“E-Esper Park Woo-jun! Your phone…!”
Amid the chaos, as people stumbled around unsure of what to do, someone darted under the makeshift waiting tent and pulled out Park Woo-jun’s vibrating phone, holding it out with shaking hands—driven perhaps by pure survival instinct.
Park Woo-jun gave a brief nod in acknowledgment and answered the call without hesitation.
“Yes, this is Park Woo-jun. Go ahead.”
— Hello, Team Leader. This is the Live Monitoring Unit. Have you seen the emergency alert?
“Instant-type dungeon inside the amusement park. I’ve confirmed it.”
— Thank you. You’ve been registered as the first Esper to detect the presence—S-Class Esper Park Woo-jun. Please proceed with immediate clearance. Wave activity indicates the gate is currently forming. Estimated time until full manifestation is sixteen minutes, with a margin of error under twenty-five seconds.
Dungeons usually gave off detectable waves days, even weeks in advance. But sometimes, without any prior signs, a gate would suddenly emerge. The Center classified those as “Instant-type” dungeons and handled them accordingly.
If such a dungeon appeared in a remote area, the first Esper to apply for the mission would get the assignment. But in urban areas like this, the first one to detect the wave would automatically be designated as the attacker.
— Do you require backup?
“No. I don’t need support. I’ll go in alone. Given the distance, I should be able to enter the moment the gate opens. Has the gatekeeper unit been dispatched?”
— Yes. They’ll be assembled in five minutes and deployed in seven.
It was hard to believe this was the same man who just moments ago had been sulking with slumped shoulders. Now, calmly exchanging information with the Center, Park Woo-jun looked every bit the dependable Esper he was trained to be.
Lee Han-seo, who had forgotten all about being upset, had grabbed Park Woo-jun’s hand the moment the alarm sounded and was flooding him with Guiding. Thankfully, Woo-jun had already been fully guided and hadn’t used much energy that day—his condition was perfect. There was no room left for more Guiding, and yet Han-seo continued stubbornly, pouring in energy he knew wouldn’t be absorbed.
When Han-seo squeezed his hand tighter, Park Woo-jun responded by gently stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. It was their silent signal—Don’t worry. No matter what happens, I’ll be fine.
Every time he left Han-seo behind to head into battle, Park Woo-jun drew this same soft, reassuring line. And every time, Han-seo understood—he was doing it for his sake. Once again, Woo-jun was going to face the dungeon alone.
No matter how dire the situation, he couldn’t afford to be selfish and put others at risk just to satisfy his own desires. Han-seo always begged to be taken along when Woo-jun went into battle, but just this once, he would hold himself back.
— Attention, all guests. Please follow staff instructions and proceed immediately to the designated shelters. This is an emergency broadcast. Once again, we ask all guests…
Park Woo-jun’s eyes sharpened with focus. He was holding his composure better than ever—because Han-seo was here. He had to stay grounded and protect his Guide.
Even the staff members evacuating people wore strained, nervous expressions. Most of them were probably college kids working part-time.
This wasn’t a scheduled dungeon with advance notice. From a civilian’s perspective, running into an Instant-type dungeon was a once-in-a-decade event. Of course they were scared.
Thankfully, the commercial shoot had limited the number of visitors, so the park was less crowded than usual. People poured out of frozen rides and shuttered stalls, walking briskly or breaking into full sprints toward the underground shelters.
By the time Han-seo came to his senses, half the film crew had already vanished—everyone scrambling to save themselves.
“You know where the shelter is, right?”
Park Woo-jun smiled softly, then pulled Han-seo into a tight hug before letting go. It was time.
“…I don’t.”
“That’s fine. Just follow the crowd.”
“…”
“Han-seo.”
“…”
“I have to go now. You’re really not gonna show me your face?”
