If he was still alive, I really wanted to see him again—just once.To witness Je-ha living well, free of bloody battles, in this peaceful world.
If we ever met again, I planned to ask him what he’d wanted to say to me back then… the words he never got to finish.
But right now, I couldn’t afford to show even a hint of joy. Even though I was the real Ahn Ga-hyun, I wasn’t confident Je-ha would recognize me.
And before anything else, I had to get the hell out of this vault. There was no telling when someone from the government might barge in. If it was the government, they’d almost certainly installed some kind of trap or monitoring device.
“…So what, you treated me like shit because you thought I was one of those rats from the government here to rob the vault?”
“Weren’t you?”
“That’s incredibly insulting. I’m telling you—I’m not.”
I firmly denied it, and the man—who I was now almost sure was Je-ha—snorted.
“And how am I supposed to believe that? Every lowlife who’s come sniffing around this vault has tried to pass themselves off as some long-lost cousin or childhood friend.”
“I’m not like them. I’m here to honor the legacy of Guide Ahn Ga-hyun.”
Just saying my own name made the man’s grip on me loosen for a moment.
Now!
I seized the moment, twisted free from his hold, and quickly put some distance between us.
But he only looked at me with an expression that said, So what now?
“…How do you know Ga-hyun’s name?”
One wrong word here and I was dead.
A murderous aura slowly seeped from around him. Suppressing my nerves, I forced myself to stay calm and started weaving a lie.
“I don’t know what kind of relationship you had with Ahn Ga-hyun, but my mom… she was his childhood friend.”
“Childhood friend…?”
“Yeah. They used to hang out when they were little—buy snacks, eat tteokbokki together.
Even after she moved away, they kept in touch by mail now and then.”
Forgive me, Yeon Yu-jin’s real mother. I have to borrow your identity for this.
I mentally prayed for her peace in the afterlife and continued.
“She used to say she was the last person alive who truly knew Ahn Ga-hyun. Apparently, other than his combat partner, he didn’t have anyone else left. So she told me, if she died before him, I should inherit what’s in this vault.”
“……”
The man who seemed to be Je-ha went silent.
Even if he knew everything about Ahn Ga-hyun, there was no way he’d know about every random connection from his childhood.
So I took a gamble, banking on that gap in knowledge, and kept the lies flowing. And it seemed to be working—he looked hesitant.
“…Still, how do I know you’re really the son of someone Ga-hyun trusted with his legacy?”
“How can I prove it to you?”
“If you stayed in touch, even occasionally, then you’d know this. What was Ga-hyun’s most hated food?”
Too easy.
I answered without hesitation.
“Roasted sewer rat. He only ate it once, after a dungeon raid when their supply line got cut off and they were starving to death.”
Je-ha’s brows twitched at how fast I answered.
“…Correct.”
[Ew—you ate that?!]
Potato gagged and mimed throwing up.
Hey now. Back in my day, we were lucky just to survive.
I ignored Potato’s whining and turned to Je-ha with a triumphant grin.
“Now do you believe I’m here to carry on Ahn Ga-hyun’s will?”
“…Hmm.”
Even though I got it right, Je-ha didn’t look entirely convinced.
“That’s not enough.”
“What?”
“Even if you are the son of someone Ga-hyun trusted… it’s weird that someone that close never contacted me—the guy who fought beside him, the one closest to him.”
Okay, he’s got a point.
I didn’t show it, but I was panicking.
Why is he being like this?
Couldn’t he just accept it with a simple “I see, that makes sense”?
I mean, if I know the vault password, that should be enough to prove I’m legit…
“Show me more proof.”
“……”
Those cold blue eyes radiated quiet menace.
His hair was completely white now, and Je-ha looked ready to crush me at any second.
Was this really the Hyun Je-ha I knew?
Wasn’t he always the kind of guy who treated everyone kindly by default?
The Je-ha I remembered always had a smile on his face—a stubborn optimist.
