2) Plus Minus Zero
Park Kyu-gwan was a veteran among veterans—a Guide born to a pair of Espers. After awakening to her abilities, she joined the Center, and although it hadn’t been long since she returned to the Central Branch after years of volunteering in regional assignments, settling into Seoul life wasn’t difficult. Most of the staff she encountered had some connection to her: her father’s old colleagues, her mother’s classmates, juniors she’d mentored, seniors she respected. Nothing beyond the usual circles.
Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.
Her day began, without fail, at six a.m. to the electronic chime of her phone.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she got up, showered, and changed. The last step before heading out was drying her chin-length bob—a style she’d stuck with for years simply because it was less hassle. At exactly 6:40 a.m., she stepped outside.
The early summer air wasn’t stifling—just pleasantly warm. The morning sun melted into the humid air like caramel, and the scenery wasn’t bad at all.
It would’ve been nice to have a fixed schedule like civilians—clear start and end times—but dungeons, whose cause and nature still remained a mystery, didn’t exactly operate around human convenience.
Espers and Guides weren’t the only ones affected. Monitoring departments that tracked wave activity in real time, the Esper Assignment Division that dispatched personnel to new dungeon sites, the Medical Team, External Cooperation Division, PR Department—all of them, and countless others unmentioned, ran on rotating day and night shifts to keep the country safe.
“Good morning. Ham and cheese toast with espresso, right?”
“Yes, thanks. I’ll take two toasts today.”
The Main Building’s cafeteria, open 24/7 for employee welfare, was already packed. Among the many regulars, Park Kyu-gwan stood out. She clocked in at nearly the same time every day—never more than five minutes off—and ordered the same thing. Naturally, the staff remembered her.
With her tray in hand, she rode the elevator up to the office, breathing in the comforting scent of coffee. Throwing open the door with a bright, “Good morning!” she was met with an unusually warm welcome from the subordinate who’d pulled the night shift.
Night duty had its own rules—whoever came in early meant you got to go home early. And when your team leader consistently showed up an hour and a half before schedule, even the strictest boss became a sight for sore eyes.
She turned on her work PC and sat down. The clock hit 7:00 a.m. sharp.
“Everything quiet overnight?”
“Yeah… The team handling the B-Class dungeon in Seongsu-dong came back early this morning. Two Guides were injured, so they’ve been transferred to the infirmary. Yaaawn. The Espers weren’t in bad shape, so we only fully guided the Striker up to standard values and sent the rest home. Oh, and the follow-up response team called. With two dungeons opening in Gangseo-gu and the return timing overlapping, they’re asking us to increase night shift coverage for Guides over the next three or four days.”
Despite looking dead on her feet, Lee Min-joo—a fifth-year Guide—delivered the shift handover without missing any critical details. She added that the important ones were also logged in writing for review.
Yaaawn. Her face practically split open with the force of her next yawn. Park Kyu-gwan considered offering her the extra toast but let the thought go. Someone clearly itching to hear “Go get some sleep” didn’t need to be held up just to share a snack.
Munching slowly on her toast and sipping coffee, Kyu-gwan browsed the intranet bulletin for departmental updates. Staff began trickling in around eight. Although official work hours started at 8:30 a.m., most lived in the dorms and came in early on their own.
It helped that Team Leader Park didn’t enforce rigid schedules. She looked the other way if early arrivals clocked out early, so people adjusted based on their workload for the day.
The morning meeting started at 8:30 in the conference room beside her office. Guides who hadn’t yet been paired with a high-compatibility Esper—all default members of the main department—gathered there. It was a sizable crowd.
“Looks like everyone’s here. Let’s begin today’s Guiding Room assignments. Room 1, Choi Sung-won. Room 2, Park Ji-eun. Room 3, Song Eun-jae…”
Each morning, over thirty Guiding Rooms were assigned at random and announced on the spot. It might’ve seemed inefficient.
Originally, each Guide had a dedicated room. But about ten years ago, an Esper who failed to find a match stalked the Guide with the highest compatibility and attacked the Guiding Room. Since then, daily randomized assignments had become protocol—cumbersome, but necessary.
As their names were called, Guides stood and moved quickly to their assigned rooms. In no time, the number of people left in the conference room dropped by more than half. Screech—bang! The door slammed open just as Park was about to call the name assigned to Room 25.
“Haaah… haah… I-I’m sorry I’m late!”
He must’ve sprinted the whole way—it was already twenty minutes past the official start time. His flushed, sweat-covered face was proof enough.
