—Requesting emergency support!
The man checked his wrist with a dry gaze as the pager shrieked viciously for over ten minutes. It kept nagging him about something he already knew, and his patience was wearing thin.
Emergency Support Request: Team A8
Yeouido EW Shopping Mall, 2F, Smoothie Queen – Combat Level: High
—Requesting emergency support!
—Requesting emergency support!
The man’s footsteps echoed peacefully down the corridor. His final destination wasn’t far from his current location. The booming tremors rumbling through the air stood in stark contrast to his unhurried stride.
BANG—!
Screams and the grotesque sound of flesh tearing grew closer. He’d arrived at the final stop of this commotion. Coming to a halt, he looked up at the sign above him.
“Smoothie Queen.”
As monsters appeared in the shopping mall near the Esper Center, Espers nearby had been dispatched swiftly. The chaotic interior delayed operations longer than expected, and fearing rising casualties, the director had chosen not to send another large team. Instead, he gave an emergency order to just one person—the most reliable.
All other threats had already been neutralized, and the civilians had mostly evacuated. Only this place remained.
Curious to see just how pathetic the scene would be, the man pressed the automatic door switch.
The glass doors slid open, revealing a massive brand logo sticker—and he flinched.
Walls painted a blinding hot pink, matched with plump, soft tentacles in pastel pink— Far from what he’d expected, the bizarre decor made him grimace in confusion.
“KUEEEHH—!”
“Aaaagh!”
Right in front of his eyes, the monster thrust something at him.
A civilian’s face—soaked in deep red smoothie like it was blood.
“Ugh! Ack! Gah! Hurkk!”
“……”
Almost mockingly, the monster shook the man back and forth like a ragdoll in front of him. Thick raspberry-scented smoothie splattered across his face.
Suppressing a sigh, he slowly raised his hand and wiped under his eye where the liquid had hit.
That’s when the screaming civilian, dangling like a puppet in front of him, uttered the one phrase he hated most.
“Oh? It’s Yoo Ji-ho!”
“……Fuck.”
Apparently, humans don’t shut up even when they’re about to die.
Leaving the man alone, Yoo Ji-ho stepped further into the store. It was better to deal with the creature while the civilian was still restrained than to release him only for him to run around screaming.
“Aagh, over there!”
“Waaahhh!”
“……”
The situation with the dispatched Espers was also a mess. They were barely managing to cut away the countless tentacles clinging to them, unable to get close to the monster’s body. The presence of that one remaining civilian must’ve been seriously getting in their way.
Yoo Ji-ho’s black eyes scanned the scene, then shifted to the floor.
The narrow shop was crammed with slick, pink, pudgy tentacles, leaving no room to step. The main body was mostly hidden aside from the top of its grotesque head, but even a rough glance was enough to make his expression twist.
As the tentacles came toward him, Yoo Ji-ho swept them aside with his Esper powers and began walking toward the monster’s head.
If it weren’t for the other Espers and that one damn civilian, he could’ve blown this disgusting thing up from a distance and been done with it. Every living thing in here was a nuisance.
“Yoo Ji-ho! Over here! We’re evacuating!”
One Esper—at least doing something useful—hurriedly tossed him a stainless-steel canister.
“Let’s get out! Come on, everyone out!”
Yoo Ji-ho caught the heavy object reflexively. Glancing away from the shouting Esper, he looked at what he held in his hand. A whipped cream dispenser.
He rolled it in his palm a few times, then surveyed the store again. The other Espers had started cutting a path toward the exit where he’d entered.
On a second look, the monster’s glossy head had a single hole—presumably its mouth.
Looks like a fucking gaping asshole.
He gave his arm a few practice swings, aimed, and hurled the dispenser straight into the monster’s mouth.
The head jolted violently as the stainless steel container was sucked inside.
As the monster writhed from swallowing who-knows-what, Yoo Ji-ho waved his hand. Flames burst from where he stood, sweeping across the store and severing the sprawling tentacles.
Now free, the Espers quickly helped each other up, grabbing the dazed civilian off the floor and retreating outside.
Once they were gone, Yoo Ji-ho’s power pulsed through the creature’s head.
Moments later, the little canister inside exploded. The monster’s head popped open like an overripe fruit, spewing thick, viscous blood.
Yoo Ji-ho scowled and muttered a curse.
Even the goddamn fluids this freak oozed were fucking pink. Fuck.
The transparent pink ooze sprayed wildly into the air like air escaping a popped balloon. Severed tentacles twitched and convulsed chaotically, tangling with one another.
Clicking his tongue at the revolting sight, Yoo Ji-ho lazily severed the tentacles at his feet and turned around.
