[Palsik senior: Mission clear.]
The message that followed had a video attached — Yoon Palsik feeding something into a drum and burning it to a cinder. Gyujin tapped out a reply.
[Me: Good work.]
The moment he sent it, he deleted the video Yoon Palsik had sent. Gyujin glanced over toward the site where the briefing was in full swing.
The Espers had been gathered separately in front of the temporary operations command post. A crowd of uniformly large people all dressed in black made for an atmosphere that was thoroughly gloomy.
Esper Seo Seongmin, who was in overall command of today’s training, tapped a whiteboard with his pointer. Wired up with a microphone, he explained the operation with enthusiasm. But at a glance, it was obvious that no one was listening.
When you’d been hearing the same information about dividing into advance and rear entry teams for a solid thirty minutes, it was only natural that focus would evaporate. Gyujin scanned through the row of Espers who were grimly enduring the briefing through suppressed yawns, and had no trouble spotting Team 1.
True to their reputation as the most difficult bunch, all four had terrible posture. Song Yeongju had planted himself flat on the ground and was openly playing phone games. Beside him, Choi Seonwoo and Moon Munguk were chatting away. Doing exactly as they pleased with no attempt whatsoever at attention — as if this were completely normal. Gyujin exhaled heavily and slid his gaze over to Kwon Dajung, standing right beside them.
Kwon Dajung was standing straighter than anyone, eyes bright and attentive. The faint smile on his face, the posture of someone who had come to listen — he was a model student in every detail.
The problem, however, was that the subject of Kwon Dajung’s gaze was not the intensely briefing Seo Seongmin. Kwon Dajung, his back to Seo Seongmin, was staring directly at Gyujin without any regard for the people around them.
Gyujin, unable to just watch, shot him a stern look and pointed toward Seo Seongmin. Kwon Dajung clearly understood what it meant — and yet just tilted his head with an impish expression.
“This guy is really…”
The intention of trying to get away with it behind a pretty face was transparent. Gyujin pointed at Seo Seongmin again. At the firm gesture, Kwon Dajung puffed his lips out. He turned his body around with a look that dripped reluctance — which would have been fine, except Kwon Dajung couldn’t shake old habits, kept craning his neck and angling to catch Gyujin’s eye.
If a kid who looked just like this one was born, what then? Managing one of him was already exhausting — if two of them pulled this on him at the same time, would he even survive it. Gyujin pressed his hands to his throbbing head and swallowed what must have been his hundredth sigh.
“Guides, please assemble. After a brief schedule announcement, we will proceed to entry immediately.”
Gyujin took Kim Huimyeong’s hand and headed toward the assembly point. From here on, he needed to stay sharp.
“Let’s go, Huimyeong. Once the operation starts, first stay with me and—”
In that moment, without any warning whatsoever, Kim Huimyeong’s body floated into the air.
Gyujin grabbed instinctively for Kim Huimyeong’s arm, but it was no use. Kim Huimyeong drifted upward like a helium balloon, face draining completely white.
“What the—!”
The harder Gyujin tried to pull down, the stronger the upward force became. Nearby guides and Espers stirred in confusion. Gyujin looked around for help. Among the crowd of people who didn’t know what to do, the face of Kwon Dajung — smiling like an angel — came into view.
Gyujin read the situation in an instant and bit down hard. He let go of Kim Huimyeong’s hand and walked straight to Kwon Dajung. The closer Gyujin came, the brighter Kwon Dajung’s eyes lit up. Gyujin stopped in front of him and pointed at Kim Huimyeong, spinning in circles in midair.
“You did that, didn’t you.”
Kwon Dajung rolled his eyes lazily over toward Kim Huimyeong. Kim Huimyeong, dangling upside down in the air, cried out in a faint voice to please save them. Gyujin’s expression went cold.
“Stop it right now. Don’t cause any more trouble here. Bring them down — safely and carefully.”
“Am I less important to you than that person?”
The word “that person” was followed by Kim Huimyeong’s scream growing even louder. This was no rollercoaster — Kim Huimyeong’s floating body shot upward with no end in sight. Kim Huimyeong was in full-blown terror. Screaming too hard to even form the words please save me, with Espers rushing in below attempting a rescue.
There were plenty of people trying to contain the situation, but they were all floundering and stumbling over each other. It seemed that rescuing Kim Huimyeong would require going up against Kwon Dajung’s ability directly.
Everyone was watching Kwon Dajung’s face. Gyujin knew that. And the solution to a situation like this — Gyujin knew it very well.
Crack! — and Kwon Dajung’s cheek snapped to the side.
