Ji Se-min hadn’t changed, not even after Cha-hyeon lost his memories. He did everything he could to help his Hyung recover them, and he adjusted—quietly, patiently—to the slightly different version of the man he once knew.
The reason Se-min was able to push down his own emotions and focus only on Cha-hyeon was simple: his Hyung had to be even more shaken than he was. If Se-min showed how much he was struggling too, it would only make things harder for him. And more than anything, the fact that Cha-hyeon had come back alive and unharmed felt like enough. That alone was a relief too big to ignore.
But the only reason he’d managed to hold himself together like that… was because Cha-hyeon had been outside the Gate. Just because Se-min acted like he was okay didn’t mean he’d forgotten the trauma of that day.
He remembered every detail—how many times his phone vibrated in his pocket, the exact time displayed at the top of the screen when he pulled it out, even which hand he used to press the call button. All of it was burned into his memory like it had just happened.
“…in case of a rampage…”
“…we hate to say this, and it’s incredibly difficult for us too, but…”
“…we need you on standby at the site…”
The Gate Cha-hyeon had entered alone had mutated into an S-rank dungeon. The chances of survival? Seven percent. Which meant a 93% chance of death inside.
He heard the words, but it was like his brain rejected them—like they just passed through one ear and flew out the other. It felt like the sky had caved in on him.
“Hyung! Cha-hyeon Hyung!”
His pair Esper. His guardian. The only family he had left. Like a parent. Like home. And the person he’d loved quietly, for so long. That man might die.
Even knowing there was only a seven percent chance he’d make it out alive, there was nothing Se-min could do. All he could do was stand there, gasping for breath, staring at that crimson Gate. Then the thought hit him—he might really die—and shame vanished. He screamed. Sobbed. Cried so hard it hurt. And then he begged—prayed—desperately, clinging to the slimmest hope that someone, anyone might hear him.
Would it have been better if the mission failed and they couldn’t even recover a single piece of his body? Or was it worse to succeed, only to watch him rampage and die right in front of his eyes? Se-min prayed, again and again, that if Cha-hyeon came back, his readings would be low enough that Guiding could bring him down. Those were hours of pure torment.
And now… he’d gone into another dungeon?
Without saying a single word to him—his last remaining family?
Sung Cha-hyeon was strong. He’d cleared more high-rank dungeons solo than anyone could count.
But that didn’t guarantee anything. A seemingly easy dungeon could mutate into something near-impossible to survive. And who was to say it wouldn’t become a dungeon no human could clear? Who was to say he wouldn’t get another call, telling him Cha-hyeon had died inside?
Paralyzed with fear, Se-min called again. And again. His hands moved automatically. He’d wait through a few rings, then hang up. Then call again. Over and over and over.
Until, finally—
“…Hello?”
***
“Ah—Se-min.”
With a sharp screech, the car jerked to a stop. Se-min stepped out, slamming the door hard enough that it sounded like something might’ve broken. Without a word, he marched straight toward Cha-hyeon.
Cha-hyeon, who’d just cleared his third dungeon of the day and was resting nearby, raised a hand in greeting, looking genuinely pleased to see him.
“…Sung Cha-hyeon.”
Se-min’s low voice cut through the air like ice. The moment Cha-hyeon saw his expression and the way he was walking, his hand slowly lowered.
Se-min’s eyes were so swollen from crying that they had narrowed to slits, his face red and raw from wiping away tears and snot too many times to count. The skin around his nose and mouth was chafed, and as he met Cha-hyeon’s gaze, his chest rose and fell wordlessly, trembling with suppressed emotion.
Around them, field staff hesitated, watching the scene unfold. They were the ones who had taken the call while Cha-hyeon was inside, who had kept him at the site afterward. But now, all they could do was awkwardly stand around.
Because it was obvious—Ji Se-min was furious.
“Uh… should we go smoke?”
“I’ll, uh… go check the restroom…”
Mumbled excuses spilled out as they quietly slipped away, hoping to avoid the incoming storm.
On any other day, Se-min would’ve at least acknowledged them. But right now, they didn’t even register in his vision.
All he could see was Cha-hyeon—standing there in his standard black Esper combat suit.
“Hyung.”
Thankfully, he didn’t seem hurt. Aside from a bit of dust on his clothes and his slightly disheveled hair—signs of another ruthless sweep through a dungeon—he looked fine.
Maybe it was because he’d drained every last drop of Guiding energy from Se-min last time, so much so that Se-min had been left completely spent.
Cha-hyeon had signed up for seven solo dungeon clears today alone—and so far, he’d successfully completed three.
Without a single word to Se-min. While Se-min was in the shower. On his vacation. Voluntarily, no less. He’d come all the way to Paju to solo-clear every Gate in the area.
And this Gate hadn’t even been one that required Cha-hyeon’s intervention. There were plenty of other Espers—plenty—who could’ve handled it, even without a memory-impaired Cha-hyeon involved.
