DMG Chapter 5 (Part 2)

Surely it was an empty threat, but there was no way Kang I-won was going to risk injuring the Guide.

Letting out a small sigh, he couldn’t understand why he had to deal with such unnecessary hassle. If he could just stick his hand in and yank them out, it would all be over in a flash.

Maybe it’s because he’s not used to the field yet. Kang I-won figured that once Heo Do-gyeong became more accustomed to the field—and to him—he’d come to take these things in stride, just like everyone else.

Until then, all Kang I-won could do was wait. He hoped Heo Do-gyeong would adapt quickly, and he prayed the process wouldn’t take long. Better yet, he wouldn’t mind if Heo Do-gyeong got transferred back to Seoul before that happened.

After leisurely dealing with the four turtle monsters, the patrol was completed without any further monster sightings. The same was true for the other team members. By the time they finished, it was lunchtime.

As Kang I-won returned to the center and headed alone to the cafeteria, someone stopped him—it was Hyun Ho-jun.

“Sunbae I-won, would you like to grab lunch together? I’m heading to that soft tofu stew place up ahead.”

“No, I’m heading to the cafeteria. Enjoy your meal,” Kang I-won replied quickly, rejecting the offer and walking ahead. However, Hyun Ho-jun matched his pace, walking beside him.

“Isn’t the cafeteria food bad?”

“It’s edible.”

“Really? Then I’ll join you.”

“What?”

At the unexpected response, Kang I-won stopped walking and turned to face him. Hyun Ho-jun walked ahead a bit before speaking over his shoulder.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to the cafeteria.”

Reluctantly, Kang I-won resumed walking, this time with Hyun Ho-jun in tow. He couldn’t understand why Hyun Ho-jun would choose the cafeteria over the soft tofu stew he had planned to eat.

“Why not just eat what you were going to eat?”

“Because I want to eat with you, Sunbae. I want to get closer to you.”

The overly cheerful smile and the blatant attempt to cozy up to him felt suffocating.

“…Why?”

“Why not? I told you, I want to get to know you better. Do I need a reason to want to be closer to you?”

I have no intention of getting closer.

Kang I-won grumbled internally but forced himself to voice his refusal.

“I’m more comfortable eating alone.”

“Oh, come on, we haven’t even had one meal together since I joined.”

Hyun Ho-jun’s persistence left Kang I-won at a loss for words.

When new members joined the team, it was customary to hold a team dinner, but recently, the constant calls during the evenings had caused the plans to be postponed repeatedly.

Faced with Hyun Ho-jun’s persistent attempts to connect, Kang I-won couldn’t bring himself to reject him outright. He suppressed a sigh and nodded reluctantly.

“…Fine, let’s eat together.”

With that, the two headed to the cafeteria. Kang I-won focused on piling food onto his tray and, once seated, shoveled it into his mouth in silence. In contrast, Hyun Ho-jun barely paused his chatter.

“I’ve been assigned here for about a year now, and I saw you from a distance back then. At first, I thought I was mistaken, but then I saw you again. That’s when I realized you worked here. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to talk to you, but for some reason, our schedules never aligned. When your team worked mornings, we’d be on afternoons, and it just kept happening like that.”

His tone carried a hint of frustration, as if lamenting his past missed opportunities.

Kang I-won paused his meal and looked at Hyun Ho-jun. No matter how hard he searched his memory, he couldn’t recall meeting him before. He began to wonder if Hyun Ho-jun was mistaken.

After a moment of consideration, Kang I-won asked, “When did we meet? Not the snake, before that.”

“It’d be great if you remembered it yourself, but… honestly, I figured you wouldn’t. It’s just something Espers experience all the time, nothing special.”

Something Espers experience all the time? Kang I-won tilted his head slightly in confusion, prompting Hyun Ho-jun to start his story.

“It was five years ago. Back when I was still living in Gyeongju.”

Five years ago. That matched the time when Kang I-won had been stationed at the Gyeongju branch. He nodded and listened as Hyun Ho-jun recounted his memory.

Back then, Hyun Ho-jun had lived in a small neighborhood in Gyeongju, helping his mother run a restaurant. One day, a monster appeared in their area.

The monster partially destroyed his mother’s restaurant, forcing them to flee in desperation. While they were running, another monster ambushed them. In that moment, when he thought he was surely going to die, Kang I-won appeared.

