The congregation at Faith Love Church—run by Pastor Jang Min-seop for the past 24 years—was made up mostly of people who had known each other for over a decade. After seeing one another’s faces week after week in this small church, the bonds they had formed were so strong that they saw each other as family more than actual relatives.
“Deacon, is everything alright?”
A gentle voice rang out through the microphone. Even though it disrupted the sanctity of worship, it carried a sincere note of concern.
It didn’t take long for the pastor to realize that dozens of eyes in the congregation were staring at him in absolute horror. Some had even covered their mouths with their hands.
“P-Pastor! Beside you…!”
Pastor Jang slowly turned his head.
Right next to his face, a gash had appeared in the air—like a rip carved out with a razor-sharp blade. And through that tear stretched an abyss of pitch-black darkness that everyone instantly recognized.
A Gate.
In a flash, a murky sky-blue tendril shot out from that black void, wrapping itself around the pastor’s body and yanking him inside. It all happened in the blink of an eye.
From the space that had devoured the pastor, an endless stream of grotesque creatures began pouring out like a waterfall.
A Gate had opened—right in the middle of the most peaceful Wednesday evening service. Towering above the anomaly, the wooden cross stood tall.
***
It had been nearly two weeks since the Supernatural Management Security Department’s helipad was last activated in such a rush. The sudden report of a Gate opening—right when the peaceful lull period was just around the corner—was jarring, to say the least.
Yoo Ji-ho stared dryly at the cracked screen of his pager. As the signal finally connected with a burst of static, he spoke softly, his voice cutting through the loud rotor noise of the helicopter.
“Just to be clear… I’m not in charge of cleaning up after your Esper screwups, am I?”
—Sir, please go ahead!
“Am I the guy who fixes problems even your Espers can’t handle?”
—…….
He waited, but no reply came—only the maddening buzz of the helicopter thundering in his ears. Letting out a deep sigh, Yoo Ji-ho closed his eyes, fatigue weighing down on him heavily.
No matter how uncoordinated they were, three full teams couldn’t handle a minor Gate without screwing it up?
Their destination wasn’t even near Yeouido—it was some neighborhood up in northern Gyeonggi Province. Sure, it was an emergency call, so he showed up. But the more he listened to the briefing, the more it grated on him.
This was supposed to be the off-season, when the cycle of large, high-risk Gates had already peaked. For Yoo Ji-ho, it was essentially a rest period. During such times, the government made it a point to spare top-level Espers from active duty, only deploying them when Gate activity surged again.
Conversely, in quiet times like these, it was typically the B-rank and lower Espers who took the lead in fieldwork. So dispatching A2 Team—including him—for a Gate like this? That wasn’t normal at all.
—Originally, it was classified as a minor Gate, sir. But there were too many of them. We missed the golden window for containment. The Gate’s being reclassified now.
Reclassifications weren’t common, but they weren’t unheard of either. The Gate size prediction system wasn’t flawless, after all. Whatever the case, this one sounded like a goddamn mess.
“Any casualties?”
—The pastor of the church was pulled into the Gate, sir.
“……Fuck.”
Well, that changed things. The curse slipped out before he realized it. He was about to scold himself when a voice urgently came through the receiver.
—Hold on, Esper Yoo! The Gate’s just been reclassified!
Still on the line, he grabbed the phone from the Esper sitting beside him.
[EMERGENCY ALERT]
[Goyang City Hall] Gate Appearance at 2F, Faith Love Church, Seonggong Plaza
Gate Classification: <Minor>
Safety Guidelines: hsvo.tr/5246
19:58
[EMERGENCY ALERT]
[Goyang City Hall] Faith Love Church Gate Classification Update
Gate Classification: <Medium-R>
Safety Guidelines: hsvo.tr/5246
20:26
After reading the message, Yoo Ji-ho pressed his fingers against his brow, trying to suppress the sharp pounding in his skull.
His ears felt like they might burst from the pressure and noise of the helicopter, and his brain was literally throbbing. The situation was what it was, but he needed to dull his hypersensitivity before it got worse.
“……Alright. Got it.”
He assessed the situation quickly. The problem wasn’t the scale—it was the timing. If a casualty occurred during a lull like this, the backlash would be enormous.
Gates and Espers. The two were inseparable in the public eye, and even a single mishap could throw the world into chaos. Add politics to the mix, and things would spiral fast.
In short, this was the perfect setup for a disaster. That’s probably why the Center was making such a fuss, sending out everyone from the Yeouido branch—him included.
A short while later, the helicopter carrying Yoo Ji-ho finally touched down, after circling around due to the difficult landing site.
Once on the ground, he followed the local branch Espers toward the church building. One of them—a bespectacled Esper—walked beside him, giving a hasty briefing.
