The moment they heard the monster’s scream, they knew something had gone terribly wrong—but seeing Ian and Han Ju-oh being carried back on the shoulders of other Espers made it unmistakably clear that this was no ordinary incident.
They were top-tier Espers. Of course, being high-ranking didn’t guarantee survival, but there had always been an unspoken confidence that their strength would see them through. The fact that they were the ones being carried back cast a heavy pall over the entire team. The air turned suffocatingly grim, and every individual wore the shock like a second skin.
When Seo-ha caught sight of their blood-smeared faces, unconscious and limp, he instinctively covered his mouth to suppress the scream rising in his throat. Blood had streamed from the corner of Han Ju-oh’s eye, making it look as if he were crying blood. Seo-ha ignored the chill sinking into his chest and led Han Ju-oh quickly into one of the tents.
Moon Roi, just as stricken, brought Ian into the other prepped tent. Two tents. Two wounded. No time to even process the dread that settled over them. Seo-ha reached out toward the Esper who had been supporting Han Ju-oh.
“Lay him here. What the hell happened?”
As he spoke, Seo-ha carefully wiped the blood from Han Ju-oh’s body, examining the wounds one by one.
“Hidden Gate.”
The words he’d feared most spilled from the Esper’s mouth. Seo-ha bit down hard on his lip, forcing back the blur overtaking his vision. From the start, they’d known that stepping into any gate—however routine—meant there was always a slim, ominous chance of running into a Hidden Gate. It was a risk baked into the job. He tried to accept it as calculated, as expected. But there were moments you could afford to lose yourself to emotion, and this was not one of them. His mind screamed to stay focused, but his breath hitched, and his heart pounded out of rhythm, as if it were trying to break free of his chest.
“We believe the Hidden Gate is S-rank. Just getting close to it felt like our lives were in immediate danger. Those two were the only ones who could step in.”
The words barely made it through. It wasn’t a language issue—it felt more like his ears had been stuffed with cotton. Han Ju-oh coming back injured wasn’t new. Seo-ha had endured it again and again. He knew better than to let himself waver. And yet, his hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
When he saw blood continuing to pour from Han Ju-oh’s abdomen, Seo-ha pressed down hard to slow it, dragging his bag over in haste and upending its contents in the process. All the neat organization he’d so carefully planned fell apart in an instant, but none of that mattered now.
Frantically, he searched for the coagulant, pulled out the first aid kit, and began gathering all the emergency supplies he’d packed. As Seo-ha moved quickly to administer first aid, others began to help. Someone checked Han Ju-oh’s temperature. One of them, who had a medical license, stepped forward to stitch up the worst of the wounds.
Seo-ha methodically examined every inch of Han Ju-oh’s body, making sure not a single injury went unnoticed. At last, he took Han Ju-oh’s hand in his own. He had wanted to start Guiding from the very beginning. But Guiding wouldn’t stop the bleeding, so he’d been forcing himself to hold back, to stay rational, despite the panic clawing at him.
If the surface wounds looked this bad, how much worse must it be inside? Even as blood pooled at the corners of Han Ju-oh’s mouth, Seo-ha kept Guiding.
‘We worked so well together, didn’t we?’
There was no guarantee this wouldn’t happen again. And still, for Han Ju-oh and Seo-ha—and for every Awakened on the field—there was never a choice not to fight. Torn flesh and pouring blood were part of the job. And yet they always returned to the battlefield. Not because anyone forced them. Because they walked into it on their own.
Before they were Espers, they were human. Doubt came with the territory. None of them had asked for their powers. Being thrown into danger had always felt unfair.
But not anymore. Yes, they were still human. Yes, they still got hurt. But because they had each other, every second spent in the dungeon meant something.
‘There’s still so much left for us to do. We haven’t even gone on a proper camping trip.’
He’d told Moon Roi he’d never go camping—but if it was with Han Ju-oh, he’d go without a second thought.
‘I was planning to propose once we got back to Korea. I already had it all prepared.’
He’d gone through so much trouble to keep it a secret from Han Ju-oh, even dragging the people around them into it. If he died here… if he died without ever knowing…
“He can’t.”
Seo-ha whispered to himself, pouring every ounce of energy into the Guiding. His resonance with Han Ju-oh had raised his Guiding level. He believed, completely, that he could save him.
Energy surged from within Seo-ha, flowing into Han Ju-oh’s body. A gentle breeze stirred, infused with warmth, wrapping around them. Their wet hair and damp clothes dried in seconds. The stickiness of blood and sweat vanished—but neither of them noticed.
