Lee Han-seo’s unusually dark hair fluttered in the wind, weightless and drifting. Maybe it was because the large shadow that always loomed beside him was gone, but his slumped shoulders—subtly hunched with defeat—looked broader and more solid than people remembered.
That impression was actually pretty common among those who saw Lee Han-seo in person. “Guide Lee Han-seo, you’re taller than I expected,” or “You’re way more built than you looked on screen.”
But this difference in perception wasn’t really about screen versus reality—it came down to one simple thing: whether Park Woo-jun was standing next to him or not. Han-seo stood at a solid mid-170s in centimeters, a little lean maybe, but well within the average range for an adult man. The issue was the guy always tailing him like a shadow just happened to be Park Woo-jun—a man who looked like he had an extra head stacked on top of his shoulders.
“Hyung! What are you doing here? I’ve been looking all ove—”
“Shh. Quiet. Han-seo’ll hear you.”
Ryu Ho-yeon, who was finally getting a full, satisfying look at the friend he’d missed so much, didn’t even glance back. He simply reached out and clamped a hand over where he assumed the speaker’s mouth was.
“Mm—hgh! H-hyung, th-that’s…!”
“I said be quiet. Why are you being so—ah. My bad.”
He turned toward the voice with his usual deadpan expression, only to find a Guide—someone he was pretty familiar with by now—standing there, face bright red. The guy couldn’t even bring himself to push away Ryu Ho-yeon’s small hand, which was currently pressing rather firmly against his crotch. He just stood there, frozen, clearly at a loss.
But contact was contact, and the Guiding energy flowed freely. It was an unfortunate accident caused by the difference in height—Ho-yeon squatting, the Guide standing.
“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to grab you there.”
He could’ve sworn he felt a twitch of heat beneath his palm. Hopefully just his imagination—but it probably wasn’t. Ugh. Gross. I really wanna wash my hands… It was uncomfortable, but he was the one who touched first, so it felt weird to complain. Keeping his face composed, Ryu Ho-yeon offered a calm apology.
“…I-I don’t mind if you, uh, touch me more.”
“…If you’re trying to collect solid evidence to report me for sexual harassment, I’ll have to decline.”
“N-no! It was just a joke, hyung…”
At the flash of disgust that crossed Ryu Ho-yeon’s face, the rookie Guide—who had made a hobby and lifestyle out of unrequited crushes—lowered his eyes and obediently plopped down beside him. Compared to the old days, when he had to make do with blurry photos smuggled out by informants, getting to sit next to him under the title of “pair Guide” was absolute luxury.
“So what were you doing here? Hiding out in the bushes?”
There was a perfectly good bench right in front of them, yet here he was, crouched behind some dense shrubbery. It was suspicious, to say the least. But Ryu Ho-yeon just pointed confidently toward the 11 o’clock direction. There sat Lee Han-seo, staring blankly into space.
“Our Han-seo… What are we gonna do? His face is full of sorrow.”
“Sorrow…? I think he’s just zoning out from eating too much.”
“No. That’s the look of a man who’s completely devastated. It’s because of Park Woo-jun. I knew it—killing that bastard is the only solution.”
“Hyung. Am I the only one seeing that tub of ice cream lying next to him? And it’s not a single—it’s a pint. Did he really eat the whole thing? Damn, that’s impressive.”
Ryu Ho-yeon shot him a glare. “Jae-won.”
Oh. He said my name. When was the last time that happened?
Choi Jae-won, still fresh in the program and not even six months into training, smiled gently and nodded. After dedicating over ten years of his life to becoming Ryu Ho-yeon’s pair Guide, hearing his name called like that felt like the reward for it all.
“What kind of language is that?”
“…Sorry?”
But—
“I was trying to be nice since you’re Han-seo’s cousin, but no. Where do you get off calling someone like him by name like that? Just ‘Lee Han-seo, Lee Han-seo’—you don’t even add ‘hyung.’ I’m disappointed.”
Oh my god, it’s Grandpa Mode.
His one and only crush was also the kind of guy who had no problem unleashing his inner boomer when it came to protecting his one and only friend. And as always, the one who falls first loses—that was an unshakable truth.
“…I’m sorry.”
“Oh—Han-seo’s getting up. Let’s head back too.”
“…Yes, hyung.”
Choi Jae-won quietly changed the contact saved as “Han-seo hyung” in his phone to “ㅗㅗㅗ” (a Korean keyboard flip-off), and for the first time in ages, sent the first message himself. Apparently, Han-seo had nothing better to do, because the reply came back instantly.
