* * *
Time passed, and the final day of training arrived.
As Haebom opened the doors to the training hall, he spotted Wonho standing right in the center—and immediately rushed over, eyes wide.
“Huh? Ho! What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to go into the gate today?”
Just ten minutes ago, Wonho had dropped him off in front of the research building and left.
So Haebom blinked in disbelief, unable to understand why he was here now.
Like a puppy spotting its owner on the street, he nearly wagged his imaginary tail. Wonho let out a small chuckle.
“…Why are you laughing?”
When Wonho only laughed without answering, Haebom frowned.
In response, Wonho reached out and gently smoothed out Haebom’s furrowed brow, the corners of his lips lifting.
“I’m going into the gate.”
“Whaaat?”
“I’m going in with you. Didn’t you hear there would be an esper assigned to assist? That esper is me.”
“Eh?!”
A bizarre sound slipped out between Haebom’s teeth in surprise.
He had heard there would be an esper coming to support them.
After barely surviving two days of gun training, all that was left was the mock gate simulation.
Even if it was called a simulation, it still meant entering a constructed gate environment.
While there would be no physical injuries inside, any pain experienced remained etched into the mind.
The reason espers were dispatched for support was precisely because of this — to prevent guides from developing trauma due to the pain they might feel inside a gate.
No matter what happened, the idea of a guide entering a gate alone or only with other guides was unthinkable — even if the world were ending, it simply wouldn’t happen.
“You seem like you hate that I came.”
When Haebom looked genuinely surprised, the corners of Wonho’s mouth, which had been lifted high in amusement, began to twist slightly.
Haebom quickly waved his hands, trying to show that wasn’t the case.
“No! Of course I don’t hate it. But… why didn’t you say anything earlier? If you were assigned here, how long have you known?”
“Since the beginning. I applied as soon as I heard you were picked as the instructor.”
Judging by Wonho’s expression, there was no doubt he’d kept it from him on purpose.
Thinking about how he’d stayed silent just to surprise him was both endearing and infuriating.
“Okay, lovebirds, stop flirting and let’s start the training. Instructor Yoon Haebom.”
“Eek!”
Haebom let out a small yelp.
He had completely forgotten that others might be there when he spotted Wonho the moment the training room door opened.
As Lee Taeyoung spoke with a tone of reproach, Haebom’s eyes darted around — not only Taeyoung, but every guide participating in his training program was already inside the training facility.
Which meant they had seen the entire exchange between him and Wonho.
The only saving grace was that they hadn’t done anything overtly physical.
Although if Taeyoung hadn’t spoken up, there was no telling what Wonho might have pulled — thankfully, Haebom had caught on before it escalated.
Flushed around the ears, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
But then, something struck him as odd.
“Why are you here alone? I mean, the simulation gate is only D-rank, but still…”
“A D-rank gate? I can clear that alone in under a few hours. It’s just adaptation training anyway. And since I’m here, there’s no need for the others.”
Wonho’s overly confident reply made both Haebom and Taeyoung shake their heads in disbelief.
The new guides, however, were starry-eyed, clearly in awe of being in the presence of an S-rank esper.
An S-rank esper paired with an S-rank guide — it was a dream combo.
But Haebom, having spent a few days with him already, wasn’t as fazed.
Especially since he was a guide too.
Wonho, though, was different.
S-rank espers were rare to begin with, and among them, Wonho was far more famous than most.
Sure, there used to be another who rivaled him — Na Hyunjoon — but lately, Wonho was practically standing at the top alone.
Yet despite the attention, he didn’t seem to feel the weight of all the gazes focused on him.
His eyes were solely on Haebom.
In fact, it was Haebom who felt embarrassed under all the stares directed at Wonho.
And some of those gazes weren’t just filled with admiration — they had a different edge.
What bothered Haebom the most upon learning that the supporting esper was Wonho… was Choi Yoonseo, quietly watching the two of them from one side.
The only small relief was that Wonho didn’t so much as glance in her direction.
“Haebom, she was hovering near your boyfriend, and he didn’t even look at her once. I was about to call her out when you walked in.”
Taeyoung leaned over and whispered quietly.
As the distance between the two grew closer, Wonho frowned and twitched like he might physically wedge himself between them.
Haebom quickly waved his arms to defuse the atmosphere, and Taeyoung, grinning mischievously, backed off.
“Ahem. Let’s begin the training. Everyone ready? Is it okay to start the simulation right away?”
“Yes, we’re ready!”
Feeling like his face would burn up if he stayed any longer in that awkward air, Haebom turned quickly to the simulation console.
Wonho clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed, but Haebom did his best to ignore it.
Meanwhile, Choi Yoonseo’s sorrowful gaze toward Wonho was annoyingly pitiful — like she was some ex-lover.
It irritated him, but he made himself let it go.
“We’ll begin now. Please close your eyes.”
As he gave the instruction, he scanned the room.
One by one, the trainees began to close their eyes — all except one.
‘Close your eyes,’ Haebom mouthed silently toward the one person who kept staring straight at him. Wonho.
Instead of obediently closing both eyes, Wonho slowly winked one eye.
“Ugh!”
Haebom barely stopped himself from making a weird noise through his teeth.
Wonho had to be insane.
When he saw Haebom flinch, Wonho’s eyebrows twitched before he let out a sigh and finally closed both eyes.
Seeing him comply for once, Haebom sighed in relief and closed his own eyes too.
Then, he pressed the button on the simulation device.
Bzzz.
A deep vibration resonated through his entire body.
That feeling never got any less strange.
As the vibration subsided, he could tell the air had changed.
The gun range in the training center had similar air to the rest of the facility, but the simulated gate environment felt completely different.
“Open your eyes.”
Wonho, now somehow beside him, gave him a gentle tap on the cheek.
Haebom finally opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear his blurred vision.
Since the gate’s location was randomized, even he had no idea what kind of environment they would land in.
Behind Wonho, it looked like a dark forest, shrouded in night.
And cutting through the black sky… loomed the massive gate.
No matter how many times he saw one, the gate’s entrance always gave him the chills.
This one wasn’t even real, yet it somehow felt even more eerie.
“What is it?”
He was just getting a strange feeling, but he shook his head.
He walked over to the new guides and began explaining the key precautions before entering a gate.
The training plan was for Wonho, the esper, to incapacitate the monsters at first — and once he identified their weaknesses and cores, the guides would try targeting them as practice.
Originally, the plan was to split into teams — Haebom, Taeyoung, and Choi Yoonseo — assuming there would be multiple espers.
But since only Wonho had shown up, they had to move as one group.
It didn’t really matter, since Wonho alone was worth multiple espers.
And sticking together might be safer anyway.
These were rookie guides who likely had never even seen a monster up close.
There was no telling what might happen.
Even though it was a virtual gate, someone could still get lost.
So it was reassuring to have a veteran like Wonho along.
* * *
