Seon Juho was unusually reluctant to head out to the field today—so much so that he even asked if he could skip it, despite knowing full well the answer would be no.
After finally coaxing him into going, Lee Tae-rim felt utterly drained. Alone in the Guiding Room, he slumped over the table, exhausted. He still acts like such a kid. Big body or not, he’s a baby—just a baby.
Tae-rim’s field rotations usually coincided with Lee Jae-hwa or Yoon Ye-rin, but this time, it was Kim Hyo-il’s turn, and he was supposed to drop by soon. Thanks to the damn Center Director showing Seon Juho off to Sectors 3 and 4, their schedules had shifted. Kim Hyo-il had been giddy yesterday, thrilled that he finally got assigned to an S-rank Guiding Room. Tae-rim had found it genuinely amusing.
Everyone at the Center knew the Director was obsessed with parading Seon Juho around. According to Kim Hyo-il, he’d probably be sent to Sector 5 next—it was close to Sectors 3 and 4, after all.
Complaining about how the Director was practically giving Seon Juho a national sightseeing tour had been oddly satisfying. Truth be told, Tae-rim didn’t mind the occasional expedition, but back-to-back deployments were exhausting. He couldn’t help but grumble.
Still, thanks to the Director, he’d come to appreciate something: the peace and quiet of Sector 1. That sense of calm—he barely had time to savor it when—
“Kyaaaah!”
“Uaaaagh!”
A bone-deep vibration rippled through the air, followed by a chorus of screams.
Tae-rim shot up and bolted out of the Guiding Room—only to freeze.
A massive black maw had torn open the air, as if ready to swallow everything whole.
“Get back! Everyone, move!”
Tae-rim stood there, mouth agape. The entrance to a Gate had appeared—its pitch-black void forming just in front of the barrier that surrounded the Guiding Rooms. He had only ever heard about it before, and never imagined it would be that big.
Someone shouted for him to get out of the way, but his body refused to move.
“Guide Lee Tae-rim!”
A shove to his back snapped him out of his daze. He stumbled forward, then began to run, dazed. The person running with him—gently pushing him forward—was an Esper he’d seen around a few times before.
“If you can’t move, I’ll carry you!”
Tae-rim couldn’t even begin to process what was happening. He knew he needed to stay calm, but now that it was actually happening, nothing made sense. More Espers gathered around, forming a protective shield as they ran. In the chaos, one of them hoisted Tae-rim onto their back without waiting for permission.
“Guide! Ready your weapon—!”
“It’s S-rank! An S-rank!”
A deafening boom thundered through the air, followed by a scream.
The moment someone shouted about loading weapons, Tae-rim reflexively reached down, pulled his gun from his thigh holster, and chambered a round. Still clinging to the Esper’s back, he twisted around to look—and his heart sank.
The Gate had opened wide, and the monster within had begun to emerge. One of its massive legs had already pierced the defensive barrier.
He was watching it happen right in front of him, but he still couldn’t believe it.
There was no need to confirm—it was clearly an S-rank.
“We need to fall back to the inner perimeter—!”
“……!”
Espers were shouting something nearby, but he couldn’t make out a word. Then, without warning, the Esper carrying him went down—and Tae-rim fell forward, hitting the ground hard. His body instinctively rolled into a proper landing, but before he could register what happened—
“AGH!”
Blinding pain exploded through his arms.
Both of them were twisted behind his back in an instant, and with a metallic clack, handcuffs snapped onto his wrists.
Everything was happening too fast to comprehend.
Someone grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him to his feet.
“Guide!”
Screams and monstrous howls filled the air, the vibrations pounding in his ears until it felt like his eardrums might rupture. Tae-rim struggled to pull himself together and open his eyes, trying to get his bearings—but the grip on his neck tightened, as if warning him not to move.
“Ghk—!”
The hand on his nape clamped down with crushing force, lifting him off the ground by his neck. His heels dangled, barely brushing the floor.
The pain in his throat was so intense he couldn’t even scream.
“Bring me Seon Juho.”
Where they’d come from, he had no idea, but Espers in black combat gear had him completely surrounded.
He glanced downward—and saw the bodies of the Center’s Espers who had been protecting him, now lying lifeless on the ground.
