Once again, Hyun Je-ha went out alone, despite the opposition from his comrades.
As they watched him get ready to head out, every one of them had the same puzzled look on their face.
To avoid being caught by the government, the members of the unit rarely stayed in one place for long.
Ironically, their current hideout was smack-dab in the middle of Seoul—an apartment in the city center.
That was all thanks to Hyun Je-ha’s parents.
When the government had delivered the news of their son’s supposed death, they’d been devastated. But when Hyun Je-ha returned alive and made secret contact, they learned the truth. They realized too late that the government had faked his death and lied to them.
Now, harboring a deep hatred for the government, they secretly provided him with whatever he needed—at great personal risk. They had to be extremely careful not to get caught.
On paper, Hyun Je-ha had died in the line of duty. So the government couldn’t openly investigate or monitor the families of ability users.
Though it pained them to know that, legally, their son no longer existed in this world, they saw it as an opportunity to help him. They volunteered without hesitation.
That was one of the reasons Hyun Je-ha became Captain.
Having lost his beloved partner Guide, Ahn Ga-hyun, Hyun Je-ha had become as cold and sharp as a blade of ice. But his squad, the elite unit known as the Baekho Unit, knew better than anyone how cautious he could be.
So they all asked in unison:
“…Captain. Where are you going?”
“To keep an eye on Yeon Yu-jin.”
“Sorry, what?”
“You mean that D-rank Guide?”
“The idol?”
The murmurs quickly spread among the team.
Geum Na-ro, the intelligence specialist with eyes shaped like triangles, turned to Hyun Je-ha.
“Didn’t you previously say there was no need to monitor that D-rank Guide since he didn’t seem like a government spy?”
“…I did.”
“Then, may I ask why you’re going to see him now?”
“I’m not going to see him. I’m going to monitor him.”
“Forgive me, but it doesn’t seem that way.”
As Geum Na-ro challenged him, the atmosphere grew chilly.
Hyun Je-ha was a near-perfect Captain. No one in the Baekho Unit had ever openly opposed his decisions.
But recently, the squad had started to question his behavior.
He was the one who’d insisted on minimizing contact with outsiders, and yet he was making an exception for that D-rank Guide.
Geum Na-ro spun around in his chair, facing the Captain.
“It’s strange. I did a thorough background check, and that Yeon Yu-jin guy has no ties to the government. He could easily be considered just another ordinary civilian.”
In fact, wasn’t he too busy being an idol to even care about being a Guide?
“The only reason the government’s started keeping an eye on him is because of you, Captain. Even if you erased your own memory, Psychometrists can still read the past. You can’t avoid their eyes.”
“……”
He wasn’t wrong. A few of the other unit members even nodded.
Though they didn’t voice it, they’d also noticed changes in Hyun Je-ha’s behavior.
He’d been spending more time lost in thought, often so deep that he wouldn’t even hear people trying to talk to him.
For someone who had always been so composed, this shift was unsettling. None of them had ever seen him like this.
These were the kinds of emotional shifts they’d observed when the unit was first formed—usually among new recruits who missed the families or friends they’d left behind.
But for Hyun Je-ha, the rock-solid Captain, to be showing signs like that? They all wanted to ask what was wrong but didn’t have the courage to say it aloud.
He was the kind of man who almost never spoke about himself.
And among those who had always sensed an unspoken wall between themselves and the Captain, it was Geum Na-ro who was brave—or foolish—enough to finally push the issue.
He drove the point home.
“Captain, if this continues, Yeon Yu-jin’s safety is going to be at risk because of you.”
“……”
“You clearly care about him for some reason. I just want to know why.”
Why, huh…
Hyun Je-ha let out a faint, bitter laugh.
He couldn’t exactly tell them the truth—what would they think? That he’d gone insane?
That every time he saw Yeon Yu-jin, he couldn’t help but think of Ahn Ga-hyun, his partner who’d died a horrific death twenty years ago? That he needed to know more because of that?
Even he didn’t understand why he was doing this.
To the Baekho Unit, comrades who had risked their lives for one another, he was already more than family.
As Captain, burdened by overwhelming responsibility, there was no way he could reveal the truth.
So he came up with a plausible excuse.
“The last time I watched Yeon Yu-jin, he demonstrated guiding and tactical command skills far beyond what’s expected of a D-rank.”
