“Don’t come. Don’t come.”
Even while frantically searching for her Esper, Han Yeo-on kept murmuring to herself, eyes locked on the eagle. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who once exuded unwavering confidence.
Seo-ha silently observed her, then slowly calmed his breath. He wasn’t in any shape to help anyone. No one could fault him for standing by while Han Yeo-on was taken by that eagle.
But just as that thought drained the strength from his arms, his eyes met hers. Her trembling gaze latched onto him—desperate, pleading—then faded into quiet resignation. She had realized Seo-ha, another Guide, wouldn’t be able to save her. And with no Esper in sight, there was no escaping this. It was the tragic reality of being a Guide—powerless without their partner.
Screeeee! The eagle dove again, its entire focus fixed on its prey. Han Yeo-on raised her gun, but it was pointless—the bird’s massive shadow loomed over her, and fear paralyzed her.
“Get down!”
Just as the eagle’s talons slashed through the air toward her, Seo-ha shouted and hurled a rope-type electric stun weapon. The weighted cord, tipped with metal orbs, shot through the air and wrapped tightly around the eagle’s leg just as it swooped in.
BZZZZZT.
Electricity surged along the line. The eagle shrieked in a grotesque, high-pitched cry. It didn’t die, but thrashed violently, the cord straining around its ankle as if it might snap at any moment.
Calm and composed, Seo-ha reached for the gun at his waist, readying for a second strike. But then—like a gust of wind slicing through the air—an Esper arrived.
“Yeo-on!”
Lee Jae-yeol appeared, racing in to save Han Yeo-on. He extended his hand toward the creature. As the electric current began to fade, he poured water over it—igniting a final violent burst of sparks. The eagle convulsed, then finally collapsed. Snow melted around its body, revealing the bare earth beneath. Its eyes remained shut. It was truly dead.
Safe at last, Han Yeo-on collapsed into Lee Jae-yeol, her body trembling in relief. He immediately checked her condition.
For all his usual coldness toward Seo-ha, the way he and his Guide looked after each other was… unexpectedly touching.
“Is the leadership transfer proposal still valid?”
The warmth was short-lived. Han Ju-oh’s flat voice cut through the silence like a blade.
“When the hell did you get here?” Seo-ha muttered, glaring at Han Ju-oh’s back in disbelief.
“You’re still talking about leadership in a situation like this? …Fine. Do what you want. Take it.”
Lee Jae-yeol glared at him, fury simmering beneath the surface. Han Yeo-on reached out to stop him, and he barely reined in his temper. Still, he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“But you’ll be responsible for everything that happens from here on out.”
Even with Lee Jae-yeol stepping back, Han Ju-oh remained unmoved—he had already gotten what he wanted.
“Then I’ll take that as your consent to the leadership transfer.”
“I don’t know what amazing plan you think you’ve got, but it’s not going to be easy.”
Lee Jae-yeol’s eyes narrowed sharply, his tone laced with warning. The atmosphere thickened with tension. Then, without warning, Han Ju-oh turned.
Seo-ha, now face-to-face with him, looked up as if to say, What now?
“Tell me the plan you have in mind.”
Seo-ha blinked in feigned confusion. Of course he understood—but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Han Ju-oh was asking him to present a strategy. But he was a Guide. That wasn’t his role.
“Han Ju-oh Esper?”
As Seo-ha played dumb, Lee Jae-yeol called out sharply.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m nominating Guide Baek Seo-ha as the new leader.”
Han Ju-oh pulled Seo-ha forward and placed him in front of Lee Jae-yeol. Shock rippled across Lee Jae-yeol’s face. Han Yeo-on let out a hollow, incredulous laugh.
***
“You’re insane, Han Ju-oh.”
Seo-ha didn’t bother to lower his voice. Let the others hear it—no one could accuse him of going too far, not after what Han Ju-oh had just pulled.
A Guide as the leader?
Seo-ha wasn’t the only one stunned. No matter how flexible someone’s thinking was, this went beyond all reason. Never—nowhere—had a Guide led a team. Combat came first, guiding came second. That’s why Espers had always taken the lead.
The Espers and Guides who had gathered during the brief ceasefire were no different. They struggled to wrap their heads around it.
“How could you even come up with that?”
“Because you know the people here better than anyone.”
Han Ju-oh looked around at the group of Espers and Guides before finally locking eyes with Seo-ha.
“For whatever reason, you’ve interacted with more Espers than anyone else. You know what they’re capable of.”
