Kang Rion’s surgery, thankfully, was a success. As soon as it ended, Min-hyeon rushed over and used his healing ability to help speed up Rion’s recovery.
However, healing abilities were most effective on recent injuries.
So, while it wasn’t some miracle power that could fully heal anything regardless of timing, it was still fortunate that Rion’s body was steadily recovering from fractures and other damage on its own. That said, he still hadn’t regained consciousness.
“The surgery went well. It wasn’t the worst-case scenario we feared, so we expect him to regain consciousness within about a week, but of course, we’ll need to monitor him closely.”
“Thank you.”
“No need for thanks—it’s an honor for us to help. I mean, it’s Kang Rion we’re talking about.”
Even though they could breathe a little easier now, the Espers couldn’t quite relax. They lingered constantly in front of Rion’s hospital room, waiting anxiously for the day he’d finally open his eyes.
“Haa… This is just too much.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Do they have to post articles with pictures like that?”
“Why are you even looking at stuff like that? You know it’ll just piss you off.”
Tae-hwan snatched the phone out of Joo-chan’s hands and turned off the screen. What Joo-chan had been reading was none other than an online news article.
Reporters had been staking out in front of the Gate, waiting for the team to emerge. The moment they saw Rion slumped over on Tae-hwan’s back, they all frantically hit their shutters.
His limp body, his clothes soaked in blood—Kang Rion, the strongest Esper in the country, injured—was explosive news. Articles alone painted that picture, and on social media, wild rumors about Rion’s condition were already spreading like wildfire.
Of course, the Center was doing its best to monitor everything in real time and dispel the false rumors as quickly as possible, but sensational content traveled fast. People believed whatever they wanted to believe.
“Seeing stuff like this makes me glad the internet wasn’t this advanced when I was still active. Back then, you could just turn off the TV or avoid the computer, and that was that. But now, everything’s right there in your hand with a single phone…”
Tae-hwan sighed heavily. As he said, even just unlocking a phone or opening a search page brought nothing but news about Rion.
If Rion were awake and fully recovered, they could’ve laughed off the overblown headlines. But with him still unconscious, even just seeing those article titles made their skin crawl and filled them with dread.
So, the team spent their time gathered in the lounge, avoiding phones and TVs altogether.
“Sunbae, are you feeling okay now?”
“Me? I just got a few scrapes and bruises. What about you? The burns…”
“I mean… they said there might be a faint scar, but it’s not in a visible place. Can’t really make a big deal out of something like that.”
The Espers didn’t talk about it, but they were all carrying some degree of injury, big or small.
Later, they realized that none of them had mentioned it simply because no one wanted to create more worries. They’d all silently decided that this much was nothing. When that dawned on them, they laughed—it really was true that Espers were all cut from the same cloth.
But among this now oddly closer group, there was one person who didn’t quite fit in.
“Yu-won must be worried too, right?”
“Of course. He’s Rion’s matching Guide… Even if they always bickered, there’s no way he wouldn’t be shaken up after what happened.”
“Still… He barely comes out of his room.”
“I heard from the Center Director—Yu-won’s getting discharged tomorrow. The reporters camped outside have mostly cleared out, and he apparently wants to go home.”
The team glanced toward Yu-won’s hospital room, murmuring quietly.
While everyone else gathered in the lounge day after day, Yu-won hadn’t stepped outside his room since the moment he heard Rion’s surgery had ended.
“Don’t be too hard on him. He’s probably overwhelmed and sorting through it all.”
“Yeah, but… They say sharing sadness cuts it in half. I wish he’d at least come out and talk with us a bit.”
“Everyone processes things differently. Don’t think of it in a bad light. We all got to see what kind of person he is in that Gate. He’s not a bad guy.”
A few team members spoke up in Yu-won’s defense, but truthfully, they all felt the same unease.
Didn’t think he was like that… Isn’t he being a little too cold? I thought he’d softened up inside the Gate, but now he seems even colder than before.
No matter what, this is about Rion… They seemed to be getting along pretty well in there, too.
With Yu-won locking himself in his room, not speaking to anyone, it was easy to misread it as apathy—like he just couldn’t be bothered.
With emotions strained and communication cut off, it was the perfect storm for misunderstandings to fester.
“That’s not what it is.”
