“Huff, huff.”
Baek Seo-ha bent over, hands braced on his knees. Just breathing made his mouth fill with saliva, forcing him to swallow again and again.
“Totally screwed.”
He wiped his damp lips with the back of his hand and muttered, clearly annoyed.
“They said they’d go in with a team. All lies.”
The gate had long since closed, and this was now the third day he and Han Ju-oh had been scrambling around nonstop. No proper food, no real sleep—just constant tension. His clothes were in tatters, barely hanging on rather than worn, and he’d already lost the left half of his rubber shoes. He’d switched to sneakers, but now only the right one remained—the left had been swept out to sea.
“Talk about looking like a bum.”
A hollow laugh escaped him. Still, he figured he was lucky to have made it out this well.
He raised his head to look at Han Ju-oh. The man was decked out in a leopard-print shirt and loud, floral-patterned pants that were painfully garish.
“That’s not fashion—it’s a fashion crime.”
A seagull had nearly ripped all their clothes off, and they’d come dangerously close to fighting stark naked. Fortunately, Seo-ha had the foresight to pack extra clothes, which was the only reason they had anything on at all.
“Why the hell do we have to be the ones going through this?”
It was bad enough a gate appeared without warning—but why were they the only ones who ended up inside?
“Just wait. I’m getting out of here, and when I do, I’m making them pay me back double.”
Seo-ha kicked off his rubber shoes, shook out the sand, and slipped them back on. He tied the torn pieces of his shirt together and slung his now-flattened hiking backpack over his shoulder.
“Three more days.”
That was how long their food would last—just enough to match the time they’d already endured. After that, they’d have to catch fish or something. And if that made them sick? Well, that was its own disaster waiting to happen.
“Getting out of here is the priority.”
The coastline stretched endlessly—nothing but sand and sea. For all they knew, the boss monster could be hiding anywhere.
Just then, Han Ju-oh landed in front of him, fresh from a fight. Sand splattered into Seo-ha’s face, but he didn’t care. He pulled him into a firm embrace.
“This is insane.”
Han Ju-oh’s skin was red, not from battle heat, but sunburn.
“Should’ve brought sunscreen…”
“You’re burnt too. You’re not Baek Seo-ha anymore—you’re Black Seo-ha.”
“That’s supposed to be funny?”
Annoyed at the bad pun, Seo-ha gave Han Ju-oh a rough slap and grabbed his hand. As he poured energy into him, he initiated a Guiding session, checking his internal condition.
Handling all this alone really was a stretch. These weren’t even high-level monsters—just the usual kind they’d swat away on a normal day. But with their numbers in the hundreds and no backup, it was a whole different story.
A surge of emotion threatened to rise, but Seo-ha swallowed it down and focused on the Guiding. No other Espers? Fine. He could handle it.
“You need rest.”
If they wanted any chance of getting through this, they needed at least a moment to recover. But there was always the risk of monsters appearing out of nowhere… Seo-ha sighed and pointed to a spot he’d scouted earlier.
“Let’s head over there.”
He could tell Han Ju-oh was about to lift him and fly, so Seo-ha quickly shook his head.
“We’re walking.”
He didn’t want Han Ju-oh burning any more energy. Instead, Seo-ha tightened his grip on his hand and took the lead.
“Sole’s coming off, isn’t it? Watch your step—don’t trip.”
Even his sneakers were falling apart, but Han Ju-oh kept pressing forward. Seo-ha steadied him.
“Lean on me.”
It wasn’t just support—Seo-ha meant it. Han Ju-oh had been fighting nonstop, and now it was his turn to take care of him. Seo-ha pulled him close with his own strength.
He might be a few centimeters shorter, but he was still a fully grown adult. It wasn’t effortless, but he could carry Han Ju-oh just fine.
Han Ju-oh let himself be lifted with ease, leaning into Seo-ha and exhaling softly.
“You’re solid.”
“Damn right I am. You’ve seen me all this time and still don’t know?”
Carrying Han Ju-oh, Seo-ha moved forward. The spot he’d chosen was a small cave partially hidden by rocks. It would help shield them from any monsters bursting through the sand and from aerial threats above.
He set Han Ju-oh down inside and sat beside him. With one hand, he resumed the Guiding. With the other, he rummaged through his bag.
He pulled out a bottle of water and held it out.
Just as Han Ju-oh reached for it, Seo-ha yanked it back.
The gesture—offering it only to pull it away—earned him a stare. Seo-ha shook his head.
“Times like this, teamwork’s what counts.”
He handed it out again. This time, Han Ju-oh simply unscrewed the cap.
“Good boy.”
Seo-ha offered the praise—then drank the water himself.
It could’ve come off as petty, but Han Ju-oh didn’t complain. He just quietly watched him.
