“Talk about rotten luck.”
It was bad enough if it had happened in his own place, but it was even worse because this wasn’t his house. It was a residence provided by the Center—a place he thought he’d parted ways with for good. And now a Gate had manifested inside.
As the cold breeze tousled his hair into a tangled mess, it seemed to pass straight through the hole in Seo-ha’s chest, leaving his heart chilled.
“How much am I gonna have to pay for this…”
It counted as a natural disaster, so insurance would cover some of it, but there’d likely be personal liability too. He’d just become unemployed and every penny mattered right now—thinking about coughing up money for this mess made his gut churn.
After a brief sigh, Seo-ha picked up his phone and made a call.
–“What?”
“I didn’t do it.”
Kim Beom-hak’s abrupt ‘What?’ was no better than Seo-ha jumping in to claim innocence. Pot, meet kettle.
“A Gate opened in my dorm. Yeah. No, I’m not hurt, but the place is pretty trashed. Okay.”
While answering questions like how the Gate appeared and whether he was injured, he felt someone’s gaze and finally looked up.
It wasn’t like he’d forgotten the person in front of him—he’d just put him on hold to deal with the immediate chaos.
“I was planning on moving out anyway, so it’s fine. Yeah. I’ll hang up now.”
With the situation reported to Kim Beom-hak, there was nothing else to say, so Seo-ha ended the call and stared directly at Han Ju-oh.
He had something to say to him, too. Keeping his gaze fixed on Han Ju-oh, he extended an arm to the side.
“You’re paying for that, right?”
He pointed at the door Han Ju-oh had smashed through. Even ghosts leave evidence behind—and Han Ju-oh wasn’t a ghost. Especially not one that gave a damn about restraining his absurd strength. The door had been completely wrecked.
Han Ju-oh turned his head to look at the door, then back at Seo-ha.
“You take card?”
“…Why are you asking me that?”
Shouldn’t that be something he brought up at a repair shop? Seo-ha sighed deeply and plopped down on the spot.
None of the boxes had made it out intact. He had no idea what to salvage.
“Just when I thought I might finally live a little peacefully… why the hell is it never easy?”
First, an Esper shows up out of nowhere asking to be his Pair. Then, his resignation keeps getting delayed. Now a Gate? A full-blown Gate appearing smack in the middle of his house? It was a nightmare.
“At this point, is the universe telling me to keep being a Guide?”
If that was the case, they could at least increase his compatibility rate or something.
They left him dangling, unable to walk away, unable to move forward. As Seo-ha sighed again, staring at his ruined boxes, Han Ju-oh reached out and tapped his shoulder.
“What about that?”
Wondering what he meant, Seo-ha followed Han Ju-oh’s gaze and looked up. There it was: a Gate shaped like a black hole.
“That? Not my problem. It’s not like I can do anything about it.”
Now that the Gate had manifested, someone from the Control Center would arrive soon. They’d assess the Gate’s grade and assign the appropriate personnel.
There was no role for Seo-ha in any of that.
“It is your problem.”
Han Ju-oh, fully aware that wasn’t true, just kept spewing nonsense. Selfish bastard.
“The Gate appeared in your dorm. That means we have the right to go in.”
“I don’t even own this place. And even if I did, that doesn’t mean I have a right to go into the Gate. What kind of ridiculous…”
Seo-ha, baffled by the sheer nonsense, suddenly looked uneasy as a thought crossed his mind.
Wait… is that why he brought up the ‘my dorm’ thing…?
“We’re from the Gate Control Center. Please step aside.”
Just then, through the busted door, someone entered—wearing a badge marked with the acronym for the Central Gate Control Bureau. The official requested them to step back.
Han Ju-oh stepped forward.
“I’m Han Ju-oh.”
He extended a hand for a handshake. Seo-ha, looking up reflexively, let out a sigh full of disbelief.
This bastard had wind wrapped around his hand.
“You’re an Esper, I see.”
Noting this, the official spoke up. Han Ju-oh pulled out his Esper ID, showed it, and tucked it away again.
“I was here when the Gate appeared. I’d like to go in myself—would that be possible?”
“We were initially going to assess the Gate’s rank and then request support from the nearest Esper Center or a Guild… but since Esper Han Ju-oh wants to go in himself, that should be fine.”
“Thank you. I’ll handle the clearance personally.”
“That’s reassuring to hear.”
