* * *

“Team Leader Choi, is Team Leader Koo pregnant?”

A large man with a scar on his cheek replied.

“No, sir. I haven’t heard anything like that.”

“Call him immediately.”

Choi Jihyung called his wife, asking if she might be pregnant.

His wife responded with bewilderment.

“What are you even talking about?”

“Tell her to check at the hospital,” Kim Eunji, the director, ordered.

Taking the order seriously, Choi Jihyung nodded and spoke sweetly into the phone.

“Baby, just in case, could you go to the hospital now? I had this dream, you see. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s your nap time, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you with lots of tteokbokki and soondae tonight. It’s urgent, that’s why. I love you too. No, I love you more. No, no, I win. I love you way more.”

After puckering his lips into a duck face and repeating “I love you” about ten more times, Choi Jihyung hung up.

Then, regaining his serious demeanor, he reported,
“She said she’ll head to the hospital immediately. I’ll inform you as soon as I hear back.”

“…Even if you act serious now, it’s too late,” one of the others muttered.

“I never knew Team Leader Choi was like this…” Kim Eunji and Director Go Hyeyeol both squinted at him in disbelief.

Choi Jihyung, unfazed, lifted his chin as if he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

Seohwa chuckled faintly.

Though he couldn’t see the other side of the situation, he could imagine the mood over there.

Team Leader Choi’s unintentional public display of affection skills were absolutely S-class, as they always had been. In every timeline, his love remained constant.

To someone like Seohwa, who didn’t believe in love, it was both fascinating and amusing.

“Anyway, let’s get moving. We need to confirm if that bizarre foresight was accurate. I’ll contact Canada. Kang Yigeon, you take Gwangju, yes?”

“There’s a guild event tonight,” Kang Yigeon replied.

“Ah… right, you’re not a civil servant anymore. If you wanted a title, you should’ve said so earlier. I’d have given you something even cooler than vice-guild leader,” Kim Eunji remarked sarcastically.

Seohwa, who had been quietly listening, spoke up.

“Who’s the current leader of the Danbaek Guild?”

The previously amicable atmosphere instantly soured. Kang Yigeon frowned and turned to Seohwa.

“Didn’t you say you knew the future? And yet you don’t know who’s the guild leader?”

“That changes with every timeline. Kang Yigeon, you’re not really the guild leader type. Maybe it’s Junyoung or Sungyeon? Or even Simjin.”

“…”

“Oh, it’s Simjin, huh? I knew he’d eventually take the position. How are Cherry and Pickles? Give them my regards.”

“…”

Kang Yigeon didn’t respond and left the interrogation room.

Outside, the director cautioned him.

“Of course, you already know this, but until we have proof, don’t tell anyone about… that being here. We’ll become targets of terrorism.”

“Understood.”

“What’s your personal take on how likely its claims are?”

“My skill [Mind Reading] says it’s truthful.”

“I’m asking for your judgment, not your skill.”

“Ten percent,” Kang Yigeon replied.

The director and Kim Eunji were slightly taken aback by the low number.

Despite their animosity towards Seohwa, it was precisely this irrational hostility that made them think the claim of being from the future held some credibility.

“Why such a low probability?”

“On average, 35 grade-3 gates occur daily in our country. On particularly bad days, we’ve had as many as 123 gates open simultaneously. Given Korea’s small landmass, the odds of a dungeon opening in Gwangju today aren’t particularly low. Additionally, gates appearing at sea often sink fishing boats. As for Canada, it’s never had a grade-5 dungeon before. Statistically, it’s due any time now, and anyone could predict that.”

“What about Team Leader Choi’s supposed child?”

“If that being is truly S-class, it would’ve been able to sense every presence in the room. From Team Leader Choi’s conversation, it’s clear he’s newly married. Guessing about a baby is a low-risk bluff.”

After a pause, Kang Yigeon added,
“And lastly, Guild Leader Simjin only has one dog, Cherry.”

“Ah, I thought something was off too. Simjin once said Cherry gets too anxious for them to adopt another pet.”

“Still, we can’t dismiss everything it says as lies. That being stated the exact time and second for the gate’s occurrence. If it’s accurate down to the second, we’ll have no choice but to take its claims seriously.”

“But it could still be a coincidence.”

“No. To deny its claims even after it’s proven accurate would be foolish. If it’s true, we must set aside our doubts and cooperate.”

The idea of working with Seohwa made the director and Kim Eunji grimace.