“The creatures are a variant—glow-in-the-dark jellyfish-octopus hybrids. They’ve got a distinct odor but no toxicity! The initial wave was so dense they had to swim through them, so we’ve been too busy killing them to focus on anything else! The real danger is still inside—a big one! We’ve barely managed to seal the Gate’s entrance, but we’re almost at our limit!”
“……Jellyfish?”
Yoo Ji-ho asked, pausing briefly.
“Yes, glow-in-the-dark jellyfish-octopus hybrids, sir.”
“So are they jellyfish? Or octopus?”
“Glow-in-the-dark jellyfish-octopus hybrids, sir!”
“…….”
Still staring straight ahead, Yoo Ji-ho slowly turned to glare at the Esper beside him.
That was the first time he looked at him.
Even that fleeting glance made the rookie gulp. The bloodlust rolling off Yoo Ji-ho as he geared up for battle wasn’t something anyone could imitate—not even close.
This was the difference an S-rank Esper made.
Trembling under the weight of that aura, the rookie managed to deliver one last critical piece of information.
“Estimated time until the Gate closes: 13 minutes—no, make that 12 minutes now!”
“We’re heading in now. A2 Team, stay away from the Gate. Focus on rescuing civilians inside the building.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Esper Yoo Ji-ho is going in!”
At that call, the barricades around the plaza building were pulled back.
The building ahead was rumbling with noise, but thanks to the efforts of the Espers already deployed, the surrounding area was calm and orderly. From a distance, though, it was clear the creatures had made it all the way to the top floors—people were flailing at windows and rooftops, trying to escape.
The initial response teams were too busy evacuating civilians to even think about approaching the Gate.
Past the crime-scene-style barricades, they reached their destination—a somewhat old but decently sized shopping complex. Dozens of Espers stood guard while small clusters of civilians huddled behind them under their protection.
As Yoo Ji-ho approached, the Espers all turned in unison, clearing a path. Of course, it was for him.
The situation was dire. The key was to contain it inside the building, preventing any external spread. So far, the Gate hadn’t broken out beyond the structure—so it wasn’t the worst-case scenario. Not yet.
Unlike the other Espers clad in black combat uniforms, Yoo Ji-ho was dressed like a corporate employee—light shirt, slacks, and blazer. Classic office attire.
That calm, unbothered look of his never changed.
And, as always, the reaction came right on cue.
“Oh? That’s Yoo Ji-ho!”
“Oh Lord!”
“Please, save our pastor! Please!”
Yoo Ji-ho forced himself not to look their way.
All Espers learned to do the same. Letting yourself be swayed by someone’s desperation could ruin everything. It was the core principle of Esper training. At the Yeouido Center, they put it like this: This is the principle Yoo Ji-ho values most.
And indeed, Yoo Ji-ho had never been swayed by pleas—not even once. So much so that even other Espers found him overly cold. But since he always got the job done perfectly, they believed that maybe this principle was something all competent Espers should live by.
Ding—
A pager buzzed.
Yoo Ji-ho felt the vibration on his wrist.
What now? He ran a hand through his messy hair and checked his wrist.
Squinting at the cracked screen, he barely managed to make out the sender: Hye-seong.
[Baek Hye-seong]
Mr. Yoo Ji-ho. I’ll wait until your mission’s over today. I hope you don’t get hurt. Stay strong.
A dry laugh escaped his lips.
The hell’s that idiot saying? ‘Don’t get hurt’?
“……Annoying.”
Clucking his tongue, Yoo Ji-ho looked forward again. With the last batch of reinforcements now inside, he stepped into the building. His objective: prevent any civilian casualties.
Inside, the building was already a war zone. The stairs were flooded with corpses of light blue monstrosities—somewhere between jellyfish and octopus.
From the looks of it, these slippery-skinned things had piled up into mounds, spilling out the church’s front entrance. Pausing briefly, Yoo Ji-ho raised a brow and muttered to himself.
“Definitely octopus.”
“S-Sir? This, this is a glow-in-the-dark jellyfish-octo—”
“Be quiet.”
Without sparing him a glance, Yoo Ji-ho issued the warning in a low growl and advanced toward the creatures.
The faint smell of saltwater made his stomach churn. He was getting nauseous. Might need to grab one of those octopus heads and get a painkiller shot after.
With irritation flaring across his face, he kicked aside a corpse and followed the noise toward the Gate, which was inside the worship hall—and the sight that greeted him was… spectacular.
“Aaaagh, fuck! Get off me, you fucking bastards! Get ooooff!”
“Shit, Yoon-kyung, I’m gonna—urk!”
“You puke in here, I’ll kill you, you fucking psycho—hrrrk!”
“Team Leader! They’re puking!”
It was utter pandemonium inside the church.
Though… perhaps not in the way anyone expected.