[<ㅗㅗㅗ: You’ve got ice cream all over your mouth. Wipe it off. You’re not embarrassed?]
[>ㅗㅗㅗ: So what. Not your business.]
God, Lee Han-seo is the absolute worst… They said they’d stopped being friends five years ago, but the way he cuts straight into your soul is just like old times.
“What are you doing? You coming or not?”
“Ah—yep, coming, hyung!”
Still, the fact that he could be by Ryu Ho-yeon’s side at all felt like a miracle. So Choi Jae-won chose to swallow the petty frustrations of being a rookie, like it was just another part of life.
***
There were only 26 hours left now—just over a day—until the return window predicted by the Analysis Team.
Lee Han-seo, having finished his final day at the Guide Management Department yesterday, had woken before dawn that morning. After giving himself a thorough wash, he got in his car and drove straight down to the gate site himself.
The rural village, already quiet and remote, had become completely desolate after the dungeon alert. With civilian access cut off entirely, the place felt downright eerie.
“This is a restricted area. Civilians are not permitted. Please reroute.”
“I’m Guide Lee Han-seo from the Seoul Central Branch. Here’s my entry permit.”
“Oh—Guide Lee! We didn’t receive word that you’d be arriving in a private vehicle. My apologies for not recognizing you.”
“No worries. Thanks for your work.”
The soldier guarding the city outskirts saluted crisply as he waved Han-seo through. From there, he drove another twenty minutes down the empty road.
About 500 meters from the coordinates he’d memorized, a group of Gatekeepers—probably lower-tier Espers—stepped out and made a big X with their arms. Beyond that point, personal belongings were prohibited. His vehicle included.
Trying to argue over it would just waste time and energy. Han-seo complied without fuss, got out of the car, and continued the rest of the way on foot.
The site was in full swing. Combat reserves were stationed for emergencies, medics stood ready, and researchers waited to collect ecological samples retrieved from inside the dungeon by the assault team. It was an S-Class dungeon, after all—there were far more Gatekeepers deployed than at a standard site. The entire operation was being overseen by staff from the Esper Assignment Division.
“We’ve been expecting you, Guide Lee Han-seo. You’ll be resting in this tent. The return gate is projected to form around midnight tomorrow. Please be on standby at the designated location from eleven o’clock.”
“Got it. Just give me the call.”
The number of S-Class dungeon appearances had risen sharply in recent months, but no society could truly grow used to catastrophe. The mood here wasn’t calm from familiarity—it was heavy, saturated with a bitterness born of resignation and dread.
And yet, among all these weary, burdened faces, Lee Han-seo stood out like a sore thumb, quietly brimming with anticipation. He kept himself in check, careful not to show it, but no matter how hard he tried, the corners of his lips kept twitching upward at the thought of seeing Park Woo-jun again—finally.
So what if the tent was barely more than a tarp? So what if the sleeping bag dug into his back? His body was uncomfortable, sure—but his heart wasn’t. In fact, it was so full he didn’t even notice the discomfort. That would be the more accurate way to put it.
“…He didn’t get hurt, right? No, he’s fine. This dungeon’s big, yeah, but they said it wasn’t as difficult as the other S-Class ones. He didn’t even bring an Amplifier. He’ll be fine. He has to be fine.”
The words spilling from his lips were more prayer than reassurance. He was nervous, of course—worried—but more than that, he was overwhelmed by excitement. After all this time, he was finally going to see Woo-jun again. And since Woo-jun hadn’t taken an Amplifier into the dungeon this time, that strange, terrifying stranger—the one who always appeared and plunged Han-seo into despair—wouldn’t show up either.
As he chewed through the flavorless combat rations, Han-seo slept deeply for the first time in ages. Dreamless. Peaceful. He needed his body in top shape. The moment Park Woo-jun came out, he’d have to jump straight into contact guiding.
He didn’t leave the tent once that day—not unless absolutely necessary. This place was swarming with Espers, and Han-seo wasn’t about to waste even a single particle of his guiding energy on anyone else before Woo-jun returned.
And then, finally—at the stroke of midnight—
“Return gate activation has begun!”
Park Woo-jun had come back.
“Reporting return of Assault Team: 17 Espers including Park Woo-jun, 14 Guides. Total number of casualties from inside the dungeon… four.”
But he hadn’t returned empty-handed.
He brought news they could’ve done without.
