Chapter 36
A voice with indistinguishable gender or age. Startled, Yeonwoo looked around. All he could see was a short passageway and mana rippling at its end.
Even after looking around again, there was no sign of the golden eyes that had evoked his nightmare or the owner of the dreamlike voice.
[Esper Han Yeonwoo. Are you alright?]
Coming to his senses at the voice from the speaker, Yeonwoo checked the camera lens. There must be many staff watching on the first day of training, yet no one saw it?
There was definitely something there. Recalling the golden eyes that shone brightly against the dark background, Yeonwoo swallowed dryly.
[Esper Han Yeonwoo?]
At the prompting, Yeonwoo drew a circle above his head. When the crackling static disappeared, Yeonwoo took a deep breath and got up. For now… let’s get out. I’ll think about it after getting out.
After standing up, Yeonwoo set coordinates for the exit. He could only laugh seeing the pattern that glowed faintly before disappearing. I’ll need to receive some guiding. Though I’m not sure if Jo Heeseo will willingly provide it.
Giving up on folding space, Yeonwoo slowly moved forward and stood in front of the mana mass. Just like when he entered, Yeonwoo passed through the mana mass blocking his way and opened the door. With a pop sound like a cork being pulled out, cleansing oxygen poured out.
As he inhaled the pure oxygen, his throat tickled and he burst into coughing. While he was coughing uncontrollably, Choi Dongwon approached and offered him a water bottle.
“It tastes bad.”
As Choi Dongwon had warned, the water tasted terrible. Seeing Yeonwoo cover his mouth at the foul taste, Choi Dongwon gestured for him to drink more with a pitiful expression. When Yeonwoo brought the bottle back to his lips and took another sip, his tongue went numb and he felt nauseous.
“Are you okay?”
Park Seohyun, who was handing him a chilled towel, squeezed between Choi Dongwon and Yeonwoo with a broad smile.
“Our team will pass.”
Park Seohyun pointed at Jo Heeseo, who had settled near the communal zone Espers, then put her arms around Yeonwoo and Choi Dongwon’s shoulders.
“I’m glad everyone came out in one piece.”
At Park Seohyun’s words, Choi Dongwon, who had been drinking water, suddenly teared up. As he reddened around the eyes, saying it was difficult despite all his mental simulations, Park Seohyun pulled her shoulders in tightly and whispered softly.
“Our team did really well. Other people were vomiting and collapsing as soon as they came out—it was chaotic.”
Gesturing toward the Espers sprawled on the ground, Park Seohyun patted Choi Dongwon’s shoulders, which had curled up timidly. Seeing Park Seohyun giving a thumbs up to him as well, Yeonwoo smiled faintly.
Of course I should be fine.
This isn’t my first training, no, not even my first life.
“I need to…”
When Yeonwoo gestured that he felt like throwing up, Park Seohyun released her arm. Telling him to rest until the end of training, Park Seohyun laid Yeonwoo down and moved away with Choi Dongwon.
As Yeonwoo wiggled his toes and closed his eyes, several scenes flashed behind his eyelids.
Starting from when he fell gravely ill, Yeonhwa beginning to draw, their parents fleeing while treating Yeonhwa like a monster, classmates at the military academy, the book Yeonhwa gave him when they graduated together, the Round Guild Master attending Yeonhwa’s coming-of-age ceremony, his own voice wailing in front of him, and finally, his melting fingers.
Slowly opening his eyes, Yeonwoo stared blankly at the ceiling.
So it wasn’t a dream. That’s how I died.
I didn’t just return to the past; I died and came back to the past.
Looking at his intact hand, Yeonwoo sighed deeply. There were many things he couldn’t understand. The most incomprehensible was Yeonhwa’s lie, and the second was his own death.
As a C-class, Yeonwoo had been living as part of a dungeon reserve team, and after leaving the reserve team, he was planning to go to a dangerous area. He had almost—no, absolutely no reason to be involved with Kang Chahun, an S-class.
Yet the hand that had grabbed his waist and Chahun’s surprised expression were still vivid. Chahun would have been assigned to a subjugation team, or at the very least an attack team, so there was no reason for him to meet Yeonwoo, who was in the reserve. He couldn’t understand why they were together or why he had died saving Chahun.
“Alright, let’s get up now.”
At Park Seohyun’s call, Yeonwoo slowly rose and stood next to Choi Dongwon. While he was watching other team guides checking on their Espers, Jo Heeseo, who had been approaching, took a step back. Well, I wasn’t expecting anything anyway.
“Though we have some time left, we’ll end today’s training here. Try not to use your abilities today and walk as much as possible. If even walking is difficult, it’s also okay to discharge dungeon mana by talking with your team members.”
The training director, looking at the group standing relatively steadily and the Espers about to collapse, clapped to gather attention.
“Attention, everyone. The virtual dungeon training doesn’t end today. We’ll have another test next week, and based on those results, the interns will be decided. Don’t be too complacent just because you passed today. I’ll see you next week.”
When the training director gave the dismissal order, Seo Yujin, who had been waiting on one side, approached.
“Is everyone alright?”
Watching Jo Heeseo, who was leaving the training ground immediately after the dismissal order, Seo Yujin looked at the team members and smiled.
“Today is the end of training. Good work, everyone.”
At the neat farewell, Choi Dongwon made a tearful face. Seo Yujin, who was saying goodbye like Bae Jaeyoung without leaving any room for doubt, offered Yeonwoo a water bottle.
“Are you okay too, Esper Han Yeonwoo?”
