“…….”
“…….”
The two of them sat side by side, sipping on their coffee with hollow, lifeless eyes, like it was just another part of the routine. On days without missions, they were used to being dragged along by the Guides and shoved into a corner of the gym to space out. It had become second nature by now. Seeing top-tier S-Class Espers reduced to glorified decorations? That was a rare spectacle money couldn’t buy.
Kim Joon-young and Park Woo-jun didn’t exchange a single word. They just stared dead ahead, their gazes sharp and unrelenting.
The last time Park Woo-jun had asked, “Are you seriously training to go into a dungeon?”—Lee Han-seo had answered, “Yeah,” without the slightest hesitation.
Of course, Woo-jun had flipped out, saying it was a terrible idea. But Han-seo had already made up his mind. Nothing Woo-jun said would change that.
Up until now, Han-seo had only backed down because Woo-jun hated the idea so much. He’d been giving in, letting things slide. And only now was Woo-jun realizing that.
“I heard someone else Guided you inside the dungeon.”
“Is that what this is about? I didn’t ask for it. And I swear it’ll never happen again—”
“It’s not like that was the first time.”
“…….”
“I’m not an idiot. I’m not even mad at you. But answer me honestly, Park Woo-jun—if you start to lose control in the middle of a dungeon, can you swear you won’t turn to another Guide for help, no matter what? Even if it means breaking the Imprint? Or are you planning to hold out without Guiding, only to collapse and never make it back to me?”
The words struck deep—cutting right into the place he’d been trying so hard to ignore. There was no softness in Han-seo’s voice, nothing to cushion the blow.
If he’d at least yelled or lost his temper, there might’ve been something Woo-jun could do to calm him down. But Han-seo’s cool, detached tone—drawing a clear line and stepping back—left him completely helpless.
“Just knowing that, if I’m not there, someone else might end up Guiding you—that alone pisses me off. It makes me sick.”
“Han-seo…”
“What, you don’t get what I’m saying? Was I not clear enough?”
“…….”
“I’m not throwing a tantrum or being unreasonable like before. I know exactly what you’re worried about. That’s why I’m training like my life depends on it. I’ve never worked this hard for anything in my life. I hate it—I hate it so much I could scream. But I’m doing it. Because I want to be there with you.”
Every word was like a punch to the gut—sharp, relentless. Even when Han-seo snapped, “Can’t you understand plain words?” or cursed in frustration, it didn’t sound like he was trying to hurt him. It sounded like a desperate, raw confession: This is how much I love you.
“And even after hearing all that… you’re still going to stop me? Can you really do that, Park Woo-jun?”
In the end, Woo-jun couldn’t bring himself to stop Han-seo. So here they were again—Han-seo, sweating it out under the strict watch of Lee Jung-hyuk, building his strength day by day.
Today he was training his rear deltoids, grunting under the weight of the dumbbells. His form still wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than when he’d started.
“That’s it. Lock your shoulder blades. Again—one, two, three, four…”
“Nngh… Ugh…”
“Han-seo, focus on your breathing. Don’t use momentum. Stay tight and controlled, all the way through.”
“Eegh!”
Normally gentle and doting, Lee Jung-hyuk turned into a merciless drill instructor when it came to workouts. One extra squat, one more press—it all directly affected their survival rate inside a dungeon. That’s why he treated training with such deadly seriousness.
Outsiders always assumed that being a Guide just meant waving your hands and using your powers. But they couldn’t be more wrong. No other role demanded the same level of physical training and endurance.
Guides had to enter dungeons too. They might not be frontliners, but they still had to haul in all their gear—equipment, water, combat rations—and trek for hours, days, even weeks through pitch-black terrain without visibility, all while keeping tabs on their Espers’ conditions.
In the end, the one with the most stamina lived. Fall behind, run out of breath during a surprise attack—fail to evacuate fast enough—and you were dead.
That was the truth Jung-hyuk had learned from over a decade of grueling dungeon work.
And Woo-jun knew it too.
If he couldn’t stop Han-seo from going into dungeons—and if he couldn’t always be at his side on the frontlines—then training under Lee Jung-hyuk, the one Guide in the country with unmatched dungeon experience, was the best possible outcome.
He understood that. He really did.
“Ugh…”
But that didn’t make it any easier to accept.
If there were even the slightest chance to talk Han-seo out of this, he’d do it in a heartbeat—banish the word “dungeon” from his life forever.
