LONG CHAPTER AHEAD

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#9

It was Kang I-won’s first time visiting the director’s office. Feeling awkward, he fidgeted with the paper cup in his hands.

“Relax, relax. I’m not a difficult person, am I? What would you like to drink? Water? Coffee?”

“Water, please.”

The director filled a paper cup with cold water and placed it in front of Kang I-won before sitting across from him.

“Now that I think about it, this is the first time I’m meeting you face-to-face. I’ve heard a lot about you, though. How long has it been since you joined our branch… about a year?”

“It’s been nearly three years.”

“Really? My, my, so many Espers come and go that I can’t keep track.”

Speaking in a deliberately light tone, the director picked up a document from the desk in front of him. It was the result of Kang I-won’s wavelength test.

“Well then, let’s take a look and talk about it.”

“Yes.”

While the director scanned the report, Kang I-won sipped his cold water. Though the cup was empty after just a few sips, he continued pretending to drink, keeping his eyes on the director.

After a long moment of examining the report without much visible reaction, the director let out a deep sigh and placed the papers back on the desk.

“Your ability is disappearing.”

“Yes.”

“What a shame. You’ve had such good results as an Esper, and now this… Tsk. As director, I’ve seen this happen a few times, but I still never know what to say to offer comfort.”

With nothing to say, Kang I-won found himself absently fiddling with the empty paper cup. The director continued.

“So, what do you want to do, Kang I-won?”

Espers whose abilities fade are given two options: stay in the field as long as they’re able or leave the field entirely.

Kang I-won briefly hesitated.

Remaining in the field with a gradually disappearing ability didn’t feel sustainable. Though he was still managing for now, if his regeneration time extended any further, he would undoubtedly become a burden. It seemed better for both his team and himself to leave before that happened.

But he wanted to stay in the field just a little longer.

There was no other reason—only Heo Do-gyeong. He couldn’t stop thinking about him. If he left the field, he would lose any chance of seeing Heo Do-gyeong again. That thought made it difficult to let go.

“For now… I’d like to stay in the field a little longer.”

And so, despite his hesitation, Kang I-won chose to remain in the field.

Kang I-won’s exceptional regeneration ability was strong enough to rank as S-class when judged solely on pure power. Even now, as his ability faded, he wasn’t completely falling behind. Typically, an A-class Esper with regenerative powers could heal injuries within ten minutes. For now, Kang I-won’s recovery time was still roughly comparable.

So, for now, it was manageable. If his regeneration time grew even longer, he could immediately step down from the field. That wouldn’t cause too much trouble for anyone.

Hearing Kang I-won’s decision, the director nodded in satisfaction.

“That must’ve been a tough decision, but you made the right call. You’re still capable, so there’s no point in resting prematurely. Still, you know to request a meeting right away if anything worsens, right? And you’ll need to do a wavelength test once a month, no exceptions. Let’s monitor things for at least six months.”

“Yes, understood.”

“Good. Anything else you’d like to discuss? If not, you can head out.”

“No, nothing else. I’ll be going now.”

The brief meeting concluded. Afterward, Kang I-won informed his team about the loss of his ability.

Hyun Ho-jun expressed genuine sadness, while Kim Young-ho appeared shocked but cautiously asked if Kang I-won was alright.

Heo Do-gyeong, however, stood a few steps behind, silent and motionless.

Kang I-won found himself distracted by Heo Do-gyeong, stealing glances at him repeatedly. But Heo Do-gyeong ignored him completely, pretending not to notice.

Amid this peculiar tension, Team 5 received a call and headed to the field. Even during the operation, Heo Do-gyeong’s silence weighed heavily on Kang I-won’s mind.

Perhaps because of this distraction, Kang I-won failed to dodge an attack he would have normally avoided. The blow grazed his thigh. Though it wasn’t a deep wound, the area it covered was extensive, and blood ran down his leg.

Normally, he would have tried to hide the injury, but now that his ability loss was public knowledge, there was no need to conceal it. Instead, he focused on the monster in front of him. Thankfully, he sustained no further injuries before taking it down.

While they handled the monster’s remains, Han Kang-jin glanced at Kang I-won’s thigh, now only just healed, and asked, “You alright?”

Kang I-won nodded. Kim Young-ho, frowning beside him, commented, “Wow, your regeneration really has slowed. But seriously, is it okay for you to keep staying in the field with that?”

Before Kang I-won could reply, it was Heo Do-gyeong who answered, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“Leave him be. If he says he’s fine, he must be. Whether he ends up with a hole in his chest or loses his head, it’s always ‘I’m fine’ with him, isn’t it? He’ll manage somehow.”

Everyone turned to look at Heo Do-gyeong, except Kang I-won. Heo Do-gyeong frowned.

“Why are you all staring at me like that?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Han Kang-jin replied quickly, waving his hands to diffuse the tension. Glancing between Heo Do-gyeong and Kang I-won, he sidled up to Kang I-won and whispered, “Did you two fight?”

Kang I-won shook his head. Strictly speaking, they hadn’t fought—it was entirely his fault.

Han Kang-jin looked puzzled. “Then why’s Heo Do-gyeong acting like that all of a sudden? He’s usually so over-the-top when it comes to you.”

“…I don’t know.”

In truth, Kang I-won wasn’t entirely sure why Heo Do-gyeong was so upset.

