Inside the Gate, such things were a common sight. Yoo Ji-ho silently observed the behavior of the rookie Esper, a frown forming between his brows.
“…Why the hell is he picking that crap up?”
“Ah, he’s a newbie. That’s the kind of stuff that fascinates them at first.”
He’d muttered it more out of genuine curiosity, but unexpectedly got a reply he hadn’t asked for.
“Oh.”
Hearing the word newbie, he realized that the guy who’d been irritating him this whole time was that guy.
That rookie Esper had been fussing nonstop about fighting alongside Yoo Ji-ho. It wasn’t anything surprising. Most of the rookies who acted recklessly did the same.
Whether it was just part of his personality or not, the rookie kept darting around and squatting to pick up rocks like it was some treasure hunt.
Though his face was hidden behind a mask, the look in Yoo Ji-ho’s eyes remained calm—far from sensitive or irritable. In fact, he looked so composed, you’d never believe he’d just come out of combat.
They were moving as a team anyway, so there had to be a team leader besides himself. If anyone caused a delay or got annoying, he was more than ready to ditch them on the spot.
Even though his mood was relatively peaceful, being inside the Gate made his fatigue worse than it had been in the morning.
“I’m sorry! Sorry!”
The Esper hurried back with a few rocks cradled in both hands. The team started walking again.
But the repeated, sheepish giggling within the same space began to get on Yoo Ji-ho’s nerves.
He turned his head toward the sound—and of course, it was that rookie again. His face was so annoyingly bright, it pissed Yoo Ji-ho off even more than when the guy had suddenly darted off earlier.
Still oblivious to the glare aimed his way, the rookie hummed cheerfully.
“I’ve gotta hurry and give this to our team leader~.”
“Huh? You mean you’re giving it to me?”
“What? Oh no, not you. I meant the Guide I’ve been seeing a lot these days.”
“This punk, not even thinking of his own team leader.”
The leader of Esper Team A9 lightly smacked the rookie on the back of the head. Yoo Ji-ho glanced at his wristwatch and casually asked:
“Why are you giving someone garbage?”
“Sorry, what?”
A brief awkward silence followed. Then, the rookie beamed and kept pace beside Yoo Ji-ho.
“Ah, well, I mean—I guess you could see it that way. Heh.”
To Yoo Ji-ho, who instinctively detested and avoided everything that came out of the Gate, this made absolutely no sense.
And besides, it wasn’t even the kind of Gate mineral that was used for industrial purposes or sold on the market. Harvesting that kind of material required government clearance.
That thing he picked up would also need proper authorization to possess. Most likely, it’d just end up getting discarded.
“Espers see these kinds of things all the time when we go into Gates, but Guides and regular people don’t, right? Even if it ends up being trashed, I thought I could at least show it to someone at the Center.”
The rookie Esper seemed thrilled that Yoo Ji-ho had spoken to him first and kept chattering away. The team leader made another show of smacking the rookie’s head again.
“Where’d you pick up this habit? Acting like this with someone like Team Leader Kim Han-young? You think you’re her first rookie or something?”
“Ah, crap. That’s true, huh?”
“Obviously.”
“Still… I really wanted to give it to him…”
The rookie scratched his head, sighing like he hadn’t even considered that. A moment later, he stepped closer to Yoo Ji-ho and opened his hands to show what he’d collected.
“If you have someone to give one to, would you like one too, Esper-nim? I’ve got plenty.”
Up until a moment ago, Yoo Ji-ho had looked at those rocks like worthless trash—but something in his gaze had shifted slightly.
“…You think stuff like this is interesting?”
“Yeah! I thought it was cool too. When I took one home to show my little brother, he really loved it. I didn’t give it to him though, just let him take a look.”
Having entered more Gates than he’d stayed home since before he’d even become an adult, Yoo Ji-ho had long forgotten how to see the world through the eyes of regular people.
He came to a sudden stop and looked down at the rookie’s cupped hands.
After staring for a while, he finally picked one.
“Your taste is impeccable…!”