He pointed it all out: how Seo-ha had recognized everyone gathered before entering the gate; how he’d immediately understood the circumstances behind Han Yeo-on nominating Lee Jae-yeol; how he asked Baek Yeol-jin to light a fire to warm up in the cave; how he gave clear directions in the first battle.
Every one of those moments, Han Ju-oh said, was proof enough—proof that Baek Seo-ha should lead.
Still, Seo-ha remained doubtful.
“I only know things. It’s not like I can actually fight.”
“You know as well as I do—charging in headfirst never ends well here.”
Seo-ha insisted that, at best, he could give orders, nothing more. But Han Ju-oh gestured toward the Espers one by one. It wasn’t like all ten of them needed to charge into battle. Everyone knew that already.
“I think it’s a good idea.”
Baek Yeol-jin spoke up in support of Han Ju-oh. With Lee Jae-yeol already having agreed to step down, he couldn’t offer much resistance now.
Seo-ha glanced around the group as if begging someone—anyone—to object. His eyes landed on Kim Jun-hyuk, an Esper known for his prickly nature.
“You understood my trait perfectly. I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”
The same Kim Jun-hyuk who had argued back when Baek Yeol-jin tried to take charge—was now siding with Seo-ha, of all people.
“You’re all… seriously okay with this?”
“This is a special case. So we go with a special leader.”
“It’s not like the leadership can’t change again later.”
This wasn’t some low-level dungeon—they were in real danger. And yet, no one opposed Seo-ha becoming the leader. Now it was all on him. Han Ju-oh urged him to decide.
“They’ll be attacking again soon.”
“God… damn it.”
Seo-ha bowed his head, overwhelmed. He didn’t know how it had come to this.
“Fine. I’ll lead. No complaints.”
He didn’t reject it. Raising his head, Seo-ha swept his gaze across the group. Many of them were clearly exhausted from the last fight.
“We’ll divide into two squads, five people each. Squad One will take the frontline first while Squad Two focuses on resting. Don’t worry about the number of monsters—we’ll maintain defensive positions around the area we need to protect. Out of the five on defense, three will hold the line while the other two search for the boss.”
Seo-ha laid out the very plan he’d been quietly forming in his head—what he would have done if he were in charge. He assigned Espers based on terrain and complementary abilities, made sure their traits didn’t overlap, and gave out territory assignments with confident clarity.
Whether it would work or not… would soon be tested in the next battle.
***
The three Espers each held their ground, slaying the monsters that charged at them. Any beast that slipped past was swiftly taken down by those on rest duty, ensuring no harm came to the Guides.
Arms folded, Seo-ha watched Han Ju-oh and Baek Yeol-jin soaring overhead. He had tasked the two with locating the boss.
‘Hopefully they can coordinate well.’
He had given them direction, but the rest would depend on how it played out.
Upon spotting the boss, Baek Yeol-jin formed a massive fireball. Han Ju-oh, who also had fire affinity, enveloped it in multiple layers, expanding its size even further. Then, they hurled it straight at the target.
Screeech!
The boss—an ape-like creature—swung its club at the blazing sphere. The outer shell of flame cracked away and veered off, burning a nearby monster to ashes.
The final layer—Baek Yeol-jin’s original fireball—struck the boss head-on, erupting in a massive explosion.
The resulting shockwave triggered a snow avalanche, but Han Ju-oh skillfully redirected or melted the flow, preventing further damage.
It sounded simple in words, but it had been a nerve-wracking, heart-pounding ordeal. By the time it ended, Seo-ha’s insides felt scorched black with tension.
“Haa…”
Seeing Han Ju-oh and Baek Yeol-jin return to the camp, Seo-ha finally exhaled in relief. He had truly feared his plan would send them straight into the monster’s jaws. That worry was written plainly across his face.
“This job is gonna kill me.”
Shaking his head, Seo-ha muttered bitterly. This was not something he was cut out for. Without a word, Han Ju-oh pulled him into a tight hug.
“You’re doing more than enough.”
In the warmth of Han Ju-oh’s embrace, Seo-ha slowly closed his eyes.
“Maybe I’ll spend our next vacation by the sea…”
Not that he’d had the chance to wear even a palm-sized swimsuit in this freezing dungeon—he’d only kept piling on layers to stay warm.
Han Ju-oh gently rubbed his back.
“I’ll make sure you get to wear that swimsuit.”
“…What kind of bullshit are you scheming now?”
Seo-ha eyed him suspiciously. The last time Han Ju-oh had promised him a beach trip, they’d ended up waist-deep in a dungeon.
Han Ju-oh just gave him a shrug.
Even inside a dungeon, their conversations somehow managed to be sweet.
