What exactly was I not satisfied with?
Come to think of it, Yu Je-hyun had a habit of skipping the subject when he spoke. He was the kind of speaker who expected others to read between the lines—utterly inconsiderate in how he communicated.
“I was talking about what you just ate. Four slices of pizza wouldn’t even make a dent in your stomach.”
“That is true.”
Realizing Haru had not followed, he explained without condescension. Haru nodded in response. The immediate hunger may have been appeased, but his stomach was still poised to demand more.
“You’ve been cooking for me all this time. Today, I’m buying.”
“Really?”
“Have you spent your whole life being scammed? Why are you so damn suspicious?”
It was a golden opportunity for a free meal. Grinning from ear to ear, Lee Haru rose and followed Yu Je-hyun. His first impression of the man had not been great, but the more he got to know him, the more solid he seemed. He had helped carry heavy bags without complaint, thanked Haru properly for home-cooked meals, even did the dishes himself. And now, he was offering to pay him back in full for all those dinners.
So you really cannot judge a person by first impressions.
At that moment, Yu Je-hyun felt even further removed from the “that guy” who had haunted the pages of Lee Haru’s diary.
***
“I cannot eat anymore… Please stop ordering…”
He had even unbuckled his pants to keep going. Gazing at the mountain of crab and lobster shells piled on the table, Haru let out a groan barely louder than a whisper. He was already half-sunken into his chair, and his belly visibly swelled with every breath—probably not just his imagination.
“I thought you were a big eater. You’re not as impressive as I expected. Kind of disappointing.”
“……”
Today was full of moments that left Haru speechless. His eyes wandered to the stack of empty plates beside him, and he began counting.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten… Ten plates—and that’s supposed to be underwhelming?
The comment stung his pride. Even before his death, he had such a voracious appetite that friends jokingly encouraged him to start a mukbang channel. He had considered it more than once, but in the end, he died before ever filming a single video.
Is he seriously still eating…?
The lobster on the plate was not even an exaggeration—it was the size of a child’s forearm. And every single one came with pasta and soup as sides. The soup included two slices of bread as well.
By the time he reached his tenth plate, even Haru—who prided himself on being a heavy eater—felt like the food was pushing up his throat. He could barely breathe.
Yet Yu Je-hyun was now polishing off his eleventh plate.
“I’ve always been good with shellfish. Let’s just finish this one and head out.”
“Yes. Please, take your time.”
Yu Je-hyun had brought him to a high-end restaurant with a full view of Namsan Tower. The place looked exactly like the real world, and for a moment, it tricked Haru into thinking that maybe his old home still existed, that his friends might still be out there.
Huh…?
As he got lost in a haze of nostalgia, recalling familiar faces, he suddenly felt the atmosphere darken unnaturally outside.
“Wait, what…?”
He even muttered it out loud. At first, he thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him, so he rubbed them. But no—it was real now. Undeniably real.
“Why is the sky black…?”
It was not even close to sunset. The sky, still a vivid blue with puffy clouds drifting lazily, had not begun to dim at all.
Yet in one patch of the sky, a black void had opened—like a hole punched through the atmosphere. It was as if daylight still bathed the world, except for this building, where night had abruptly fallen.
“Lee Haru. Get up.”
Yu Je-hyun dabbed at his lips with a napkin and stood. His features, soft and relaxed from the meal, turned cold the instant he looked out the window.
Beep, beep, beep—
An alarm blared suddenly. Haru flinched and looked at Yu Je-hyun’s wrist. The sound was coming from the watch he was wearing.
The screen glowed red, and bold letters flashed across it: DANGER.
That could only mean one thing—the black rift bleeding darkness into the sky was a threat.
Even without the alert, Haru could feel it in his gut. The hole, which had started out no larger than a human torso, had swelled to at least five meters in diameter.
Something sharp and metallic gleamed faintly within the swirling void. His eyes were being drawn in, involuntarily.
A shiver raced down his spine, spreading across his skin. He wanted to run—but his gaze was trapped, pulled toward the trembling black hole like it had a will of its own.
Like a cursed ocean cloaked in darkness, it seemed to possess a siren-like pull. With glazed eyes, Lee Haru staggered toward the window, one step at a time.
