“What the hell?”
Baek Seo-ha tilted his head as he stepped out for lunch, sensing the stares directed at him. Ever since Han Ju-oh stirred things up, the scrutinizing gazes had largely disappeared. But now that they were returning, Seo-ha turned to Han Ju-oh, puzzled by their meaning.
“Do you know what’s going on?”
Wondering if something had happened while he was asleep, he asked Han Ju-oh, but the other simply shook his head. Well, considering Han Ju-oh’s lack of social skills, unless he was directly involved, he wouldn’t have a clue about rumors circulating around him.
Seo-ha glanced at a few people passing by, meeting their eyes with a puzzled look. But nothing came to mind, so he didn’t have much of a reaction.
“I seriously have no idea.”
“Just think about what you’re gonna eat.”
“Ah, how about… just heading to the company cafeteria today?”
Seo-ha pointed right away. There was no need to think about the menu—he could always rely on the ever-accommodating company cafeteria to decide for him. He hummed as he walked over, then happened to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the elevator doors.
Something unfamiliar marked his face—something he hadn’t expected to see.
Seo-ha stared silently at his reflection. Han Ju-oh, noticing this, discreetly stepped farther away. He was probably already calculating whether he’d need to eat alone today. But before that decision could be made, Seo-ha’s shout echoed.
“Han Ju-oh!”
Without ever mentioning the scribble on Seo-ha’s face, Han Ju-oh bolted before he could get caught. Seo-ha stared in disbelief at the space where Ju-oh had been just moments ago, then let out an incredulous laugh.
“Did he seriously just run away?”
He hadn’t said a word about the doodle on Seo-ha’s face? Dumbfounded, Seo-ha let out several frustrated sighs.
“Why’s someone like him suddenly acting like this?”
Seo-ha clicked his tongue and shook his head at the unexpected behavior from someone he never imagined would pull a prank.
“Forget it.”
What more could be said?
Seo-ha looked once again at the reflection of his cheek in the elevator. There, scrawled across his face, was the word he’d used to describe Han Ju-oh.
Cute.
***
Cho Ha-cheol stared up at the gloomy sky. The clouds were thick, ominous, like rain could fall at any second. Lost in the sight, time slipped by unnoticed until someone came to stand beside him.
He glanced sideways and then looked back up.
“Go ahead and laugh if you want.”
His voice was low and heavy, as if his heart mirrored that sky. Ever since Baek Seo-ha had left, Cho Ha-cheol had become a frequent target. Not just from Kang Kyung-hoon, but from other Espers as well. The unfairness of it all gnawed at him.
He felt wronged—like he was being punished for something he didn’t do. And that bitterness had sunk deep.
Moon Roi, watching from beside him, only gave a bitter smile.
Compared to the cruelty Seo-ha had endured previously, Cho Ha-cheol’s current suffering was merely a fraction. Yet, witnessing Cho Ha-cheol’s despair-filled expression made it painfully clear just how resilient Seo-ha must have been to endure far worse without breaking.
Moon Roi offered no words of comfort. There had been a time when Seo-ha was in pain too, and Cho Ha-cheol had never once extended kindness to him. Why should he offer sympathy now?
“Seo-ha didn’t just bear it well from the start.”
Cho Ha-cheol frowned at that. The implication that he should endure it—just as Seo-ha had—rubbed him the wrong way. Deep down, he couldn’t accept what was happening to him as fair. His personality couldn’t help but reject Moon Roi’s words.
“So you’re saying I deserve this?”
“If that’s how you choose to take it, then I’ve got nothing else to say.”
Moon Roi didn’t respond further to Cho Ha-cheol’s sharp retort. Instead, he redirected his attention to the sky—after all, that’s what he’d come out to see in the first place.
“I’ve got a bad feeling.”
It wasn’t just the stormy weather. His heart was racing—there was a kind of unease that made it feel like something was about to go terribly wrong.
“Hm?”
A black dot appeared, revealed between drifting clouds. Before he could even grasp what it was, the object rapidly grew closer—and then slammed into the ground with a thunderous force.
BOOM—
The shockwave shook nearby buildings, and Moon Roi had to shield his eyes with an arm as the gust nearly knocked him off balance.
“Ugh. Somebody help…”
Next to him, Cho Ha-cheol stood frozen for a moment, then was knocked backward by the wind and collapsed, unable to get back up. It wasn’t just people being tossed around—the entire area had descended into chaos.
