The gate opened.
Because it was an unclassified dungeon, a bone-chilling cold burst out from the gate in every direction, stirring a commotion beyond the perimeter.
“Ugh.”
“Eek!”
“It’s freezing!”
Not just the reporters, but even the civilians who had gathered out of curiosity, wrapped their arms around themselves and stomped their feet against the sudden drop in temperature. With the sun blazing down in the middle of summer, no one could blame them—winter winds had crashed in out of nowhere.
The chill cut straight through to the bone. Seo-ha pulled a lightweight padded jacket from his backpack, slipped it on, and zipped it all the way to his neck. He handed Han Ju-oh a heat pack in advance, telling him to keep it in his pocket. Around them, other Espers and Guides bundled up with whatever gear they had brought along.
No one knew what kind of environment awaited inside. Even if they weren’t decked out in full winter gear, at the very least, everyone had packed a long-sleeved jacket just in case.
They hadn’t even entered the gate yet, but the fact that no one looked rattled was a good sign—this would be worth watching.
“We’re going in.”
At the order of Lee Jae-yeol, the Esper leading the mission, the team members began disappearing one by one into the black void. Seo-ha stepped forward as well. Even with the freezing air around him, the heat from the press’s flashing cameras warmed his back.
***
The deeper they went into the cave, the colder it got. When even exposed skin began to sting, those who had only worn long-sleeved jackets hurried to layer up further.
“This place has a bad vibe right from the start.”
Someone muttered anxiously. They weren’t panicking, but no one was exactly calm either. Cold was the worst enemy of human reflexes. In a cave like this—basically a glacier—hypothermia was a real risk. And if they were attacked the moment they stepped out, they might not be able to react in time.
In moments like this, it wasn’t enough to just look after Han Ju-oh. Gauging the remaining distance, Seo-ha tapped the back of Baek Yeol-jin, who was walking ahead of him.
“Esper Baek.”
“Yes, Guide Baek?”
Baek Yeol-jin gave a playful response, sliding into step beside Seo-ha, clearly amused by their shared surname.
“Can you summon that flame again? Like when you roasted marshmallows?”
“Huh? Well, I could, but what if someone complains I’m messing around with fire when things are this tense?”
Baek Yeol-jin trailed off, hesitant, unsure if it was appropriate for the mood. Seo-ha simply pointed to the white mist of his breath.
“If I catch a cold, I won’t be able to Guide properly.”
“Well, if you put it that way, Guide Baek…”
Baek Yeol-jin conjured a flame in midair. He controlled it to be completely harmless, even shaping it like a firestarter, complete with eyes, nose, and mouth.
“Acting like you weren’t going to do it.”
“If I’m going to, I may as well do it right.”
With a flick of his finger, Baek Yeol-jin made the little firestarter bob its head side to side. One by one, more of the animated flames popped into existence, settling in between the members of the group. Those close by had heard the exchange, but others farther away jumped at the sudden appearance of fire.
“I’ll set up more flames around you, Guide Baek.”
Seo-ha didn’t turn down the offer. He gave Baek Yeol-jin a grateful look, and the Esper smiled in satisfaction before returning to his place.
With the warmth easing his breath, Seo-ha turned to glance at Han Ju-oh. His eyes ran from head to toe, checking his Esper’s condition, before finally meeting his face.
“What’s with the sour look?”
Han Ju-oh’s hair had thawed and was now swaying gently, but his expression remained cold and stiff.
“You haven’t forgotten my attribute, have you?”
Han Ju-oh had a fire affinity, too.
“Who said I forgot? But if I asked you, I’d have to spell the whole thing out.”
Instead of a long explanation—like asking him to regulate his flames just enough to keep warm without slowing himself down—referencing marshmallows had done the job.
“Everyone here’s high-ranking.”
Seo-ha blurted it out after turning the thought over in his mind. Han Ju-oh didn’t interrupt—he simply listened.
“They’ve all got enough experience to take care of themselves. But that doesn’t mean they’re not human.”
There was only one reason Seo-ha went out of his way like this.
“Everyone feels the cold. Everyone gets nervous. So even something this small can make a real difference.”
That’s why he’d asked Baek Yeol-jin to raise the team’s body temperature.
“In return, once we’re out there, you need to protect Esper Baek Yeol-jin. If there’s a brief moment of vulnerability, giving him a bit of cover will help him get back into rhythm.”
He was making sure Han Ju-oh would buy Baek Yeol-jin enough time to regain his footing in the event of an ambush.
