The weight of the words didn’t lessen just because they were said in a flat voice. No one around the table could answer right away. Each Bonded Pair exchanged wary glances, watching for someone else to speak first.
If it were a matter of risking only their own life, any of the three Espers present would’ve boarded the plane without hesitation.
If one of them had to put their life on the line, it was easier to offer up their own than to leave the burden to someone else. They didn’t go around saying cheesy things like that, of course—but after everything they’d been through together, the bond between them ran that deep.
But this mission didn’t just call for the Esper. It required both members of the Bonded Pair to go.
And in a dungeon that had already claimed the lives of dozens of top-tier Espers from across the globe… what were the chances a Guide would make it out alive?
There was no room for compromise, no one willing to back down.
Park Woo-jun might’ve been ready to die in Kim Joon-young’s place, but there was no way he’d sacrifice Lee Han-seo instead of Lee Jung-hyuk. And Kim Joon-young felt the same.
Even though it felt like they were standing on a cliff, trying to shove each other off, neither held it against the other.
It didn’t matter how close Park Woo-jun and Kim Joon-young were or how much they trusted each other. The only thing that truly mattered was their own Guide’s safety.
The only one who seemed unaffected by the pressure was Ryu Ho-yeon.
Even if his feelings toward his Guide were practically nonexistent compared to the others, that wasn’t the only reason. Technically, he was still in the room, but everyone knew he was already off the list.
After all, even among S-Class Espers, manifestation-types were extremely rare—and there was only one in the entire world. There was no way the government would let someone like Ryu Ho-yeon be deployed overseas.
So it came down to two.
Kim Joon-young and Park Woo-jun stared at their respective Guides with nearly identical expressions.
Neither Lee Jung-hyuk nor Lee Han-seo was the type to save themselves at someone else’s expense, which made the Espers worry they might volunteer on impulse.
Under the weight of their stares, the two Guides exchanged glances and gave a weak, dry chuckle. This whole thing was way too serious—it was almost funny. Sure, the odds weren’t great, but going didn’t guarantee death.
Honestly, from the moment Han-seo first heard the mission briefing, a part of him wanted to go.
He was itching for a reason to get away from this stifling little country.
Turning people away day after day was exhausting, and it was only a matter of time before people started accusing him of dragging things out for too long. Eventually, the narrative would turn against him.
Unless he had a time machine to skip forward a few months, this mission might be the best escape he could get.
“Joon-young hyung,” Lee Jung-hyuk spoke up first.
Han-seo pretended not to notice the heat prickling on his cheek from all the attention and just watched the two across the table.
Jung-hyuk, likely thinking it made more sense for someone with his level of experience to go instead of a rookie who hadn’t even been in the field for a full year, looked Joon-young in the eye and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.
Joon-young held out for a beat, his expression torn, but in the face of Jung-hyuk’s silent insistence, he finally let out a long sigh.
“Alright, alright… You win.”
“Thank you.”
“Whatever. But I’m sticking to the rear the entire time, got it? Don’t try to talk me out of it.”
It was a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep—as long as there was a physical-enhancement type Esper, they were always at the front lines. But Jung-hyuk just smiled and nodded, knowing full well how much that concession meant.
Phew… A loud sigh of relief came from next to him.
Han-seo glanced at Park Woo-jun and tapped the table, drawing everyone’s attention. Five pairs of eyes turned toward him in unison.
“Why are you all deciding everything without even asking me? Kinda hurts, you know.”
They’d known each other long enough to guess what was coming just from the tone of his voice.
Park Woo-jun scrambled to stop him, but it was already too late.
“We’ll go.”
“Huh?”
“I said, we’ll go.”
“B-baby!”
Park Woo-jun blinked rapidly, visibly panicking. But the water was already spilled.
Even Lee Jung-hyuk looked startled and rushed to talk him down, urging him to reconsider.
But Han-seo had already made up his mind.
He felt a little guilty toward his parents. But if things went wrong and he never came back… well, dying on the same day as Park Woo-jun didn’t sound so bad. It was kind of romantic, in a stupid way.
What a foolish, ungrateful son.
“B-baby, what are you even saying… Oh! You’re just worried about Jung-hyuk hyung, right? Then I’ll just go by myself. That’s fine, right? Yeah, let’s do that.”
“What are you talking about, Team Leader? Of course I’m going too. Hyungs—are you okay with us going?”
“Han-seo. I appreciate it, but this isn’t something you should decide on the spot.”
“Oh, come on. Why so serious? Who said we’re going there to die? If you feel bad about it, at least make sure our deployment period’s nice and long. Even if you’ve stepped down, Chief Kim, you’ve still got some clout, right? Once the mission’s done, we’ll turn it into a little sightseeing trip. We’ve earned it.”
Jung-hyuk’s face was full of worry, while Joon-young couldn’t quite hide the hint of relief creeping into his smile.
Even as Han-seo cracked jokes, Jung-hyuk couldn’t let go of his concern and opened his mouth to argue again—only for Joon-young to nudge him in the ribs.