Wanting one last look, Park Woo-jun didn’t care about getting his pants dirty. He dropped to one knee right there in the dust and bent down to meet Han-seo’s gaze. Finally, he saw the face he’d been aching to see all day. Dropping to his knees—if it meant being near Han-seo—was nothing short of an honor.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“How soon is ‘soon’?”
That stubborn face refusing to meet his eyes was heartbreakingly endearing.
To that childlike question, Park Woo-jun didn’t offer a vague “We’ll see.” Instead, he took Han-seo’s swollen wrist and placed a soft kiss on it.
Han-seo had joined the Center before Woo-jun. He may not have much field experience, but when it came to dungeon theory, he knew more than enough. He wouldn’t have asked that question unless he already knew the answer.
It wasn’t really a question.
It was his way of saying he was scared. That he wanted him to come back fast. That maybe, just maybe, he wanted to be taken along.
But none of those words made it to his lips. All that emotion—raw and clumsy—was poured into that one question, and only Park Woo-jun could understand what it meant.
“We still have to get you to the hospital, Han-seo. We’ve gotta head out before it closes.”
“…”
“You were so excited about this little outing… and I ruined it. I’m sorry. When I get back, I’ll properly apologize, so promise me you’ll forgive me. Okay?”
“If you really…”
“Hmm?”
“If you really come back soon.”
Park Woo-jun couldn’t help it. Faced with that awkward mix of worry and embarrassment on Han-seo’s face, he burst out laughing. It didn’t suit the situation at all—too loud, too carefree—but it was real.
“I love you. I’ll be back.”
With that final promise, he turned and started walking. And just behind him, barely a whisper, came a shy, quiet voice—“…Me too.” His steps felt instantly lighter.
As he made his way toward the source of the wave, he spotted it: right in front of a faded pink cotton candy truck, a pitch-black gate had torn itself open, its mouth gaping like a wound in space. Park Woo-jun adjusted the dial on his wrist-mounted communicator, reporting the exact gate location.
Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he leapt into the void.
***
“…Ugh.”
The moment he crossed through, the air changed. Thicker. Heavier. Every time, the pressure hit him like a wall. No matter how often he entered dungeons, he could never get used to that oppressive feeling.
He grimaced slightly and scanned the space around him. With no combat gear on hand, his vision was limited. In times like this, he envied those with body-enhancement abilities. Being able to see clearly in total darkness without night vision—now that was a luxury.
Still, as an S-Class Esper, Park Woo-jun had it better than most. His ability range and physical resilience far outclassed lower ranks. Of course, that was within his own affinity—he wasn’t on the same level as body enhancement types, but he could hold his own.
“Not a huge space, but… looks like there are a lot of them.”
Even without the Center’s cutting-edge radar or a basic scope, he had already grasped the dungeon’s layout.
His power was wind manipulation—and wind, at its core, was the movement of air from high-pressure zones to low.
Which meant every molecule of air, inside and out, was his to command. The moment he crossed the gate, he could sense the entire space. He could feel every creature breathing in that air.
This dungeon was about the size of two gymnasiums combined. He couldn’t tell exactly what type of monsters he was dealing with yet, but he could estimate their numbers—roughly a hundred.
“Well, doesn’t matter. I’ll clear them all either way.”
With a casual shrug, Park Woo-jun raised his hand. Instantly, the air around him turned razor-sharp within a set radius. He twisted the space like wringing juice from a ripe fruit.
Screeeech—!
A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, loud enough to rupture eardrums. The metallic tang of blood spread thickly around him.
He kept walking forward, unfazed. No hesitation. No guilt. Just cold, decisive steps.
Those who had been on missions with Park Woo-jun always said the same thing: the scariest thing in a dungeon wasn’t the monsters—it was him.
When a person could crush a monster—or a human neck—with just a flick of their fingers, what fool would dare resist?
“All right. That’s two down to start.”
Soft gusts of wind fluttered around him as he moved deeper into the darkness, walking forward without fear, the shadows parting before him like they knew who they were dealing with.