Ironically, the one who truly worried about and understood Yu-won was Jin-ha—someone Yu-won reportedly couldn’t stand at the Center.
“He probably doesn’t want to think about it too much because he does care.”
“Yeah, maybe… Anyway, since there’s a good chance Rion will wake up within the week, let’s just focus on the positives.”
Tae-hwan stepped in to calm the tense atmosphere. Yu-won was voluntarily discharging early, but the rest of the team—aside from Rion—also needed to start preparing to return to duty.
“Me and him, we’ll go back to the Busan Center and probably won’t have much to do. But you guys… Once you’re back, you’ll be straight back to work.”
The Center didn’t want to deny time off to a team fresh out of an S-rank Gate. But the truth was, the Central Center was always short-staffed.
Even the break they’d just been given had been squeezed out by overworking whoever remained. They couldn’t ask for more.
“Yeah, guess it’s time to head back. Still… I’d really like to see Rion awake before we leave.”
Min-cheol sighed quietly.
***
[Was the S-rank Gate too much for Kang Rion?]
[Central Center reports successful surgery for Kang Rion. He’ll now focus on recovery.]
[Day 5 since S-rank Gate cleared, but Kang Rion still unconscious…]
“I told you to stop reading that crap. You’re finally home, and you’re still doing it.”
Yu-won’s older brother, Ji-won, snatched the phone from his hands. But Yu-won didn’t try to take it back. He just sat quietly on the bed.
“You know you haven’t eaten in days? Just staring at your phone like that. You think anything’s going to change if you keep doing this? This is exactly why I told you not to go into this line of work. I didn’t expect you to listen to Mom and Dad, but I thought maybe you’d at least listen to me. If you were going to ignore everyone and go anyway, you could’ve at least kept your head straight.”
Yu-won’s determination had been so absolute that even the family’s opposition couldn’t sway him. But Ji-won had still tried hard to talk him out of giving up college to join the Center.
“Of course Mom and Dad worry. But this isn’t like when I told them I wanted to be a cop and they just warned me to think carefully. Your case is different. Did you know Mom cried after you entered the Center?”
“…”
“And when you got sent into that S-rank Gate? Dad didn’t say anything, but he was completely shaken. He clung to his phone every day, waiting for news about you.”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“If you insisted on going in, knowing everyone was against it, then fine. But now that you are in, don’t fall apart like this. You said you wanted this. You said you had the ability, that you wanted to be helpful. So be helpful. Don’t just sit here day after day like you’ve lost your soul. Eat something. Sleep. Take care of yourself. What, you’re planning to waste away too?”
Ji-won was at his wit’s end. Yu-won had always been smart, but outside of school, he could be frustratingly clumsy.
Still, Ji-won had thought he could at least take care of himself. But now, days after returning from the S-rank Gate, Yu-won looked like a hollow shell.
“This is about him, isn’t it. Kang Rion.”
“…”
“I know he saved you. I get that he’s someone you’ll never forget for the rest of your life. But that doesn’t mean you have to fall apart too.”
Ji-won couldn’t understand. Yu-won had ignored the entire family’s objections and given up everything to pursue this path, supposedly because he wanted to help people like him.
So then show it. Be strong. Live up to the choice you made.
“…Why did you want to become a cop, hyung?”
Yu-won, who’d been quietly listening, suddenly asked.
The question was so random, Ji-won blinked in surprise.
“What?”
“Why did you want to be a cop? Your grades were good, so you must’ve had a lot of options. Why did you choose the police academy?”
It was out of nowhere, but Ji-won tried to give a proper answer.
“Just… because I wanted to do something meaningful.”
“It’s not exactly safe work. And it’s not like the pay is great, either.”
“Money’s… whatever. It’s not like Mom and Dad don’t help out. And yeah, it’s dangerous. But someone’s gotta do it, right? I just… had a feeling. That it was something I needed to do.”
“Even if you get hurt? Even if no one acknowledges the risk or effort?”
“I mean… I’ve got my own convictions, I guess.”
“…Hah.”
Yu-won let out a soft, bitter laugh. Conviction, huh. That damn word.
“Hey, I answered your question, now you— Hey!”
“Leave. I want to be alone.”
“Again? You’ve been alone for days—Hey!”
Yu-won shoved Ji-won out of the room and threw himself back onto the bed.
His head was pounding—like it was about to explode.
