“I look forward to working with you.”
“Hello, my name is Zhang Wei.”
Across the screen, standing beside the Association President, several foreign gifted individuals introduced themselves in clumsy Korean.
Chae Yihan watched them with indifferent eyes.
It was common for neighboring countries to send support during a Gate Rush.
South Korea always dispatched personnel as well, and there were already several other foreign gifted individuals on-site.
The newcomers consisted of two from Japan, three from China, and one from Russia.
“Hi, hello-yong. My name is Oliver Rodilac-yong. Please take care of me-yong.”
And three from Canada.
A Canadian appeared on the screen, introducing himself with a strange internet dialect, as if he had learned his Korean from the dark corners of the web.
That was unexpected.
Support from neighboring countries like Japan, China, or Russia wasn’t strange.
It was standard practice for associations with friendly ties to send aid.
But Canada?
The Canadian Gifted Association was notoriously reclusive compared to other nations.
They rarely produced high-ranking Espers or Guides, and they almost never sent or received international support.
Their only condition for coming was a request to accompany Team 1 and Team 2 on a few missions.
Whether they had a personal connection to Asher Delveron—who had naturalized from Canada—or simply wanted to test their mettle alongside high-ranking Espers, Yihan couldn’t tell.
However, such trivialities didn’t matter much in the face of the impending disaster.
Every bit of combat power was precious when considering the “catastrophe” Gate that the Rush would eventually birth.
Irregular, ominous Gate energy, far stronger than usual, was already being detected across the country.
Though the Association President’s sudden wariness toward Canada was nagging, from the Association’s perspective, this was a welcome development.
“Thank you for your support.”
More importantly…
Yihan pulled his focus away from the volunteers and fixed a cold stare on Lee Nahyeon, who was fluently thanking the foreigners in English.
The Gate Rush was one thing, but lately, Suhyeon was the primary source of Yihan’s stress. Specifically, Suhyeon’s safety.
It had only been a week since Suhyeon faced a Gate again, narrowly escaped death, and regained consciousness.
While Suhyeon was unconscious, Yihan felt as though he were reliving the nightmare from nearly four years ago.
He had been on the verge of a panic attack, consumed by the guilt of failing to protect the boy again and the self-loathing of his own helplessness, until Suhyeon finally woke up.
Yihan visited Suhyeon every day, spending at least a few minutes with him and obsessively checking on him via text.
Even Shin Hajin, surprisingly, didn’t block him—perhaps he actually had a brain after all.
Though it had only been a week, his dull-witted younger brother seemed to have already returned to his gentle daily life.
Only Yihan, standing beside him, felt his insides burning to ash.
He wanted to pull Suhyeon out of the Gate sites and the Association immediately and hide him in his arms.
He was barely holding back for fear of Suhyeon’s disapproval, but then the Association had to go and cause a scene.
Yihan ground his teeth, remembering the official summons held a few days ago, which had intentionally excluded the President and several executives, including himself.
“We’ll try our best…….”
Yihan stared coldly at Lee Nahyeon as she babbled on the screen.
That summons had been orchestrated by Director Lee Nahyeon.
While Kim Jong-hyeon was the one who actually spoke, everyone in the Association knew he was Nahyeon’s lapdog.
She was essentially the head of the Lee family members currently controlling the Association. He couldn’t fathom her objective.
—Right now, we are questioning whether Guide Chae Suhyeon might, perhaps, be a humanoid monster.
The nonsense spouted that day was enough to keep Yihan’s blood boiling even now.
If Shin Hajin hadn’t caused a scene that day, Yihan would have done it himself.
He had been that close to losing it.
He wanted to slaughter every person in the Association who dared to say such things to a child who had crossed the threshold of death multiple times.
Grinding his teeth, Yihan stepped out of the building as soon as the meeting ended.
He pulled out a cigarette and exhaled a long trail of gray smoke into the air.
He couldn’t understand why these pests kept swarming around that endlessly kind, precious, and innocent child.
Yihan’s eyes sank into a cold depth.
Whoever it was, the moment they laid a finger on his brother, Yihan would sacrifice his own life to drag them all down to hell.
The lull in the Gate Rush continued.
More precisely, the pattern of the Gates had shifted over the last few days.
Before the lull, small and medium Gates had been popping up everywhere; now, massive Gates opened once every few days.
A grim joke circulated among the gifted: the Gates were now prioritizing quality over quantity.
Hajin had thrown a tantrum about Suhyeon not going out, but the Association was relentless.
Suhyeon had received a message asking when he could return to work.
Since his body felt fine, Suhyeon returned to the field on the day a Level 13 Gate was scheduled to open, practically carried there by Hajin.
“Kyuu!”
The fluff-ball was tucked inside Suhyeon’s hoodie pocket.
He had tried to leave it behind since it shouldn’t be seen by others, but the creature had been persistent.