Hyun Ho-jun vividly remembered how Kang I-won had risked his life, sacrificing parts of his own body, to save him. That image had been seared into his mind ever since.

That was all there was to it.

Rescuing civilians while dealing with monsters was an everyday occurrence for Espers. It was so routine that it was impossible to remember every instance. For Kang I-won, saving Hyun Ho-jun had been nothing special—a mundane, unremarkable moment lost somewhere in the corners of his memory.

But Hyun Ho-jun continued.

“I’m an Esper too, so I understand. For you, it was such a common occurrence that you wouldn’t remember it. But for me, it wasn’t just another day—it was a once-in-a-lifetime moment.”

His eyes shone with emotion.

“Since that day, I’ve wanted to see you again. I wanted to thank you properly for saving my life back then.”

With that, Hyun Ho-jun bowed his head deeply.

“Thank you so much for saving me that day.”

Receiving gratitude for something he didn’t even remember made Kang I-won feel awkward and burdened.

“I wasn’t looking for thanks or anything,” he replied.

“I know. But I still wanted to say it.”

With his limited social skills and narrow circle of acquaintances, Kang I-won had no idea how to handle a situation like this. After a moment of hesitation, he carefully asked,

“…Um, what happened to the restaurant?”

“We got some compensation from the government, took out a loan, and repaired it. My mom’s still running it there to this day.”

Hearing this, Kang I-won nodded slightly, relieved that things had worked out for Hyun Ho-jun and his family.

* * *

Beep-beep-beep— The alert tone of the device sounded, accompanied by a flashing blue light. Just as Kang I-won was about to take his first bite, his hand paused mid-air.

Most Espers would abandon their meals and rush out immediately in such situations. The longer they delayed, the greater the damage would be. Kang I-won was no exception.

Stuffing a chocolate bar from his pocket into his mouth, he hurried to the underground parking lot. By the time he arrived, the rest of his team was already there. The vehicle driven by Han Kang-jin roared out of the center, swift and aggressive.

The monster’s location was at the farthest edge of Team 5’s designated area, making the journey inconveniently long. Fortunately, the roads were clear due to the odd timing, allowing the team to speed toward the site.

“Finally, you’re here!”

When they arrived on the scene, the lone Esper holding off the monster greeted Team 5 with obvious relief.

Luckily, the damage was minimal. The situation had been contained thanks to a nearby Esper with the ability to create transparent walls, which prevented the monster from moving freely.

The monster they encountered resembled a porcupine, except the quills on its back were not actual spines but thin snakes. Its grotesque form, with writhing snakes tightly packed and squirming on its back, made Kim Young-ho gag slightly, letting out a faint “Ugh.”

The monster crouched low, trembling violently. With a strange noise—“Koop!”—the snakes on its back shot out like spikes. Some were stopped by the transparent barrier, but others pierced trees, utility poles, and nearby buildings.

The snake-like spines, now lodged into various surfaces, suddenly lost their rigid form. Slithering free, they darted toward fleeing civilians, causing terrified screams to echo across the area.

Watching the scene unfold, Han Kang-jin asked succinctly,
“Can you burn through that thickness quickly?”

“Yes, I think so,” Hyun Ho-jun replied with a confident nod.

“Then let’s take it out immediately. It’s best to end this quickly, especially with someone suited for the job. Young-ho, handle the snakes on the ground.”

“Yes, sir!”

Kim Young-ho responded, gripping his weapon tightly and bracing himself for action.

There were no specific instructions directed at Kang I-won, but he readied himself and moved forward. However, a hand caught the edge of his jacket, stopping him.

Turning his head, he saw Heo Do-gyeong with a sullen expression.
“Where are you going? You’re supposed to protect me.”

“I need to deal with the monster…”

“And leave me alone with all these snakes crawling around?”

Heo Do-gyeong wasn’t wrong. Kang I-won hesitated briefly, glancing at Han Kang-jin. The team leader, watching them out of the corner of his eye, gave a small nod, silently approving the directive to stay and protect the Guide.

Kang I-won frowned as he reluctantly stood by Heo Do-gyeong’s side. The idea of standing there, actively guarding someone, felt entirely unnatural—like wearing an ill-fitting suit. His palms grew damp with nervous sweat as he adjusted to the unfamiliar role.

