* * *

“…Hey.”

He awoke to a familiar, gentle voice calling his name.

“Eunsoo.”

It was Yang Heewoon’s voice.

The moment he realized whose voice it was, Ye Eunsoo bolted upright, searching the room.

But there was no one there.

Desperate, he checked every corner of the house, but no trace of Heewoon could be found.

Only silence greeted him.

And then he realized—

The voice hadn’t been real. It was the sound of his morning alarm, a recording of Yang Heewoon’s voice.

Scoffing bitterly, he grabbed his phone and switched it off, his reflection on the black screen twisted with frustration.

“…Damn idiot.”

What on earth had possessed him to use Heewoon’s voice as an alarm?

Sure, it was effective at waking him up, but it also made Heewoon’s absence hit harder.

He didn’t change the alarm, though.

Instead, he tossed the phone onto the bed, reserving future curses for his own reckless choices.

“Hah…”

He ruffled his hair as he descended the stairs.

A two-story house with a garden.

Far too spacious and silent for one person to live alone.

Picking up the remote from its usual spot, Ye Eunsoo turned on the TV, then opened the door to Yang Heewoon’s room.

As if to prove its lack of an occupant, the room remained exactly as it had been the last time Ye Eunsoo had closed the door.

Out of habit, he sat down in front of the bed, burying his face into the blanket.

…It smelled of Yang Heewoon—so achingly familiar.

---

“Ah, is this recording?”

“Hello, Rex, Elliot, and Junseong. By the time you’re watching this, I’m probably no longer in this world. This is a video will.”

“First, I ask that you please don’t share this recording with others—especially the Administration or Eunsoo. It would be best if you could delete it immediately after watching.”

“Above all, I don’t want Eunsoo to see this video. I’ve recorded a separate one meant for him. Please, just show him that one when the time comes. Maybe a year or two later, when he’s a little older…”

The voice drifted out from the TV in the living room.

The video, which Ye Eunsoo had watched countless times before, played vividly in his mind even from the sound alone.

He could recall every expression, every movement, even the rhythm of each breath.

“Eunsoo.”

The first video file ended, and the next one began.

Ye Eunsoo opened his eyes to the sound of a voice he had come to recognize like a morning alarm.

It was time to leave.

Rising swiftly, he stepped out into the living room and firmly shut the door behind him.

He couldn’t linger too long in Yang Heewoon’s room.

The scent would fade if he did. It had already grown faint, diluted by the time Ye Eunsoo had spent there, treating the space as his own before Heewoon left.

Even now, the remnants of Heewoon’s presence likely wouldn’t last more than a few months.

If he’d known this would happen, he wouldn’t have used the room at all.

No…

His lips curled into a bitter, self-deprecating smirk.

No, if he’d known, he would’ve ensured that Yang Heewoon never disappeared in the first place.

He would’ve done whatever it took, never letting him go.

---

“Surprised that I disappeared so suddenly? I’m sorry. But don’t worry—I’ve decided to take a long journey for a while.”

How careless he’d been.

Yang Heewoon was the kind of person who needed to be held onto tightly.

Otherwise, his reckless kindness and tendency to involve himself in everything would inevitably pull him into some dangerous mess, like a tiny boat swept away by a massive wave.

Ye Eunsoo had known that better than anyone.

And yet, he’d done nothing.

Why?

He’d been fooled.

Fooled by that clueless, carefree smile, as if Heewoon didn’t have a care in the world.

He’d fallen for it, unable to see the dark intentions hidden behind that radiant face.

---

“When you watch this, you’ll be an adult. You’re all grown up now, so I know you’ll manage just fine without me. I believe in you.”

On the TV screen, Yang Heewoon’s face filled the frame.

His hair was longer, his complexion pale, his cheeks sunken.

Judging from those details—and the law firm the lawyer who handed over the recording worked at—this must have been made after he started receiving support from Polwell.

Why hadn’t he realized Heewoon had been preparing something like this?

If he’d known, things wouldn’t have ended this way.

“…Too focused on school,” he muttered.

The reason that came to mind was little more than an excuse.

