Even though they’d hired an informant to track down Kim Minsu as quickly as possible, they were still a step too late. He hadn’t left for China through any official channel; instead, he vanished aboard a smuggling ship, slipping away without a trace.
China was a country even Hayan couldn’t easily enter. Since the emergence of monsters, it had grown increasingly closed off. Regulations on Ability Users were especially severe: not only did the government strictly forbid its own from leaving, it also treated foreign Ability Users with suspicion and hostility.
Yet, paradoxically, China dispatched more scouts than any other nation, seeking to lure talented Ability Users from abroad into their fold.
To enter China, one needed personal authorization from the Center Director and had to endure a long, grueling approval process. Not only did that take time, but what weighed more heavily on Hayan was the thought of leaving Nabin alone in Korea.
Bringing him along wasn’t an option either. The Center Director would never allow Nabin to travel abroad—least of all to China—and it would put him in serious danger.
Unlike Korea, China’s public safety was poor. Even if Hayan stayed at his side, there was always the chance that something could go wrong.
In the end, Hayan placed another request with the informant, asking him to pin down Kim Minsu’s exact location within China. Once that was done, he planned to either carve out enough time to make a brief trip himself or hire people who specialized in such work to secure Kim Minsu and deliver him.
Thinking back on Nabin’s past life, Hayan tried to recall if there had been anyone in the Center connected to the Black Dragon Gang, but no one came to mind. That was why the names Ryu Soh-an gave him were so completely unexpected.
“Han Jigang, Gong Min, Tae Yishin, and… Ryu Somin.”
For a moment, Hayan couldn’t understand what he meant. As far as he knew, Ryu Somin was Soh-an’s younger brother. Han Jigang, Gong Min, and Tae Yishin were also close enough to be living in the same residence. The four of them—S-rank Espers—were inseparable, and everyone in the Center knew it.
“I thought all of them were close to you, Esper Ryu Soh-an.”
At Hayan’s words, Soh-an looked troubled, as if struggling to explain. Even he would’ve found it hard to believe—if he hadn’t seen Nabin’s memories with his own eyes.
“Has Guide Kim Nabin ever spoken to you about his dreams?”
“…No.”
Nabin suffered from frequent nightmares. After Soh-an’s treatments, he might fall into a deep sleep, only to wake in the early morning drenched in cold sweat, muttering incoherently.
Sometimes he even hurt himself, which was why Hayan had long since made it his nightly duty to stay beside him.
Watching Nabin writhe in the grip of nightmares was painful enough, but what broke Hayan even more was how desperately Nabin tried to act like nothing was wrong.
He was terrified of revealing his wounds. More than the agony that drove him to self-harm, he seemed most afraid of letting Hayan see him vulnerable. The moment he woke from a nightmare, he would immediately search Hayan’s face, anxious for his reaction.
“I-I’m f-fine…”
Every time Nabin said those words, Hayan felt it was his own failure—that he still hadn’t given Nabin enough trust or safety to lean on. But it wasn’t something that could be rushed.
Like a soft drizzle soaking quietly into the earth, Hayan chose to remain by his side in silence, believing that someday Nabin would open up and lean on him completely.
“It doesn’t make sense, but… the people I just mentioned are the ones who appear in Guide Kim Nabin’s nightmares.”
“…Is that true?”
“Yes.”
But Nabin had never even met them. Not once. He hadn’t so much as passed them in the hall. So how could they be appearing in his nightmares?
The steady honesty in Soh-an’s eyes left no doubt. His affection for Nabin was genuine. He wasn’t the kind of man who would toss out absurd lies as a joke, least of all about something like this. And the people he’d named were all close to him.
“I know it’s hard to believe… but when I looked into part of Guide Kim Nabin’s memories, that’s what I saw. …They were the ones who ultimately drove him to his death.”
As he spoke, Soh-an’s face twisted, the muscles around his eyes tight with pain. Hayan’s own expression turned cold.
The day he glimpsed Nabin’s memories, Soh-an couldn’t bring himself to return to the residence he shared with his friends. He knew that if he saw their faces, his fists would fly before he could stop himself.
It had already happened once, back at Hayan’s mansion, when his rage had consumed him to the point of losing control. That fury wasn’t gone—it lay buried deep, waiting for the smallest vent to erupt again.
He knew his friends weren’t fond of Guides. Strangely, none of them had a high Match Rate, and the very act of receiving Guiding was unpleasant and painful for them. In that sense, he could understand their distaste.
But the people he knew weren’t the type to bully the weak. They were eccentric, yes, but never malicious without cause.
That was why the versions of them he’d seen in Nabin’s memories felt like strangers.
In those memories, they tormented Nabin—the most obvious weakling—without remorse.
No—“torment” wasn’t strong enough. They abused him, broke him, and in the end, drove him to his death.
The most shocking part was what he saw of his younger brother, Ryu Somin.
To Soh-an, Somin had always been frail, pitiable since birth. While other children raced across fields, Somin spent his life in hospitals, steeped in the smell of antiseptic.
Perhaps because they grew up without parents, Soh-an knew there was always a loneliness inside his brother that no amount of love could fully fill.
But never—not once—had he imagined his brother would frame someone or lie for his own sake. This was no childish prank.
With a single careless word, with a single thoughtless act, Somin had thrown Nabin into situations so terrifying he feared for his life.
The Somin he knew was gentle, kind, and lonely. But the Somin in Nabin’s memories was someone else entirely.
Why wasn’t he by his brother’s side in those memories? He didn’t know. There was nothing in them that explained it.
If he had to guess… maybe he was dead. Because if he’d been alive, he would never have let them destroy Nabin that way.
Too many things didn’t add up. Even the present reality was diverging from the memories Nabin carried.
If those dreams were glimpses of the future, Nabin should’ve awakened as a D-rank Guide. But he had already awakened as an Immeasurable Guide. He hadn’t been dragged off by loan sharks to an illegal Guiding den either.
That convinced Soh-an that Nabin’s memories weren’t visions of the future.
As impossible as it sounded, there were theories about parallel worlds—other realities running alongside their own. Perhaps the memories buried in Nabin’s unconscious were fragments of such a parallel world.
If not, then maybe a miracle had truly happened, rewinding Nabin’s time and letting him awaken differently. For now, that seemed the most likely explanation.
Whatever the truth, Soh-an was determined never to let Nabin endure that hell again. To do that, he had to keep him away from those who haunted his nightmares—at least until he was strong enough to face them.
That was why he was saying this now, even if Hayan called him insane. Because if anyone could shield Nabin from them, it was Hayan.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
It was hard to believe, but Hayan had no choice but to accept Soh-an’s words. If what he saw in Nabin’s memories was real, then facing them could easily trigger another breakdown.
Nabin was only just beginning to find his footing again. If Hayan saw him suffering because of them, he might lose control just as Soh-an had, and lash out without hesitation. A battle between S-rank Espers in the city would be a catastrophe.
“Then I’ll take my leave for today.”
Fortunately, Hayan seemed to believe him. With a quiet sigh of relief, Soh-an rose to his feet. He wanted nothing more than to stay by Nabin’s side, but he had another promise to keep.