Was it because he hadn’t mentioned the loss of his ability? Or because he had tried to end his own life? Kang I-won couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason. But he knew one thing for certain: whatever the cause, it was his actions that had angered Heo Do-gyeong.

And so, he found himself constantly gauging Heo Do-gyeong’s mood, unable to stop himself.

“The fact that you, the person involved, don’t know what’s going on—does that even make sense? I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but try to work it out. If it’s your fault, don’t let your pride get in the way and just apologize. It’s not like Heo Do-gyeong would act like this for no reason.”

“…Yes.”

Han Kang-jin gave Kang I-won’s shoulder a couple of pats before walking away.

Kang I-won, too, wanted to make things right with Heo Do-gyeong—whether it was before Heo left or before he himself did.

But he didn’t know how. He didn’t even know what he should do, let alone how to start. He didn’t fully understand why Heo Do-gyeong was acting this way. And even if he found out the reason, he doubted it would make any difference—he simply didn’t know how to handle it.

Kang I-won’s relationships were extremely limited. He pushed away those who approached him and never made an effort to reach out to others.

The fact that, after nearly ten years of working as an Esper, the only person he could call even somewhat close was Choi Soo-bin said it all.

Kang I-won, clumsy when it came to relationships, had no idea what to do or how to begin. His thoughts felt unbearably tangled.

The truth was, Kang I-won could simply ignore how Heo Do-gyeong was acting.

He had his own desires, his own goals. Once those were fulfilled, nothing else would matter. Even the Heo Do-gyeong who now occupied such a significant part of his mind would become irrelevant.

After all, there would be nothing left after that. What reason did he have to care?

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The mere presence of Heo Do-gyeong gnawed relentlessly at his nerves, making it impossible to ignore.

Kang I-won turned his head to look at Heo Do-gyeong. Despite being aware of his gaze, Heo Do-gyeong didn’t so much as glance back.

That indifferent attitude made Kang I-won feel an ache he didn’t deserve to feel. His head dropped of its own accord, as if weighed down by unearned sorrow.

* * *

A few days ago, early in the morning, a hiker exploring a hidden trail, known only to locals and not part of the official routes, stumbled upon a Gate. Startled, the hiker hurried down the mountain and reported it immediately.

Upon receiving the report, Espers climbed the steep path to confirm the Gate’s existence. Since it wasn’t accessible via a marked trail, the hiker led the Espers to the Gate.

After walking for some time, they reached a spot near the peak where the end was just barely visible. Hidden among the dense foliage of the forest was the Gate.

Upon inspection, the Gate was determined to be an A-rank dungeon-type. Its exact creation time was unknown, prompting the quick assembly of a team for the raid.

Over 60 Espers, all C-rank and above, gathered. They climbed the steep mountain and entered the Gate to begin their raid.

Ten days passed. The first raid team showed no signs of returning, so a second team was formed.

However, due to a lack of personnel, the branch sent out formal requests for reinforcements to neighboring branches. This request eventually reached the Gyeonggi South Branch 3, where Kang I-won and his team were stationed.

Han Kang-jin relayed the details of the request.

“…So, they say it’s a pressing situation because we don’t know when the waveification might start. Since it’s not far, we should go. Anyone have a problem with that?”

Hyun Ho-jun and Kim Young-ho exchanged a quick glance toward Kang I-won. Ever since learning about the deterioration of Kang I-won’s ability, the two had developed a habit of doing this.

Kang I-won found their gaze uncomfortable.

Although his regeneration had slowed compared to before, it was still comparable to that of other high-ranking regenerative Espers. The issue was that Hyun Ho-jun and Kim Young-ho, knowing how fast his recovery used to be, now treated him as though he were no longer an Esper at all.

If only they’d act normal, Kang I-won thought with a small sigh, ignoring their looks as he replied, “I’m fine with it.”

“Oh, me too,” Hyun Ho-jun quickly added.

“Same here,” Kim Young-ho chimed in.

With Kang I-won taking the lead, the others followed suit.

“Good,” Han Kang-jin said. “We’re pressed for time, so get ready immediately and meet at the main gate. Understood?”

“Yes,” they responded in unison.

Already prepared, Han Kang-jin headed to the main gate first, followed by Hyun Ho-jun and Kim Young-ho.

As Kang I-won was about to leave, he carefully reached out and grabbed Heo Do-gyeong’s wrist. Thankfully, Heo didn’t shake him off but turned to silently look down at him.

Kang I-won asked cautiously, “Are you going too, Heo Do-gyeong?”

“Yes, I am.”

Kang I-won had hoped Heo Do-gyeong would stay safely at the center.

The situation was nerve-wracking, with waveification potentially imminent. The idea of Heo Do-gyeong heading into such a dangerous place filled Kang I-won with an unshakable sense of unease, tightening around his throat like a vice.

After a brief hesitation, Kang I-won spoke carefully.

“Wouldn’t it be better to stay at the center? It’s dangerous, and we don’t know when the waveification might occur.”

“Whether I’m in danger or not, what does it matter to Kang I-won? Just mind your own business.”

Heo Do-gyeong’s cold voice cut through the air like a blade. Despite two weeks having passed since that day, nothing had changed.

