DMG Episode 5

The hot water washed away the sweat, cleaning his sticky body. After rinsing off with cold water, he finished his shower, tossed his wet clothes and towel into the laundry bin, and changed into a fresh training outfit.

By the time he stepped out of the training room, the sky outside had already turned pitch black.

Before leaving for the day, Kang I-won checked his device one last time. Seeing no urgent calls, he began his walk home.

Kang I-won’s daily routine was always the same.

In the mornings, he patrolled his designated area. In the afternoons, he trained. If a call came in, he immediately responded, heading out to slay monsters. During downtime, he reviewed information on newly registered monsters or gates.

Sometimes, when gates appeared in rapid succession and calls flooded in, he would stay late, delaying his return home until after late-night training.

Once home, he’d eat dinner, review records on monsters and gates, and then go to bed. This routine had repeated itself for ten long years, an endless cycle with no clear end in sight.

It was an utterly monotonous and exhausting life.

---

Despite the fact that there was a guiding room nearby, Kang I-won habitually ignored the blatant skinship masquerading as guiding that took place in the hallway. It was something he had grown accustomed to. As he walked, he absentmindedly rummaged through his pockets.

Having just showered, droplets of water still dripped from his hair, soaking his collar. He ignored it and continued toward the guiding room, when his device rang, notifying him of a message. Chewing on a chocolate bar, he checked the screen. It was from Choi Soo-bin.

[Choi Soo-bin: Hey, Kang I-won]

[Choi Soo-bin: What are you up to???]

[Me: Heading for guiding]

[Choi Soo-bin: Ok, meet me at the café on the first floor after. I’ll treat you.]

[Choi Soo-bin: I’ve got something to talk about.]

[Me: Okay]

With a curt reply, Kang I-won entered Room 10.

Room 10 had once belonged to Lee Eun-young, the former guide for Team 5, but was now temporarily used by Heo Do-kyung. The moment he opened the door, Kang I-won paused, noticing how different the room looked compared to his memory.

The walls and flooring seemed to have been redone, giving the room a much cleaner appearance. The layout had also changed. The bed, a standard fixture in all guiding rooms, was gone, making the space feel considerably larger.

The old, worn table and chairs next to the bed had also been replaced by a sleek black table and two plush leather armchairs.

Heo Do-kyung sat in one of those armchairs, engrossed in a tablet.

Sensing movement, Heo Do-kyung looked up from his tablet and glanced toward the door, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Kang I-won.

Kang I-won offered a slight bow in greeting.

“Hello.”

A few drops of water flew from his hair with the motion, much to Heo Do-kyung’s visible disgust. Seeing his reaction, Kang I-won straightened up, his mood turning sour.

Right, he had heard that Heo Do-kyung had a cleanliness obsession. Still, he had just showered—his hair was clean. Feeling a bit wronged but saying nothing, Kang I-won quietly took a seat across from him.

Heo Do-kyung, still scowling slightly, glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before returning his attention to the tablet.

After a brief pause, Heo Do-kyung sighed, set down the tablet, and shifted in his seat, now taking on the air of an interviewer.

“You’re a regeneration Esper, right?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Kang I-won replied.

“You’ve been on a lot of field missions. Responded to a lot of emergency calls, too. Your performance is quite good.”

There was a faint sneer in Heo Do-kyung’s tone, one that Kang I-won couldn’t quite understand. He didn’t know why Heo Do-kyung seemed to have this strange hostility toward him.

“Well…”

Kang I-won began, trying to respond.

“No need to explain.”

Heo Do-kyung cut him off dismissively, losing interest before Kang I-won could continue.

“Regeneration doesn’t seem that useful in combat… Ah, I see, you’ve been doing this for a while, considering your age.”

Heo Do-kyung muttered, dragging out his words as if drawing his own conclusions.

After mulling over something for a moment, Heo Do-kyung glanced back at Kang I-won and asked.

“How often did you receive guiding before?”

“When our team had a guide, about once every two weeks. Since the temporary guide came, it’s been two or three times a month.”

“That’s quite minimal.”

“It’s been enough.”

Kang I-won replied simply.

By law, all registered Espers were required to receive guiding at least once every two weeks, even if they didn’t use their abilities. This was because the risk of a rampage was always present, regardless of whether or not the ability was actively used.

To put it simply, Espers were living, breathing bombs.

Every Esper carried a lit fuse within them. The speed at which the fuse burned varied from person to person, but every fuse was always headed toward detonation. Even if an Esper didn’t use their ability, the fuse would still burn slowly. Using their ability, of course, accelerated the burn.

Guiding was like lengthening the fuse. However, even guiding couldn’t extinguish the flame entirely because that flame represented an Esper’s power—their very source of life.

Espers were beings who had gained extraordinary abilities to save humanity but, at the same time, carried a ticking time bomb within themselves, one they would live with for the rest of their lives.

That was why regular guiding was a mandatory requirement for all Espers.

“Looks like you don’t use your ability much. Do you even need to? I mean, what situation would require you to use regeneration?”

Heo Do-kyung remarked dismissively.