Han-seo leaned against Woo-jun’s shoulder, giggling.
“Wow. Seriously. Hey, Esper Kim Joon-young. You’re not even trying to hide how relieved you are. If you’re always this worried, how do you even enter dungeons with Jung-hyuk hyung? Right, Woo-jun?”
“…I don’t know.”
When Han-seo looked up at him, Woo-jun was already pouting. With a soft smile, Han-seo brushed his fingers gently over the back of Woo-jun’s hand, then tugged it toward his lips and began pressing exaggerated kisses across each knuckle, one after another like he was stamping a seal. Neither of them had touched a drop of alcohol, yet everything felt strangely surreal—his heart buoyant, untethered. He couldn’t feel even a hint of danger.
Maybe the barrage of kisses worked, because that pout that had been sticking out so stubbornly had now retreated halfway. Han-seo leaned in close, whispering just loud enough for Woo-jun to hear.
“If you’re that worried about me…”
“…”
“Then you protect me. And in return, I’ll make sure you’re safe too.”
“God…”
“Hm?”
“Lee Han-seo, I swear I hate you so much right now…”
For someone claiming to “hate him to death,” Woo-jun sure had a tight grip when he pulled him into a hug. Maybe he meant to sulk into Han-seo’s arms, but with their size difference, it just ended up looking like he was the one being hugged. Han-seo wrapped his arms around him, cradling Woo-jun’s bowed head and stroking his hair.
“Hey, do you really hate me that much?” he teased with a playful grin.
No answer. The match was already decided. Victory: Han-seo.
“What the hell? If this is how it was going to end, why did we even bother calling a meeting? You didn’t need us here at all.”
Choi Jae-won grumbled in a thoroughly unimpressed voice, unable to bear any more of the cousins’ shameless display of affection. He wasn’t wrong, either. The four of them could’ve easily settled things with a quick chat inside the Center.
Still, the real reason they’d met here was because this particular restaurant had been on Ryu Ho-yeon’s wishlist forever. They’d even gone as far as to file an official S-Class Council notice just to take him out for some fresh air. Unfortunately, the only one clueless about this thoughtful setup was the arrogant heir who had never once cared about anyone else’s feelings.
“Dragging people out for no real reason when everyone’s busy…”
Jae-won sounded genuinely pissed about it. They’d finally had some rare, quiet time together with no missions looming, and now it was wasted. Ryu Ho-yeon just looked at him.
“Why, hyung? You need something? I can go get it for you right now.”
He meant it, too—bless his heart. His enthusiasm was world-class… if only his awareness came even close.
“Jae-won.”
“Yeah?”
“If you don’t wanna be here, then go. Don’t ruin the vibe.”
“…Fine.”
Honestly, they were a perfect match—two people so equally lacking in social cues that it felt almost cosmic. The rest of the group had completely forgotten the earlier tension. Laughter burst out around the table as everyone lost it, each person doubling over, slapping the wood with their foreheads.
It was the kind of meal where it felt like nothing bad could ever happen.
***
Thup-thup-thup-thup-thup.
“WE’RE!! ALMOST!! THERE!!”
The escort practically screamed over the roar of the helicopter blades. After a flight, a long drive, and now nearly two hours in a chopper, the chaos hadn’t stopped. Despite all the motion sickness meds they’d chugged like water, Han-seo had gone limp long ago, slumped against Park Woo-jun like a melted jellyfish.
“Fuck… he’s been saying ‘almost there’ for over an hour…”
His muttering was loud enough to hear over the engine. When they’d first landed at the airport, Han-seo had actually looked excited—like they were finally going on a real trip. But fifteen minutes into the helicopter ride, he’d been wrecked by motion sickness.
Thankfully, this time, “almost” actually meant “soon.” About five minutes later, the helicopter finally began to descend. And before the escort could even open the door, Han-seo shot out like a bullet.
Ugh, I’m never getting in a helicopter again. If I do, I swear I’ll be Choi Jae-won’s little brother.
Most of that was just him venting, of course.
Park Woo-jun followed quickly behind. Around the landing zone, a crowd had already gathered—soldiers in uniform surrounding the chopper in clusters.
Word had gotten out: an S-Class Guide was arriving today. And since Han-seo was the only S-Class assigned to the international joint task force, it wasn’t surprising that people were curious. Everyone wanted a look.
Understandable. But Han-seo was in no mood to understand.
“What the fuck are you all staring at, huh? What is this, a damn zoo? Get your fucking eyes off me before I rip ‘em out!”
Still nauseous and now getting bombarded by unfamiliar Esper waves left and right, Han-seo was already at the end of his rope. He looked ready to grab someone by the collar any second.
“Baby, please… Let’s not do this… Just this once, okay? Deep breaths…”
“Let me go. What, Park Woo-jun? You’re holding me back now?”
Even if you didn’t speak a word of Korean, his tone and body language were loud and clear. Park Woo-jun groaned, already feeling a headache coming on.
This was going to be one hell of a deployment.