Heo Do-gyeong was still icy, and Kang I-won had yet to apologize or explain himself. Time dragged on without resolution. The only small comfort Kang I-won had was the knowledge that Heo Do-gyeong was still stationed in the Gyeonggi South Branch.

However, Kang I-won could never truly feel at ease, knowing that Heo Do-gyeong could leave at any moment if things didn’t go his way. Swallowing a sigh, Kang I-won spoke softly.

“How can I not care? It’s dangerous.”

At his words, Heo Do-gyeong scoffed.

“Coming from Kang I-won, that’s laughable. The person who never listens to anyone’s concerns is now worried about someone else? Maybe worry about yourself first before saying that.”

“It’s different,” Kang I-won replied. “You and I are in different situations. I’m an Esper, and—”

“Yes, Kang I-won, the Esper with nothing but a regeneration ability to rely on. You throw yourself into danger recklessly because of that power. And now, even that power is fading.”

Heo Do-gyeong’s sharp and pointed words left Kang I-won visibly flustered, his mouth opening and closing without sound.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

Heo’s demeanor, sharper and more cutting than even when they first met, left Kang I-won frozen in place. Seeing this, Heo pointed at Kang I-won’s hand, which still held his wrist.

“Do you have anything else to say? If not, let go.”

Instead, Kang I-won’s grip tightened. He needed to say something—anything. But what?

“I… I was wrong.”

Hesitating, Kang I-won finally offered an apology. Heo Do-gyeong’s expression turned incredulous as he asked, “What exactly did you do wrong, Kang I-won?”

“I…” Kang I-won hesitated, recalling Heo Do-gyeong’s earlier words, and slowly repeated them aloud.

“I hid the fact that I’m losing my ability.”

“And?”

“I tried to… to die, in front of you.”

“…”

“And… I never once considered you in any of my decisions.”

Kang I-won finished, his voice trailing off as he anxiously looked at Heo Do-gyeong. The latter let out a quiet sigh and spoke.

“You’re just parroting what I said. It seems to me that Kang I-won doesn’t truly understand why I’m acting this way.”

Kang I-won didn’t. How could he, when he wasn’t Heo Do-gyeong? He had only assumed that the reasons Heo mentioned earlier were the causes of his anger.

“…Isn’t that it?”

“Well, if we go by what I said, you’re not entirely wrong. I was angry because you hid something so important from me. And yes, I was furious that you would even think of doing something like that in front of me, knowing my past.”

Running his hand roughly through his hair, Heo Do-gyeong continued in a bitter tone.

“But what angers me the most is how carelessly you treat your own body, Kang I-won. No matter how much I tell you, you never change. It infuriates me that you don’t even pretend to listen when someone’s genuinely worried about you.”

Heo’s words struck deeply because they were true. Kang I-won had never fully accepted the sincerity of Heo Do-gyeong’s concerns.

Everyone who crossed paths with Kang I-won acted the same way. At first, they were horrified and worried for him. But before long, they became desensitized to his regeneration ability.

As time went on, concern turned to complacency, and no one truly cared anymore. Except for Heo Do-gyeong, who had never stopped worrying—and that was why his anger burned so fiercely now.

Kang I-won’s injuries left no traces once healed, and he made a point of acting as if nothing was wrong. When the blood was washed away, the wounds were invisible, and people gradually became indifferent. They stopped noticing injuries they couldn’t see and grew desensitized to Kang I-won’s pain.

That was how everyone adapted to him.

Kang I-won had assumed Heo Do-gyeong would do the same. He believed it would take time, but eventually, Heo would grow accustomed, just as everyone else had. Because of that assumption, he had never truly accepted Heo’s concerns or the reasons behind his anger.

“Kang I-won, I don’t think you’ll ever change, no matter what I do. And honestly, there’s no need for you to change—it’s all just my selfishness.”

Heo Do-gyeong let out a short sigh.

“So, I’m going to stop caring. Just like you said.”

“…What?”

Kang I-won asked in disbelief, as if he’d misheard. Heo Do-gyeong’s voice turned colder.

“Whether you live or die, I won’t care anymore. I’m tired. Tired of worrying, tired of feeling anxious every time you get hurt. It’s exhausting. So do whatever you want.”

Heo Do-gyeong looked at Kang I-won with a faint smirk, one corner of his mouth lifting bitterly.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t this good for you? The guy who always nitpicks at everything is stepping back. You should be happy.”

“No.” Kang I-won shook his head frantically, grabbing Heo Do-gyeong’s wrist tighter with his other hand, preventing him from pulling away.

“I… I mean…”

Flustered, Kang I-won struggled to string words together.

Seeing his distress, Heo Do-gyeong frowned deeply, sighed, and asked, “What exactly do you want to say?”

Kang I-won didn’t want Heo to stop caring.

He couldn’t hide his confusion and discomfort. This was the first time he’d been so unable to control his emotions. The turmoil spilled out, plainly visible.

Seeing this, Heo Do-gyeong pressed further, “What do you want from me, Kang I-won? Don’t give me some nonsense about just going back to how things were. I’m not that shameless. So what is it? Why are you apologizing to me?”

Kang I-won didn’t know.

He still wanted to die. It was a wish he had carried for nearly a decade. Now that it was within reach, how could he let it go?

Did he want to bond with Heo Do-gyeong? He wasn’t sure. He had never seriously considered bonding with anyone.