It had pointedly pretended to be a stuffed doll in front of them, and since it looked surprisingly natural, they gave up and brought it along.
“Soohyun-ssiiiiiiiiiii!”
The media’s persistence was still relentless, but once they reached the site with Lee Jeonghyeon’s help, Suhyeon saw Asher charging toward him like a wild boar.
Level 13. A high-level Gate site that made one’s breath hitch just hearing the number.
Team 1 and Team 2 had been dispatched together, which was why Asher was here.
As always, Hajin tried to kick him away, but Asher dodged with fluid agility, only to be hit by a ball of fire and sent sprawling when he tried to hug Suhyeon.
“I missed you! I thought I was going to lose my mind!”
Asher wailed while lying face-down.
Of course, he only wailed with his voice.
Feeling the eyes of everyone on-site, Suhyeon let out a deep sigh while being held by Hajin.
On the day Suhyeon was discharged, Asher had broken through Hajin’s iron defense to see him.
Since this was their first meeting since then, Asher’s behavior was understand—no, it wasn’t.
They didn’t even have a relationship.
Suhyeon, who was almost tamed by Asher’s constant presence, quickly corrected his train of thought.
“Is this person Soohyun?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
While Suhyeon was dealing with Asher’s whining, a stranger suddenly appeared behind them.
Asher’s expression instantly soured with annoyance and hostility.
Suhyeon blinked.
“Hello-yong.”
The man who appeared suddenly beamed at Suhyeon.
He had ash-brown hair and gentle blue eyes, and he spoke a bizarre mix of English and Korean.
“I’m Oliver from Canada-yong. I’m also a guide.”
“…I heard support was coming; I suppose that’s you.”
The greeting was directed at Suhyeon, but Hajin, who was still holding Suhyeon’s waist, answered instead.
Support?
Suhyeon tilted his head at Hajin’s words.
‘So, support comes from abroad too.’
It made sense.
In an extreme example, didn’t friendly nations send troops to each other during a war?
“You’re from Canada?”
Suhyeon, who had been looking at the smiling man, looked up at Hajin when he asked the question.
“Uh, yeah. Why-yong?”
Hajin’s expression didn’t look particularly different from usual, but there was a sudden sharp edge to his voice.
Asher and the man didn’t seem to notice.
Suhyeon blinked at the microscopic difference.
“Moving out!”
Just then, the call for the Espers rang out.
“I’ll be back, Suhyeon. Be careful of that Guide. He’s someone I really, really hate. Seriously.”
Ah, Asher had naturalized from Canada.
Seemingly having a complicated history with the man, Asher leaned in to whisper fiercely to Suhyeon before leaving.
Hajin, who had been staring silently at the foreign Guide, gave Suhyeon a light kiss on the forehead.
“I’ll be back, Suhyeon. Don’t go anywhere alone, stay right here.”
Suhyeon nodded obediently.
But it was strange.
The sight of Hajin walking toward the line of waiting Espers felt somehow… different than usual.
How? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
He seemed unusually on edge, yet also somehow drained.
Ever since that nightmare, Hajin had seemed off from time to time.
Driven by an indescribable feeling, Suhyeon absentmindedly stroked the pocket containing the fluff-ball.
Since it would be caught if it made a sound, the fluff-ball simply wagged its fur silently against his hand.
“Um, Soohyun? Where should I go-yong?”
Suhyeon, who had been staring blankly at Hajin’s retreating back, snapped to attention at the Canadian Guide’s question.
“Oh my god, it’s Suhyeon!”
“I saw your name on the duty roster!”
“Suhyeon, it’s been so long!”
“Are you feeling okay now?”
Just as he was about to give directions, the familiar Guides from Team 1 spotted Suhyeon inside the tent and swarmed him.
This was the first time he had seen the Guides since they had visited him individually at the hospital after the Gate accident.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“Don’t overdo it today. Just take care of Esper Shin Hajin. We’ll handle the rest.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
The Guides fussed over him for a long time, telling him how worried they were.
Since they had also been caught in the Gate accident, Suhyeon asked if they were okay, to which they replied with loud laughter, saying they were perfectly fine.
“Hmm, hello everyone-yong.”
While Suhyeon was letting out a faint smile in that warm, fuzzy atmosphere, the Canadian Guide, who had been watching them blankly, cut in with a grin at the perfect moment.
“Oh, a foreigner.”
“I heard an American went to support Team 3; did you come to help us?”
“That’s right, I’m Oliver Rodilac-yong.”
He seemed quite sociable, as he managed to capture the interest of the Team 1 Guides almost immediately after joining the conversation.
“Your Korean is good. Did you learn it online?”
“Oh, that’s right-yong. How did you know-yong?”
“The ‘yong-yong’ style is so funny, pfft.”
Watching the lively chatter, Suhyeon felt his heart slowly grow calm.
It was a return to his daily life—not peaceful, yet peaceful in its own way.