Watching flames surge like a tidal wave to engulf the snakes, Kang I-won muttered,
“You should still ask for someone else to guard you. It doesn’t have to be me.”

“I’ve already told you—I refuse.”

Heo Do-gyeong’s firm tone left no room for argument. Kang I-won’s frown deepened.

“As I said before, I’m not good at protecting others. Honestly, I’m just trying to survive myself. To be frank, I don’t trust myself to protect you.”

“Why are you so sure you’ll fail without even trying?”

Kang I-won didn’t need to try—he already knew. Over the past decade as an Esper, he’d tried to protect countless things. Yet, the things he truly wanted to safeguard always slipped away. Like sand through his fingers, they crumbled despite his efforts.

He understood what it meant to fail at protecting something, which was why he could speak with certainty.

But Heo Do-gyeong, oblivious to these truths, stood his ground. He showed no intention of reconsidering. Almost unconsciously, Kang I-won muttered,
“I’ve already failed—”

Before he could finish, a snake-like spike, one that hadn’t been intercepted, shot straight toward Heo Do-gyeong. Without thinking, Kang I-won’s arm extended instinctively.

Thwack! The sensation of something sharp tearing through his flesh was followed by a surge of searing pain in his forearm.

The snake lodged in Kang I-won’s forearm writhed, making its presence known. Every ripple of its movement sent sharp, stinging pain through his arm. Heo Do-gyeong’s face twisted in horror as he watched the snake’s head squirm threateningly right in front of him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I just protected you, Guide Heo. Lucky, wasn’t it?”

Kang I-won grabbed the snake’s head, yanked it out roughly, and discarded it. Half of the snake, drenched in blood, glistened crimson. His forearm, pierced clean through, trembled slightly as blood trickled down.

As Kang I-won spoke nonchalantly, more focused on removing the snake than the situation, Heo Do-gyeong’s voice rose, tinged with incredulity and a slight tremor.

“Instead of stretching your arm out, you could’ve pushed me out of the way or pulled me back! Who sticks their arm out like that?!”

“Oh.”

A faint, almost indifferent sound of acknowledgment escaped Kang I-won as if he hadn’t considered that option. He plunged a blade into the snake’s head, ending its movements.

“Well, I still protected you, didn’t I? But since there might be other dangers I can’t stop, I still think—”

“Stop!”

Cutting him off mid-sentence, Heo Do-gyeong’s voice shook with frustration.

“When I said to protect me, I didn’t mean you should throw your body at every threat!”

Kang I-won tilted his head slightly, confused by the outburst. If throwing himself into danger ensured Heo Do-gyeong’s safety, wasn’t that a good deal?

“I don’t get it. If you’re safe, isn’t it worth it, even if I have to sacrifice myself?”

Heo Do-gyeong’s expression froze for a moment before he took a deep breath, clearly struggling to process the statement.

Even now, Kang I-won’s pierced forearm was regenerating, but if that snake had hit Heo Do-gyeong’s shoulder instead, the situation would have spiraled out of control.

Heo Do-gyeong had told him to protect him, and this was the only way Kang I-won knew how to protect someone.

But he also understood Heo Do-gyeong’s point. The snake had stopped halfway through his forearm, but if it had pierced all the way through and reached Heo Do-gyeong, the mere thought was exhausting enough to make Kang I-won abandon the scenario altogether.

“If something like this happens again… just push or pull me out of the way next time. That’s all you need to do.”

“Alright, I’ll do that,” Kang I-won replied, nodding without resistance.

The ease of his agreement made Heo Do-gyeong narrow his eyes suspiciously at him, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he stared at Kang I-won’s arm, watching as the regeneration completed. Once it was fully healed, Heo Do-gyeong extended his hand.

Kang I-won tilted his head in confusion, prompting Heo Do-gyeong to frown slightly as he spoke.

“Give me your hand. I’ll guide you.”

The idea was bizarre. Someone who normally avoided guiding at all costs was suddenly offering it? Kang I-won hesitated, then shook his head.

“…I don’t need it right now.”

“You look like you need it. Just give me your hand.”

Without waiting for permission, Heo Do-gyeong roughly grabbed Kang I-won’s hand. The thin material of his glove felt strange against his skin, and Kang I-won found himself unsettled by how awkward he felt about it.

