The TV screen was filled with all kinds of by-products emerging from the gate.
“That thing showed up at your place, didn’t it?”
“More precisely, the Center’s quarters.”
“So basically, it appeared at your home.”
“What the hell.”
Just a slight change in tone, and it would’ve sounded like a full-on accusation. Baek Seo-ha, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, raised his right foot and rested it on Moon Roi’s shoulder. Moon Roi didn’t even turn his head; he simply shrugged off the foot with a flick of his shoulder.
“Don’t shove your stinky foot at me.”
“If you don’t like it, move over. Why do you keep clinging to me and wrecking my fries?”
Seo-ha crumpled up the empty burger wrapper and pressed it repeatedly against Moon Roi’s back.
“You’re stepping on me over a few fries?”
“Then next time, just buy fries. Do you know how rare it is to find a place that delivers only fries these days?”
“Just order another burger.”
“I’m full.”
“Then don’t eat my fries either.”
“That’s different.”
Their conversation was as fruitless as a Möbius strip, yet neither of them took their eyes off the TV.
“You should’ve just gone into the gate. With that much by-product, the incentive must be insane.”
Among the monsters, some were worth a lot of money. This gate seemed to be a goldmine. The way the by-products were being hauled out in carts—it was clear the Espers and Guides who went in would walk away with hefty profits.
“To just walk away from a literal gold mine”
“Shut up.”
“Come on, be honest. When Han Ju-oh said to go in, you almost caved, right?”
“Hey, Moon Roi.”
Moon Roi’s incessant teasing finally snapped Seo-ha’s patience.
“You still think I want to cling to an Esper, don’t you?”
Seo-ha’s voice sank low as he dropped his head. Caught off guard, Moon Roi waved his hands in a panic.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Seriously, we didn’t even know what was in there, and it’s not like you’re some shallow guy who only goes where there’s money… I said too much.”
Realizing the situation was beyond repair, Moon Roi gave up trying to excuse himself and set down his half-eaten burger. He glanced over at Seo-ha, unsure what to do, but couldn’t see his face with his head hung low.
Seeing Seo-ha look so crushed made Moon Roi feel guilty. Who cared about by-products or incentives? Seo-ha had already declared he was done with this world. It was just a defense mechanism after getting hurt, and Moon Roi had been too dense to see it.
“Um… Don’t you feel greasy after just eating a burger? Should I make some ramen?”
“…Yeah…”
He barely heard Seo-ha’s reply, as quiet as an ant’s whisper, but Moon Roi dashed into the kitchen. The clatter of a pot being placed on the stove echoed through the house, and Seo-ha finally lifted his head.
“Does he not know what giving up means?”
His voice was calm and unaffected, contrary to what one would expect after his earlier slump. He clicked his tongue as he watched Moon Roi bustle around the kitchen. If he’d seen how Seo-ha lounged around every day after quitting, he wouldn’t assume Seo-ha was still hung up on not being a Guide. But Moon Roi still acted like Seo-ha hadn’t fully let go.
“You really think this’ll make me go back? The mere mention of ‘Guide’ and…”
Seo-ha, reaching for the remaining fries, froze mid-motion as his eyes landed on the TV screen.
***
“Put something under this, anything.”
Moon Roi came trotting out, a pot in one hand and a container of kimchi in the other.
“I sprinkled chili powder and even chopped in some green onions… Huh? What the… where’d he go?”
Only a half-eaten burger and scattered fries sat on the table. He set everything down on the dining table and looked around for Seo-ha, but he was nowhere to be found in the house. As Moon Roi stood there confused, the announcer’s voice rang out from the TV, praising the Esper who played the biggest role in the latest gate incident.
***
The closer he got to the gate, the more people there were. TV crews and reporters, staff from the Center still busy hauling out by-products, and the guild Espers and Guides who had carried out the cleared mission.
In the middle of the bustling crowd, Seo-ha stood out in his casual training clothes and unhurried pace.
“Shouldn’t have come.”
He scratched at the side of his head, flattened from lying on the couch all day, debating whether to just turn around and pretend he never came.
“If it’s over, they should be getting guided. Wait, wasn’t there a Guide with them? Then why the hell…”
The complaints tumbled out of his mouth before he realized it, then lodged in his throat. Even when the gate had appeared right in front of the dorm he used to live in, filling the entire TV screen, he hadn’t felt a thing.
At most, it was just mildly strange to see such a familiar place on TV. It would’ve been better if it had stopped there.