Then, with water still in his mouth, Seo-ha leaned in and kissed him.
A stream of water trickled between their wet lips, sliding down their chins and necks.
As Seo-ha moistened Han Ju-oh’s mouth, he simultaneously infused him with energy. The Imprint drastically improved Guiding efficiency. Even without full penetration, it quickly brought the danger level down—effective enough to be satisfying.
‘But was it really satisfying?’
No. Not entirely.
The Guiding was going extraordinarily well—so well that if they went further, their compatibility rate could easily hit 99%. And yet, that very knowledge left a lingering frustration.
‘The difference in rank.’
Han Ju-oh was S-Class. Seo-ha was A-Class. That disparity had never felt more glaring than it did now.
Their lips parted, and Seo-ha let out a sigh without realizing it. With Han Ju-oh watching him, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t bother him.
“This really sucks.”
Seo-ha rummaged through his bag, pulled out a disinfectant wipe, and began gently cleaning the blood off Han Ju-oh’s exposed skin.
“I thought once we completed the Imprint, that would be it. Like we’d finally reached the end of the road. But now it feels like I’ve stumbled onto a whole new path I didn’t even know existed.”
Even if their matching rate was ideal, there was a hard ceiling to how much energy he could transfer.
The words tangled inside him. He couldn’t go on. Sensing that, Han Ju-oh leaned in and gently pressed their foreheads together.
“Seo-ha.”
“I told you I’d handle everything… and now here I am, showing you how weak I really am. I’m sorry, Han Ju-oh.”
Seo-ha was the one who admitted it first. He knew he shouldn’t say such things, but the disappointment had already surfaced.
Instead of pushing him away, Han Ju-oh pulled him close in a firm embrace.
“Whether you’re protecting me or breaking down, it’s still you—Baek Seo-ha. And I love all of it.”
“Even if I’m the one buying you new rubber shoes?”
“……”
Han Ju-oh’s arms tightened around him. Yeah, maybe that part didn’t sit too well.
‘There’s gotta be a way…’
Still held in Han Ju-oh’s arms, Seo-ha glanced at his watch. 69%. A number that once made him feel proud—satisfied even. But right now, it felt underwhelming. Like eating cucumber without ssamjang, or kimchi stew without pork. Still edible, still good… but not perfect. Not complete.
Lost in that thought, Seo-ha murmured without thinking,
“Can’t I level up or something?”
Not asking for more. Not asking for less. Just… to be on the same level as Han Ju-oh. That would be enough.
That simple, wistful question would become a line they’d remember forever—because in the next moment, the boss monster appeared, rising with a burst of rock.
***
Kim Mi-yeon’s breaths grew sharper as she glared at the gate. Her hands were on her hips, her posture rigid with fury, and her gaze cut like a blade.
“You’re telling me you couldn’t assemble a team before the gate closed?”
She shot a glare at the official from the Gate Control Center.
“Then you shouldn’t have sent Espers in ahead of time in the first place.”
“If we hadn’t, we would’ve faced a dungeon break. The consequences could’ve been catastrophic.”
“And sending in only Esper Han Ju-oh and Guide Baek Seo-ha wasn’t catastrophic? That was your definition of proper protocol?”
“Ahem… We had no choice. That region isn’t designated for gate activity, so assembling a team took longer than expected…”
The excuse was exactly the same as before. Word for word. Kim Mi-yeon resisted the overwhelming urge to slam her fist into her own chest. Or better yet, knock the man’s teeth in.
‘Deep breath.’
The only reason she was holding it together was because she’d seen this coming.
“We don’t know the gate’s grade, or how large the next team will be. Still, I’ll take responsibility and go in. I’ll probably need to chug a massive supplement when I get back—one of the ultra-concentrated kinds.”
Baek Seo-ha had clearly anticipated all of this. He had given a brief rundown of the situation to Guild Leader Kim Mi-yeon, along with his true intention: If there’s no way to avoid it, then at least demand a price worthy of the risk.
“I’ll be filing a formal complaint. This won’t be swept under the rug.”
As she turned away in anger, the official hastily stepped in front of her.
“I’ll escalate this to upper management. We’ll ensure Esper Han Ju-oh and Guide Baek Seo-ha receive the full recognition they deserve—”
“Funny. That almost sounded like a eulogy.”
“No, no! That’s not what I meant! I meant we’ll support them however they need—going forward.”
The official’s desperate backpedaling eased Kim Mi-yeon’s expression just a little. Things were playing out exactly the way Seo-ha had intended. The groundwork was being laid to ensure the National Security Department would never again interfere with Han Ju-oh.
‘But none of it matters unless they come back alive.’
Kim Mi-yeon’s eyes fixed on the sealed gate, gaze unwavering.