The bland, almost watery sensation of the guiding gradually soothed the turbulent waves of Kang I-won’s energy. It felt no different from the usual guiding he received, but for some inexplicable reason, his toes twitched slightly.

It left him quietly perplexed.

* * *

As the season of blooming cherry blossoms arrived, two months had passed since Heo Do-gyeong began working in the field as a Field Guide.

“Kang I-won, you must lack learning ability,” Heo Do-gyeong said sharply.

Over those two months, Heo Do-gyeong had consistently found ways to criticize him.

“What’s the point of telling you anything? You just ignore me and end up with holes in your body every time.”

In truth, his words came from concern. But his tone was so biting that it always sounded like a quarrel.

Kang I-won, rubbing his ankle casually, replied in a flat voice, “Just mind your own business.”

“How can I mind my own business when you look like that?”

“Just don’t pay attention, that’s how.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Kang I-won dismissed him. But another voice chimed in from behind, backing him up.

“Exactly. Sunbae has his own way of doing things. You should respect that. Not respecting it is no different from disregarding Sunbae himself.”

It was Hyun Ho-jun, inserting himself into the conversation.

Heo Do-gyeong frowned openly at the interruption, rebutting quickly.

“I’m not disregarding him; I’m pointing out what needs to be corrected. If his methods are flawed, I’ll point it out so he can fix them.”

“Calling his methods flawed sounds like a personal opinion to me,” Hyun Ho-jun countered smoothly.

“It’s a perfectly logical judgment. He keeps injuring himself unnecessarily, even when there’s no need to, and you call that a proper way to work?”

Watching the exchange, Han Kang-jin and Kim Young-ho exchanged weary glances.

“Ugh, they’re at it again. Don’t they ever get tired of this?” Han Kang-jin muttered.

“Right? At least it gives you a break from nagging, Team Leader,” Kim Young-ho replied with a grin.

“Exactly,” Han Kang-jin muttered, resigned.

Recently, Team 5’s arguments had become so frequent that they followed a predictable pattern.

Kang I-won would push himself to the brink while defeating monsters, prompting Heo Do-gyeong to criticize him for it. Hyun Ho-jun would then jump in to defend Kang I-won, and what started as an argument between two people would inevitably turn into a full-blown spat between Heo Do-gyeong and Hyun Ho-jun.

At first, Kang I-won had tried awkwardly to intervene when Hyun Ho-jun joined in. But now, tired of the constant bickering, he’d quietly slip away whenever the two began their verbal sparring. It was pointless to mediate—they never listened.

Instead, he would leave them to their squabble and start cleaning up the monster’s corpse. Eventually, Heo Do-gyeong and Hyun Ho-jun, looking sheepish, would stop arguing and come over to help.

Cleaning up monster corpses wasn’t something a Guide was required to do, but Heo Do-gyeong never excused himself from the task.

Of course, he had his rituals. Before touching the corpse, he would take a deep breath, put on a mask he’d brought along, and swap his gloves for thicker ones. Then, after another deep breath, he would start helping with the cleanup.

His frown, visible above his mask, always spoke volumes about his discomfort.

Once the task was done, he would discard the gloves that had come into contact with the monster and replace them with a fresh pair. But there was no solution for his clothes, stained with blood and fluids. Until they returned to the center, his displeasure was written all over his face. Despite this, he never shirked his duties.

Heo Do-gyeong’s behavior was a contradiction. He appeared aloof and critical, yet diligent and courteous in his own way. The complexity of his personality made it difficult to form a definitive opinion of him, but in the end, Kang I-won couldn’t bring himself to dislike him.

After all, even Heo Do-gyeong’s harsh words were rooted in concern. How could he hate someone who worried about him?

That didn’t make the constant nagging any less of a nuisance. Even the well-meaning concern of his only friend, Choi Soo-bin, often felt like a burden to Kang I-won.

Stretching his back after finishing the cleanup, Kang I-won stood up. His recently healed ankle ached slightly, but he ignored it, unwilling to invite another round of scolding. Instead, he simply stretched and moved on.

“Guide Heo, could I trouble you for some guiding…?” Kim Young-ho asked hesitantly.

“It’s not urgent. Just wait until we’re back at the center,” Heo Do-gyeong replied curtly.

Kim Young-ho, clearly deflated by the blunt response, started trudging ahead.