Gyujin, who had slapped Kwon Dajung across the face, fixed him with an ice-cold stare. The temperature around them seemed to drop in an instant, like cold water thrown over everything. Dead silence fell in all directions.
Kwon Dajung, who had just been slapped without warning, cupped his cheek in his hand and looked on the verge of tears.
“Hyung…”
“I distinctly warned you not to refer to a person as ‘that.'”
Gyujin’s fingertip pressed firmly into Kwon Dajung’s chest.
“Doing exactly what you were told not to, in plain sight — harassing an innocent guide — acting like this, like the world belongs to you?”
He poked Dajung in the chest once for each offense as he named them. He could have let this go without making it a big deal, and yet it always came to this. Gyujin didn’t bother managing his expression — he bore down relentlessly.
“Bring Huimyeong down safely and bow your head and apologize properly. And today — don’t come anywhere near me. Reflect on what you’ve done.”
Kwon Dajung’s lips moved. Before he could say anything, Gyujin shook his head first.
Kwon Dajung looked on the verge of tears, like an abandoned child. Even so, this was someone who had used their ability to torment another person just because he was in a bad mood. Gyujin stepped away from him without wavering. He didn’t care what Dajung did to him or how much he imposed — but an Esper wielding their ability to threaten another guide was something he would not tolerate under any circumstances.
Thoroughly deflated, Kwon Dajung extended a hand toward Kim Huimyeong. He gave his fingers a flick and Kim Huimyeong slowly began to descend. He was capable of using his ability without any such theatrics — and yet Kwon Dajung wriggled his fingers with great deliberateness, as if performing for Gyujin to see.
At last Kim Huimyeong’s feet touched the ground. People rushed in around them as they collapsed to the floor, trembling all over. They had been frightened enough to faint, but thankfully appeared uninjured. Only then did Gyujin press his fingers to his forehead and exhale.
The personality never really went away — but there had never been a time Kwon Dajung went this far in front of him. Whatever had twisted Kwon Dajung’s mood this badly, Gyujin couldn’t tell. They hadn’t even entered the Gate yet, and who could have predicted he’d go this far tormenting the substitute guide Gyujin had brought?
Was this pent-up frustration from everything that had been stacking up — the talk of resignation, the breakups — finally venting itself in this direction? He couldn’t get a proper read on Kwon Dajung’s feelings, and it was nothing but suffocating.
Maybe I shouldn’t have slapped him.
With those tearful eyes, Kwon Dajung was watching only him. Getting slapped in front of this many people — he must be hurt and embarrassed too.
But looking at that face, how could anyone’s hand not fly up? Physical punishment wasn’t always the answer, but in Gyujin’s experience, sometimes it genuinely was.
As suffocating as his feelings were, the sky today and the Gate both seemed especially bleak. While Gyujin consciously kept his distance from Kwon Dajung, the commotion gradually settled.
The atmosphere was a little unsettled, but Gate entry proceeded as scheduled. The Espers entered first and the guides followed behind.
Throughout all of it, Gyujin looked after Kim Huimyeong attentively. Half of it was guilt, and the other half was an attempt to make some kind of case for Kwon Dajung.
“Dajung isn’t normally like this — he’s just been under a lot of stress lately. He’s actually a good, gentle person at heart.”
In Kim Huimyeong’s expression, Gyujin caught a flicker of something like “sounds like all the good and gentle went and died somewhere.” He hastily added more to his defense.
“He can be a bit sensitive and does things his way — but once you know him, he’s got a lot of charm and he’s genuinely kind. It’s just that he’s a bit selective about people… Anyway, I’m sorry, Huimyeong. I’ll apologize on his behalf.”
“I’m fine, senior.”
Kim Huimyeong answered brightly. The resilience was remarkable.
Kwon Dajung was still terrifying — but the one who had taken Kwon Dajung down with a single slap, Yoon Gyujin, was clearly the apex predator of this food chain. Gyujin had already been someone Kim Huimyeong admired, but the moment his hand flew across Kwon Dajung’s cheek, Kim Huimyeong mentally placed his name at the very top of their inner loyalty oath list. The handsome, gentle senior had charisma on top of everything else.
“That said, senior — could you move just a tiny, tiny bit further away from me? It’s just that — how do I put this — free-falling through the air without any safety equipment wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. Ha ha ha…”
Kwon Dajung, unable to come any closer because of Gyujin’s warning, was boring a hole through Kim Huimyeong from a distance with a gaze that stung more than expected.
Gyujin quickly stepped back with an apologetic look.