***
Maybe it was the Hidden Gate. But Han Ju-oh remembered that day—when he’d been frozen, powerless, teetering on the edge of losing control. The man who had stood before him back then. A stranger he’d never seen before had approached, carrying a fresh, clean energy, and announced in a businesslike tone that he was going to begin Guiding.
Who could possibly Guide him?
But the stranger had grabbed his hand without permission, started the Guiding all on his own.
It shouldn’t have worked. There was no way it could have worked. And yet, the energy flowed into him.
He’d been shocked—but the man had left after giving him only the tiniest bit of energy. So small it was laughable.
What he remembered most was the absurdity of it, the emptiness, the betrayal… and the strange, overwhelming longing for someone he didn’t even know. All those emotions tangled together, until now, only one thing remained clear.
‘I love this man.’
Han Ju-oh’s consciousness rose slowly to the surface. Seo-ha, his eyes closed in total concentration, flinched as warmth brushed his cheek.
Han Ju-oh was awake, looking right at him.
“You think staring at me like that’s going to get you off the hook?”
Seo-ha snapped, sharp but relieved, as soon as he caught the smile on Han Ju-oh’s face. Only then did his wildly racing heart finally begin to slow.
“It’s been a while, but… I dreamed about the day we first met.”
“Dreaming at a time like this? Must be nice.”
Though Seo-ha’s voice carried a sarcastic edge, his eyes told a different story—brimming with pure, unmistakable relief at seeing Han Ju-oh awake. As the bleeding finally began to slow, the smile he’d long forgotten how to wear found its way back to his lips.
“You have no idea how scared I was. Do you know how long we’ve been fighting side by side? It hasn’t even been that long… and I really thought you were just going to leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t spent nearly enough time with you yet.”
Even though they were together nearly every day, Han Ju-oh still felt it wasn’t enough. Seo-ha’s tense expression finally eased as he looked down at him.
“I just want to go home. Back to our place.”
At Seo-ha’s quiet murmur, Han Ju-oh smiled faintly and closed his eyes, slipping back into sleep with steady, peaceful breaths.
***
Ian and Han Ju-oh had managed to suppress the Hidden Gate, preventing disaster—but the dungeon still hadn’t been cleared. With their two strongest Espers out of commission, the remaining team members understood they had no choice but to give it everything they had.
When a crocodile-like monster charged forward with a shriek, its jaws ready to snap down on an Esper’s arm, Seo-ha threw a fist-sized iron orb. The creature’s mouth was so wide that the orb shot straight down its throat—and the moment it did, a fiery explosion erupted from within, incinerating it from the inside.
Jay barely managed to dodge backward in time. He stared at his unscathed arm in disbelief, then looked over at Seo-ha. He couldn’t believe the one who’d saved him was someone he’d considered a non-combatant. But it was true. And Jay wasn’t the only one—Seo-ha had been quietly supporting the team from the very start, proving that strength didn’t always come in the form of brute force. His timing, his presence—they made all the difference.
Seo-ha, however, kept his attention firmly on the injured—Ian and Han Ju-oh. He pushed himself to the limit to ensure they wouldn’t have to. During lulls in the fighting, he checked their vitals, shielded them from the rain, and managed their stamina like clockwork.
Before long, the other Guides began following his lead. As they adjusted how they worked, the Espers’ recovery and performance improved drastically, shifting the tide of the battle in their favor.
When the final monster was consumed by the flames blooming from Han Ju-oh’s palm, reduced to nothing but ash, the brutal three-day fight came to an end. While everyone celebrated, they didn’t forget to offer Seo-ha a sincere apology. He had earned the acknowledgment of those who once quietly dismissed him. But Seo-ha remained composed. He didn’t measure his worth by others’ recognition. For him, just surviving—and getting Han Ju-oh out alive—was enough.
As they waited for the Gate to fully close, Seo-ha held Han Ju-oh’s hand tightly.
“It’s really over now. But… why are you looking at me like that?”
He didn’t let Han Ju-oh’s soft, lingering gaze slide past him. He squinted at him. “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Your face is a wreck. You’ve been through a lot.”
“And whose fault do you think that is?” Seo-ha grumbled, brushing a hand down his cheek. “This is what stress looks like. Courtesy of you.”
“You still did good.”
Han Ju-oh’s voice cut gently through Seo-ha’s deflection, his tone quiet but sincere.
“Come back alive next time too. Don’t go to hell. Over there, no matter how many monsters you kill, they just keep coming. So stay here with me. Let’s keep doing this together.”
“That’s a long-winded way of saying ‘don’t die.’”
“It’s how I express affection.”
Seo-ha gripped Han Ju-oh’s hand tighter. He didn’t want to let go. Not tomorrow. Not the day after. He just wanted to keep holding on to this warm hand—for as long as he could.
