* * *

There was no time to question why the scorpions were so unnaturally large.

Just moments ago, the desert had seemed empty except for sand, but now, with these countless scorpion carcasses stretching endlessly before him, the place felt eerily unnatural.

And right in the middle of that graveyard, he spotted something—a pitch-black mass.

Compared to the enormous scorpion corpses, it seemed relatively small.

It was quite a distance away, and even with his sharp eyesight, he couldn’t make out what it was.

As if entranced, he rose to his feet.

He didn’t know why, but he felt an overwhelming compulsion to walk toward it.

If he wasn’t being lured in, then there was no other way to explain the sudden impulse gripping him.

His feet sank into the sand with each step, making it difficult to walk, but he ignored it, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

Sweat dripped freely from his body.

He had always despised summer, and the desert was unbearably harsh.

But for some reason, he felt certain—somehow, that black mass would lead him out of this desert.

A strange sensation prickled at him.

The closer he got, the more his hands and feet tingled.

There was nothing visibly present, yet his skin stung, as if tiny electric currents were dancing across his body.

What had once appeared to be a mere lump in the distance gradually took on a defined shape as he drew near.

The pitch-black color that had seemed uniform now revealed details—features he could recognize.

“…A person? That’s a person, right?”

He had already lost count of how many times he had been shocked today.

But really, could anyone remain unfazed in a situation like this?

One moment, he had been walking along a forested trail, and the next, he was in a desert.

Then, a graveyard of monstrous scorpions appeared out of nowhere…

And now, standing in the middle of this eerie place, surrounded by hollowed-out scorpion corpses, was a human figure.

Of all the bizarre sights he had encountered, this was the most unbelievable.

The figure had appeared as nothing more than a dark mass from afar, but now he could see why—it was a man, covered in some unknown black liquid.

As he stepped even closer, he could make out the man’s face through the mess.

He was standing motionless in the middle of the desert, like a statue.

Beneath the slick, black substance that coated him, strands of stark white hair peeked through—but that detail hardly seemed important right now.

“H-Hey…”

The closer he got, the stronger the tingling in his fingertips became, and the stinging sensation on his skin intensified.

The stench surrounding the man was unbearable, making it obvious—the liquid covering him must have come from the scorpions.

Was he dead too?

The thought hit him hard, and despair tightened around his chest.

Unbidden tears welled in his eyes. Something about the man’s lifeless form felt like a cruel glimpse into his own future.

As if drawn by an unseen force, his hand slowly reached out.

Oddly, unlike the burning heat of the desert, the man exuded an eerie coldness.

While everything else seemed to be drying up under the relentless sun, he alone felt like a pocket of frozen air.

Nothing made sense. But of all the inexplicable things, this man was the strangest of all.

“Ahh—!”

His hand had barely brushed the cleanest part of the man’s face when, in an instant, the man’s eyes snapped open.

He gasped, his mouth falling open in shock.

He saw it—saw the man’s pupils move.

For the briefest moment, time seemed to stretch endlessly.

The man’s gaze locked onto him, sharp and unrelenting. His irises were a deep, blood-red hue, striking against the black liquid streaked across his pale face.

At that moment, he felt like prey before a predator.

They were both human—weren’t they?

And yet, he felt as if he were about to be devoured whole.

A strange thought flitted through his mind, making him frown deeply.

—Blood-red eyes, stark white hair marred by unknown stains, a jet-black uniform that seemed almost symbolic…

A scorpion?

No, a monster?

…Could this place be inside a Gate?

The realization sent a jolt of panic through him.

He muttered under his breath, unable to hide his unease.

The man’s gaze remained fixed on him, but he couldn’t afford to care about that now.

For some reason, this man—this impossibly strange man—reminded him of someone.

Someone he had read about just hours ago.

Wonho.

The sub-male lead from the novel he had been reading.

The more he thought about it, the more everything aligned.

The desert, the colossal scorpions—if this were inside a Gate, it would all make sense.

Except for the most crucial part.

Why was he here?

“…Wonho?”

The man’s red eyes flickered, as if responding to the name.

Though his eyes were open, he didn’t seem fully conscious.

Then again, neither was he—how could he be, when none of this made any sense?

A walk through the woods had turned into a desert nightmare.

And now, the character from a novel was standing right in front of him.

“…Ah. Right. Of course.”

He exhaled shakily.

“It’s a dream. This has to be a dream.”

The pain from pinching his cheek earlier, the scorching heat, the nauseating stench—none of it mattered.

If this wasn’t a dream, then there was simply no logical explanation.

He nodded to himself, trying to force his mind into acceptance.

He even held his breath to block out the foul odor, squeezing his eyes shut.

If he just stayed like this, surely, when he opened his eyes, he would wake up back on the forest trail next to the campground.

“Phew…”

“Ahhh—!”

Just as he was waiting, hoping to wake up, a sudden rush of warm breath ghosted against his face.

His eyes snapped open in shock, and he screamed.

The reason was obvious—Wonho, who had been at a fair distance moments ago, was now right in front of him.

He stumbled back in sheer panic, nearly toppling over.

But before he could fall, a strong hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, steadying him.

The crimson eyes before him were still unfocused, as if their owner wasn’t fully conscious.

But regardless, the reality was clear.

He hadn’t woken up.

“…Hey. Snap out of it.”

Haebom felt like he was about to lose his mind over the unfolding situation, but he still told Wonho to pull himself together—even though Wonho already seemed completely out of it.

He barely managed to resist the urge to grab him by the collar and shake him.

He couldn’t understand why he was here or why Wonho, a character from the novel he had just been reading, was standing right in front of him.

But one thing seemed certain—Wonho held the key to escaping this endless desert.

The problem was that Wonho showed no sign of regaining his senses, and Haebom was beginning to feel a pain far beyond the sharp sting on his skin.

It was an excruciating sensation, as if his flesh was being torn apart.

And that pain had started the moment he felt Wonho’s breath so close to him.

“Ack!”

Haebom realized that the pain intensified the closer Wonho got.

The moment he understood that Wonho was the cause, he tried to step back.

But Wonho wouldn’t allow it.

Some unseen force yanked Haebom right back in front of him.

* * *