“This power I have… it’s not a miracle or luck. It was given to me because I survived through someone else’s sacrifice. It’s my obligation to live like they did.”
As Rion recalled the resolve he had when he first began this work, the tight knot in his chest slowly began to loosen. The tears had finally stopped.
“Other people might not understand it, but to me, this is everything. I only made it because others helped me. If they hadn’t… I wouldn’t be alive right now.”
When the ability test revealed he was an S-rank Esper, Rion didn’t feel joy—what he felt first was a sense of duty. His only thought was that he had to use this power to save others.
His life had been saved by the sacrifice of ordinary people—people with no powers at all.
Now that he had the ability to save others when they hadn’t, how could he not feel responsible? He chained himself to that duty, brainwashed himself into believing that his life was something he should always be ready to give.
He had this incredible power. To hesitate or run away for the sake of his own life? He didn’t deserve to even think about it.
He lashed himself with guilt whenever he faltered, convinced that someone like him had no right to fear death.
It’d be a lie to say that burden had never felt heavy. Still, he pushed through. Because he could. Because he’d been given this power.
A few cuts here and there, the constant strain from chronic guiding deficiency—none of that mattered.
But this time, it was too much.
A fight in an S-rank Gate wasn’t something you walked out of with just a scratch or a little guiding fatigue.
If enduring that pain meant protecting everyone, he could do it. If he knew they’d be safe once he pushed through this one hurdle, he wouldn’t be afraid.
But this time was different.
Everyone was looking to him.
And yet, he didn’t even know if he could close this Gate.
It wasn’t a matter of getting his arm sliced—he might lose the whole thing and still not succeed.
He was exhausted. With each step, with every new monster that appeared in a different form, anxiety crept deeper into him. His chest felt tight.
But he couldn’t show it.
“Honestly, Rion, if you hadn’t been here… I’m not sure I could’ve lasted this long either.”
Even Hyeon-seo, their leader, was relying on him. How could he admit how hard it was?
Rion had never thought of himself as amazing, but he had taken pride in his abilities. Yet now, just two days into this place, he was facing a level of despair he hadn’t felt in four years.
“My story’s probably already out there—articles, reports, whatever—so you probably knew. But still, thanks for listening. Saying it out loud… it makes me feel a little better.”
Now that he’d calmed down a bit, Rion suddenly felt embarrassed about having cried so openly in front of Yu-won. He kept his head lowered, mumbling like he was making excuses.
“Like you said, even when people call me the ‘strongest Esper’ or whatever… it doesn’t really mean much, does it? In the end, I’m just…”
As he lifted his head mid-sentence and looked at Yu-won, Rion froze. He’d expected the usual calm, expressionless face—or maybe a slight look of sympathy at best.
But—
“….”
Tears were streaming silently down Yu-won’s beautiful face.
As if no one else could understand that pain more deeply.
As if Rion’s sorrow was his sorrow.
Just seeing him like that made Rion’s heart ache in his chest.
“…Why… why are you crying…? I’m the one who finished crying already.”
“You’ve been through a lot. So much, haven’t you?”
“…It’s just me whining. I’m human too… I guess I get days like this.”
Before Rion could even finish, Yu-won pulled him tightly into his arms.
Everyone else was asleep. The only sound in the distance was someone snoring faintly.
In the silence, Rion honestly wondered if this was a dream.
“Just cry. Joo-chan sunbae’s completely knocked out. No one will hear you. Cry all you want now.”
Yu-won’s embrace was warm and gentle—so much so that Rion briefly wondered if the tears he’d seen earlier were just a mirage.
He was caught off guard by the fact that he was being held by someone four years younger—by someone he usually butted heads with.
But then the tears welled up again, and Rion bit his lip to keep from sobbing out loud.
“You remember what I said before, right? That I don’t dislike you. I wasn’t just saying that to smooth things over. I meant it.”
“…Snf.”
It seemed he was talking about that day, not long after Yu-won first arrived. Rion, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling again, nodded slightly.
“Those people who saved you… They must’ve been truly good people. Because even in the face of death, it’s not easy to act like that—even if the one they’re saving is just a kid.”