Even when he got assigned to the deadliest front lines by pure bad luck, he still greeted every morning with a cheerful “Good morning!” for the whole unit.
And that wasn’t all.
“Let’s make it through another day together. We can do this!”
We were stationed on the frontlines, constantly clashing with monsters pouring out of dungeon breaks.
That place was a living hell. Casualties were a daily occurrence.
Espers and Guides, all conscripted by the government, had no choice but to fight.
Higher-ranked Ability Users had the drive to survive, but many of the lower-rankers were drowning in despair.
“What’s the point of surviving?”
“Even if we make it out, we’re just serving the government that threw us in here.”
“Just let us die.”
Living meat shields.
Their hopelessness and depression stemmed from one simple truth: they understood their situation all too well.
I didn’t blame them.
I understood that despair.
That’s why, when I saw people like that, I looked the other way.
I didn’t have the luxury to try and change a broken heart. I was just barely holding it together myself—convincing myself that if I survived long enough, I could make something out of it.
But Je-ha was different.
“Sitting around depressed won’t change anything. You need to grow stronger—just enough to survive this hell.”
He reached out to those Ability Users waiting to die.
“Let’s survive together. You know what they say—two heads are better than one. If we want to make it, we need to work as a team.”
“…You really think we’ll survive?”
“I don’t know. I might have a high rank, but I’m in the same boat as you.”
Je-ha never made hollow promises or gave fake speeches.
Instead, he offered a sliver of hope—just enough to hold on.
“But think about it. The number of newly discovered Espers and Guides is skyrocketing.
Meanwhile, the number of new dungeons popping up is going down. If this trend continues, we might finally reach a point where Ability Users can control all the dungeons.”
And he wasn’t wrong. The number of newly recruited Ability Users was rising exponentially. And because of that, the death rate among our comrades had slowly begun to fall. It was ironic.
“Once we clear all the high-risk dungeons where monsters still spawn, we’ll be able to go home.”
Je-ha said that with total conviction.
It’s only now—20 years later—that I can say he was right.
Back then, everything was uncertain. Even I thought Je-ha’s optimism was naïve, maybe even delusional.
But he never gave up. He persuaded every single new recruit who arrived at our unit, one by one.
“And how do you know all this?”
“Because the government is tracking the number of Ability Users more closely than anyone.
They’ll eventually let us go, as long as we don’t riot or anything. All we have to do is clear every last dungeon.”
He said it with a grin, forming a circle with his fingers like it was a joke. But there was never any guarantee that his words would come true.
We were under total control. Even letters—if we were lucky enough to send one—were heavily censored. The government didn’t want anyone saying we’d been conscripted by force.
Wake up. Get sent out to fight. Be watched, controlled, and silenced. It was more surprising not to fall into despair.
But even those who had given up were still human.
They wanted to live. No one really wanted to die.
“…Guess I’ll take a chance and believe you, just this once.”
“Good call.”
Je-ha had a way of seeing through people. That’s why all our unit members trusted and followed him.
It wasn’t just about rank. He gave them hope. He fought to survive—with us. Even I—who used to mock him for being too optimistic—was no exception.
Because it was his kindness that saved me. That’s why I took the hit in his place.
Because someone like Je-ha deserved to live more than someone like me—someone always cursing and venting.
Because I wanted to protect the compassion of someone who stood tall, even in hell.
That’s why—even if it was a meaningless death—I thought it still had value.
“What’s taking you so long to answer?”
Shit.
“If you’re stalling because you can’t think of a good lie, don’t bother. I could kill you in an instant.”
“…Haa.”
That bastard—he means it.
Objects around us began to rise, suspended mid-air by Telekinesis.
Where the hell did he even find rope and nails? Did he bring them with him just in case? He could’ve killed me with Telekinesis alone—these must be for torture or intimidation.
“I don’t tolerate lies.”
“……”
This is terrifying.
[What if he actually kills you?]
I don’t know, okay?!
Goddammit.
Our dear Esper has changed—for the worse.