With S-Class Espers being notoriously aloof and fickle, the official had no reason to turn down someone who volunteered so readily.
After saying he’d return shortly to file a report, the official stepped away. Han Ju-oh looked down at Seo-ha with leisurely confidence.
That look said See? Didn’t I tell you?—and for some reason, that smug face was really pissing him off.
Since Seo-ha had been squatting the entire time, his legs were going numb. He stood up, stretching them out, and brushed the dust from his clothes as if nothing had happened. Then he went over to a corner and picked up his travel bag.
Good thing he’d packed it in advance, just in case—enough to get by for a few days.
“I never said I was going in, so I’m leaving now.”
Seo-ha watched in real time as Han Ju-oh’s expression stiffened. He smiled sweetly and gave a little wave.
“Nice meeting you. Let’s never see each other again.”
The money it would take to fix the dorm?
That could be dealt with later. Escaping from Han Ju-oh took priority.
***
“So, you just left Esper Han Ju-oh there?”
“Yup.”
Seo-ha stared blankly at the ceiling as he replied to Moon Roi’s question.
“He’s probably busy now—at least until they determine the Gate’s rank and he clears it.”
He’d said it himself, that he’d clear it. Even if the sky fell, he’d have to follow through.
“You really ditched him right before he went in. Gotta hand it to you.”
Moon Roi’s comment made Seo-ha spring upright on the sofa, offended.
“What, was I supposed to stick around and get dragged in too? Huh? I’m not an Esper. I’m a Guide. And not just any Guide—a Guide with the worst matching rate.”
“Oh wow, are you trying to win sympathy now?”
Anyone else would’ve felt sorry for him, but Moon Roi just widened his eyes and shot back.
“You’ve been running around every damn Gate just to test matching rates with Espers. Thanks to that, you’ve got more dungeon experience than most mid-level Espers.”
Admittedly, his motivation had been questionable, but it was true—his dungeon experience outstripped most of his peers. Despite his abysmal matching rate, there wasn’t a single classmate who could keep up with him when it came to firsthand experience with Gates. A lot of that had to do with the updated Gate laws.
Back in the early days, when a Gate appeared, Espers and Guides would flood in recklessly. People rushed in without even identifying the Gate’s rank, leading to casualties. And with Guides being so scarce compared to Espers, that often caused rampages.
There were even fights over monster parts, and countless accidents from overexertion. So, over time, protocols were put in place.
For starters, no Esper could enter Gates too frequently. Also, no single Guild or Center was allowed to monopolize a Gate.
That’s why the National Gate Control Center had been established. It wasn’t just about clearing dungeons anymore—it was about protecting finite resources like Espers and Guides. The Center was created to maintain that balance.
But Baek Seo-ha had ignored all of that. He volunteered as support nearly every day, even though he was only allowed to go into Gates twice a month.
At first, Director Kim Beom-hak had warned him not to overdo it, but when it became clear that no Esper matched with Seo-ha, he just handed over special, ongoing clearance rights.
Now four years into his career, Seo-ha had spent over a thousand days chasing dungeons—more than enough to surpass the experience of most Espers.
“Go ahead—find someone else who can ration food like you and build a fire like you.”
“Isn’t that just survival training?”
“And that’s what keeps people alive. Let’s be honest—didn’t the Espers you looked after always fight better the next day?”
Seo-ha, unable to argue, let out a tch and flopped back down on the couch.
If he saw an Esper he wanted to try pairing with, he latched on without hesitation. Following them into dungeons became routine. Sometimes he tugged on their clothes and begged; other times, he sweet-talked them into it.
Since dungeons didn’t come with buildings or shelters, roughing it was common. In those conditions, Seo-ha made sure the Espers could eat and rest in comfort.
But those hard-earned chances had slowly eaten away at his hope.
“Still, even if it’s not about Guiding, Baek Seo-ha—you’ve got real ability.”
“What’re you on about now?”
“I’m saying all the time and effort you poured into this… it wasn’t wasted.”
Moon Roi’s compliment was genuine, and Seo-ha pressed his lips together without a hint of joy.
Moon Roi wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean. If he didn’t care, he just stayed silent. So Seo-ha knew he meant every word.
‘I don’t feel happy at all.’
The hole in his chest must still be wide open. He couldn’t even feel the tiniest bit happy at Moon Roi’s words.
Or maybe… maybe he was just pathetic.
