“What? What did you just say?”
Lee Han-seo’s voice shot up before he could stop himself. His outburst was so loud that the Director, who had been calmly sipping hot green tea across from him, ended up choking and spitting out his tea with a sputter.
“Cough, cough. Now hold on, Han-seo. No need to react like that all of a sudden.”
“All of a sudden? Did you seriously just say that? You’re the one springing this on us, not me!”
It had already been unsettling enough that their assigned mission had been abruptly handed over to another Bonded Pair. Now, without warning, they were summoned to the Director’s office. Skipping any formal greetings, the Director had barely offered them seats and tea before suddenly asking, “So, how would you feel about living abroad?”
The reason for the sudden question? Just this morning, the International Esper Alliance had officially submitted a proposal to form a permanent task force built around the seven S-Class Espers who had temporarily joined forces a few months ago to handle U-Class emergencies.
“Think about it—it’s not a bad deal, right? Young people these days spend their own money just to study abroad. If you look at this like a government-sponsored exchange program, it’s basically a free ride. You two are at that age where people are hustling to land jobs anyway.”
For reasons unclear, the Director seemed desperate to get them out of the country—like someone racing to push them out before anyone changed their mind. If they accepted the offer, there’d be no transition period. They were scheduled to leave in just two days.
“Two days?! That’s way too sudden!”
“Well… another U-Class alert came in, so our hands are tied. I hope you understand.”
“Then when are we supposed to come back?”
“Come back? Why?”
“…What?”
Normally, a deployment had a clear time frame. But the Director just tilted his head, genuinely puzzled by Han-seo’s question. A creeping sense of dread slithered up Han-seo’s spine.
“I think you might be misunderstanding. This isn’t some short-term dispatch or a business trip. Your affiliation would be fully transferred to the Alliance. You’d be assigned exclusively to U-Class Dungeons. Honestly, the workload might even be lighter than what you’re juggling now.”
“You’re asking us to make a life-changing decision right now? With just two days before we leave? Park Woo-jun, did you know about this?”
“Nope. First I’m hearing of it too. Since Team Leader Park Kyu-gwan didn’t say anything either, it looks like only the Director was in the loop.”
Even though it was news to him, Woo-jun couldn’t say he was entirely surprised. Just a few days ago, he’d cobbled together a half-baked U-Class Dungeon response manual at the last minute and presented it at the National Assembly. He kept a straight face for the cameras, but anyone in the field knew that manual was full of holes.
They’d run every possible simulation, thousands of times, and not once had a hopeful outcome appeared. If it were just about clearing the U-Class Dungeon, then sure—it could be done. Three S-Class Espers could enter together and take their time dealing with it, regardless of what other Dungeons popped up in the meantime.
But the problem was never just the Dungeon. The problem was time. They needed to clear it fast so they could rush back to handle everything else. Saying, “The U-Class Dungeon will be cleared successfully, but the rest of the country might be reduced to ashes in the meantime, so everyone fend for yourselves”—that wasn’t something you could say to a nation already gripped by fear.
So in the end, they’d gone with a carefully edited version of the truth, hiding the gaps and flaws. It was damage control, a farce. But not a single lawmaker at that session had questioned it.
And now that he thought about it, it was strange. Ever since the Esper Affairs Center had been upgraded to an independent agency, the Minister of Defense had been looking for any excuse to stir up trouble—yet there’d been complete silence. Maybe this proposal had already been quietly passed around among the upper echelons.
“Yeah, I get it. I really do—it’s a lot to take in. Even I’d be stunned if I were in your shoes. But let me be honest, just between us: if a U-Class Dungeon goes off, we don’t have the ability to respond on our own. I even reviewed the backup suggestion Team Leader Park made yesterday—moving formal Esper induction from adulthood to seventeen? What would that even accomplish? Maybe we’d get a few more A-Class Espers and Guides, but that’s still not enough.”
“That’s…”
Every word was irrefutable. Han-seo had never thought of the Director as eloquent before—just some old guy who liked to puff himself up and bark orders—but clearly, he hadn’t landed Kim Joon-young’s old seat by accident.
“Anyway, your last mission was a success. The nations bringing S-Class Espers into their new task forces are being promised priority support in case of a U-Class Dungeon outbreak. Word’s gotten out, and now everyone’s scrambling to send their own Espers.”