Kyu-gwan gave Lee Han-seo a nod and continued the roll call. Unbeknownst to him, his name had already been called twice—for Rooms 7 and 19.
With no one present, those assignments had to be reallocated on the spot. Still, no one made a fuss. In truth, Han-seo wasn’t even obligated to show up—he was more of a bonus. A tardy appearance from someone volunteering their own time was easy to overlook.
It had been a full week since Park Woo-jun entered the S-Class dungeon. The research team reported that the interior was vast—at least two more weeks before anyone could expect a return. After confirming the report, Lee Han-seo chose not to camp near the Gate and returned to the Center instead.
Though his body had rested, Lee Han-seo’s mind hadn’t. He’d spent the past few days dragging himself around his dorm, listless and aimless, his hoodie sleeves trailing along the floor. The one who finally yanked him out of his funk and physically marched him to the Guide Department was Kim Joon-young. It happened on the second day of a barrage of texts: “Hyung, what are you doing? Let’s hang out. I’m bored. Hyung? Jung-hyuk hyung?” The nonstop pings finally pushed Kim over the edge. “If you’ve got that much time to waste, stop bugging my Guide and go do something useful.”
Han-seo had grumbled at first, muttering about how that guy’s temper would never change—but honestly? It was better than sitting alone. Coming in gave him something to do, and time passed quicker.
“Room 31, Lee Han-seo.”
“Yup!”
Despite being the last one to arrive, he answered the loudest. His booming voice drew quiet chuckles from the five or six people still lingering in the room. Among them were a few seasoned Guides who’d known him since he was just a kid.
One of them, standing up and catching him just as he was about to bolt for the door, called out—
“Han-seo, are you really going out like that?”
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
His wide, round eyes hadn’t changed one bit—still as boyish as when he was seventeen. Maybe even sixteen, if you stretched it. His hair was damp, droplets clinging to the strands, and he wore a paper-thin trench coat barely covering his soft pajama set—completely out of place and entirely unaware of the problem.
“Good grief, look at you. Grew up in size, not in sense.”
“Here, take this handkerchief. At least dry off your hair.”
“No, no. There’s a clean towel at my desk. Take that instead. Did our baby even eat breakfast today?”
“Ugh, come on! Enough already! What kind of twenty-five-year-old is still a baby?!”
He was trying to show off his ten years of experience in front of the younger Guides, but the second he was around the older ones—those who’d watched him grow up—his professional image crumbled like a cookie. Even his loud protests only made them laugh harder, egging him on.
“Why? You looked great in that school uniform shoot. Just like the old days.”
“Yeah, other than growing a bit taller, he’s the same.”
“Actually, he really did grow a lot. It’s just that Park Woo-jun is massive. Remember when Han-seo swore he’d catch up to Jung-hyuk’s height and started chugging two liters of milk a day? Gave himself a stomachache…”
“Please, Aunties, I’m begging you…”
He clasped his hands together like he was praying, doing everything he could to shut them up before they started bringing up even more embarrassing stories from his teenage years.
Since most of the room assignments were already finished, Park Kyu-gwan let the moment slide, not wanting to ruin the cheerful mood.
To the older staff who remembered the timid fifteen-year-old wandering the Center halls in his school uniform, Han-seo would always be a kid—whether he turned thirty, forty, or fifty.
“You skipped breakfast again, didn’t you? That sweet potato of yours didn’t leave you a mountain of side dishes this time?”
“Don’t call Woo-jun a sweet potato! That’s my nickname for him!”
“Ohhh, is that so? Got it, got it. Guide Lee Han-seo~!”
When had that little kid grown up enough to take his Esper’s side like that? The senior Guides surrounding him grinned, stuffing his coat pockets with chocolates and jelly candies like proud older siblings. Even if they didn’t exactly love Park Woo-jun, they couldn’t help but feel proud.
To be fair, the senior staff—the ones who’d been at the Center long enough to be called the “stagnant water”—had never been big fans of Park Woo-jun.
From their perspective, some random “sweet potato” had rolled in and ousted Ryu Ho-yeon, a veteran Esper they’d trusted like a cornerstone. Their reaction was only natural. Still, now that Ryu had a new Guide and Woo-jun had treated Han-seo so well over the years, the deep-rooted grudge was slowly, if reluctantly, starting to loosen its grip.
“Alright, everyone. Assignments are done. Head to your rooms, and let’s make today a good one!”
Whatever else might be going on, it was another lively start to the day.