With a weary sigh, he set down his empty coffee cup on the floor, the motion as habitual as breathing. Another sigh slipped out, and next to him, someone chuckled dryly.
“Funny. Guess who’s actually dying inside right now?”
A bright laugh on the surface, but the corners of his lips twisted bitterly.
“Sunbae…”
“Do you have any idea how many years I’ve spent shutting down every damn Guide training program they tried to get me to run? If you did, you wouldn’t be sighing like some ungrateful brat. Ever since the rumors started—that Jung-hyuk’s training Lee Han-seo—my phone’s been blowing up every day. Everyone begging me to bring the program back. Every. Single. Day. You get it now?”
“I’m sorry…”
“Not that I’m looking for an apology or anything—I just wanted you to know. That classical piano concert? The one you said was too boring and I had to beg you to go to? It’s tonight. I pulled strings with the organizers, begged them for the best seats… and now those tickets are just wasted. That was supposed to be our first proper date in a month. But now? That’s gone too. And since Lee Han-seo says he won’t leave the Center until he finishes his basic training, who knows when we’ll be able to go out again. Still, really. It’s fine. You don’t have to feel bad.”
The smile in Kim Joon-young’s eyes was smooth, but there was something deadly sharp behind it—like a blade just beneath the surface. Honestly, getting punched would’ve hurt less than this.
Feeling awkward, Park Woo-jun fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the caramel cookie he’d been saving to give Han-seo during his break. Wordlessly, he offered it to Joon-young.
Joon-young took it—then casually crushed it in his fist. In an instant, the hard cookie crumbled into a fine powder and scattered through the air.
“Don’t give me crap like this. You two need to sort your shit out. I’m done. I’m seriously at my limit. And at this point, Han-seo could probably run the simulator on his own.”
Honestly, it was already a miracle Joon-young had tolerated anyone stealing this much of Lee Jung-hyuk’s attention for so long.
Woo-jun clenched his jaw as Joon-young stood up with a sharp motion. But he didn’t try to stop him. He couldn’t.
“Jung-hyuk. Come outside with me for a sec.”
“What? Did a mission come in?”
“No, it’s not that… Oh, and Han-seo, you too. Let’s talk. All of us.”
There was something about Joon-young’s energy—hard, cutting—that made even the other two stop mid-rep. Both Han-seo and Jung-hyuk had been in the middle of a 20kg chest press, but the moment they heard him, they dropped everything and followed.
Joon-young didn’t even try to hide his irritation. He practically yanked Jung-hyuk away from Han-seo’s side and jumped right in.
“Han-seo, just go into the dungeon. Honestly, it might be easier that way.”
“Hyung!”
“Sunbae!”
Han-seo himself didn’t say a word, but the others erupted.
Woo-jun and Jung-hyuk both jumped to defend him—shouting that all he’d done was some light stamina work, that he wasn’t anywhere near ready, that Joon-young was being way too harsh because this wasn’t his responsibility.
But Joon-young just looked at them like they were completely missing the point.
“So what? How long are we gonna keep this up, huh?” He scoffed. “Jung-hyuk, his body’s just not built like yours. No matter how much he trains, he’s never going to bulk up like you. I get it—you wanted to build a solid foundation. But at this point, you’ve spoon-fed him everything. If he can’t handle it from here, then he’s just stu—just a fool. A damn fool.”
He was clearly pissed, and yet he still made the effort to soften his words—for his Guide’s sake. That alone was kind of touching.
“I’m not saying throw him into a dungeon blind. Let him keep working on his stamina, sure. But start the real combat training now. You’ve got one month. After a month, take him into a B-Class dungeon. If he holds up, fine—let Han-seo do things his way. But if he can’t hack it, then Woo-jun takes over. Seriously, don’t you two have any shame? Wasting everyone’s time like this with no end in sight?”
No one could argue. Not even a little.
Woo-jun felt his stomach twist as he glanced between Joon-young and Han-seo.
Was this really happening? Was Han-seo actually going into a dungeon in just one month? The thought made his chest tighten in dread.
But at the same time, a small, selfish part of him hoped—if Han-seo panicked and backed out, then maybe things could stay the way they were. Safe.
“Alright. Let’s do it.”
Han-seo wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, then nodded without hesitation.
“I can handle it.”
His voice was calm, full of quiet confidence.
And there stood Park Woo-jun beside him, face unreadable—caught between worry, doubt, and a helpless, unspoken hope he couldn’t quite kill.
