* * *
Two high-compatibility, S-class Espers, guarding and protecting Choi Yoonseo like princes and knights out of a fairytale, were a source of envy for many Guides — Lee Yeojoon included.
Of course, Lee Yeojoon wasn’t exactly the kind-hearted, virtuous type; while he admired Choi Yoonseo, he couldn’t help but feel jealous and envious of him at the same time.
Today was no different.
Yoonseo’s rank alone made him both a figure of admiration and bitter jealousy to Yeojoon.
“It’s okay, Yeojoon Guide.”
“What do you mean, okay? Look at yourself, seriously…! It’s frustrating…!”
At first glance, it looked like Choi Yoonseo was trying to calm Yeojoon down, but to Taeyoung, it was obvious that Yoonseo was just fueling the fire, adding wood to Yeojoon’s flames.
That kind of attitude only came from someone who genuinely believed others were in the way — when, in reality, the only one getting in the way was himself.
Burning with frustration from the fuel Yoonseo provided, Yeojoon huffed and glared fiercely at the ice pillar where Wonho and Haebom were hiding, then stomped off in a different direction.
But soon enough, realizing that the air around the ice pillar felt different from the surrounding area, he sheepishly wandered back to Yoonseo’s side.
Taeyoung watched him and shook his head in disbelief.
Though there was an ice pillar, the ceiling was open, so the outside sounds filtered in easily.
Still, Haebom couldn’t focus on those sounds, nor could he argue right now.
“Mmngh… ngh…!”
Wonho’s thick tongue, pushing into his mouth, made it impossible for Haebom to think straight.
Wonho had mentioned he’d guide him, but at most, Haebom had assumed it meant a hug — not creating this enclosed space (even if the ceiling was open) in the middle of the desert and having his tongue sucked into oblivion.
“Focus. You said you wanted me to guide you.”
“I—I meant like hugging, idiot…! You’re seriously…! Ngh…!”
Haebom’s voice was full of resentment as Wonho bit down softly on his lower lip, urging him to focus.
But Haebom couldn’t raise his voice; he was worried that the sounds inside would leak out just as easily as the outside sounds came in.
Without mercy, Wonho sealed his lips over Haebom’s again, greedily devouring both Haebom’s guiding energy and saliva.
Time passed, and the ice pillar, which hadn’t melted even in the scorching desert heat, suddenly crumbled away.
As it collapsed, the two figures inside became visible — Haebom, face flushed deep red and lips swollen, looking like he might burst, while Wonho stood tall, annoyingly smug, his flawless face gleaming with pride.
Taeyoung clicked his tongue in disapproval.
The rookie Guides, still without official partners, gazed wide-eyed at the pair’s intense chemistry.
Even for ordinary people, Espers were beings shrouded in fantasy.
The rookies’ hearts fluttered at the thought that an Esper like Wonho could be their future partner.
But Taeyoung, who knew better, understood those naive dreams wouldn’t last long.
Not all Espers were like Wonho, after all.
Dreams exist to be shattered…
“Ahem… Did you all rest well?”
Feigning a cough, Haebom avoided the rookies’ sparkling gazes as he asked.
The rookies chirped back energetically like baby chicks.
“I think the only ones who didn’t rest properly are you two.”
“…If everyone’s rested, let’s get moving! Shall we?”
Flustered by Taeyoung’s teasing, Haebom turned to leave, but Wonho grabbed the scruff of his neck, stopping him.
It hadn’t even been that long since Wonho warned him not to wander off or disappear from sight, and yet here he was trying to act on his own again.
This was exactly why Wonho had no choice but to follow him around, even during training.
Wonho justified his own behavior by reminding himself of this, scolding Haebom to stay focused.
Only then did Haebom regain his senses, gathering the rookies and preparing to move again.
Rrrr…!
“…Fuck, why is that thing here? What the hell did those idiots create? Fuck…!”
Furrowing his brows, Wonho conjured countless ice spears with a flick of his hand and hurled them toward the beast in front of him.
The real problem wasn’t that there was just one monster.
Frankly, if he were alone, it wouldn’t matter.
Whether there was one or two, dealing with trash like this was never a problem.
The issue was the people behind him — namely, Haebom.
If Haebom weren’t there, even if they developed trauma, they wouldn’t actually die or get seriously hurt, so he could’ve left them alone.
But of all people, Haebom was back there.
His Guide, the one guaranteed to throw himself in harm’s way to protect others.
Watching Haebom recklessly risk himself for someone else was more infuriating than expected.
He should’ve shut down the device earlier during their break.
The shock from deactivating the system would’ve been far better than the trauma of a real attack.
Crash!
Screeech!
The monster’s shrieks echoed amid the thunderous noise.
The rookie Guides’ faces grew increasingly pale.
Even they could tell these creatures weren’t the kind you’d find in a D-class Gate.
“G-Guide… Is this okay? Is this how it’s supposed to be?”
A rookie Guide clung to Haebom’s side, her voice trembling.
But Haebom couldn’t answer.
Not once in all their Gate training had something like this happened.
He hadn’t even heard of such a case.
Everything — the atmosphere, the danger — felt more like an actual Gate than a simulation generated by the device.
And the thing that rattled Haebom the most was the monster’s appearance.
‘Scorpion…’
The size, the shape — it looked eerily similar to the one he saw the day he first met Wonho.
Of course, back then, he only saw its corpse after Wonho killed it, so he couldn’t be certain, but the feeling was undeniable.
It had to be the same creature from that Gate.
“Wait here a second.”
Prying the rookie clinging to him off, Haebom approached Taeyoung at the back, who was busy calming the anxious Guides.
“Taeyoung-hyung, I’ll talk to Wonho, but I think we should shut the system down. Something’s wrong with the device.”
“Yeah… that’s probably for the best. This feels off.”
“…Okay.”
Haebom debated how to explain the situation without mentioning that day, but to his relief, Taeyoung agreed without prying.
He even helped reassure the rookies and explain the situation.
Wonho, who looked like he was struggling earlier, quickly finished off the monsters and approached Haebom.
“Hey… I think we should shut this down. What do you think?”
“…Yeah, let’s do that. I should’ve shut it down the moment things felt weird. I just wasted time.”
“No, we didn’t waste time. The rookies still got some good training in. It’s been well over three hours since we entered anyway.”
Haebom playfully pressed his fingers against Wonho’s furrowed brows, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.
It was his attempt to ease the tense atmosphere, even if just a little.
Thankfully, he noticed the sharp edge in Wonho’s eyes soften, just a fraction, at his touch.
Haebom pulled out the device he had been keeping safe in his pocket and reached for the power button.
If he switched it from ON to OFF, the virtual space would collapse, and they could exit.
“I’m turning off the device now, so keep your eyes shut until the sound ends.”
“Okay…” came the sullen reply.
* * *