Did he want a different kind of relationship with Heo Do-gyeong? He didn’t know that either. He couldn’t even imagine what that relationship might look like.

For anything to improve between them, Kang I-won would first have to let go of his decade-long wish.

Was Heo Do-gyeong’s presence significant enough to make him abandon that wish? No.

They hadn’t even known each other for a year, and the early months had been far from pleasant. Hadn’t Heo openly disliked him at the beginning?

Even now, though things had improved, the feelings he had for Heo couldn’t compare to the strength of his long-held desire.

So no, Kang I-won couldn’t give up his wish for Heo Do-gyeong.

With such half-hearted feelings, he couldn’t build any kind of relationship with Heo. Hoping for things to go back to how they were before would be selfish beyond measure.

Unable to answer Heo’s question, Kang I-won’s grip on his wrist slackened.

Heo Do-gyeong looked down at Kang I-won, whose head was bowed, for a moment.

Then, with a gaze devoid of lingering attachment, Heo turned and walked away without hesitation.

* * *

Nearly fifty Espers and Guides began their ascent up the steep mountain. The day was still hot, and climbing the rugged trail during the peak of the afternoon’s heat drained even the most physically capable Espers. Groans of exhaustion echoed from all around. The Guides, whose physical abilities were no different from ordinary people, had already fallen far behind.

“Man… I’m going to burn out before we even get to fight the monsters,” grumbled Kim Young-ho from behind.

Kang I-won wiped the sweat trailing from his forehead to his chin, trying his best not to glance back at Heo Do-gyeong, who was trailing behind.

The steep incline forced them to take winding detours, stretching the climb even longer. After about an hour of hiking, they finally caught sight of the Gate, shyly hidden among the thick green trees.

The Gate’s location, precariously positioned on a steep uphill slope, left little room for anyone to stand securely.

Given the heightened danger of mid-level entry, several Espers, on-site Guides, and a few medics who had followed along decided to remain outside the Gate for backup in case of emergency.

The Espers assigned to enter the Gate tied ropes to connect their bodies. To avoid complications during the entry process, they grouped up by teams.

Whether it was the heat or some other reason, Kang I-won wiped the clammy sweat off his palm onto his thigh while his eyes instinctively sought out Heo Do-gyeong. Heo stood nearby, dabbing the sweat on his face with a handkerchief. That was the last sight Kang I-won saw before he and Team 5 entered the Gate.

No matter how many times Kang I-won experienced it, the sudden shift in scenery was something he could never get used to. The scorching heat that had seared their skin vanished instantly, replaced by a chilly air that enveloped them.

The drastic temperature drop made the atmosphere feel almost cold. Kang I-won hunched his shoulders slightly against the sudden chill.

Once he confirmed that all members of Team 5 had safely crossed into the Gate, Han Kang-jin used his device to communicate with the other teams.

“Team 5 has entered. Sharing our location now.”

– Team 8 here. We’ve entered too. Sharing our location shortly~

– Team 2 is in as well. It’s probably best to regroup with the nearest team first. Has anyone made contact with the first raid team?

– One moment. Checking now… We’ve got them! Just a second.

After a brief silence, a man’s grave voice came through the device.

– This is Team 9. Relaying the situation quickly. The first raid team is trapped while dealing with the boss. They’re surrounded by water, and the boss is a flying type… Hold on, sharing their location now. …Where was I? Ah, yes, the boss is a flying type and is also shooting electricity. They’re completely stuck. I wasn’t able to get more detailed information because things seem chaotic over there.

– Let’s leave the details for later. The first team to arrive should assess the situation and report back. We need to move now. Prioritize…

While Han Kang-jin continued coordinating with the other teams, Kim Young-ho looked around the Gate’s environment with a grim expression.

“Man… this place feels worse than usual,” he muttered under his breath.

“What the—another ant nest? Why is it that every place I go ends up being an ant nest? Didn’t Soo-bin say these were pretty rare? I’m sure she did,” Kim Young-ho said, his voice laced with frustration as he directed the question at Kang I-won.

But there was no answer from Kang I-won.

Puzzled, Kim Young-ho turned to look at him and was taken aback.

“…Senior?”

Kang I-won stood frozen, his face pale, one hand tightly covering his mouth as if suppressing something. His breathing was unsteady, as though he was barely holding himself together.

Memories he had desperately buried beneath the surface began to rise unbidden.

The situation back then had been eerily similar. The Gate was hidden deep within a mountain, and beyond it lay an ant nest. It was an old Gate, a ticking time bomb on the verge of collapse.

And outside the Gate was a Guide who absolutely had to be protected.

Everything felt the same.

Hyun Ho-jun, who had been watching Kang I-won with concern, cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, “Senior, are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine…”

Kang I-won forced the rising memories back down, working to steady his breathing and regain his composure. His now calmer mind tried to assess the situation rationally.

This was different. Though the cavern resembled an ant nest, it wasn’t one. It was just a common cave, much larger and less confining than an actual ant nest. It wasn’t even winter—there was no snow falling. This wasn’t the same.

Kang I-won rubbed his cold hands together, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

The situation in Jeju had been similar too. That time, it had actually been an ant nest. And yet, nothing had happened. They had successfully defeated the boss and completed the raid without major incidents.

