“Is Yu-won gonna end up with a fan club at this rate?”
“Might even be people holding up banners when we come out of the Gate. It was like that when Rion came back from his first Gate, remember?”
The mood was cheerful on the surface, but in reality, things were far from calm.
The team had received orders to remain on standby near the Gate for the next two days, and tension was beginning to eat away at everyone’s nerves.
That’s why they were all trying to laugh it off, acting overly casual to shake off the anxiety.
“Yu-won, isn’t it kinda weird seeing yourself on the news?”
“It is. But my parents already freaked out when my name popped up on the news ticker, so the novelty’s kind of worn off.”
“Ah, I bet that scared them.”
“They were worried, yeah. But they told me to do my best and come back safe.”
Yu-won exchanged a few quiet words with Ye-ju, who was sitting next to him.
And it wasn’t just Yu-won. Ever since the S-rank Gate raid team list hit the media, the phones of everyone on the team hadn’t stopped buzzing.
Messages poured in from family and friends full of worry or encouragement. While those words were comforting, they also stirred up an underlying fear—Will I even make it back to respond to all this kindness?
[The raid team is set to deploy Wednesday, two days from now, to the S-rank Gate site to begin final preparations. Reporting for NNC, Kang Soo-ji.]
[Despite swift public reassurances from the Central Center, public anxiety remains at an all-time high. Within an hour of the Gate’s appearance, flight booking sites nationwide crashed due to the overwhelming traffic.]
Every channel was buzzing nonstop about the S-rank Gate. Even the owner of the team’s go-to diner was visibly on edge.
“You all are really gonna be okay, right? I’m counting on you Espers.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be back here for a meal in a week or so.”
“That’s right, that’s right. You’ll need to eat plenty before taking on an S-rank Gate. This one’s on the house.”
“Oh, you really didn’t have to…”
“If I don’t send you off with something, I’m the one who’s gonna feel uneasy. Go on, take it!”
Thanks to the unsolicited “on-the-house” service, the team walked out with full bellies, patting their stomachs.
“You know, as nice as that was, it kinda weighed on me.”
“Yeah. Makes you feel like you really need to pull through.”
“There’s no such thing as a free lunch. That’s just how the world works.”
“Not like it’s the first time Rion’s been treated like royalty. The rest of us barely get recognized, but him? People spot him wherever he goes.”
Seo-ha cast a sideways glance at Rion. Rion responded with a calm, neutral expression.
“It’s all part of the job.”
“Sure, but… people are complicated, you know? You’re grateful when they worry, but the pressure’s real. And if they don’t care, then it feels kinda sad.”
“I don’t know… Sometimes I think it’d be better if no one even knew we existed. No Espers, no Guides, no Gates—just peaceful lives.”
Rion’s words carried a quiet sincerity.
He often wished no one knew how hard he worked or how much he endured. That people could just live their lives in blissful ignorance.
Because he knew just how much fear and uncertainty the existence of Gates brought into people’s lives.
“We’re already carrying enough of the burden.”
“God, you sound like a textbook.”
“Seriously. If we’re already suffering, I’d at least like a little recognition. Sure, it’s our job, but a little support wouldn’t hurt.”
“That’s just ‘cause you haven’t suffered enough yet.”
Tae-hwan looked over at the chattering juniors with a half-smile.
Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t understand where they were coming from.
“But Rion, you really do think differently. Most people only say stuff like that when they’ve… you know, lost someone to a Gate or—never mind.”
Some who’d lost family in Gates did end up echoing thoughts like Rion’s. Civilian casualties were rare now, but back in the day, they weren’t uncommon.
And even if such sentiments were understandable, it would’ve been deeply inappropriate to suggest—especially to someone’s face—that they must have lost family to a Gate.
Tae-hwan shut his mouth and cautiously watched Rion’s expression.
Others who knew about Rion’s family circumstances from what had been shared online also stole wary glances in his direction. The moment passed when Rion let out a faint chuckle and broke the tension.
“It’s okay. I’ve heard stuff like that before. But no, I haven’t thought about it that way.”
