118

On a night when the sound of rain poured like a flood and pounded his ears, the table was lit by a single lamp. There, Baek Sa sat, reading over some documents.

Ha-gyeom stood in the dark corner of the room. Though he was consciously hiding his presence, it didn’t seem like Baek Sa would’ve noticed him even if he hadn’t.

Because this wasn’t real—it was a dream. A vivid dream, like being thrown into someone else’s memory.

Bang, bang!

Then, like the cocking of a gun, loud knocking broke the silence, and someone barged into the room. Ha-gyeom quickly turned toward the door. The ones who entered were a mercenary with a troubled expression and a rain-soaked Ah-rang.

So this was his dream, but also a scene from Ah-rang’s memories. Ha-gyeom had a vague sense that this night was the day before she left on the exploration mission.

Even as her wet boots soaked the floor, Ah-rang marched straight to the table and stood face-to-face with Baek Sa.

‘Are you really going to let this happen?’

Baek Sa frowned at her words and belatedly lifted his head. Gesturing to the mercenary at the door to leave, he rose from his seat.

‘If you’re leaving early tomorrow, it’d be better to at least rest and manage your condition…’

That emotionless voice wasn’t unfamiliar, but suddenly a sharp sensation clawed across Ha-gyeom’s chest. He knew full well that he was only a bystander here—and that Baek Sa’s words were directed at Ah-rang, not him.

So why did it hurt this much? It felt like he himself had become Ah-rang, standing before Baek Sa.

‘You call that an answer?!’

With a furious shout, Ah-rang struck Baek Sa across the face with all her strength. As an esper, Baek Sa could have easily dodged it, but he didn’t even try. He just stood there, unflinching.

When Baek Sa met her blow with a clear, unyielding gaze, Ah-rang yelled again.

‘Whose mission is this for, anyway?!’

‘It’s not about who it’s for. Orders came from above, so we follow them.’

‘You’re sending ten people straight into a death trap, and that’s all you have to say?’

‘You know as well as I do—if we defy orders, this place becomes a death trap too.’

Baek Sa ran a tired hand through his hair. Ah-rang clenched her fists and slammed them down on the table.

‘You should at least try to persuade someone…!’

‘Who, exactly?’

‘Assemblyman Tak!’

At the mention of that name, Ha-gyeom felt a terrible sensation, as if all the blood had drained from his body. Now that he knew just how much Ah-rang hated that name—how she’d been dragged to the 0 District just like him, forced to endure such tragedy—it hit even harder.

He had already seen glimpses of Assemblyman Tak in his youth through these memories, and now Ha-gyeom felt like he understood her more than anyone. The long, deep-rooted pain seemed carved into her bones—so vivid it left him struggling to breathe.

‘If that had been possible, I would’ve stopped it myself long ago.’

As Ah-rang’s voice grew louder, Baek Sa gritted his teeth and leaned over the table. He was finally showing emotion, but it didn’t look like Ah-rang’s words were getting through to him.

Silence settled over the room for a long moment.

In it, Baek Sa stared back at Ah-rang with firm resolve, and she glared at him in return. From where he stood in the corner, Ha-gyeom didn’t think either of them looked incapable of understanding the other. Maybe Baek Sa had expected her to come, and maybe Ah-rang had known from the start that nothing would change—but had come anyway.

That feeling was part intuition, part foresight. Ha-gyeom knew what was to come—and yet, he didn’t. Memories didn’t always follow the order of time. Sometimes, they brought confusion.

Ha-gyeom thought Ah-rang might lash out more fiercely. But the next moment, his eyes widened.

‘……!’

Ah-rang’s eyebrows twisted—and unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears.

The face that had remained so proud now flushed red, and her shoulders began to shake. As the weight of helplessness crashed over her, Ha-gyeom felt his own breath grow tight with dread. Then, thick tears started falling from her eyes.

‘Do you really not know what it took for me to come here… what I’ve been feeling?’

Her trembling lips barely formed the words. But Baek Sa, watching the tears drip onto the table, merely sighed. Then, he turned his back to her and stood with his hands braced against his hips.