This time would be the same, he told himself. The raid would go smoothly, and everyone would be safe. Everything would be fine. Repeating these reassurances to himself, he slowly quelled the turmoil in his heart.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hyun Ho-jun asked again, unable to hide his concern. Kang I-won nodded once more.

By the time he had finally calmed himself, Han Kang-jin returned after finishing his communications with the other teams.

“For now, our top priority is joining up with Team 2. They’re not far, so we should be able to meet up quickly. Once we’re together, we’ll head toward the boss room. Along the way, we’ll merge with any other teams we can. Any questions?”

“Yeah, is this an ant nest?”

“No, it’s not. Similar, but different. Any other questions?”

When there were no further questions, Team 5 moved swiftly to meet Team 2.

Despite having regained some composure, a persistent sense of unease lingered within Kang I-won. He took slow, deep breaths, swallowing his anxiety.

This would end without incident. The unsettling feeling was just a reaction to the similarity to past events. It was irrational. With each repeated breath, his nerves began to settle.

As they eliminated stray monsters and joined Team 2, they began making their way toward the boss room. But then, a low rumbling sound filled the dungeon, accompanied by faint tremors underfoot.

The ground beneath them quivered, the vibrations growing stronger. Along with the tremors came an echo of monstrous cries reverberating from all directions.

Kang I-won’s eyes widened in horror.

“What the hell is this?!” Kim Young-ho exclaimed, panicked.

But Kang I-won couldn’t answer. His body began to tremble uncontrollably as the dungeon itself seemed to quake, threatening to collapse. His legs gave out, and he sank to one knee, unable to even attempt to steady himself.

The unease that had plagued him became a dreadful reality.

“…Waveification,” Han Kang-jin said, his voice grim as he bit down on his lip. The weight of those words constricted Kang I-won’s chest, making it hard to breathe.

Memories he had tried so hard to forget surged back, suffocating him. The memories he had buried with such effort poured out like a broken dam.

He didn’t want to lose anyone again. He couldn’t.

Not Heo Do-gyeong. He couldn’t lose him the way he had lost his mother—so abruptly, so helplessly.

* * *

“Are you even paying attention, Kang I-won? Do you want to get me killed? Huh?”

“…I’m sorry.”

This had happened when Kang I-won was freshly assigned to the Jeonnam Branch 2 after completing his training. As a new B-class Esper, everything felt unfamiliar and challenging. Despite his grueling two years at the training facility, his physical strength, endurance, and dagger skills were still lacking.

“At least do your job properly! You think you’re invincible just because you can’t die?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be watching you closely. Get it together, or else.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Bowing deeply, Kang I-won watched as Kim Ho-cheol stormed off, still fuming. He remained in that position until Kim was out of sight.

“Are you okay?”

The gentle voice belonged to Kim Sun-young, affectionately called the “Mother of Jeonnam Branch 2.” Her concerned tone matched the warmth in her expression as she approached Kang I-won.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Ho-cheol can be a bit harsh with his words. Just let it go in one ear and out the other, alright?”

“No, it’s my fault. I made a mistake.”

“No one gets everything right from the start. Don’t let it get to you too much.”

“Yes, thank you for your concern.”

Kim Sun-young had earned her nickname because she didn’t serve as a permanent Guide to any one Esper. Instead, she provided temporary guiding to all the Espers at the branch. Coupled with her nurturing personality, which led her to care for the Espers as if they were her own children, many Espers affectionately referred to her as “Mother.”

“I heard you got hurt today. Do you need guiding?”

“Thank you, but I’m alright for now.”

“Oh, come on. When someone offers, you should just say ‘thank you’ and accept. Got it?”

Before Kang I-won could protest further, Kim Sun-young grabbed his arm and began channeling her energy into him. Though initially flustered, Kang I-won soon felt the comforting effects of her guiding. His tense body relaxed, and the weariness he’d been suppressing began to fade.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, bowing his head awkwardly.

“There you go, that’s the right response,” she said with a soft smile, gently patting him on the shoulder.

Just then, a cheerful voice called out to her.

“Hey, Mom! I need guiding too!”

The speaker was an Esper with strikingly dyed blue hair. Grinning widely, they hurried over and threw their arms around Kim Sun-young.

“I love Mom’s guiding the best.”

“What are you saying? You should find a proper partner.”

“There’s a shortage of Guides. No one’s available~”

“They say there are plenty of Guides in Seoul and Gyeonggi. You should think about heading over there.”

“Come on, how could I leave you behind, Mom?”

Watching the lively exchange between the two, Kang I-won quietly excused himself.

“I’ll be on my way now. Thank you for everything.”

“Oh? Alright, I-won. Take care. And don’t let what Ho-cheol said get to you, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you for your support.”

After parting ways with Kim Sun-young, Kang I-won headed straight to the training hall inside the branch.

Despite giving his all during his two years at the training facility, it had only been two years.

From an ordinary person’s perspective, Kang I-won’s achievements during training were remarkable. But in the world of Espers, he still had a long way to go.

Unlike most close-combat Espers, Kang I-won lacked many of the innate abilities that made others formidable. That meant he had to make up for it through sheer effort.

He couldn’t afford to keep dragging his team down.

Every day was exhausting and grueling, but he clenched his teeth and endured. There was no other choice.

* * *

“Hey! Kang I-won! Didn’t I tell you to get it together? Huh? Because of you, Jin-wook got hurt. Look at this!”

