The sizzling of meat on the grill had gone on for hours, sounding less like a meal and more like a monsoon thunderstorm. What started as a casual order of pork belly had escalated so much that no one could keep track of how many times the grill had been changed. With six grown men gathered at a BBQ joint, maybe it wasn’t entirely outrageous—but for Choi Jae-won, who had a perfectly average appetite, the moment their additional orders surpassed twenty servings, even the sound of the meat cooking started to make his stomach turn.
“Kinda getting sick of just meat. Should we get some cold noodles?”
“Great idea. Let’s also throw in five more servings of marinated ribs to go with rice. You’re eating too, right, Team Leader Park?”
“Yup, I’m in!”
Were they secretly training for an underground eating competition or something? Kim Joon-young, Lee Jung-hyuk, and Park Woo-jun just kept going. Relentlessly. Sure, the two Espers had enhanced physical capabilities, so maybe it made sense for them. But Lee Jung-hyuk was a Guide like Jae-won. How was he still eating like that? What kind of mutant stomach did he have?
Completely dumbfounded, Jae-won just watched with both hands raised in defeat. Lee Jung-hyuk wiped his mouth and turned to him. “Should I order some for you too, Mr. Choi?”
He quickly shook his head. No way.
Truth be told, he was the kind of pampered heir who had only ever eaten at BBQ restaurants where a certified Korean chef grilled the meat for you and plated it neatly. Even the two servings he’d managed tonight had been gulped down under the pressure of keeping up appearances in front of Ryu Ho-yeon.
“Jae-won.”
Just then, a welcome voice called out to him. Ryu Ho-yeon had finished eating early and was now sitting across from Lee Han-seo, chatting quietly. Jae-won perked up and quickly turned his head.
“Yeah, hyung?” His voice was full of hope.
Unfortunately, Ho-yeon’s tone was as dry and direct as ever.
“If you’re done eating, go get more ice cream. Vanilla.”
The place was designed like an open garden and was decently sized. It was the only BBQ spot near the Center with private rooms, and by the entrance, near the cashier, there was a kids’ play area and a free self-serve ice cream machine. Ho-yeon, who had once said he’d always wanted to visit a place like this after seeing it in dramas and movies, looked quietly pleased.
Not that he’d ever told Jae-won directly. Jae-won had only learned that by overhearing Ho-yeon chatting excitedly with Han-seo the moment they met—hands clasped, talking nonstop. Whether Jae-won, the only blood relative here, felt left out or not didn’t matter. Han-seo simply mumbled, “I want chocolate,” in his usual disinterested tone.
If only Han-seo weren’t my cousin… If only he weren’t Aunt’s son… Jae-won stared daggers at the pair, green with envy, but of course, it didn’t accomplish anything.
“What, not going?”
Of course. He should’ve seen this coming.
“…Vanilla and chocolate. Got it.”
When he returned, one hand holding two cones of ice cream and the other gripping a takeout espresso—because he’d remembered at the last second that Ho-yeon liked affogato—the scene inside hadn’t changed at all. Even though only three of them were eating, five more servings of marinated ribs had arrived, and there were now four bowls of cold noodles on the table. He was too tired to even be surprised anymore.
No one even glanced at the door when he came back. They just kept chatting about something only they understood. Without a word, Ho-yeon held out his hand. Annoyed, Jae-won didn’t immediately give him the ice cream and just stared. Ho-yeon tilted his pale face, blinking those ridiculously sparkly eyes.
“Not giving it to me?”
Ho-yeon hyung is tactless, rude… and way too cute…
“Here…”
The things Jae-won could never say aloud just spun endlessly inside his chest. Round and round. He’d even rushed to the nearest café to get espresso, just because Ho-yeon liked it. That’s how hopelessly devoted he was. Honestly, the day he’d ever raise his voice at Ryu Ho-yeon would probably never come.
“Oh yeah. Hyung, why haven’t you been going to the training center lately?”
Ho-yeon didn’t even say thanks as he took the coffee and happily drank it. Jae-won, watching him fondly, suddenly remembered and asked. Among the six people here—three Espers, three Guides—there was only one other person besides Ryu Ho-yeon he called hyung, and that was Lee Han-seo. So it was obvious who the question was aimed at.
It was the first time Jae-won had voluntarily spoken up after spending the whole evening silently observing. But the moment the words left his mouth, the warm, casual atmosphere in the room turned icy cold, like frost on a crisp fall morning. It was brutal.
“Huh? Why aren’t you answering? I asked why you’re not going. You used to nag me about skipping training all the time. I checked earlier—you’re dead last in attendance this month.”
