Han Jigang could hardly believe what he was seeing. Just before leaving the mansion, he had checked on Nabin, who—though pale and worn—was still sleeping soundly, his breathing steady.
He had lingered by the bedside, brushing his hand gently over Nabin’s fragile face as though afraid the boy might break, before finally forcing himself to step away.
Ryu Somin had been admitted to the Center’s intensive care unit for treatment. Since Tae Yishin and Gong Min were also assigned to the same mission, only Nabin had been left behind at the mansion.
Han Jigang had assumed that, lost in such deep sleep, Nabin wouldn’t stir before their return. Still, just in case, he had placed a monitoring Artifact in the boy’s room before departing.
During the mission, he had checked the feed whenever he could. Normally, ever since the Artifact had broken once before, Nabin often tossed and turned like he was tormented by nightmares. But today, he lay still—so still that Han Jigang had allowed himself a fleeting moment of relief.
That comfort evaporated in an instant.
He had just looked away, focusing on cutting down monsters as quickly as possible so he could return to Nabin sooner. But the moment he turned back, the bed was empty. Nabin was gone.
Maybe he had gone to the kitchen because he was hungry, or to the bathroom. Han Jigang tried to convince himself of that, but a blade of dread sliced through his chest. Fear spread like a beast opening its jaws to swallow him whole.
He cursed himself for only setting the Artifact inside Nabin’s room. If only he had placed them throughout the mansion… but regret was useless now. First, he had to find out whether Nabin was safe.
He scoured the recording for any sign—only to freeze. The Butterfly Pendant, once carefully wrapped in a handkerchief, was missing. In its place was only blood. The handkerchief remained, soaked through and stiff with dried stains.
Han Jigang’s heart pounded, heavy and ominous. His trembling eyes followed the dark streaks of blood leading out of the room. Again and again, he checked. There was no trace of Nabin—only these dreadful marks left behind.
“Han Jigang, what the hell are you doing? Snap out of it!”
Tae Yishin’s voice cut through the chaos as he blocked Han Jigang mid-battle. As a Mental-type Esper, Tae Yishin usually supported from the rear instead of fighting head-on. He could fight, but compared to Han Jigang or Gong Min, direct combat wasn’t his role.
Yet Han Jigang stood dazed, oblivious as a monster’s massive fist barreled toward him. Tae Yishin braced himself, legs straining, and just barely intercepted the blow before it struck.
The impact sent a dull ache through his arm—he hadn’t held back properly in his rush to protect Han Jigang. Gritting his teeth, he shouted at him, but Han Jigang’s gaze was glued to the glow of the Artifact in his hand.
“…I have to get back. Now.”
“What?”
Tae Yishin realized then that Han Jigang was holding a surveillance Artifact. He almost scolded him for obsessing over a guide who was just sleeping—but stopped himself. He knew, too, that ever since the guide’s mother had died, Nabin had been acting strangely.
“Tae Yishin, move.”
A strange unease stirred in Tae Yishin as well. He glanced at the Artifact just as Han Jigang shoved his shoulder aside and, with the ferocity of someone on the verge of an Outbreak, unleashed his full power.
“KIEEEEEEK!”
Monsters, each towering five times larger than a grown man, writhed as crimson flames consumed them. Their thick shells—impervious to most attacks—melted like clay under the inferno. Their death screams were so piercing that lower-ranked Espers covered their ears, backing away as if trapped in a nightmare scene of hell itself.
“Han Jigang, are you insane? Do you not realize you’re sending your Outbreak Risk Index through the roof using your powers like this?!”
The monsters burned away in seconds, but the bracelet on Han Jigang’s wrist climbed steadily higher with every strike. Tae Yishin tried to intervene, but Han Jigang didn’t so much as glance at him—his focus was fixed solely on killing.
“You can handle the rest, can’t you?”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
The dungeon was already blanketed in drifting ash, monsters’ bodies reduced to smoldering remains. Only a handful were left. After confirming that the other Espers could finish them, Han Jigang turned and stormed out of the dungeon.