“……”
And then he froze, blinking in disbelief.
The same civilian who had been drenched in smoothie and screaming earlier?
He hadn’t evacuated.
He was standing on top of a table, filming Yoo Ji-ho.
And chasing after the uncontrollable civilian, one of the Espers had come running back inside.
“You’re amazing, Yoo Ji-ho!”
“I told you it’s dangerous in here! Grab my hand—ugh!”
A tentacle, still convulsing after being severed, whipped the Esper across the back of the head.
He crashed face-first into the floor, landing in a pool of pink fluid.
But even then, a thin shield barrier remained around the civilian, likely cast by the now-unconscious Esper.
Watching this unfold, Yoo Ji-ho let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“……Huh?”
The civilian, still fervently filming, suddenly felt an odd tension. Yoo Ji-ho wasn’t moving.
He lowered his phone and looked up—
And was met with a breathtaking image, the scorched background in stark contrast to the surreal figure before him.
No longer confined to the small screen, Yoo Ji-ho looked completely detached from the destruction behind him. The unreal sight felt too perfect, like something that couldn’t possibly continue in the frame.
A while later, Yoo Ji-ho was the last to come down to the lower level.
The massive shopping mall lobby—usually bustling at midday—was eerily quiet due to the monster alert.
And the civilian, who had been quietly nestled in Yoo Ji-ho’s arms, was now unceremoniously dumped onto the cold marble floor.
“Aagh!”
The sharp cry made Yoo Ji-ho frown like he was staring at the dumbest thing on earth.
The civilian no longer had a phone. Yoo Ji-ho had, quite unintentionally, folded it in half and flung it into the monster’s head, accidentally blowing it up.
“What, just ’cause you’re an Esper you think you can do anything?! You’re a public servant! I’ll upload this online and ruin you!”
“…Ah.”
But the civilian refused to believe in Yoo Ji-ho’s innocence. He frowned in mild annoyance.
“So words alone aren’t enough for you to get it, huh.”
“…What?”
The civilian had been yelling boldly just moments ago, but that vague statement made his throat dry up. He swallowed hard.
Yoo Ji-ho slowly knelt in front of him. Just then, he sensed someone rushing over—an Esper, alerted by the commotion.
“Oh my, I’ll take it from here. Thank you for your service.”
“……”
“……Sir?”
Yoo Ji-ho remained still, staring at the civilian. Only when the other Esper approached did he casually rise to his feet.
His gaze finally fell, and the civilian exhaled the breath he’d been holding.
“Make sure to give them the compensation claim info.”
“Yes, sir!”
The man who replied with a booming voice was the same Esper who had thrown him the whipped cream device earlier.
As he led the now shell-shocked civilian through the back, Yoo Ji-ho turned his head with little interest and walked toward the front exit of the shopping mall.
Standing at the door, he smoothed his disheveled hair and adjusted his uniform.
The other Espers and evacuees had exited through the emergency exit at the rear. But Yoo Ji-ho wasn’t heading for the back—he was going through the main entrance.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
Guided by others, Yoo Ji-ho stepped outside.
“Oh! There he is!”
“It’s Yoo Ji-ho!”
The crowd that had been waiting surged toward him like a swarm of bees.
“What did the monster look like?!”
“Do you think we’ll get through this cycle with zero casualties again?!”
“Yoo Ji-ho! Just one word, please!”
The mass of reporters and civilians had gathered just for a glimpse, just to hear him speak.
As the questions grew more frantic, Yoo Ji-ho glanced down and noticed a red stain on his uniform shirt.
Ah. Probably a splash of that damn raspberry smoothie.
For a brief second, a crack appeared on his otherwise expressionless face. But outwardly, he just looked like any other Esper—tired after battle.
This wasn’t an official briefing, and getting a direct response from Yoo Ji-ho was a rare opportunity.
A reporter shoved forward with a microphone.
“Yoo Ji-ho! Is it true you personally rescued over 70 civilians without a single casualty today? Were there any difficulties with the operation? Do you have a message for the public?”
“Well, if I had to say something right now…”
His words trailed off, leaving a brief silence. Then, slowly shifting his gaze to the reporter, Yoo Ji-ho finally spoke.
“I just did what I had to do.”
With that, he gave a small, soft smile—looking down at the reporter.
That image was broadcast live across the nation in real time.
The furious clicking of cameras captured his flawless expression. The flashes burst across the night sky more brilliantly than the stars.
Yoo Ji-ho, South Korea’s first-ever S-rank Esper, who had appeared one day like a comet— was a national hero with two faces.