What stopped him was the solid grip of a hand locking around his waist. It felt like crashing awake from a dream—like jolting upright after falling off the bed.
Blinking slowly, Haru looked up at Yu Je-hyun, who was holding him tightly.
“Tsk. Definitely magic-type. Bastard’s got your head completely scrambled.”
The sight of the gate stirred nothing in him but a deep, visceral discomfort. But when Yu Je-hyun saw the way Lee Haru’s pupils had gone slack and unfocused, he knew instantly—the monster emerging from that rift was likely a magic-type, the kind that manipulated the mind.
Ordinarily, a gate’s appearance was preceded by a fluctuation in the surrounding mana levels. The Association used that data to predict a dungeon’s rank.
But on rare occasions, dungeons appeared without warning—absolutely no prior signs. These were known as Spontaneous Dungeons, phenomena that defied all established rules and probabilities.
In South Korea, only three spontaneous dungeons had ever been recorded. All three were ranked S-class.
S-class dungeons could only be cleared by S-class Espers. Anyone below that rank could do nothing but hold the line—or die trying.
Yu Je-hyun wrapped his arm around Haru’s waist and lifted him off the ground. The first monster was about to breach the gate.
And once an S-class monster emerged, it would be no exaggeration to say the entire area would be wiped off the map. If Haru stayed here, he would almost certainly get caught in the crossfire—and there was no telling how badly he might be hurt.
“Lee Haru, come to your senses. I am going to get you to safety now, so just stay right—”
He was guiding Haru out, still speaking calmly despite the boy’s vacant expression, when it happened. From the not-yet-fully-formed gate, the first monster began to force its way through.
The moment it appeared, it locked eyes with Yu Je-hyun. The S-class Esper radiating massive energy instantly became its first target.
An unmistakable sign: this monster was innately hostile. With a single swipe of its massive foreleg, the entire building shuddered.
The panoramic windows that once offered a sweeping view of Seoul shattered into fragments, as if the reinforced glass were nothing but sugar.
“Ah, fuck.”
The restaurant space where they had been eating was slightly separated from the main hall. But the monster’s blow demolished part of the dividing wall, collapsing it like plywood.
Now, even those with poor eyesight could clearly see the massive gate swelling in size. It felt like an earthquake had struck—the entire building shook violently, windows exploding inwards.
Panic spread in an instant.
Screams erupted, sharp and jarring. People scrambled toward the exits in pure terror, shoving and tripping over one another to escape the monster.
“Ah…”
“No, no…!”
“P-please… someone help…!”
But the instant the monster’s eyes swept across the crowd, everything froze—like time itself had stopped. Dozens of people stood paralyzed, mid-step, mouths open but bodies immobile.
They could still speak—but that only made the fear worse.
“Why the hell is everyone so damn slow?”
Clicking his tongue in frustration, Yu Je-hyun pushed Haru under a table farthest from the monster. He jabbed his watch with an edge of panic, activating the real-time broadcast to the Association’s command center.
A spontaneus dungeon would have released a colossal wave of energy across the region. By now, the Association should have detected it—no doubt about it.
For a moment, he tried to recall if Kang Min, Hong Seong-jun, or the other S-class Espers had any official duties today. Nothing came to mind.
He was off today himself. He had only invited Haru out to this restaurant because he was bored—and curious about the place.
“You ugly son of a bitch. What the hell is that face supposed to be?”
“Grrrrrr…”
Yu Je-hyun pushed back the hair falling into his eyes, watching the monster stalk into the building, gaze locked onto him.
Its head was that of a lion. Its body resembled a horse. Bat-like wings extended from its back, their membranes stretched taut like hide. Its tail was a coiled serpent, venomous fangs glinting with every sway.
The thing had the nerve to roar like a lion, but it was laughable. Yu Je-hyun clicked his tongue again as he stared into its eyes—bloodshot, crimson, gleaming like they had been soaked in gore.
Its snake-tail swayed lazily, taunting. This thing was intelligent. It had already figured out that the immobilized humans—frozen by magic—were its leverage.
When its massive, fist-sized eyes flicked toward the table behind him, something shifted in Yu Je-hyun’s stance.
Without hesitation, he lunged straight at the monster.