“We’re almost there.”
Seo-ha looked ahead toward the cave’s exit, and Han Ju-oh shifted his gaze forward as well.
***
White breath with every exhale, a snow-covered mountain range unfolding before their eyes, and beast-like monsters shaped like wolves, cloaked in thick white fur…
It was a landscape they had more or less anticipated. Seo-ha stood still, watching as Han Ju-oh charged into battle.
“There are too many of them.”
All but one Esper—tasked with protecting the Guide—were up against hundreds of monsters. They weren’t being overwhelmed, but it wasn’t a clean sweep either. And it certainly wasn’t due to a lack of power.
Baek Yeol-jin was launching his flames with precision, and the rest were holding their own just as well. The problem wasn’t ability. It was synergy—or rather, the complete lack of it.
“So that’s the issue.”
It was a common pitfall when a team was made up entirely of elites. Their individual skill was flawless. But bring them together, and their teamwork fell apart.
When one person attacked a wolf from the front, another should’ve backed them up from behind. But those small moments of misalignment added up, wearing the Espers down little by little.
Lee Jae-yeol, as the lead, should’ve been orchestrating the formation. But while he recognized every Esper by face, he didn’t know them well enough to deploy their strengths strategically.
“This isn’t going to work…”
Even if it was something they could iron out over time, Seo-ha muttered the words under his breath, unable to ignore how much weight the Espers were shouldering.
“What isn’t going to work?”
He turned at the voice that caught his quiet observation. It was Han Yeo-on—Lee Jae-yeol’s Guide.
“What, did you think they’d sync up from the start? Or that just because they’re all S-Class, they’d wipe the floor with those monsters without breaking a sweat?”
Her sharp tone twisted Seo-ha’s concern into something more like naïveté or criticism.
“When your Esper shows up, worry about boosting his stamina with Guiding. Don’t waste energy meddling where it’s not needed.”
Though it sounded like a reminder of his duties, the underlying message was clear: stay out of it.
“I heard you’re known for dragging around supplies like some street vendor, fussing over every little thing for your Esper. Don’t bring that here. I don’t want to see anything that lowers the dignity of a Guide.”
Plenty had frowned upon how Seo-ha did things, but no one had ever come at him so directly—until Han Yeo-on.
“Just stick to looking after your own Esper.”
So this was what he got for asking Baek Yeol-jin to light a fire back in the cave.
“Understood.”
Seo-ha didn’t argue. He accepted it without a word of protest. Was it because he was intimidated by her? Because she was a senior? Or because people were watching?
Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. With conflict brewing, Seo-ha chose to take a step back. Han Yeo-on acted like she’d expected that all along, but a flicker of disappointment crossed her face—she’d hoped for more pushback.
Meanwhile, the Espers who had returned from combat were now being tended to by their Guides. Seo-ha watched them for a moment, then lifted his eyes as Han Ju-oh appeared in front of him.
“How are you holding up?”
He asked softly, wanting to know just how much tension had built up after that single round of fighting—especially since Han Ju-oh had returned looking entirely fine.
“Not bad.”
Han Ju-oh gave a small shake of his head. No injuries, no sign of exhaustion. Still, his reply was flat and noncommittal.
“Yeah. ‘Not bad’ sounds about right.”
There was no more fitting way to describe the mood.
Seo-ha handed over a disinfectant spray, then gently wiped Han Ju-oh’s face with a towel. He moved to the hair next, rubbing it dry with rough, focused hands.
“So you didn’t have such a great time either, huh.”
Feeling the weight behind Seo-ha’s touch, Han Ju-oh realized that his Guide’s mind had grown tangled during their time apart.
“Wasn’t exactly a friendly crowd.”
Seo-ha answered plainly, then reached out and held the back of Han Ju-oh’s hand, initiating the Guiding process. The energy that flowed between them was more potent than ever, coursing through Han Ju-oh and flushing out every trace of fatigue.
“Seo-ha.”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think would’ve been the right move back there?”
“What do you mean, if I were you?”
Seo-ha blinked, not following right away. But before he could ask further, Han Ju-oh suddenly cut the Guiding—and pulled him into a firm embrace.
Among Imprinted pairs, a hug wasn’t unusual. But the timing caught him off guard.
Still, Seo-ha didn’t resist. He wrapped his arms around Han Ju-oh’s back, rested a hand on his nape, and resumed the Guiding there.
Then Han Ju-oh leaned in close to Seo-ha’s ear—and whispered something only he could hear.