“Yeah… So I have to become someone who can help others, just like they helped me…”
“They must’ve wanted you to survive. And to be happy. They were good people, so sure—they probably hoped the child they saved would grow up to help others too. But I don’t think they wanted you to do it by tearing yourself apart.”
Yu-won’s hand gently patted Rion’s back, his touch soft, like he was soothing a child.
“I’m sure of it.”
Rion lowered his head silently. Yu-won didn’t pull away, even as his shoulder grew damp with tears. Rion didn’t push him away either—he simply let himself rest in that embrace.
Since he’d matured, since he’d come to understand how terrifying it must have been for the adults on that bus… since he’d realized adults weren’t always the strong, infallible figures children believed… Rion had convinced himself he didn’t have the right to rest.
“You’re already a good person. You’re someone to be proud of. Someone incredible.”
He’d lived with the weight of a debt to the world. As he grew older, he couldn’t stop wondering how his parents must’ve felt, seeing their son cluelessly throwing tantrums in the middle of all that. And every time he thought about it, the guilt gnawed at him.
Even if he hadn’t turned out to be an S-rank, even if he’d only just barely passed as a C-rank, he still would’ve applied to the Central Center.
And if he hadn’t been born an Esper at all? He would’ve become a firefighter, or a police officer—anything that allowed him to help people.
Even when things were hard, he couldn’t show it.
He kept thinking about those people who hadn’t shown their fear—not even in the face of death—just so a frightened little boy wouldn’t be scared too.
So he convinced himself he had no right to complain.
But now… someone was telling him that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to live that way.
“I’m not saying don’t save people. I just… hope you’ll think about yourself a little too. And that you won’t think it’s natural to die while saving someone else.”
“…But can I really? I mean… me, of all people—I’m someone who can’t just walk away to save myself while leaving others behind. But if I…”
“That’s not giving up. And I’m not telling you to give up. I just hope… that at the very least, you won’t think it’s normal to get hurt.”
Yu-won’s voice was lower than usual—almost trembling. Rion fell silent.
“I want you to be someone who lives not out of obligation… but to be happy.”
“…Hearing that from you is… kind of surprising.”
Rion let out a small laugh. He’d never imagined he’d ever be comforted like this by Yu-won—the same guy who always nagged him and picked fights.
Come to think of it, maybe the things he used to say weren’t all that different from this. Maybe it was just a matter of tone.
If he assumed the intention had always been genuine, maybe it wasn’t all that different after all.
“You should’ve said stuff like this normally. I’ve got a short fuse, so if it even sounds like you’re picking a fight, I go off instantly.”
“…I didn’t know. I really didn’t.”
“…You didn’t? Huh. I thought you did.”
Yu-won flinched slightly and shook his head, murmuring his explanation.
“…You were different from what I expected. And even after getting hurt over and over, you kept throwing yourself into the same things, like you wanted to get hurt… There were things that could’ve been solved without you doing that, you know?”
“I kept convincing myself I had to do it, so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. But after a while, my body just started reacting first.”
Rion stepped back from Yu-won’s arms as he spoke. His face, flushed from crying for so long, broke into a faint smile.
“Still… crying like that really helped. Don’t tell anyone, though. If people knew I cried, they’d worry for no reason.”
“Don’t carry everything alone. If it ever gets too much, talk to me. I know I’m not the most reliable, but… if having someone to listen helps, then I’ll be that person.”
Yu-won’s eyes were slightly red as he spoke. It was the first time Rion had ever been comforted by him like this, and it felt… strange.
Rion scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“You won’t be seeing me like this again. I’ll get used to it. This is just the first time something like this happened, that’s all… Sorry I showed you this side of me. Starting tomorrow, I’ll pull myself together.”
“It’s okay to show this side. Just don’t push yourself too hard. I’ll try not to let my guiding fall short or become a burden.”
“…Anyway. That bastard Joo-chan’s supposed to be on night watch with me, and he just left me alone and fell asleep? No way. I need to go beat him up a little.”
The atmosphere had turned all warm and fuzzy—and it was making Rion feel weird. So, with exaggerated bluster, he stormed out of the tent.
This time… it really felt like his relationship with Yu-won might start to change.
