Hae-il was lying on a cot inside a tent. He had his eyes closed, feigning exhaustion from the treatment.
“We’ve done everything we can here for now, but it would be best to transfer the patient to a proper hospital as soon as possible. For Espers, recovery is considerably faster when guiding and medical treatment are carried out in parallel — and this patient’s basic Wavelength appears to be in an unstable state.”
The emergency treatment had amounted to little more than disinfecting the wounds, wrapping them in bandages, and administering a painkiller — but it was considerably better than before for enduring the immediate pain.
He felt much more comfortable, and lying perfectly still made it feel like he could fall asleep right then and there. Hae-il focused on Moon Woo-shin’s voice to keep a grip on his consciousness.
“I’ll be alone with the patient for a moment.”
“Sorry?”
“Sir, what do you mean by that….”
“That — the patient should be transferred to a hospital, and you, doctor, should come with us….”
“I’m this person’s guide. It seems like emergency guiding should come first.”
An awkward silence followed.
Moon Woo-shin spoke again. This time on a completely different subject.
“Are there other survivors here?”
“Sorry? Other survivors? Besides the two of you?”
“There can’t be any other survivors. Nothing showed up on our radar.”
“Is your radar one hundred percent accurate? There was definitely one more survivor. A man in his thirties, light brown hair, glasses, wearing black clothing.”
It was a remarkably quick and specific lie. With a generous dose of exasperation layered into his tone on top of that, even the staff began to waver.
“If that’s true, why didn’t you say anything until now….”
“Because I assumed he’d obviously already been rescued.”
“Then where did this other survivor land?”
“How would I know? I was in freefall too.”
A few more rounds of confused back-and-forth followed. Moon Woo-shin, who had fired off every response without hesitation in a voice full of absolute conviction, issued a final dismissal. His tone was ice cold.
“Go find that person while I do the guiding.”
Hae-il, who had been reading the room by sound alone with his eyes closed, timed it perfectly — curling his body and letting out a pained groan.
Familiar footsteps drew close, and soon a warm presence touched the side of his face. A large palm wrapped broadly over his cheek.
He stayed still and leaned into it as the murmur of voices, the receding noise of multiple people, and someone shouting outside came through in sequence, then faded away softly.
The tent went completely quiet, and exactly five seconds later, the one remaining voice whispered low.
“Get up.”
Hae-il’s eyes snapped open and he pushed himself upright.
They held each other’s gaze in silence, and with an unspoken agreement, began moving at the same time.
Hae-il got off the cot immediately. He was slightly dizzy and foggy from the painkiller, but there was no way something like that could register properly in this situation.
He moved to the entrance of the tent and pressed himself flat against the side. He lifted the fabric hanging in place of a door just barely. No one was directly in front. He eased it open a little more and scanned the outside with his eyes only.
One person seated at a distance, facing this way. A few others scattered here and there, standing or passing by — but overall quiet. Across from them were a few more tents like this one. Whether there were people inside them wasn’t clear.
This is manageable. We can slip out quietly.
Hae-il let the entrance fall back into place and turned around. He was about to say they should make their escape now — but something else came out instead.
“…What are you doing?”
Moon Woo-shin was casually rummaging through the supplies inside the tent.
Their eyes met, and he tilted his head toward Hae-il. As if telling him to come over and help.
It was staggering.
Why does he look so completely at ease with this.
Was it that once you reached the level of Director in Ban, theft and deception just came naturally. He had always been the type to use whatever means necessary, but in the years since — how many more people had he swindled along the way.
Hae-il stole one more glance outside the tent flap, then crept back inside.
Moon Woo-shin flipped a light-looking backpack over and dumped everything inside it out, then started stuffing useful items back in.
Painkillers, compression bandages, a container of antiseptic wipes, a thin blanket.
“Change your clothes.”
When Hae-il came alongside him, he even tossed over a set of clothes that belonged to who knew who.
Setting aside the absurdity for now, Hae-il caught them. He’d been feeling grimy from sweat, monster blood, and the evidence of having been rolled around on the ground.
Using only his left hand, he clumsily stepped out of his pants first and shoved his legs into the new pair. The hem ran a little short and the waist was a little loose, but they were wearable enough.
He left the buckle and zipper — hard to manage with one hand — for now and turned his attention to the top. A short-sleeved shirt and a zip-up hoodie to layer over it.
Just then, Moon Woo-shin closed the bag and tossed it on the floor, then walked over. And without preamble, he reached toward Hae-il’s midsection.
“What—.”
He nearly made a noise out of shock. Hae-il clapped his good left hand over his own mouth and flinched.
Moon Woo-shin brought both hands to his waist area, grabbed the two open ends of the pants, and pulled them together. The gap between them closed in sharply. He clicked the buckle first, then reached lower to take hold of the zipper and slowly drew it up.
The sound of the zipper teeth catching rang out clearly and went straight to his ears. As the zipper traveled upward, his fingertips grazed warmly along the center line and climbed with it.
Hae-il stood frozen, only his eyes moving downward. Moon Woo-shin had angled his body slightly lower, bringing their eye levels nearly even.
Moon Woo-shin’s gaze, which had been directed downward, shifted its angle slightly inward at the exact moment the zipper reached the top.
Next came the shirt. He quickly worked the treatment-shredded, half-cut shirt free with both hands and let it slide back off Hae-il’s shoulders to fall. Then he picked up the short-sleeved shirt.
In the meantime, Hae-il shook the shirt off his arm and onto the floor. The fabric whispered as it slid past and tickled against his skin. Maybe it was the fog from the painkiller. It was hard to think of anything else.
“Hand.”
He obediently raised his hand, and Moon Woo-shin carefully threaded the injured right arm through first, then deftly guided the rest through the remaining openings — arms and head alike.
When Hae-il pulled the hem of the shirt down, Moon Woo-shin draped the zip-up hoodie over him and pulled the hood that had been hanging at the back down firmly over his head.
Then he withdrew both hands cleanly.
“Grab the bag.”
Moon Woo-shin nodded in the direction of where the bag had been left and immediately began taking off his own clothes.
Hae-il turned away from him quickly and faced the other direction.
His face and ears were burning hot.
What is this… I feel like a child. No, not even a child — more like we’re the kind of people for whom him putting his hands on me and dressing me is just completely natural.
He was just helping a patient. Because it was getting in the way. I’m just embarrassed is all.
He muttered to himself inwardly and picked up the bag. Slung it over his good left shoulder and headed to the far corner.
Hae-il started poking through the bags and items stacked on the floor and shelves, the same way Moon Woo-shin had — just to have something to do with his eyes that kept wanting to drift back.
He was randomly poking at this and that, trying to drown out the sounds of rustling fabric, skin against cloth, and the friction of a zipper — when something hard suddenly caught his hand.
Hae-il paused and carefully cleared away the odds and ends.
What had been hidden there was a gun.
His internal deliberation was brief.
I’m sorry.