Yoo Ji-ho gave the rookie a silent stare, the kind that screamed shut your damn mouth right now or else. If not for the mask covering the lower half of his face, the atmosphere would’ve felt even more hostile.
The rookie seemed to have enough sense to shut up before pushing his luck further.
The one Yoo Ji-ho picked was the biggest, almond-shaped stone.
It looked like a rough, transparent mineral, glowing faintly with a sharp pink hue from the inside—an eye-catching detail. But more than anything, it was the almond shape that made him choose it.
He remembered how Baek Hye-seong always brought him the exact same thing, without fail, assuming Yoo Ji-ho’s comment about eating something before he left meant it had to be nuts.
The moment he saw this rock, that scene came back to him. The way Hye-seong would sit there and dutifully eat it every time like it was homework.
He hadn’t even realized the reason he told him to eat before leaving was because he hated seeing him vanish right after finishing work.
And then the memory of Baek Hye-seong staring out the window yesterday resurfaced.
Ah. I told him we’d go for a walk today.
As he walked toward the Gate’s exit, fidgeting with the stone in his hand, Yoo Ji-ho debated whether to just throw it away.
“Let’s hurry up and get out of here.”
But in the end, the hand that hesitated dropped it into his pocket instead.
***
Finally, the sound came. The one Hye-seong had been waiting for all day: the helicopter.
He rushed out to the balcony and looked up at the sky before turning around and sprinting out of the house.
He’d been left alone in Yoo Ji-ho’s home all day, anxiously waiting. Though he’d always heard news of Ji-ho’s battles from afar, this was his first time actually seeing someone off to the Gate and waiting for their return.
The Center had even contacted him earlier, letting him know that Yoo Ji-ho would soon be back and asked him to prepare for Guiding. Even though it had been over a month since he became Ji-ho’s Guide, this was the first time it truly hit him.
That he was the Guide of an S-rank Esper who constantly lived on the edge of danger.
He ran to the rear side of the house, where a helipad had been set up. As the helicopter descended toward the ground, fierce wind whipped around them. Even from a distance, his long hair flew wildly in the wind, and he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Ugh…”
The harsh wind was one thing, but the deafening noise slammed against his ears like a hammer. Covering them, Hye-seong stood by a tree, waiting quietly for the helicopter to land. It was his first time seeing one this close.
Yoo Ji-ho would be in there. He had to be okay, completely unharmed, back safe like always.
But he couldn’t rest easy until he saw it with his own eyes.
A moment later, the door opened, and Ji-ho stepped out in full combat gear. He hadn’t seen Hye-seong yet, striding forward with a grim look on his face.
Holding his black combat mask in one hand, Ji-ho pressed the other hand to his ear, speaking to someone. He was still mid-call, and based on the way his brows were furrowed, it looked like he could barely hear over the helicopter noise.
Hye-seong found himself holding his breath, utterly transfixed.
He’d seen countless photos of Ji-ho returning from battle. Some he could even recall the exact event based on the date they were taken.
But none of them—none—compared to the Ji-ho standing before him now.
His heart pounded so loud in his ears that it drowned everything else out. Even the intense rumble of the helicopter felt muted.
Eventually, Ji-ho yanked the device from his ear, looking frustrated. Then he clawed at the chest of his combat uniform as if the gear were suffocating him.
Now he was really getting close. Ji-ho was going to need him soon.
Before he could pass by without noticing, Hye-seong forced his frozen legs to move.
“Yoo Ji-ho-ssi!”
He rushed forward, and Ji-ho looked down at him in surprise.
Up close, his eyes were slightly bloodshot. Seeing that, Hye-seong faltered and asked softly:
“…Was it a hard day?”
The roar of the helicopter, which had felt like it would burst his eardrums, gradually faded as the aircraft lifted off again.
And in that moment, a completely different voice—gentle and calm—grazed his hypersensitive ears. Ji-ho’s eyes never once blinked as he stared straight at him.
“Yoo Ji-ho-ssi… mmph!”
Sensing something was off, Hye-seong reached out to hold his hand in concern—and at that exact moment, Ji-ho pressed their lips together.