Even though he was dressed in the same combat uniform as everyone else, Han Ju-oh stood out unmistakably on the screen. Seo-ha couldn’t tell whether it was because of his striking face or if the camera had simply chosen him on its own, but Han Ju-oh filled his entire field of vision.
It was like the screen had been paused just for him—Seo-ha saw nothing else. And when he came back to his senses, he was standing right in front of his own house.
Still dazed, as if he’d only just returned to reality, Seo-ha twisted the flattened strands of hair on his head and rotated his ankle. His toes scraped against the ground through his slippers, instantly getting dirty. Just perfect—he looked exactly like a neighborhood bum out for some casual gawking.
“Should I just turn back now? I mean, what would I even do by showing up in front of Han Ju-oh? Maybe his pale face was just because of the lighting, and his lips looked blue because the dungeon was cold, like the middle of freakin’ Siberia or something… Goddamn it.”
He tried listing off excuses, one by one, but even to himself they sounded ridiculous. Maybe if he knew nothing, he could convince himself. But having seen enough monsters, he could already guess what kind of environment it had been just by looking at them. Siberia? That was laughable.
“Just… look at his face and leave.”
He admitted it—he had come this far, and now he couldn’t make himself turn back.
Once he decided to go, there was no more hesitation. He knew exactly where Han Ju-oh was, and it was obvious the guy hadn’t moved even a step.
With his hands in his pockets, Seo-ha shuffled along in his slippers.
When he lingered near the yellow “Restricted Access” tape put up by the Center, a gate security officer approached.
“You’re not allowed past this point.”
“I’m affiliated.”
Seo-ha answered casually, pointing inside. But the guard wasn’t someone who’d be convinced that easily. From head to toe, Seo-ha looked like nothing more than a bystander who came to gawk.
“That’s my house.”
“Ah…”
He didn’t even bother showing an ID or access permit, but the guard’s first reaction was sympathy.
A gate showing up inside your house—just imagining it was overwhelming. Maybe the guard understood that feeling, but still didn’t seem inclined to let him in.
Just then, someone passing by recognized Seo-ha.
“Guide Baek?”
“Long time no see.”
“Uh, yeah. It really has been a while. But what’s with… that look?”
It was Esper Lee Gyu-han—one of the few who had actually grown close to Seo-ha. At first, Lee had rejected Seo-ha’s suggestions to match up, but after getting looked after in a dungeon, their relationship had taken a positive turn.
“This is my house.”
“Ah…”
The same reaction the guard had—Lee Gyu-han mirrored it exactly.
“Technically, it’s the quarters the Center assigned me.”
Aware that he already looked like someone begging for pity, Seo-ha clarified to avoid further misunderstanding. Then he asked if he could step inside, just briefly.
“There’s something I forgot to grab.”
“If that’s the case…”
Moved by Seo-ha’s unfortunate situation, Lee Gyu-han signaled to the guard to let him in. The guard handed Seo-ha a temporary access pass, simply saying, “Don’t stay long.”
Seo-ha bowed his head lightly in thanks and stepped inside.
“Um…”
Lee Gyu-han didn’t go far. He covered his mouth with his fist and cleared his throat, clearly wanting to say something more.
“I happened to pass by the Center one day… I went looking for you, but you weren’t there.”
“Is that so?”
Seo-ha wasn’t sure if that had been when he entered a gate—or maybe when he booked an inn just to make a point to Han Ju-oh.
“And I really did just hear this by chance…”
Lee repeated the word “by chance” twice.
“I heard you quit. Is it true?”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t a hard question to answer.
“I see… Then—”
“Thanks for letting me in.”
Seo-ha spotted something and quickly offered his thanks before walking away. Lee Gyu-han instinctively reached out a hand, but he was too late.
“I was gonna ask if we could be friends…”
His wistful words hung quietly in the air.
Meanwhile, Seo-ha headed toward a room with a collapsed wall, fully exposed. The door was dangling by its hinges, and he climbed over the crumbled section to enter. The room was a complete wreck.
Uncollected belongings he hadn’t had time to grab were scattered all over, haphazardly pushed aside. In the middle of the mess, the one thing untouched was the bed—still intact amidst the chaos, like it didn’t belong there.
What drew him closer, however, wasn’t the bed itself, but the person curled up on it like a shrimp.
Han Ju-oh.
Still in his bloodstained combat suit, without even a blanket, fast asleep.
“You rebelling against me or something?”
Han Ju-oh’s eyelids trembled before his lashes lifted. He stared blankly for a moment, then slowly raised his head to look at Seo-ha.
“I was waiting for you.”
“You dumb bastard.”
It had been exactly one week since they last saw each other.
