* * *
Haebom wasn’t surprised.
Of course, this was bound to happen.
The campsite was one thing, but considering this wasn’t even his own world, there was no way any of the information he had given would exist here.
Even so, he had provided it in the hopes that maybe—just maybe—something had transferred over when he crossed into this world.
‘So there really isn’t anything.’
Judging by Jin Seyoung’s reaction, nothing about his identity had been uncovered.
She maintained a composed expression like a seasoned adult, but her eyes held a clear wariness.
It didn’t seem like she was trying to hide it, either.
“Yes, I consent.”
Haebom nodded, making sure to widen his eyes slightly, softening his gaze as much as possible.
He knew from experience that this made him look more innocent.
He figured it might work this time too.
“Understood. Then let’s proceed right away. We’ll need to move since we can’t perform the check here.”
“Ah, okay. That’s fine.”
Haebom felt a little disheartened that his ‘innocent’ look hadn’t worked on her.
But whether he was sulking or not, Jin Seyoung led him out of the hospital room.
They left the building entirely, heading somewhere else.
As they walked, he felt an unexpected sense of liberation, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Um… can I ask you a question?”
“Of course. Ask anything. If it’s something I can answer, I will.”
Following behind her quietly, Haebom recalled the source of the burden that had been pressing down on him—Wonho, the ungrateful second male lead who had vanished without so much as a thank-you.
Not that Haebom had expected gratitude in the first place.
He had saved Wonho simply because he had pitied him.
If the Wonho from the novel was anything to go by, the moment he realized someone had taken pity on him, he would have marched right back into the gate to throw his life away.
“Uh, so… the person I brought with me. When did he wake up? And do you know where he went? Is he okay? Also, why was he clinging to me like that?”
He had intended to ask just one question, but once he started talking, the rest tumbled out.
Jin Seyoung chuckled at the sight.
Maybe he really was an excellent actor, but something about his reaction felt too natural to be fake.
Still, her expression turned slightly troubled.
There was only so much she could disclose to someone whose identity hadn’t been verified.
“He woke up about two hours before you did. As for where he went… hmm, I’m not sure. He probably went home, considering he just got out of the gate. I don’t track every movement of espers. And as for your last question—let’s talk about that after the identity check.”
Haebom let out a small sigh.
Well, that was expected.
In this world, espers were considered a nation’s greatest asset.
A country’s power depended on how many high-ranking espers they had.
So naturally, information about them wouldn’t be handed out freely—especially to someone of unknown origins like him.
According to the novel, even ordinary people were only allowed access to certain parts of the center.
The first-floor lobby and the esper registration office—those were the only areas open to the public.
‘I just walked right in, huh.’
It was all Wonho’s fault.
But then again, when they had first suggested taking him to the center, Haebom had thought it might be the best place to find information about the gate.
So really, he couldn’t blame him.
It wasn’t like he had any deep attachment to his original world, but that didn’t mean he could just live inside a novel he had been reading.
And now, on top of everything else, he didn’t even have an identity here.
He had to find a way back.
Beyond the lack of official records, he was also completely broke.
If they kicked him out of the center, he wouldn’t just be in a bad situation—he’d be an actual beggar.
That realization left him feeling a little down.
For the first time, he found himself longing for the wallet full of cash inside his tent at the campsite.
Maybe his best option was to stay in the center for as long as possible.
As he mulled over his predicament, Jin Seyoung led him into a building.
“You may or may not recognize this, but this is the main headquarters of the center. We’re heading to the third floor. That floor is restricted to non-espers, so typically, visitors have to state their reason for entry, get it approved, then submit an ID before receiving a visitor’s pass. But you…”
“I don’t have anything on me. I’m really sorry for the trouble.”
“It’s fine. It’s not that much trouble.”
She reassured Haebom, then approached the front desk to speak with the receptionist.
After a brief conversation, she returned with a visitor’s pass.
“This pass is under my name. If you lose it, it’s on me—so don’t lose it, no matter what.”
Haebom nodded, then hung the verification badge around his neck and held it tightly in his hand.
Jin Seyoung immediately took him into the elevator, tapping her researcher ID—worn around her neck—against the sensor.
The verification badge given to Haebom only allowed access to the third floor, restricting entry to other levels.
That limitation felt somewhat strange to him. It didn’t take long to reach the third floor.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, without giving him a chance to look around, Jin Seyoung led him into an office.
Haebom had slept for quite a while, and by the time he woke, it was already dark outside.
Yet, the lights inside remained on.
The thought of people working late filled him with sympathy.
“I’m about to proceed with the request from earlier. Do you have time now?”
Jin Seyoung asked in a particularly polite tone.
At that, the staff member, who had been sitting alone in the spacious office, got up from their seat.
“Yes, I’m available. Please come this way. Is this the person?”
“That’s right. Yoon Haebom, please come over here.”
“Uh… okay.”
Following the guidance of Jin Seyoung and the staff member, Haebom sat down in the chair positioned in front of a desk.
On the desk sat a large monitor, along with various devices—including a fingerprint scanner.
Haebom diligently placed all ten fingers on the fingerprint scanner, one by one, as instructed by the staff member.
Soon, all ten of his fingerprints appeared on the large monitor.
He stared at them, fascinated, until suddenly, a window popped up on the computer screen.
“…There is no record of anyone with these fingerprints in the Republic of Korea. Are you sure you’re Korean?”
The question was reasonable.
But Haebom was Korean.
He was born and raised in South Korea.
In fact, he had never even traveled abroad before. He had never even been to Jeju Island—he had never set foot on an airplane, a true native through and through.
However, the reason he wasn’t in the database was simple: Haebom did not belong to this world.
Of course, no one here knew that.
Even after Haebom firmly stated that he was Korean and wasn’t lying, Jin Seyoung’s expression remained tense.
She seemed to be deep in thought, struggling to make sense of the situation.
Understandable—if he were in her position, meeting someone like himself, it would be just as troubling.
He didn’t appear dangerous, but the world wasn’t one where things could be judged by appearances alone.
“Let’s head back to the hospital room for now. Thank you for your time, especially this late.”
“Huh? You’re leaving just like that?”
* * *
