want me to leave you and Taehyun alone in the hospital room while I just skip off home?!”

“...Then at least go wait in the lounge. Seriously, my head hurts.”
“Tch.” Choi Yeonjun shoved his hands in his pockets and grumbled his way out. Something like no good deed goes unpunished, probably—but Baekhan ignored him completely and turned back to Dr. Han.
“So? What is it? What’s got you barging in this late looking panicked—”

“You… you need to see this.”
Dr. Han adjusted his glasses with a shaking hand and handed over a printed document. The paper’s edges were wrinkled and warped, as if soaked in sweat.
“I’m going to destroy this file after you’ve seen it. I figured you’d want that.”

“What is it…? Isn’t this a blood panel?”
Seo Baekhan skimmed the familiar terminology and graphs. Two pages—pre-op and post-op results. But contrary to the doctor’s alarm, nothing stood out.
No major outliers pre-surgery. Post-op results were practically normal. This was…

Wait.
“…Dr. Han.”
His eyes, which had been scanning the page with indifference, stopped and fixed on one line. Seo Baekhan didn’t even blink as he processed the meaning—then let out a quiet, incredulous laugh.

“This must be a mistake.”
He’d always believed that denying facts just because they didn’t feel right was pathetic. But this? This wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was impossible.
Because—

“This imprint value isn’t supposed to show up like this.”
At the very bottom of the section listing all trait-related markers, the imprint cell reaction was off the charts.
There was only one circumstance under which results this explosive could appear.

“When the hell did I imprint with someone?”
…Imprinting with another trait-bearer.