“Han Jigang!”
Alarmed, Tae Yishin and Gong Min rushed after him. Even once outside, Han Jigang ran at full speed, forcing them to burn mana into their legs to keep pace.
As Ryu Somin’s condition stabilized, Tae Yishin’s mind began to clear. He thought back to that moment—to the instant he saw Somin collapse. Rage had clouded everything since then.
If Han Jigang hadn’t stopped him, he might have truly taken the fragile guide’s life. If it hadn’t been Nabin—if it had been anyone else—he would have snapped their neck without hesitation.
Even blinded by fury, some instinct had held him back. That was the only reason the guide had still been breathing when Han Jigang burst into the room and knocked him away. Maybe… maybe he had been waiting for someone to stop him. Only now, in hindsight, could he admit that possibility.
Since the death of his mother, Nabin’s unnervingly detached demeanor had left Tae Yishin restless. That unease he had buried clawed its way back to the surface now, spurred on by Han Jigang’s erratic behavior, slithering close and licking at his skin.
When the guide—who had once trembled in terror just from his presence—no longer even showed fear… Tae Yishin had known something was deeply wrong. The realization had chilled him to the core.
And yet, he couldn’t approach. His own guilt chained him. While Han Jigang and Gong Min remained at Nabin’s side, Tae Yishin could only watch from afar.
Han Jigang had gone to great lengths to prevent any situation where Tae Yishin and the guide were left alone. And Tae Yishin hadn’t forced his way through—because deep down, he knew Han Jigang was right.
Even as his rising Outbreak Risk gnawed at his nerves from the lack of proper Guiding, he endured. After all, he wasn’t the only one deprived. Han Jigang and Gong Min weren’t being Guided either.
He couldn’t selfishly demand Guiding from someone who clearly wasn’t in a normal state.
That tangled storm of thoughts shattered with a single deafening crash.
KWA-A-AANG!
“Kim Nabin!”
Panting, Tae Yishin glimpsed Han Jigang all but tearing the front door from its hinges as he charged into the mansion. They had sprinted nonstop from the dungeon, and Han Jigang hadn’t slowed once. Tae Yishin’s legs ached from the strain of keeping up.
“…Something feels wrong.”
Beside him, Gong Min’s ragged breaths carried his unease. With both Han Jigang and Gong Min unsettled, Tae Yishin clenched his jaw. That lurking dread fully reared its head now, sinking its teeth into his nape.
“…I smell blood.”
The faint, metallic tang hanging in the air set his body trembling.
Han Jigang was already pounding his fist against the bathroom door, where the scent was strongest. He could have blasted it open with his ability, but he held back—terrified that doing so might hurt Nabin inside.
Tae Yishin forced strength into his shaky legs, dragging himself closer.
“Kim Nabin! Open the door!”
When the door finally gave way, splintered nearly in half, the sight that awaited them was one Tae Yishin had never imagined.
The heavy stench of blood had already dried his throat, but still he had clung to the hope that maybe Nabin had simply slipped, fallen, and hurt himself.
Never—never had he thought the boy would try to take his own life.
“You… what the hell…”
Han Jigang’s broken murmur sounded distant, as if from far away.
Through his blurred vision, Tae Yishin saw Nabin’s pale brown eyes listlessly turn toward them. Eyes he hadn’t seen in so long. Once vibrant, now trembling as though they might shatter at any moment.
No… not trembling. Already ruined. Like the ruins of a fallen city, hollowed and lifeless. Even the faint spark remaining was fading fast before their eyes.
Once glossy, like glass marbles, they now reflected nothing—dim and fractured, like the remnants of something worn down over years. Without realizing it, Tae Yishin stepped closer.
Those dull eyes drifted upward to the ceiling. The faint flutter of lashes stilled completely. And as a single drop of water fell upon them, Tae Yishin felt his heart plummet, consumed by an abyss of despair.