“…So, you’re saying?”
“He’s hiding his true abilities. The government may be keeping an eye on him precisely because they suspect that too.”
Even in this era of peace, where the threat of dungeons had subsided, the government enforced one strict rule above all:
Ability users—Espers or Guides—must never falsify or conceal their true stats.
Being a Hunter was no longer mandatory, but they needed accurate information to prepare for potential dungeon outbreaks.
Hyun Je-ha continued, eyes fixed on Geum Na-ro.
“Yeon Yu-jin is suspicious. He clearly possesses higher abilities than what his D-rank classification suggests, yet he hasn’t made any effort to correct the record.”
As an idol, he was in a profession where moral and legal conduct mattered even more. If he were caught falsifying his rank as a Guide, it would be a serious offense.
But Yeon Yu-jin didn’t seem the least bit concerned.
“That struck me as odd, and I figured the Bureau of Awakened Ability Users must’ve noticed it too. Which is why I decided to monitor him more closely.”
Ha Ri-ra, who had been lying on the floor munching dried squid, suddenly chimed in.
“That explanation’s not cutting it for me, Captain.”
Chomp. With a satisfying crunch, she polished off the last piece of squid and mumbled:
“What’s the term… ‘Powerhider’? You know, people who hide how strong they really are. There are always a few of those losers around. Tsk tsk. Society’s gone to hell. Back in my day—”
Ryu Yi-rok, who’d been eating snacks next to her, interrupted.
“Hey, ‘Powerhider’ doesn’t mean ‘power-hiding loser.’ It means someone hiding real power.”
“Sounds like a loser to me.”
“Ugh. This is why talking to you is exhausting.”
“Wanna go?”
Their bickering was cut short by Hyun Je-ha.
“Enough.”
“Tch.”
“Hmph.”
Now sulking with their lips poked out, not even looking at each other, Ha Ri-ra and Ryu Yi-rok looked like sulky kids.
Hyun Je-ha calmly explained.
“Such ability users do exist, but Yeon Yu-jin didn’t strike me as one of them.”
So-called “Powerhiders” were usually attention-seekers.
Some got a kick out of secretly being stronger than everyone else, while others were weaklings pretending to be strong Hunters as part of a scam.
And in most cases, the latter group far outnumbered the former.
Those with rare or powerful abilities had no reason to hide.
Why would they, when the government and society were falling over themselves to offer perks and benefits?
Hyun Je-ha added what truly bothered him.
“Because the person we’re looking for—X—is most likely someone living in hiding, concealing their true abilities.”
“…!”
At that, Geum Na-ro, Ha Ri-ra, and Ryu Yi-rok all froze.
The other members, who had been resting quietly, immediately went on alert. The air turned icy.
The ability thief.
The one responsible for the planned murder of Hyun Je-ha’s partner, Ahn Ga-hyun. The one who had sought to steal his powers.
Within the Baekho Unit, they simply referred to him as X.
With the implicit understanding that this was someone who had to be eliminated.
After X murdered the research team, Hyun Je-ha had gathered every scrap of data they hadn’t managed to destroy.
And in those reports, he found a shocking truth.
X hadn’t been targeting Ahn Ga-hyun alone.
The documents listed dozens of Espers and Guides.
Most had supposedly died in the line of duty while subjugating dungeon monsters.
There were three common factors:
- They were all A-rank or higher.
- They had been assigned to front-line areas where death was considered “normal.”
- Their bodies had mysteriously vanished after death.
When Hyun Je-ha combined all this data, he formed a chilling theory.
X was still alive—and likely someone who:
—Could manipulate or use government insiders to help cover their tracks. (e.g., someone with connections to high-ranking officials.)
—Was either a civilian with dormant powers or an extremely weak ability user.
—Was masquerading as a mid-tier ability user while hiding the stolen powers they’d accumulated—because being exposed would mean instant execution by the Baekho Unit.
Geum Na-ro narrowed his eyes.
“…Captain, are you saying you suspect Yeon Yu-jin might be a candidate for X?”
If that were true, Hyun Je-ha would’ve already half-killed him.
No, he just wanted an excuse to keep watching him.
When it came to the late Ahn Ga-hyun, Hyun Je-ha wasn’t exactly the most level-headed Captain.