A thousand biting words simmered inside Se-min’s chest, threatening to spill out. But instead, he took one long breath, trying to hold it back.
Maybe it was the shift in atmosphere, or maybe he finally realized how pissed Se-min really was—either way, the cheerful curve of Cha-hyeon’s mouth began to falter.
“…Why are you here, Hyung?”
Se-min’s voice was frigid.
Cha-hyeon’s eyes flicked to the side. His lips parted, then closed. After a beat, he cautiously asked,
“Are you… mad, Se-min?”
Se-min’s gaze turned sharper, colder still. He was already filled to the brim with rage, which only made his tone come out all the more level and clinical.
“You think I wouldn’t be mad? You think I’d just be fine finding out you ran off to clear a Gate in Paju while I was in the shower?”
“Ah…”
He murmured it like he’d only just realized he wasn’t supposed to do that. Ah? Did he really just say “Ah”?!
Something in Se-min’s mind snapped.
After all the terror, the breakdown, the hyperventilating panic—his emotions had been honed to a sharp, cold edge. But maybe Cha-hyeon didn’t get that. Maybe he didn’t realize how close to the edge Se-min was, because he smiled again, lightly, and tried to offer an explanation.
“Ah, sorry. Yeah, I forgot to leave a message. I didn’t think you’d be that worried. My status window just suddenly—”
“…You forgot? That’s your excuse?”
Se-min’s voice spiked. It came out sharper than even he intended. Cha-hyeon’s weak smile faded instantly.
Se-min took another breath and tried to stay calm—but his voice only kept rising.
“You almost died not long ago when that Gate mutated! And now, what, something suddenly pops up in your status window and you think that justifies jumping into another one?! Do you have any idea how scared I was?! I was so terrified—I was praying, begging—I didn’t care if I died, just as long as you came back! Do you even remember how long ago that was?!”
“Uh… right… um…”
The way Cha-hyeon looked at him—cautious, confused—was eerily robotic, like someone who couldn’t quite process the depth of human emotion.
And to Se-min, that made everything feel even more hopeless. Like he was screaming at a wall.
Then he exploded.
“I thought you were dead, okay?! That wasn’t years ago—it was recent! And you think I wouldn’t freak out if you went dungeon diving again without saying anything?! You couldn’t even leave one message? One stupid little note? What kind of person—what kind of Hyung—does that?!”
His voice cracked. His chest heaved. And then came the tears—again.
“How could you… hic… how could you do this to me, Hyung?”
Cha-hyeon wasn’t supposed to do this to him.
Not as his pair partner. Not as someone he loved. Not even just as someone he’d dated.
But above all else—Cha-hyeon was his only family.
Even if he’d changed after the memory loss, even if he’d gotten colder, more distant—Se-min had never imagined he’d be this careless. This unkind.
The sadness swelled into something too big to hold back. Se-min cried openly, like a child, sobbing without shame.
Flustered, Cha-hyeon fumbled for words.
“…I—I’m sorry.”
For the first time since losing his memories, Cha-hyeon looked genuinely at a loss. His apology was clumsy, uncertain. He reached out to hug him—but Se-min slapped his arm away with a loud whack!
Cha-hyeon stood there blinking, dumbfounded.
“Sorry? That’s it? You don’t even look sorry! Don’t touch me! You—you goddamn pervert Hyung! You’re not even sorry, you’re just trying to suck out more of my energy, aren’t you?!”
Cha-hyeon’s lips twitched again, helplessly. It wasn’t like that this time. He really hadn’t meant it that way. But seeing Se-min like this, he couldn’t even bring himself to explain.
Because right now, Se-min was beyond reasoning.
“Haa… ngh… hic…”
Still gasping for breath, still sniffling, Se-min wiped furiously at his eyes.
He was hurt. So goddamn hurt.
Hurt that Cha-hyeon had just “forgotten” to let him know.
Hurt that he didn’t seem to understand his fear.
Hurt that, as a pair partner, he felt like less than nothing.
Hurt that after saying they were together, Cha-hyeon acted like it meant nothing.
Hurt that he’d poured his whole heart into Guiding him—only for Cha-hyeon to turn around and take on seven dungeons.
“…If this is how it’s gonna be…”
His voice trembled, soaked in pain, but somewhere in it was a flicker of defiance. He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand.
“…Then I’m done. I’m not Guiding you anymore.”
“…What?”
Se-min was fuming now, his swollen eyes blazing as he glared up at Cha-hyeon. The corners of his soft eyes had sharpened, his whole expression fierce.
“You’re just doing whatever the hell you want ‘cause you think you’ve got me to fall back on! Well, guess what—I’m done! I’m not going to keep Guiding you while you run around acting like a goddamn hero! Go clear a hundred dungeons! A thousand! Just pop a booster ampoule and knock yourself out!”
“Wait, Se-min—Se-min, come on—!”