Contrary to his assumption, Kang I-won actually used his ability quite extensively. Despite that, he limited his guiding sessions to the bare minimum, constantly suffering from the lack of it. Yet, he didn’t bother correcting Heo Do-kyung’s misunderstanding. He saw no need to clear things up.

The way Espers fought—especially the way Kang I-won fought—wasn’t something a guide, who was essentially an ordinary person apart from the ability to guide, needed to know. Likewise, there was no reason to mention the chronic shortage of guiding that Kang I-won lived with.

“When was the last time you received guiding?”

Heo Do-kyung asked.

“Four days ago.”

Heo Do-kyung scrolled through the tablet for a moment longer before responding.

“Your compatibility rate with the temporary guide was quite low, but since our matching rate is fairly high, we’ll stick to the same schedule you had with your previous team guide. You’ll only need to come in for guiding once every two weeks. That works for me.”

Heo Do-kyung finally looked up from the tablet, continuing.

“Request guiding when necessary, but avoid bothering me on holidays unless you’re on the verge of rampaging. You’ve been around long enough to know the rest of the rules better than I do. Let’s just get this guiding session done and move on.”

Still indifferent, Heo Do-kyung placed the tablet aside.

“Oh, and just so you know, my guiding goes as far as a handshake. Don’t expect or ask for any more physical contact than that. It makes me uncomfortable.”

His tone was dripping with disdain as he extended his hand as if doing Kang I-won a favor.

For a moment, Kang I-won stared at the offered hand, caught off guard.

Guiding was entirely based on physical contact. It could be as light as a handshake, or it could progress to a hug, a kiss, or even sex. Numerous studies had shown that the deeper and more intimate the physical contact, the more effective the guiding.

Because of this, some guides used guiding as an excuse for promiscuous behavior, although many did not. Temporary guides, especially, often drew the line at hugs, and some, like Heo Do-kyung, limited it to a handshake.

Still, this situation was new to Kang I-won.

“Is there a problem?”

Heo Do-kyung asked, as if oblivious to any issue.

Kang I-won glanced at Heo Do-kyung’s hand, encased in a shiny leather glove that looked quite expensive.

“No, there’s no problem.”

Kang I-won replied. After a brief hesitation, he reached out and shook Heo Do-kyung’s hand. The feel of the leather was foreign and cold against his skin.

Through the thick glove, he could still sense the guiding energy flowing from Heo Do-kyung into him, calming his erratic internal waves.

There wasn’t much known about guiding itself. Even guides couldn’t explain it properly.

It was instinctual, like breathing. The moment someone awakened as a guide, they could naturally perform guiding, just like an infant knows how to breathe from birth.

Guiding wasn’t about theory; it was about instinct. What was certain, though, was that guiding was the lifeline for Espers.

As Heo Do-kyung’s guiding took effect, the wild and unstable waves within Kang I-won began to settle. The heavy, sinking feeling that had been weighing him down, the erratic beating of his anxious heart, the needle-like headaches, and the aches in his body slowly started to fade away from the edges, little by little.

The sensation was tantalizing—just enough relief to feel the difference, but not enough to fully satisfy. His whole body tingled, making his toes curl involuntarily.

It was unsettling how calm he felt.

It was as if, after days of wandering through a desert without water, someone had finally dripped a single drop of life-saving liquid into his parched mouth. It was sweet, but far from enough. Without thinking, he found himself wanting more.

Kang I-won bit down on his lip.

This must be why so many Espers made a fuss about matching rates. If this was how good it felt with just a brief, half-hearted session, he couldn’t imagine how euphoric it must be with proper guiding.

It was no wonder that many Espers, upon finding a guide with a matching rate over 80%, would practically beg to form a bond with them. For the first time, Kang I-won understood their desperation.

It wasn’t just about comfort. It was an Esper’s survival instinct—an unshakable need to keep their lifeline close.

As the short guiding session ended, Heo Do-kyung quickly pulled his hand away. The warmth that had just been there felt suddenly and achingly absent, and before Kang I-won realized what he was doing, his hand instinctively reached out to grab Heo Do-kyung’s again.

But Heo Do-kyung swiftly rejected him.

“Guiding’s over,” he said coldly.

His eyes held an unmistakable look of disgust.

The harshness of that look snapped Kang I-won back to his senses, and he bit down on his tongue hard. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as the tip of his tongue nearly split, but outwardly, he remained composed and retracted his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Kang I-won mumbled.

“It’s fine. The guiding session is done, so you can go now. Oh, and next time, make sure your hair is dry before you come in.”

Heo Do-kyung casually removed his gloves as he spoke, pinching them with just his thumb and forefinger as though they were contaminated. Then, without hesitation, he tossed the gloves into the nearby trash bin.

Kang I-won, who had been about to stand up, froze in place and stared at the discarded gloves in disbelief. Why was he throwing them away after the session, but not before?

Seeing his confusion, Heo Do-kyung smiled for the first time. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. One side of his lips curled up in a sneer, making it clear he was mocking Kang I-won.

Kang I-won felt a surge of anger rising in his chest. Even though he was usually indifferent to things like this, the blatant hostility was hard to ignore.

“What are you standing there for?”

Heo Do-kyung snapped, his voice laced with irritation.

Kang I-won clenched his jaw and finally spoke.

“Why throw them away? Seems like a waste.”