His teeth clenched involuntarily. His jaw began to tremble.
You knew this could happen.
He tried to calm himself, but now that he was in the middle of it, his body wouldn’t stop shaking.
He couldn’t even see who was restraining him. His neck was fixed, forcing him to stare straight ahead.
Center Espers had gathered nearby but weren’t able to act. The ones in black were surrounding him, preventing anyone from getting close.
In the distance, monsters were breaking through the barrier and advancing.
He must’ve been carried a fair distance before being caught. Not that it mattered now.
As the monsters drew nearer, Tae-rim swallowed hard, throat dry as sand.
It wasn’t just one monster that had breached the barrier—most of the creatures pouring out of the Gate had broken through.
Which could only mean one thing: they were all S-rank.
Tae-rim’s entire body broke out in chills. The perimeter must’ve descended into absolute chaos.
Espers locked in a standoff with the intruders began calling for backup through their watches.
“Esper Seon Juho! Guide Lee Tae-rim is—!”
[On my way.]
A short, sharp response came through the comm, accompanied by the rush of wind. But the voice wasn’t the one Tae-rim was used to hearing. It was colder, lower—so chilling it barely even sounded like Seon Juho.
“Ugh…”
“Don’t try anything stupid.”
The intruder holding Tae-rim tightened his grip around his neck, reacting to whatever the Center’s Espers had attempted. The already painful hold became a strangle. Tae-rim winced, letting out a strained groan as his face twisted in pain.
With his neck wrenched upward and his body frozen in place, his field of vision was limited. He could only see the Center Espers standing tensely in front of him, their faces stiff with anxiety.
There were only three left.
Cold sweat slid down Tae-rim’s back.
There had been at least ten of them before. Over half were gone in the blink of an eye.
Whoever these attackers were, they had to be S-rank Espers. Tae-rim didn’t know how many there were, but it was obvious the Center’s Espers couldn’t do a thing—not because they wouldn’t, but because they couldn’t. The enemy outclassed them in both power and numbers.
Get it together, Tae-rim told himself, squeezing his eyes shut, then forcing them open.
He couldn’t speak—the grip on his neck was too tight—but in his head, he kept repeating: It’s okay. I’m okay. Anything to steady the tremble in his limbs.
But before he could even calm down, the hand on his neck released just slightly—only for something cold to snap around his throat with a click.
“Don’t move. That’s a bomb on your neck.”
Goosebumps erupted across his skin.
He’d expected they’d come prepared if their target was Seon Juho. But he never imagined that preparation would involve strapping a bomb to his throat.
He went completely still, terrified that even a twitch might set it off. His body began to shake. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
“Hyung!”
A voice rang out from above—a familiar, desperately welcome voice—as someone dropped from the sky. But Tae-rim couldn’t respond. And Seon Juho couldn’t get through.
The intruders surrounding him leapt forward, intercepting Seon Juho mid-air.
“Back off while I’m still being polite.”
Seon Juho crashed to the ground within Tae-rim’s line of sight.
Tae-rim couldn’t even call his name.
The terror of having a bomb strapped to his neck was beyond anything he’d ever imagined.
“That device on his neck is a bomb. The only way to remove it here is to cut off his head.”
Seon Juho, who had been ready to fight, froze. His expression hardened, the fury in his eyes turning razor-sharp.
Tae-rim wanted to say he was okay—but he wasn’t. Not at all. Just seeing Seon Juho’s face made his vision start to blur.
His breath caught in his throat.
“Hyung!”
I can’t cry. Not now.
But he couldn’t stop it. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
He’d thought that as long as he kept his head straight, he’d be fine no matter what happened. But he’d been wrong.
He couldn’t even answer Seon Juho. All he could do was cry—silently, helplessly. The shame of his own powerlessness burned through him, but he truly couldn’t do anything.
“If it’s me you want, then let him go.”
“I’m not restraining you. But I’m taking the hostage. Come closer.”
“Let him go.”
“The detonator’s with someone watching you through the camera on my shoulder. Don’t try anything.”
“……”
Seon Juho clenched his jaw so tightly it looked like it might crack, eyes locked on the man holding Tae-rim.
For a moment, everything stood still. But the outcome was already clear.
Grinding his teeth, Seon Juho took a step forward.