Kang I-won’s teammate, Lee Jin-wook, had a long gash on his side. Though Jin-wook, looking embarrassed, tried to downplay the situation, saying it wasn’t a big deal, Kim Ho-cheol ignored him entirely. His frustration was palpable as he continued berating Kang I-won.

“You were supposed to hold the line there! Don’t you even know what your role is yet? If you can’t handle it, just leave the team already. Honestly, the team would be better off with a proper close-combat Esper instead of someone as useless as you.”

Kim Ho-cheol’s sarcastic remarks made Yoo Soo-jin frown in disapproval. She stepped in, attempting to defuse the tension.

“Team leader, that’s a bit harsh… He got hurt too, you know. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Hurt?” Kim Ho-cheol scoffed, glaring at her. “Soo-jin, does that look like ‘hurt’ to you?”

“Well, the wound on his—oh? It’s gone? Wow… Is that regeneration? This is my first time seeing it.”

Yoo Soo-jin’s eyes widened in surprise. The torn fabric of Kang I-won’s uniform was still stained with dried blood, but his exposed skin was flawless, without a single scratch.

It was common for close-combat Espers to end up drenched in monster fluids and blood, given their proximity during fights. However, once the grime was cleaned away, only Kang I-won remained unscathed, his injuries vanishing as if they had never existed.

Though the team had initially defended him, this stark difference gradually began to spark quiet resentment among them.

Yoo Soo-jin, now focused on the wound that had healed before her eyes, shot a sideways glance at Kang I-won. Suppressing her dissatisfaction, she spoke in an even tone.

“This should have been handled by the close-combat unit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, there’s no need to apologize. Just do it right next time, okay?”

“Yes.”

Kang I-won bowed deeply.

Despite his relentless efforts, nothing seemed to change. No matter how hard he tried, he continued to hold the team back and put his teammates at risk. He couldn’t suppress the self-blame that clawed at him.

He was trying his best, but he wasn’t improving. That realization drained him, little by little.

Was Kim Ho-cheol right? Maybe leaving the team really would be the best option for everyone.

But if he left, where would he go? Would anyone accept someone as lacking as him?

While he wrestled with his feelings of inadequacy, sinking deeper into despair, someone approached him.

“I-won, I heard. Things have been tough for you lately, haven’t they?”

“…Guide Kim Sun-young.”

“Have you eaten?”

Kang I-won shook his head. The gnawing hunger twisted his stomach, but the thought of swallowing anything made him feel like he’d immediately vomit.

Kim Sun-young pulled a chocolate bar out of her pocket and pressed it into his hand as she sat beside him.

“You must be hungry. Eat this, at least.”

Her gentle hand patted his back, and before he knew it, Kang I-won found himself voicing the frustration that had been weighing on him.

“Because of me, my teammates keep getting hurt… I don’t think I’m any help to the team.”

It felt like nothing had changed since that time when he’d been powerless, watching his sibling die. Unconsciously, Kang I-won scratched at his stomach as though trying to claw out his frustration.

Kim Sun-young noticed and clasped his cold hands in her warm ones, her touch steadying him. She pulled out another chocolate bar from her pocket, unwrapped it, and without hesitation, pushed it into his tightly shut mouth. The sweet, heavy taste melted onto his tongue.

Kang I-won slowly began chewing. The crunch of the nuts inside the chocolate spread a rich, nutty flavor in his mouth.

“Let’s have another one.”

Like a mother bird feeding her chick, Kim Sun-young unwrapped another bar and gently nudged it into Kang I-won’s mouth. Startled, he blinked but didn’t refuse, quietly chewing and swallowing everything she gave him.

The soothing sweetness of the chocolate lifted his spirits slightly. As she handed him one last bar, Kim Sun-young patted his empty hands, her voice soft and comforting.

“I-won, I just wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard.”

“But because of me, the team is suffering. I’m not doing my part.”

“Sometimes that happens. No one is perfect from the start.”

“But…”

“When it’s your first time, everything feels awkward and clumsy. Do you think Ho-cheol was perfect from the beginning? He probably doesn’t even remember how he almost got Hee-jin killed back then.”

Kim Sun-young let out a small, light laugh as she spoke.

“Hee-jin?”

“Back when Ho-cheol was still a rookie. Hee-jin was his team leader. You wouldn’t believe it now, but Ho-cheol was terrified of everything back then. We used to worry about him constantly because the one who should’ve been leading from the front was always shaking in his boots.

“One time, he couldn’t step up to block when he needed to, and Hee-jin got seriously injured because of it.”

“…The team leader?” Kang I-won asked, wide-eyed.

“Cowardly, trembling Kim Ho-cheol? Thinking about the current Kim Ho-cheol, that’s hard to imagine,” Kang I-won thought, his expression frozen in disbelief. Seeing his reaction, Kim Sun-young chuckled softly and continued.

“That scaredy-cat grew into a proper team leader as time passed. Some things just take time to resolve, so don’t rush yourself.”

“…Even so,” Kang I-won muttered, still hesitant.

Noticing his reluctance, Kim Sun-young carefully shared a piece of her own story.

“My son… he was a regenerative Esper, like you.”

“…What?”

“He was full of drive. Always eager to rush in, though he’d grumble about being a regenerative Esper. He was always upset about it, but he said he wanted to avenge his father and threw himself into every battle, heedless of his own safety. …My husband died because of a monster, you see.”