With that one question, Jae-won lost something very important—like the right to feel upset that Ryu Ho-yeon never noticed or returned his feelings.
Just as Kim Joon-young and Park Woo-jun had guessed, Ryu Ho-yeon didn’t have strong Guiding support, so he was usually assigned to solo missions clearing low-level Dungeons quickly. Unless it was time for his biweekly check-in at his branch, he was constantly moving around the country.
Even during the chaos surrounding Park Seon-jun, when everyone’s attention was focused on that mess, Ho-yeon had kept grinding through Dungeons. Naturally, he’d become indifferent to everything else. That he didn’t even notice things his fellow Dungeon partners picked up on made it clear—unless it involved his Bonded Pair, he just didn’t care.
Or at least, that’s the excuse one could make in his defense.
“Uh…”
“Hey, hey. Are we just gonna keep eating all night? Weren’t we supposed to decide who’s getting deployed next? Let’s get this meeting started already.”
Just as Lee Han-seo parted his lips, trying to say something—anything—in response, Kim Joon-young cut in with perfect timing, deliberately raising his voice in exaggerated cheer to break the tension. Coming from the guy who’d been eating the most, it was a bit suspicious, but the others didn’t question it. Except for Jae-won and Han-seo, the rest of the group quickly chimed in, eager to change the subject.
“Ack—Hyung, what the hell?! What did I do?!”
His shin throbbed. Under the table, Ryu Ho-yeon had kicked him. Hard. Ho-yeon, who’d been happily spooning up his affogato a second ago, now glared at him with icy precision. Then, lips barely moving, he mouthed a silent threat: We’ll talk later.
As usual, the three Bonded Pairs were perfectly in sync—except for Choi Jae-won, who was once again the odd one out, shoulders slumped in quiet misery.
Han-seo let out a faint chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. It had been a while since his lips had curved into anything close to a smile, so even that small motion felt oddly comforting. Park Woo-jun, sitting beside him, gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then released it. He even ran his thumb softly across the back of Han-seo’s hand.
It’s fine. Everything will be okay.
It was a silent message—one that had always worked between the two of them.
“So, where exactly are we being sent? And for how long?” Ho-yeon asked, steering the conversation back to the reason they were all here. “All I’ve heard is that it’s a long-term overseas mission and one of the S-classes has to go.”
The two other Espers exchanged a quick glance, and then Park Woo-jun began explaining.
About a year ago, a massive wave signal was detected on a remote island chain under Philippine territory—far stronger than any Dungeon wave previously recorded on Earth. The local government, already overwhelmed just managing existing gates, had resorted to forcibly relocating citizens to defend urban centers. With no resources left to handle this anomaly, they turned to the World Government for help.
But no one wanted to be the first to sacrifice their elite forces. Losing a top-tier Esper wasn’t just tragic—it was catastrophic. No country volunteered its S-classes. Eventually, the United States sent in a team of elite A-class Espers instead. While there was a major difference between A- and S-class, the team they sent was composed of some of the most powerful A-class Espers alive.
Then the gate opened, and they went in.
That was six months ago. Not one came back.
After that, countries like China, Russia, and the European Union began sending their own follow-up teams—every nation that could muster a capable A-class squad tried. Still, the results were the same. South Korea managed to hold out, citing its fragile armistice as reason to avoid mandatory deployment. Somehow, they’d managed to stay out of it—until now.
Every month, it was like a ritual sacrifice. New Espers and Guides were shoved through the gate. It had at least kept the monsters contained so far, but according to recent field reports, even that was reaching its limit.
Experts warned that at this rate, the gate would collapse within three to four months, unleashing the Dungeon’s monsters into the world.
Until now, not a single S-class Dungeon had ever gone unresolved. The world still remembered the devastation caused by the collapse of an A-class gate twenty years ago—two small cities in North America were obliterated. Over half a million people were either killed or went missing.
That was just an A-class.
If this Dungeon, an S-class with wave intensity beyond anything ever recorded, were to burst open… it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say half a continent might be lost.
The World Government had stopped asking nicely. They issued demands: any country with two or more S-class Espers must send at least one. Not that many nations met the criteria—barely enough to count on two hands.
“Still, Korea has three S-classes. We’re in a better position than most.”
“……”
“……”
The weight of the topic crushed the mood that had only moments ago been filled with light banter and food. Someone had to go. And whoever it was—there was no guarantee they’d come back.
“So far, we’ve sent around sixty people into that Dungeon,” Park Woo-jun added quietly. “And as you all know, not a single one has returned.”
He let out a breath, then asked in a calm, almost detached tone, “So—who’s it going to be?”