But even before Moon Roi could process the destruction, his eyes locked onto the thing that had appeared right in front of him—a Gate.
“What kind of Gate is this…?”
It was massive. Larger than any Gate he had ever seen. Its classification hadn’t even been determined yet, but one thing was certain—
This wasn’t going to be easy.
As Moon Roi stared at the Gate, Cho Ha-cheol, still sprawled out on the ground, let out a startled shout.
“Wh-What the hell?”
Moon Roi turned at the sound of his voice cutting through the chaos. Cho Ha-cheol was pointing dumbly toward the sky. Curious, Moon Roi followed his gaze—and his mouth fell open in disbelief.
A Gate floated in the sky. One of them plummeted to the ground just like the first.
Then two Gates collided—one devoured the other.
“What the hell is happening right now?”
Until now, Gates had always appeared sporadically, one at a time. But now, they were popping up all at once like bamboo shoots after the rain. A rough count put them at more than a dozen.
His sinking feeling was becoming reality.
***
Seo-ha was on his way back after catching up to the fleeing Han Ju-oh and smacking him hard on the back. Somehow, Han Ju-oh had hidden so well that by the time Seo-ha grabbed him by the collar, it was already time for Guiding. Still pissed off that the guy hadn’t mentioned the scribble on his face, Seo-ha went ahead and Guided him anyway—with his fist still clenched in his collar.
As soon as his knuckles made contact with skin, energy transfer began. Not that it increased much, but the task was done. Seo-ha dragged him back and shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.
“You still need to eat.”
“I had a lot on my mind.”
Han Ju-oh bit down on the bread and expertly moved his tongue to keep talking.
“Just chew first.”
At Seo-ha’s words, Han Ju-oh obediently shut his mouth and ate.
“No matter how busy or preoccupied you are, you shouldn’t skip meals. Staying healthy isn’t hard, you know? Sleep on time, eat on time, rest on time–”
A loud emergency alert cut him off. The siren rang out from all directions, and Seo-ha glanced around as everyone looked down at their phones or smartwatches. Following their lead, he checked his own. A disaster alert had popped up on the screen. Han Ju-oh’s expression darkened as he stood.
He bolted toward the operations room, and Seo-ha hurried after him—only to stop when something caught his eye. A shadow loomed over his face, prompting him to look up.
“What… is that?”
A Gate was floating in the sky. Sure, they could appear anytime and anywhere—but this one was bigger than anything he’d ever seen. A gaping mouth of darkness large enough to swallow the entire city loomed over him.
At any moment, it felt like a monster would burst through that darkness and leap out. Just imagining a beast slashing its razor-sharp claws right in front of him made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He knew it was just his imagination, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Was he about to be consumed by an imaginary monster?
That’s when something covered his eyes.
The red eyes of the creature vanished from view, and the moment Seo-ha felt the warmth against his eyes and the familiar scent in the air, his tension melted.
He didn’t resist. He just stood there quietly, and Han Ju-oh’s voice brushed past his ear.
“I thought you were following me.”
His hand was warm—but his tone was scolding. Somehow, that warmth hadn’t left.
“I was trying to… but then the Gate showed up.”
And once he looked at it, the fear took hold.
“Don’t look.”
Han Ju-oh turned Seo-ha’s body and wrapped him in his arms. Seo-ha let him guide him along, exhaling a shaky breath and going completely limp.
He had seen more Gates than he could count. There had even been one inside his house. He should’ve been used to it. It should’ve been nothing new. But this time, it felt like his soul had been shaken.
“That’s not just any Gate, is it?”
He mumbled against Han Ju-oh’s chest, unsure if his words were even heard. But Han Ju-oh tightened his hold around Seo-ha’s back.
“S-Class.”
He was referring to the Gate’s classification. The official rank hadn’t been released yet, but Han Ju-oh was probably right.
‘S-Class Gate… it’s been a while.’
Now that he’d calmed down, he could look at it without losing his grip on reality. There had been a time when he’d acted like he was ready to charge into every Gate out there just to find an Esper with a high match rate—but never an S-Class. That had always been far too dangerous.
‘Then who’s going into that Gate?’
As one question faded, another immediately rose in its place. Depending on a Gate’s classification, there were minimum entry level requirements.
How many S-Class Espers were even in the country right now? And how many could be dispatched if needed?
‘This is bad.’
Han Ju-oh’s rank would be taken into consideration.
And so would his own match rate.