Rion gave a bitter smile. Tae-hwan had the sudden sense that family should be a topic left untouched around Rion—Gate-related or not.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Living without all this crap is ideal, no doubt about it. Anyway, now that we’ve eaten, let’s get back to training.”
Tae-hwan laughed awkwardly and quickened his pace. Everyone hurried to catch up, half-jogging behind him. But Yu-won couldn’t take his eyes off Rion’s back.
***
“Public anxiety continues to rise over the first S-rank Gate in 21 years. We’re joined now by members of the raid team. Could you share your thoughts going into this mission?”
“Lee Yu-won, over here! You’re known for having the highest-ever matching rate with Esper Kang Rion—how’s your teamwork been?”
“Esper Oh Tae-hwan—reports say you’ve retired from the front lines. Does the 8-year gap worry you?”
The raid team headed to Incheon a day earlier than the predicted Gate opening date.
They knew full well the area would be crawling with reporters. The Center had warned them. But being bombarded with questions in real-time was an entirely different beast.
“Uh, excuse me—just one moment…”
“Some are questioning the selection criteria for the raid team. Could you shed light on how the members were chosen?”
“The Central Center claimed to have run special training in preparation for this Gate. Could you elaborate on what that entailed?”
Reporters swarmed the temporary base camp near the Gate, enough to make the tent walls shudder. Flustered Espers looked to the Center Director for help.
Reporters will be there. I’ll handle the interviews—just focus on final prep before heading into the Gate.
The Center Director had said not to worry and promised to take care of things. But even he hadn’t expected this scale. He’d guessed there might be twice as many reporters as the last S-rank Gate, but this felt more like twenty times.
Everyone knew the area was risky—anything could happen—but the reporters’ obsession with “the public’s right to know” seemed to outweigh that fear.
“Please, one question at a time. The Espers and Guides need rest before the raid, so…”
“Kang Rion! Over here, please!”
The Center Director tried to calm the chaos, but no one was listening. Microphones were practically being shoved in their faces.
In the end, Rion had to step up just to defuse the situation.
“We understand people are scared, especially with it being the first S-rank Gate in 21 years. But we’ve assembled an elite team and are confident we’ll clear the Gate within a week, with zero civilian casualties.”
“Esper Oh Tae-hwan is reportedly joining the raid despite retiring 8 years ago. While he’s known for saving many lives in the past, some worry his absence from the field may be a liability. Has that been evident during training?”
“Are you kidding me…”
A vein popped in Tae-hwan’s temple at the blunt, borderline disrespectful question. He looked about ready to explode, and Hee-soo quickly grabbed his arm.
“On the contrary, he’s taught us things we wouldn’t have figured out on our own. As the only one here with prior S-rank Gate experience, he’s been a huge pillar of support for us—mentally and tactically.”
Rion followed up with a textbook-perfect answer. Having done plenty of media rounds as a headline Esper, delivering these kinds of statements came easy.
Let’s just get this over with and focus on prep…
He knew the reporters wouldn’t leave unless they got what they wanted.
And since no one could predict what might happen inside an S-rank Gate, having this many civilians nearby was hardly ideal. If something went wrong, the reporters could get caught in the crossfire.
Things were going smoothly—until that question came.
“An article reported that Lee Yu-won, an S-rank Guide who joined the Center this year, has a 99% matching rate with you, Kang Rion.”
“Ah, yes.”
Rion’s expression froze the moment Yu-won’s name came up.
He quickly reminded himself to manage his expression and forced a slight smile.
“How is your synergy with Guide Lee Yu-won? Matching rate is said to be partially influenced by emotional compatibility—would you say that’s reflected in your teamwork?”
It was a predictable question—but still, it hit a sore spot. Managing his expression proved harder than expected.
“Guide Lee Yu-won… is the one who helped me overcome a long-standing matching issue, so naturally, I’m especially grateful to him. He’s been an immense help.”
“There’s some public concern about why the two of you haven’t registered as an official pair. What’s your response to that?”
“…Since Guide Lee Yu-won only recently joined the Center, we’ve agreed to take some time for him to adjust. We haven’t formally registered as a pair, but we’re handling most of our missions together.”
Rion gave a professional, polished smile.
“He truly is… the best Guide.”