Yang Heewoon had stayed by his side for a long time, even after Ye Eunsoo had discovered his abilities.

He had remained until Eunsoo reached adulthood.

There had been plenty of opportunities to stop him in those three months before he disappeared.

And yet, Ye Eunsoo had thrown away every single one of them.

Stupidly so.

“Even if I’m not there, my feelings for you will never ch—”

A loud, grating wee-oo-wee-oo cut through the recording, drowning out Yang Heewoon’s voice.

It was the gate alarm.

Ye Eunsoo tore his gaze away from the image of Heewoon on the screen and climbed back up to the second floor to grab his phone.

“Rex, I wanted to apologize in adva—”

By the time he turned off the alarm and checked the mission briefing, the video on the TV had moved to the next file.

Picking up the remote, Ye Eunsoo switched it off and headed to the bathroom.

Another day without Yang Heewoon was beginning.

The gate had formed at an angle, cutting across the sky and sea.

It was enormous, like a seven-story building tipped on its side.

Danger level: A++.

It was the third high-grade gate to appear this month.

The fact that the gate stretched over the sea, however, worked in the defenders’ favor.

Especially in Korea, where the esper Elliot Hooper, who wielded the power of ice, operated.

A massive wall of ice constructed from seawater stood between the gate and the real world, sealing off any gaps.

Thanks to this, the situation on-site seemed relatively calm, given the gate’s danger level.

Ye Eunsoo observed the scene briefly before opening the car door.

“Eunsoo.”

The moment he stepped out, Kim Miri approached, as though waiting for him.

Ignoring her entirely, Ye Eunsoo strode toward the control team’s tent.

“You’re aware it’s a new-type gate. The core hasn’t been destroyed yet?”

“Yes… unfortunately. Elliot entered with Attack Team C to search for and eliminate the monsters and destroy the core. They’ve temporarily subdued the monsters, but the core remains elusive. The monsters themselves aren’t high-rank, but their sheer numbers make it difficult to trace the flow of energy.”

“I see.”

Inside the central tent, known as the Situation Command Room, Ye Eunsoo didn’t bother exchanging greetings.

Instead, his sharp blue eyes swept over the monitors.

The cameras used inside the gate, though recently developed, still struggled to send clear visuals, even with the support of espers with reconnaissance abilities.

The best they could do was provide rough terrain data and pinpoint the espers’ locations—updates coming at a frustratingly slow pace.

“Elliot has been active for over an hour now. He’ll need guidance soon, especially given the amount of power he used to seal the entrance.”

“I see… over an hour already.”

The subtle, almost sigh-like tone of his voice was open to multiple interpretations: sympathy for Elliot’s prolonged struggle, or concern over his lack of guidance.

But Kim Miri, who had worked alongside Ye Eunsoo for nearly half a year, instantly understood the true meaning.

‘An S-rank esper, and he can’t even find the core in an hour. Useless.’

And without a doubt, once this mission ended, the two of them would be at each other’s throats.

As always.

While the rest of Special Team A got along well, Ye Eunsoo was the exception.

He seemed to be at constant odds with its espers.

Actually, that wasn’t quite accurate.

The hostility was entirely one-sided: Ye Eunsoo despised them.

Outside the team, he wasn’t particularly friendly, either.

Not because he was disliked—quite the opposite.

Despite his short career, his remarkable achievements had attracted plenty of admirers.

Yet Ye Eunsoo remained an immovable “man of iron walls.”

He ignored greetings, avoided casual conversations, and left promptly after missions.

His demeanor left no doubt: ‘I have no intention of getting close to any of you.’

The only person who managed to talk to him was Kim Miri, largely due to her “friend of Yang Heewoon” image that formed after Elliot Hooper’s rampage incident.

As a result, any task involving Ye Eunsoo inevitably fell into Kim Miri’s lap—whether she liked it or not.

While Kim Miri was silently sighing over his tangled thoughts, Ye Eunsoo strapped an anti-monster gun to his waist and prepared special bullets.

After inserting a small earpiece, he finally turned his gaze toward Kim Miri.

* * *