“Then why does Sunbae… No, never mind. I’ll wait until we’re back…”

As Kim Young-ho walked off, Kang I-won glanced at Heo Do-gyeong, his eyes lingering for a moment.

With Choi Soo-bin gone, Kang I-won thought he’d have fewer people nagging him. But now someone had come along to fill that void. Worse, there was even someone stoking the fire, adding to his frustration.

I wish they’d all just leave me alone, Kang I-won sighed quietly, tired of the unwanted attention.

After wrapping up the cleanup, the team returned to the center. After a shower and a satisfying meal, Kang I-won walked leisurely toward the guiding room, thinking of Heo Do-gyeong.

From the beginning, Heo Do-gyeong had misunderstood him, only to resolve his misunderstanding entirely on his own. His apology had been just as straightforward—direct and clean: “I apologize for the misunderstanding.” It hadn’t bothered Kang I-won much.

If only things had ended there and Heo Do-gyeong had returned to Seoul. But instead, he began poking at parts of Kang I-won he didn’t want exposed, passing judgments on him again. And now, he even worried about him—sometimes more than Choi Soo-bin ever did.

If that concern were purely annoying, it would be easier to deal with.

The problem was that the concern wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

And for Kang I-won, that was a dangerous thing.

Most Espers inevitably grew dependent on their Guides. Guiding was essential for an Esper’s survival—it was something they couldn’t avoid.

But Kang I-won didn’t want to rely on a Guide. It was a ridiculous thought for an Esper, but it was how he felt. He wanted to avoid dependence.

Yet, if someone like Heo Do-gyeong kept acting that way, Kang I-won feared he might be drawn in despite himself. He tried to steel his resolve, but the cracks in his determination were widening.

He didn’t want Heo Do-gyeong to occupy even the smallest corner of his heart.

Kang I-won placed a hand on his chest. For now, it’s still fine.

Pausing in front of the guiding room, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. Then, knocking on the door, he stepped inside.

Inside, Heo Do-gyeong was no longer wearing his field gear but had changed into casual clothes. With a knit sweater over a shirt, he exuded a relaxed air, more suited to a university campus than a Guide center. He looked like someone who’d be quite popular—likely more than just “quite.”

Did he even go to college? For a moment, the thought crossed Kang I-won’s mind. If he’d been an ordinary person, he’d still be college-aged. But Kang I-won dismissed the question. What does it matter? It’s not like I need to know anything about him.

Kang I-won sat across from Heo Do-gyeong. The relaxed atmosphere instantly shifted, and Heo Do-gyeong greeted him in a slightly sharp tone.

“You’re a little late.”

“I stopped for a meal first.”

Heo Do-gyeong extended his bare hand. Since that day they had shared a meal, when Heo Do-gyeong had clasped his bloodied hand, he had occasionally guided with bare hands—though only for Kang I-won. With others, he still wore gloves.

Kang I-won took the hand, now slightly rougher than when he’d first held it. Heo Do-gyeong’s energy gently enveloped Kang I-won’s turbulent waves, calming them gradually. Yet, Kang I-won’s heart remained restless. He couldn’t understand why Heo Do-gyeong treated him this way.

Why did he worry so much about him? Why did he guide him barehanded when he wouldn’t do the same for others? And why had he volunteered to guide in the field, something he had once openly despised? These small but unmistakable acts of favoritism made Kang I-won press his lips together tightly.

This kind of treatment wasn’t good. He didn’t want it. Trying to steady his unsettled thoughts, Kang I-won asked,

“…When are you going back to Seoul, Guide Heo?”

“Why are you asking all of a sudden?”

“Just curious.”

Heo Do-gyeong frowned, ignoring the question. His reaction made Kang I-won more certain that, sooner or later, Heo Do-gyeong would leave for Seoul.

That thought brought Kang I-won a small sense of relief.

“Your waves are more unstable than I expected. Why didn’t you come yesterday?”

As Heo Do-gyeong shifted the subject, Kang I-won responded as he usually did.

“There was an emergency yesterday afternoon. I was handling that.”

“You wouldn’t have come even if there wasn’t.”

Then why ask? Kang I-won gave him a sullen look, but Heo Do-gyeong continued without looking at him.

“Still, when it gets to this point, you should come.”

“I thought I was fine.”

“You weren’t.”

Their conversation, though routine and devoid of raised voices, carried its usual rhythm. The exchange was surprisingly ordinary, even amid their differences.