“And… your son?”

“He died. I was told he sustained wounds too severe to regenerate.”

“…Ah.”

Kim Sun-young’s voice carried a quiet melancholy. Kang I-won couldn’t stifle the sigh of regret that escaped him.

After taking a moment to gather herself, Kim Sun-young patted his hand, her tone returning to its usual warmth.

“That’s why, I-won, I really don’t want you to push yourself too hard. You’re still young. Everyone struggles and makes mistakes when they’re your age. That’s how you learn, step by step. And I want you to live longer than my son did—much, much longer.”

Hearing her speak so calmly about her pain, Kang I-won could only nod silently, his throat tight with emotion.

“Want another chocolate bar?”

Kang I-won hesitated before nodding slightly.

Smiling, Kim Sun-young dug into her pocket and handed him the rest of the chocolate bars she had.

From that moment on, Kim Sun-young began to look after Kang I-won more frequently, perhaps seeing her son in him. Whenever she passed by and saw him, she would sneak a few chocolate bars into his pocket.

Kang I-won’s pockets never stayed empty, and when he was hungry or feeling down, he’d often pull out one of the bars Kim Sun-young had secretly given him. Over time, eating chocolate became a habit—his go-to comfort in moments of distress.

Kim Sun-young reminded him of the mother he had lost, even though they were entirely different people.

It was her presence that helped him endure the exhausting life of an Esper. Her warmth and encouragement brought back memories of his mother and gave him a sense of solace he hadn’t felt in years.

Though he had spent his life standing alone since losing his parents, Kim Sun-young’s kindness gradually broke through his defenses. Perhaps it was because he had reached his limit after years of enduring everything on his own.

“…Mother,” he murmured.

“Yes, my son?”

Her casual response to his hesitant call finally allowed him to let go of the tension in his heart. Like the others, he came to see her as a mother figure and leaned on her for support.

Kim Sun-young became his only refuge in a world where he had no one else to rely on.

Over time, this attachment grew stronger. He even found himself feeling possessive, irrationally annoyed when other Espers called her “Mother” or clung to her. It was a childish jealousy, especially since he wasn’t her real son, but the feelings were hard to suppress.

“…Mother, could you become our team’s dedicated Guide? I’ll— I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

For the first time, Kang I-won allowed himself to be selfish.

In Jeonnam Branch 2, where Guides were scarce, there wasn’t much distinction between dedicated and temporary Guides. Even dedicated Guides often helped other Espers when needed.

Still, the symbolic comfort of having a “dedicated” Guide was something Kang I-won deeply desired.

Hearing his request, Kim Sun-young blinked in surprise before giving a bittersweet smile, as though reminded of her late son.

“Well… if that’s what my son wants, how can I refuse?”

A parent who had lost their child and a child who had lost their parent found solace in each other, each projecting their lost loved ones onto the other.

As time passed, Kang I-won gradually found his footing. He made fewer mistakes, and the incidents where he held back his teammates became increasingly rare.

It was around the time Kang I-won had been at Jeonnam Branch 2 for a little over a year.

A Gate was discovered midway up a mountain—its exact time of appearance unknown. The urgency of the situation, coupled with its B+ rank, prompted a request for support from all available teams.

For the first time, Kim Ho-cheol, who had often declined such requests due to Kang I-won’s inexperience, agreed to participate. He had seen Kang I-won’s recent growth and decided it was time.

It was Kang I-won’s first time entering a dungeon-type Gate. Surprisingly, Kim Sun-young, who usually stayed at the center, decided to accompany the team.

“Mother, wouldn’t it be better for you to stay at the center?” Kang I-won asked, concerned.

Kim Sun-young laughed heartily, waving off his concern.

“Look at you! Don’t underestimate me. Back in my day, I was one of the best on-site Guides out there. There wasn’t a field I didn’t go into! Trust me, I know my way around dungeons better than anyone. I’ve handled more Gate-type dungeons than you can imagine.”

“Even so…”

“It’s fine, really. If anything, staying back at the center would make me even more anxious. My son is heading into his first dungeon—how could I just sit around?”

What most people, including Kang I-won, didn’t know was that Sun-young’s son had died inside a dungeon. It had been his first dungeon-type Gate, just like Kang I-won’s.

Her son had charged at a monster that resembled the one that had killed his father. Overcome with emotion, he acted recklessly and sustained wounds too severe for even a regenerative Esper to heal. He died suddenly, and amidst the chaos of the battle, his teammates couldn’t retrieve his body or any mementos.

He had vanished into the Gate, leaving nothing behind. Not even ashes filled the urn that represented his remains.

Haunted by that memory, Kim Sun-young couldn’t let Kang I-won go alone. The thought of him not coming back terrified her. Though she didn’t share these fears openly, she presented her decision as simple concern for Kang I-won.

Given the urgency of the situation, Espers quickly gathered. Even teams from Seoul arrived to provide support. The base of the mountain was bustling with activity, more so than usual. Once assembled, the group began their ascent.

Unfortunately, the previous day’s snowfall had left the ground covered in a thick layer of snow. Patches of ice were scattered along the path, and Espers slipped and stumbled occasionally, muttering curses under their breath.

