The joy of getting the kids away from the man was short-lived. Ha-jun found himself wondering if he’d somehow boarded a Disco Pang Pang ride—flung into the wall, slammed against the ceiling, then bounced off the floor, all thanks to the man’s Esper ability. He barely had a moment to breathe.
“Help, please help us!”
A child’s voice echoed from downstairs. Ha-jun sharpened his focus on the faint footsteps. He’d assumed everyone had escaped and the building was empty—was it Association reinforcements?
“Kihihit. Maybe this one’ll be worth selling?”
The man, who had just slammed Ha-jun into the floor, turned toward the stairs. Whatever he saw had him buzzing with excitement beneath his mask. The dark hallway suddenly lit up with a flash of blue flame.
FWOOSH—
Blue fire crackled like fireworks—and in the blink of an eye, the Esper on the stairs, moving too fast to track, grabbed the man’s head and vanished from sight.
BOOM!
At the end of the corridor, a flash of intense blue flared, then vanished. Despite the chaos, Ha-jun thought absurdly that the flame was… beautiful.
What happened to the man with the telekinesis? The two who disappeared down the hall hadn’t made a sound since. Did the Association agent win? Or the telekinetic?
Step. Step. Drag. Drag.
A faint flame began growing brighter—or was it drawing closer?
“Who…?”
Around the man’s neck hung a silver metal collar—an Ability Restraint Device. He was being dragged across the floor, clearly unconscious.
“Support operative Do In-ho, reporting in.”
Beneath his fierce, slanted eyes, deep dark circles hung low. Blood spattered his cheek. His massive frame exuded a jarring, almost suffocating presence.
Before relief could sink in, Ha-jun found himself breathless beneath the oppressive aura of the man who introduced himself as Do In-ho. Civil Complaints Division, Ha-jun. Such a simple phrase, yet it caught in his throat. All he managed was a wheezing breath and a nod.
“Let’s evacuate.”
Do In-ho supported Ha-jun and led him down the stairs. At the bottom, the children clung tightly to each other. Though the ropes had been untied, their legs had likely given out from fear—they hadn’t run.
As Ha-jun’s strength gradually returned, he moved away from Do In-ho and approached the still-trembling children.
“It’s okay now, kids. It’s all over.”
The children rushed into Ha-jun’s arms. Too scared to cry before, they now wailed loudly, realizing it was finally safe to do so.
“Let’s go home.”
Ha-jun gently wiped the tears and grime from their faces and turned around. Do In-ho was watching him, holding the restraint still fastened to the unconscious man.
Shiver. Goosebumps swept over Ha-jun’s skin. How could anyone wear such an emotionless expression at a moment like this? Like dry sand that might crumble in your hands if touched—Do In-ho’s face was completely devoid of warmth.
“Ah…”
It felt like being struck in the head. So that’s how it is. A real hero doesn’t need a ridiculous costume. A real hero doesn’t need some special weapon or ultimate move to take down a villain.
A real hero saves people… simply by following orders, without any sense of mission.
Ha-jun safely returned the children to their guardians, who tearfully thanked him for saving them.
All memories of Do In-ho’s involvement were wiped from the children’s minds. Instead, false memories were implanted—memories of Ha-jun defeating the villain and protecting them. The reason was simple: Do In-ho was classified as an Ability Overload Candidate. There was no need for outsiders to remember him.
Erasing Do In-ho from their memories made Ha-jun the hero he’d always wanted to be—even if it was all fake.
***
Back in the present, Ha-jun replied as he picked chili peppers:
“Esper Do In-ho probably doesn’t remember, but… he saved me once.”
“In-ho did?”
“Yeah. If I had to say, he’s kind of my hero.”
“An Esper’s hero. That has a nice ring to it.”
Ha-jun smiled at Kwon Ho-eun’s comment, a smile with a hint of something unspoken, and continued filling the basket with peppers. After about an hour of work, Do In-ho, having finished his assigned row, came over to assist Ho-eun.
“What were you two talking about?”
From afar, the sound of Ha-jun and Ho-eun chatting had been getting on Do In-ho’s nerves. He’d finished up as quickly as he could and now stood by Ho-eun’s side.
“Secret.”
Ho-eun grinned playfully. Do In-ho’s hand tightened around the pepper he was picking.
“Ah—In-ho, be careful. You snapped it.”
“Sorry.”
A dark aura began to rise from Do In-ho’s feet. Why was his mood sinking? It felt just like that time Ho-eun came home smelling like someone else.
“Actually, In-ho, we were talking about you. Team Lead already knew about you, so.”
Ho-eun gently ran a hand over the back of Do In-ho’s head.
“There’s this touching story, you see.”
As Ho-eun praised him with a warm smile, Do In-ho quietly lifted his foot from the broken pepper he’d stepped on.
“Hearing things I didn’t know about you… it made me curious. What kind of life has Do In-ho lived?”
Ho-eun turned slowly to look at him. His eyes shimmered, like pure sunlight distilled into human form.
“I’m curious too.”
“Then I guess we’re the same.”
Ho-eun chuckled softly and returned to work. Do In-ho paused, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea that they shared the same feelings made his heart tremble.
“You city folk worked hard. Here, take one of these.”
The elderly man filled a basket with fruit and handed it to Ho-eun. It contained watermelon, grapes, apples—an entire harvest of sweetness.