“What about the other Pairs? Did Kim Joon-young or Ryu Ho-yeon get the same offer?”
“No. The conditions for this new task force are specific: S-Class Espers and their Bonded Guides who’ve actually experienced a U-Class Dungeon. That means it has to be you two. If you say no, we’re stuck. We’d just have to wait and hope someone else qualifies.”
“Ah…”
Han-seo let out a breathless sigh. In just two days? Without knowing if they’d ever return? His first instinct was to say no, flat-out. To just reject the whole thing right here. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to nod and accept it either.
Still, he wasn’t oblivious. He knew turning this down would be reckless. Just last night, he’d seen Park Woo-jun staying up late with his team, trying everything they could to find a solution. Han-seo knew exactly how serious this was.
“I know it’s a tough choice… but I need your answer by tomorrow night. You leave the afternoon after.”
What the Director really meant wasn’t “take your time deciding.” He was giving them one extra day—to mentally prepare, and to say goodbye to their families.
After leaving the Director’s office, the two decided to grab a late lunch. Neither of them had much appetite, but any excuse to get out of the building would do.
Han-seo walked in a daze, lost in thought, and it was Woo-jun who quietly took the lead. This was a decision only Lee Han-seo could make. It had never been spoken aloud—but they both understood that perfectly well.
If it were just him, Park Woo-jun could’ve boarded a plane right now, not two days from now, and left without hesitation—so long as Lee Han-seo was coming with him. But Han-seo wasn’t like that.
The difference between them always surfaced in moments like this: for Park Woo-jun, the only thing he loved in this world was Lee Han-seo. But for Han-seo, who loved many things deeply, Park Woo-jun just happened to be his number one.
It wasn’t like it didn’t sting. Saying it didn’t bother him at all would’ve been a lie… but still, Park Woo-jun chose to accept it. He loved that about Han-seo too—the way he loved so many things so earnestly, the way he’d grown up surrounded by love.
With no real appetite himself, Park Woo-jun led them to a small restaurant that served a spicy homemade curry—a dish Han-seo always ate well, even on bad days. They sat down, placed their order, and still, Han-seo looked distant, his face blank with thought.
It wasn’t until the curry arrived—its warm, savory aroma filling the table, the plate topped generously with sausages—that Han-seo finally spoke. It was a meaningless question, just something to break the silence.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“Well… honestly, I don’t mind either way. It’s not like I’d be going without you. Whether we stay here or move overseas, once a U-Class Dungeon shows up, you’ll fight tooth and nail to make sure we go in together anyway.”
The reason Park Woo-jun had worked so hard these past few weeks, pushing himself to come up with the best possible outcomes, wasn’t out of ambition. It was because he knew—better than anyone—that there were more people watching Lee Han-seo with ill intent than they cared to admit.
As Han-seo’s only Bonded Pair, any flaw in him would be seen as a flaw in Han-seo. And he couldn’t let that happen. If they were going to do this, they’d do it perfectly. No room for criticism. No space for anyone to twist Han-seo’s name with filthy fingers or bitter tongues.
“You’re not planning to leave me behind, right? You’re taking me with you?”
Park Woo-jun furrowed his brow dramatically, trying to lighten the mood as he peeked at Han-seo’s gloomy expression. He hadn’t touched his own food.
Han-seo snapped out of it at last, slapping the table with a spark of life.
“Obviously! Of course I’m taking you!”
“Then we’re good. Let’s think about it slowly, yeah? But food’s here, so let’s eat first. Okay?”
He skewered a fat sausage with his fork and held it to Han-seo’s lips. Without hesitation, Han-seo opened his mouth, took the bite, and chewed.
“…It’s good.”
“Right? Eat up.”
Watching him eat like that, opening his mouth without a fuss every time Woo-jun offered a bite—it was too damn cute. Park Woo-jun couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t eat a single bite himself. He just sat there, watching Han-seo eat, completely absorbed in him.
Han-seo, deep in thought, didn’t even notice.
“It’s unfair. If I go today, who knows when I’ll see him again?”
“Yeah, well… I don’t plan on seeing you again.”
He’d been mulling over Julian’s strange words ever since—words that had sounded more serious than they let on.
“Hmm… I wonder. Think it’ll really go your way? See you, soon.”
So focused on feeding Han-seo, Park Woo-jun never noticed—he hadn’t taken a single bite of his own meal.