Kim Sun-young’s footing faltered as she stepped on an icy patch. Kang I-won and Yoo Soo-jin quickly reached out to steady her, their voices filled with concern.

“Mother, please be careful.”

“You should’ve stayed at the center. We can take care of him just fine. It’s not too late to go back,” Yoo Soo-jin added.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! Don’t worry about me. You two are the ones falling behind—catch up with the others,” Kim Sun-young said, gently pushing them forward.

Reluctantly, Kang I-won and Yoo Soo-jin hurried to catch up with Kim Ho-cheol, who glanced back at them with a click of his tongue.

“Why are you so worried about someone far more experienced than you two?”

“She’s experienced, sure, but she’s still a Guide. She doesn’t have abilities like us,” Yoo Soo-jin argued.

“Worry about yourselves instead of Kim Sun-young. She’s been in this game longer than both of you combined. Tsk,” Kim Ho-cheol said, shaking his head in exasperation.

Kang I-won barely registered their words. His eyes kept darting back toward Kim Sun-young. Her decision to join the field for his sake filled him with a mix of gratitude and unease. He felt guilty, as though he had failed to reassure her, but he also couldn’t help but be touched by her care.

Still, Kim Ho-cheol’s nagging had lessened recently. Kang I-won had stopped being a liability to the team, and incidents of teammates getting injured had decreased. He even felt a growing sense of confidence in his abilities.

Perhaps that was why he thought, foolishly, that he could protect her no matter what.

The group trudged through the snow at a steady pace until they reached the Gate, nestled among the barren branches of the mountainside. The Gate glowed ominously, its red light shimmering like blood against the white snow.

Kim Ho-cheol let out a bitter laugh before addressing another team leader nearby, his voice laced with irritation.

“So, this is B+ rank? What a joke. Did they screw up the measurements again? Who’s the idiot responsible for this?”

“Didn’t you hear? They upgraded it to A-rank before we left, which is why they sent reinforcements. Don’t you see how crowded it is?”

“Goddammit. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have come,” Kim Ho-cheol muttered under his breath, shaking his head in frustration.

Kim Ho-cheol couldn’t hide the frustration etched on his face. But now that they were here, there was no backing out. He turned to Kim Sun-young, who looked visibly tired from the climb.

“Ma’am, they’re saying it’s A-rank now. Are you still planning to go in? If you think you might slow us down, it’s better to stay here. I know better than anyone how experienced you are, but it’s been a while since you’ve been in the field.”

“Of course I came to go in. But why did it suddenly become A-rank?”

“They say the rank got upgraded at the last minute.”

“Goodness…”

“So, what’s your call? I’ll respect your decision. You know best.”

Kim Sun-young hesitated for a moment before reluctantly admitting, “Now that I think about it, my body isn’t what it used to be. Just climbing this mountain has left me winded. If I go in like this, I might end up being more of a hindrance than a help. Guess I’ve gotten too comfortable at the center.”

“Took you long enough to realize,” Kim Ho-cheol teased lightly.

Truthfully, she wanted to go in. She was terrified of losing Kang I-won, just as she had lost her son.

But Kim Sun-young wasn’t stubborn. Her experience told her she wasn’t in the best condition, and if she insisted on going, she might put the team in danger by distracting them.

“It feels awkward to have come all this way just to stay behind,” she said with a faint smile.

“No, you made the right decision,” Kang I-won replied quickly, shaking his head.

Touched by his concern, Kim Sun-young took his hands in hers, looking beyond him to meet the eyes of Kim Ho-cheol, Yoo Soo-jin, and Lee Jin-wook.

“Be careful. All of you—Ho-cheol, Soo-jin, Jin-wook, and especially you, I-won—come back safely. Alright?”

“Don’t worry too much,” Yoo Soo-jin reassured her.

“Yes, thank you for worrying about us,” Lee Jin-wook added.

Lastly, Kang I-won spoke softly, “…I’ll come back safely.”

Kim Sun-young smiled gently at his promise.

Waving goodbye, she stood at the Gate’s edge, watching as they stepped through.

The instant they crossed over, Kang I-won was struck by an unfamiliar sensation, sending chills up his spine. The environment changed abruptly, and everything felt disorienting, as though the seasons had reversed from winter to autumn.

The air was cool but not cold, making the layers of clothing he had worn feel stifling. Adjusting his collar, Kang I-won scanned his surroundings.

Yoo Soo-jin, also taking in the new environment, asked Kim Ho-cheol, “Team leader, this is… an ant nest, right? I’ve never seen one before.”

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like. First time seeing one myself—it’s a rare type,” Kim Ho-cheol replied, his tone clipped.

“Really?”

“Tsk, just our luck…”

Kim Ho-cheol muttered to himself as he observed the narrow, maze-like passages carved into the cave walls. With a frown, he walked over to where the other team leaders were gathered for a quick strategy meeting.

What began as a calm discussion quickly escalated into a heated argument. The unexpected rank increase had made everyone more cautious, and no one wanted to take the lead.

Watching the tense exchange, Yoo Soo-jin sighed and commented, “This is going to take a while.”

Kang I-won silently nodded in agreement, bracing himself for what was to come.

As expected, the team leaders argued for an agonizingly long time over who would take the lead. Eventually, a decision was reached, and thanks to Kim Ho-cheol’s relentless bickering, Kang I-won’s team was assigned to the middle of the formation.