The four of them returned to the village head’s house, where he began preparing a meal as thanks. Outside, rain had started to fall. When they opened the living room balcony door, the sound of rain was pleasantly soothing.
The meal was banquet noodles and chive pancakes. True to his role as the cameraman, Ho-eun diligently filmed the food.
“Are we including this footage?”
“If the Esper video’s short on material, I’ll use it.”
Black asked, and Ho-eun replied. The guide portion of the shoot had gone long, but the Esper segment might need filler. And let’s be honest—viewers liked this kind of footage.
Only after confirming the food looked good on camera did Ho-eun pick up his utensils.
Once everyone was full, the village head returned with the fruit he’d prepared earlier.
“Se-ho! Come out and eat with us.”
The inner door opened, and a middle-school-aged boy came into the living room. The headman called out to him.
“I’m not hungry. Grandpa, I’m going frog hunting with Min-soo!”
“In this rain? Where do you think you’re going?”
“You gotta go out because it’s raining. That’s when frogs are easiest to catch.”
The boy, presumably the headman’s grandson, confidently pulled on a raincoat and boots and stepped outside.
“He’s your grandson?”
“Yeah. Visiting for summer break. Been going on about frogs since yesterday.”
Shaking his head, the village head muttered about not understanding kids these days.
Chewing on a chunk of watermelon, Ho-eun stared out the window. The rain was falling harder.
“Do you know where he might go frog hunting?”
“There’s a stream down by the foot of the mountain. He probably went there.”
Upon hearing that, Black stood up and quickly left through the front door. He caught up to Se-ho, whose figure was receding into the distance, placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder, and spoke gently. Se-ho nodded enthusiastically.
Back in the living room, Black told the village head he’d asked Se-ho to come back in 30 minutes, so there was no need to worry.
“Come to think of it, you said you have a younger sibling, right, Black?”
“Yeah, I do. If I don’t set a time, they’ll just play until they feel like coming home. I’ve gotten into the habit of setting limits.”
As Black and Ha-jun chatted, Ho-eun silently handed an apple slice to Do In-ho. The sweet juice filled his mouth with each bite. Time passed quickly as the four of them laughed and talked.
“Shall we start getting ready to go?”
“Wait… Se-ho’s not back yet.”
As Ha-jun stood to pack up, Black pointed out the boy’s absence.
“This is getting worrying. Should we see him home first before we leave?”
At Ho-eun’s suggestion, the other three nodded in agreement.
“In case he comes back while we’re gone, Black, could you wait here with the village head?”
“Got it, Team Lead.”
Under the now-heavy rain, Ho-eun opened an umbrella and headed for the mountain. The stream came into view, but there was no sign of the boys.
“This isn’t good. The rain’s swelling the water.”
The stream looked far deeper than a typical brook—likely from a previous rainy season. The three of them walked along it.
“Se-ho!”
They called his name while scouring the area, but no answer came.
“Should we split up and search?”
They were starting to question whether they were even headed the right way when—
“I hear crying.”
Ha-jun cupped a hand to his ear. Do In-ho nodded and turned toward the sound. Ha-jun sprinted ahead with Ho-eun and Do In-ho close behind.
“I hope he’s okay.”
Ho-eun’s voice trembled with worry. There’s no way the kid was crying tears of joy from catching frogs—something was clearly wrong. Just as panic began to balloon in his chest, Ha-jun shouted:
“Found him!”
“Help us!!!”
In the swelling waters, Se-ho was flailing, clearly drowning. Nearby, a friend—likely his frog-hunting buddy—was sobbing and calling out to them. The stream had widened and deepened as it fed into what seemed like a reservoir.
While Ha-jun hesitated, Ho-eun kicked off his boots.
“Ho-eun!”
Without a second thought, Ho-eun leapt into the water. He wasn’t afraid—he’d learned to swim as a child and had once trained competitively. He figured he was the best suited to the rescue.
The water was deeper than expected and flowing rapidly toward the reservoir. Ho-eun grasped Se-ho’s struggling body.
“You’re okay now.”
Ha-jun took off his jacket and draped it over the crying friend. Do In-ho gathered sticks and started a fire near them, shielding it from the rain with an umbrella. Then he reached out a hand to pull Ho-eun from the river.
SWISH—
Suddenly, an arrow sliced past Do In-ho’s face. It hit the water right in front of Ho-eun and vanished beneath the surface.
“In-ho! Get Se-ho first!”
Ho-eun lifted the child, and Do In-ho took him into his arms. Once the boy was safe, Ho-eun tried to climb out—
“Huh?”
But then—something wrapped around his leg, dragging him underwater. It felt like something was grabbing him.
“……!!”
Ho-eun opened his eyes underwater and looked down.
A whirlpool had formed around his leg, refusing to let go. What the hell is this? At the center of the whirlpool was the arrow from earlier.
Is that what’s causing this?
He reached for the arrow—but his legs wouldn’t move, and his arms weren’t long enough to grab it. How long can I hold my breath? Ho-eun struggled desperately to break free.
“Ho-eun hyung!”
Do In-ho prepared to jump in after him—until a string being pulled from behind caught his attention.
“Don’t. If you try to save him—”
Another arrow flew. Do In-ho caught it mid-air and turned toward the direction it had come from.
“Kyaaah. That look on your face—so scary. You’ll never be popular like that.”
A woman in a traditional Korean mask appeared, a bow slung over her shoulder. She wore a black robe embroidered with golden thread. Do In-ho’s brow furrowed.
“Tiger.”