“Collaborating with that thing… it’s repulsive. An alien invader would be less detestable.”

“Just seeing it makes my blood boil. How are we supposed to deal with this rage?”

Kang Yigeon silently noted their reactions.

Both were known for their composure in any situation. If even they were this affected, Seohwa’s presence had to be handled with extreme caution.

Public opinion was already calling for Seohwa’s death.

If word spread that Korea was sheltering a being capable of ending the world, they could genuinely become the target of widespread attacks.

“What if it’s all lies?”

“Whether its words are true or not, the rage and hostility it provokes are real. If we can figure out the cause and weaponize it, it could be a valuable asset in combat.”

“Impressive as always, Vice-Guild Leader Kang. Ever consider returning to the agency? I’ll make you deputy director.”

“I’ll pass.”

Kang Yigeon left without another word. The director and Kim Eunji chuckled awkwardly before returning to the interrogation room.

Inside, Seohwa had cocooned themselves in a blanket, demanding a shower.

Realizing there was no way they’d be let out, Seohwa dramatically flopped onto the blanket.

For a moment, it seemed they’d remain quiet, but then their hand shot up.

“Director Kim Eunji, can I get a notebook and pen? A laptop would be better. A tablet would work too.”

“…Why do you need that?”

“To write down future events. My memory’s pretty good, but if I’m stuck in this grimy little room feeling gross and getting no cooperation, I might forget some minor details. The more I remember, the better chance we have of saving the world. Help me out a little.”

“I have no intention of cooperating with you. Shut up and go to sleep.”

The director cut off the one-way mirror projection.

No one, not Director Kim Eunji, not Team Leader Choi, not even the elite hunters in the room, voiced any objections.

Though it seemed irrational, the decision was entirely rational.

They were all at their limit.

Another second of Seohwa’s face or voice, and they might shatter the glass and unleash their powers on the spot.

Keeping Seohwa alive required these measures.

“…”

Seohwa stared at their reflection in the magic mirror, then rolled around on the blanket.

“If it were Kang Yigeon, he would’ve at least torn off a piece of paper for me,” they muttered.

Closing their eyes, Seohwa remembered a time when Kang Yigeon had handed them a tablet.

“Just sign at the bottom-right corner.”

“Kang Yigeon, did you know? People call us the Northern Duke and the Southern Admiral.”

“…”

“You’re the Northern Duke, and I’m the Southern Admiral. Do you know why?”

“Do I need to know why?”

“You should know. You said it yourself—that hunters in Korea need to be relatable to the public for the industry to thrive.”

“……”

“The Northern Grand Duke and Southern Admiral are characters straight out of a romance novel. The Grand Duke has that cold, rational, and ascetic image, while the Admiral is frivolous and promiscuous, like a playboy. Apparently, they’re exactly like us. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“Do you know why the Northern Grand Duke and Southern Admiral are so popular?”

“Didn’t you just say? Because one’s cold and rational, and the other’s lighthearted and frivolous.”

“It’s because people are drawn to how someone cold and rational, or someone frivolous and sly, transforms completely when they fall in love.”

“Oh, really? Well, they are characters from a romance novel. I guess in their world, all they do is fall in love. Must be fun.”

“Romance novels have their share of events too. But no matter what happens, love always follows after the incident.”

“Love always follows after the incident, huh… That’s romantic. Something straight out of a novel.”

“Even in real life, it’s possible―”

“Do I just sign here?”

“…Yes.”

“I’ve always wondered—can’t you just stamp this with some premade seal instead? Why do I have to sign it myself?”

“Is the Guild Leader seriously planning to avoid even this?”

“It’s so tedious. Maybe I should hire an assistant to handle this stuff. Hunter Kang, interested in becoming my secretary?”

“Just sign.”

“Oh! Here’s a fun idea—what if this April Fools’ Day, you become the Guild Leader, and I pretend to be a member of New Humanity Sect? The public would love it. It’d be hilarious.”

Kang Yigeon let out a silent, deep sigh and forcibly grabbed Seohwa’s hand to make him sign.

It was their first loop.

Back then, Seohwa couldn’t have imagined that one day, ‘Flight of Time’ would reverse and expand endlessly.

At that time, Kang Yigeon was only a rookie, having joined the Awakener Safety Bureau a year earlier.

He still carried the stiff demeanor of a new hunter.

Of course, even later, he never became overly soft or pliable.

* * *