Chapter 3
Such brief news couldn’t provide proper information about the gate, but nonetheless, with dozens or hundreds of corporations pouncing on a single gate, there were many people who watched with interest.
People watching TV each began to make comments.
“The government probably took that one, right?”
“I heard the Center managed to secure it somehow, but I’m not sure if that’s good.”
“The problem is the corporations. They throw away symbiotic ethics and only pursue private interests…”
“Tsk. What’s this world coming to?”
Experts particularly noted that the recently opened A-grade gate would likely contain many high-quality samples (samples: a term referring to all valuable byproducts obtainable from gates).
The value of mana stones and byproducts obtained from defeating monsters was more limitless than petroleum. With Earth’s resources rapidly depleting, people’s attention naturally gravitated toward them.
Just then, a breaking news ticker appeared at the bottom of the screen in small letters, stating that there had been a change in the Center’s guide roster for the gate operation.
He narrowed his eyes and stared intently at the ticker.
‘What a shame.’
He had also been on that roster.
The reason for the change in the roster was… probably because he had died. He had made every effort to get the name “Jang Iju” included for this A-grade gate and had finally succeeded.
But instead of entering the gate, he had died suddenly from overwork.
Trying not to sigh, he forcibly pulled his gaze away from the news.
He was dead anyway, and with the B-grade guide’s body he had unintentionally come to occupy, he couldn’t participate in gate operations. So it was wise not to harbor any desires from the beginning.
The fact that he, a field guide who frequently visited the Center, had never encountered Ko Eungyo meant that Ko Eungyo was a regular guide who only worked at the Center and was picky about which Espers to guide.
In common terms used by field ability users, asking for a “regular” guide—who was practically a “normal person”—to be sent to the field made no sense. Especially for an A-grade gate.
Laying out these clear facts helped him neatly clear away even his lingering regrets.
“Mr. Ko Eungyo.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll move to the examination room now.”
He rose from his seat.
It took about an hour to receive basic first aid from the medical staff—cleaning the dried blood and applying gauze—and to get a CT scan. The doctor diagnosed him with a mild concussion. He was also advised to take care of his body for the time being, as there might be some damage to his brain.
“If you suddenly feel dizzy, or can’t see or hear, call 119 immediately.”
“Yes.”
He casually dismissed the doctor’s warning and got up.
He paid the hospital bill with a credit card from his wallet. It wasn’t a black card, but a common one that could be seen anywhere. That was a bit disappointing. Perhaps Ko Eungyo wasn’t the illegitimate child of some conglomerate after all.
Standing in front of his front door to enter his home, he rummaged through his wallet, wondering which one was the entrance key card. Luckily, the second card he picked up was the right one.
As he entered through the opened front door, his phone rang in his pocket.
[Ko Eunso]
Since this body’s name was Ko Eungyo, Ko Eunso was likely a sibling.
‘Should I even answer this?’
After briefly hesitating, he answered the phone while getting into the elevator. This caused the call to disconnect momentarily before reconnecting.
[Ko Eungyo! Why aren’t you answering?]
“Um… hello?”
He slightly furrowed his brow as he got off the high-speed elevator. The voice coming through the phone was that of a woman, high and cold, as if it might shatter.
[Why weren’t you answering the phone? And what’s this about being appointed as a professor at Korea University?]
“…”
What was this about now?
[You need to have at least one thing you’re good at to be a professor… Did you blackmail the director to do such an outlandish thing? Are you in your right mind?]
“…”
He didn’t understand the situation, but this woman didn’t seem to be genuinely asking why he had to become a professor. Her angry voice berated him.
[I bet you did this to see that Woo Sihyun or whatever his name is. You’re bringing shame to the entire family. Going crazy over some half-decent Esper—there’s a limit to not acting your age. How long will you keep making such stupid choices?]
He stood in front of the door, listening to the woman’s sharp tirade.
The voice mercilessly criticized the owner of this body. Stupid, rude, full of vanity! It was a truly scathing tone that cut deep.
Although it was Ko Eungyo’s behavior, he was the one being scolded—this seemed somewhat unfair. Thinking it wasn’t a big deal, he tapped the entrance key card on the door lock. The door opened smoothly.
As he entered the house, he continued the call. He hadn’t hung up because, having just awakened in Ko Eungyo’s body, he had an absolute lack of clues about Ko Eungyo.
[It seems that even you have no excuses left?]
“…”
Ko Eunso appeared to be someone close to Ko Eungyo. The voice that had been pouring out anger and contempt over Ko Eungyo’s behavior softened somewhat. In any case, he was able to gather as much information as possible from what she had said.
Summarizing the content, it was as follows:
Korea University, the nation’s most prestigious university, naturally had a special department for students who manifested as Espers-Guides, and occasionally held commissioned lectures by inviting senior guides working at the Center. This time, Ko Eungyo had gained the qualification to go and give lectures.
The reason he, a mid-level guide, could be entrusted with commissioned lectures was simple. It was because he had abused his private authority.
For one reason only.
…To see an Esper he had a crush on.
“…”
Is this for real?
[You haven’t forgotten the warning I gave you last time, have you? With this incident, the ties between you and our family are over. Well, go ahead and work well, begging those people you used to disregard. Know that there will be absolutely no more support going into your card from now on.]
“…”
The card is being cut off? That very card he had used to pay the hospital bill today?
To him, who had just awakened and had barely been in this body for a full day, this treatment felt extremely unfair. But he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to respond to this woman with her cold tone.
[I’m hanging up.]
Despite the fact that all he had said after answering the phone was “Um, hello?”, the woman didn’t seem to care at all.
“…”
What could he do?
They say a person will always find a way to survive. With effort, he could certainly live without the card. He sighed, trying to calm his troubled mind. Needless worrying wouldn’t solve anything.
As soon as he hung up, he thoroughly searched the house.
He didn’t know when the original owner of this body might return, but at the very least, he needed to stay alive with his bandaged head intact. The wound on his head wasn’t his fault, but it would be a problem if he starved to death for lack of food.
Unfortunately, there was nothing in the refrigerator except for a few bottles of water. Ko Eungyo appeared to be the type of person who didn’t cook at home at all. Of course, he wasn’t the type to wash rice and put it in a rice cooker or prepare side dishes either. In this one aspect, at least, they were mirror images of each other.
He needed money to buy food. There was no clearer proposition than that. He sat at the dining table chair and rummaged through the mobile phone. After a few trials and errors, he was able to check the balance of what appeared to be the main bank account.
78,000 won.
‘…’
Had he really resolved everything with the family card? Was there really not a single penny saved until now?
Though his vision darkened, he couldn’t just sit still in despair. Rather, it was more realistic to consider how long he could survive on about 70,000 won, or to look for a place where he could work, even something simple.
At that moment, a message arrived with a cheerful notification sound, stating that money had been deposited. Simultaneously, the balance, which had been stuck at 78,000, suddenly increased.
4,078,000 won.
He recalled the cold voice that had declared the end of their connection.
So this was… some kind of final mercy?
Just as he thought that, another message arrived on his phone.
[Your lecturer’s fee has been paid. You can print the receipt from the Korea University website. The semester starts on September 1st. Thank you.]
‘…’
His head throbbed. That’s right. Based on the earlier conversation, he was a lecturer appointed to Korea University. In other words, he didn’t need to look for other work to earn a living.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