Cold sweat began to form on Yeonwoo’s forehead as he backed away hesitantly from the approaching Seo Yujin.
“Esper Han Yeonwoo.”
So Seo Yujin was there that day too. That’s why I felt aversion.
Park Seohyun pushed the dazed Yeonwoo, who was just staring at his feet, behind her and greeted Seo Yujin in his place. Saying that the aftereffects of mana motion sickness could last quite a while, Seo Yujin handed Park Seohyun the water bottle and left. Only then did focus return to Yeonwoo’s eyes.
“Good work, everyone.”
“See you on Monday.”
Even while exchanging farewells with team members, unorganized thoughts were flying around in Yeonwoo’s head.
* * *
“Are there no other materials?”
“You’re looking for compiled information on abilities, right? That’s all we have on publicly disclosed abilities.”
Swallowing a sigh at the mental-type’s answer, Yeonwoo returned to his seat. Despite searching through the vast reference room during his break time, he found nothing useful. Asking the mental-type Esper guarding the reference room yielded the same result.
There wasn’t a single Esper with time-related abilities.
Yeonwoo erased the hypothesis from his mind that someone had turned back time and he had been fortunate enough to be carried along because he was on a similar timeline. Crossing his arms, Yeonwoo glared at his diary.
February 19.
On the page with only the date remaining, Kang Chahun’s name was written. Looking at the lines drawn next to it and numerous question marks, Yeonwoo let out a long sigh. Like with Seo Yujin, he couldn’t recall information about Kang Chahun. Resting his chin on his hand, Yeonwoo circled Kang Chahun’s name with his ballpoint pen.
How did Kang Chahun live?
It would have been nice to have a memory that could remember every piece of information read. While he could clearly remember the positions of objects, unfortunately, his memory wasn’t as good as a mental-type’s.
The book had disappeared, and the words in the diary hadn’t been restored. All that remained was Yeonwoo’s memory… Biting his lip, Yeonwoo wracked his brain hard, but both the story in the book and his memories of Kang Chahun remained faint.
All he could remember was that Kang Chahun was ostracized in Zone A and that he became the Center Director after some incident.
Holding his head, Yeonwoo turned a page in his diary and wrote down his own name. Let’s change perspective and think again. How did I live?
Yeonwoo traced his memories, pressing his pen firmly over his name.
Like any workplace, once you adapt, every day becomes the same. And after Yeonhwa became an adult, Yeonwoo’s life practically ceased to exist as he focused on Yeonhwa’s life.
…Why did I do that?
There was no reason to wrap himself around Yeonhwa, who was no longer a minor but an adult. Pressing his forehead firmly, Yeonwoo wrote Yeonhwa’s name in the empty space.
After organizing all the memories that came to mind below it, several hypotheses formed.
The most plausible was that he could see premonitions like Yeonhwa, but an Esper couldn’t have two abilities. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be premonition.
[Did you really think it was just a dream?]
Should he believe those words? Was it a vision or an auditory hallucination? With a slight headache rising, Yeonwoo massaged the back of his neck and opened the page with Kang Chahun’s name.
Why had he saved Kang Chahun? Both then and now, his ability was inadequate, but even as mediocre as he was, there was no reason to sacrifice his life to save Chahun just because he looked a bit hurt and tired, given that Chahun was S-class.
…Was that my role?
If so, the scene where Yeonhwa argued with him trying to stop him from entering the dungeon, and the reason why he died saving Chahun made sense. Then, for some reason, he had returned to the past.
“Ugh…”
Burying his head in his arms, Yeonwoo let out a small groan. No matter what hypotheses he formed, nothing was resolved, and he just got a headache.
“Hyung?”
At the familiar voice and familiar mana, Yeonwoo raised his head to see Chahun pulling out a chair in front of him.
“I thought you might be here, and here you are.”
“You know it’s been a really long time since we’ve seen each other, right?” As Chahun sat beside him, Yeonwoo hid his diary and counted with his fingers. I saw him on Monday and then didn’t see him… so it’s been 4 days? After practicing together every day, it did feel a bit empty practicing separately.
Turning only his head from his hunched position, Yeonwoo examined Chahun carefully.
“What is it?”
I’m wondering why I saved you. Chahun was checking if there was something on his training uniform, but while it showed signs of daily wear, the uniform was clean.
“What is it? Is something on me?”
“It’s nothing.”
At Yeonwoo’s answer, Chahun’s eyebrow rose. With an expression that seemed to ask, “What’s wrong with this hyung?” Chahun looked down at him, with a hint of sky blue swirling in his eyes. If there was mana color mixed in his eyes, he must have trained a lot…
Wait a minute.
Sitting up, Yeonwoo looked Chahun over once more. At that time, Kang Chahun was a novice who couldn’t even create a weapon. But now?
The contents of the book flashed quickly through his mind. How could he have forgotten? Despite reading the book until it was worn out, why had he forgotten? Goosebumps rose along his spine.
He should have avoided getting entangled with Kang Chahun.
Originally, Chahun should have been ostracized in Zone A right now. He was supposed to be pointed at as an incompetent S-class who was clumsy with his ability and didn’t know how to handle mana.
But now, far from being ostracized, he had been assigned a personal training ground and was even planning to leave the Center.
Why? Because Yeonwoo had taught Chahun how to handle mana. Because Yeonwoo had told him about the Center’s injustices.
“Hahaha…”
Letting out a laugh, Yeonwoo immediately covered his mouth.
If nothing else, one thing was certain. Having twisted the future of Chahun, the protagonist of the book, the boomerang of causality would now engulf Yeonwoo.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