Was it frustration? Resignation? Powerlessness?

Or if not any of those… then what?

‘…Can’t you really stop it?’

Ah-rang’s voice trembled violently, and it made Ha-gyeom’s heart drop. The boldness she had entered the room with was nowhere to be found as she now asked, in a fragile voice. Even though her words still held a sliver of hope, Baek Sa replied without the slightest hesitation.

‘No.’

Though the words weren’t directed at him, Ha-gyeom felt as if the world had collapsed. Even coming from someone like Baek Sa, Ha-gyeom could still sense that Ah-rang had clung to what little warmth he offered. Somewhere in her memories, there were still traces of Baek Sa’s gentle hands, his soft voice. Even if they had been faint and fleeting.

‘Even if I beg you like this?’

Ah-rang eventually sank to her knees, looking up at Baek Sa with desperation. In contrast, Baek Sa looked down at her—his eyes terrifyingly cold.

‘Begging won’t change anything.’

As a fellow guide, Ha-gyeom knew all too well what it felt like to be driven into a situation beyond one’s control. That alone was unbearable, but now, the emotions Ah-rang felt were echoing inside him as if they were his own. He could not bring himself to look at Baek Sa with anything but bitter contempt.

How could he be so cold to the very guide assigned to him?

Eventually, Ha-gyeom found himself trembling with betrayal no less than Ah-rang. Knowing now that the mission Ah-rang was about to embark on was an expedition, he could imagine exactly what kind of desperation had brought her to Baek Sa. It made his throat tighten and the rims of his eyes burn.

Before long, Baek Sa’s expression and gaze were swallowed by darkness, but the pressure he radiated remained as overwhelming as ever.

He looked no different from any other figure in power. And when Ah-rang realized that she would not sway or reach him, she wiped away her tears and erased all traces of weakness from her face.

‘So you’re telling me to walk into the gravity hole, knowing full well I’ll die.’

Her eyes changed instantly, boiling with resentment she could no longer contain.

‘If you say you can’t stop it, that just means you agree with Assemblyman Tak’s orders.’

Baek Sa gave no answer. Everyone in that room could feel it—nothing was going to change.

Silence followed, broken only by the relentless pounding of rain against the windows.

‘…….’

Even though he didn’t know everything about her, Ha-gyeom felt utterly consumed by Ah-rang’s emotions. Just watching her on her knees was painful. He pressed a hand to his chest and endured the razor-sharp stillness.

‘What did I even expect from you…’

As the surge of emotion reached its peak, so strong he could no longer tell whether it belonged to him or to her, Ah-rang spoke like someone who had come to a realization.

‘I should’ve never come here in the first place.’

An esper and their guide should, by nature, be more intimate than anyone else in this place. And yet, the distance between the two of them now looked insurmountable.

Ha-gyeom could clearly feel that Ah-rang had once relied on Baek Sa. Without him, she might never have had the courage to resist at all. And now, knowing that this distance was entirely of Baek Sa’s making, her despair became all the more real to him.

‘If you knew that, you should’ve told me not to come.’

Even if Ah-rang harbored hatred toward him, Baek Sa didn’t seem the least bit interested in that emotion. He didn’t shake, didn’t waver. Though his face was hidden in darkness, the sense of weariness he gave off burned hot in the deepest part of Ha-gyeom’s chest.

If it had been him, he would’ve at least tried to comfort her. So Ha-gyeom didn’t have the space to consider what might lie behind Baek Sa’s silence.

He could only watch as Ah-rang stood on the edge of despair, her pain swelling like his own. As a fellow guide, he understood all too well what it meant to be pushed toward death—and the betrayal she must’ve felt from Baek Sa in that moment.

Because soon, it would be his reality too.

And Baek Sa—the one she now stared at with such heartbreaking resentment…

‘If I’m going to die anyway, I’d rather do it here.’

Just as despair was closing around Ha-gyeom, Ah-rang declared it like a final vow. The next moment, her eyes blazing with fury, she let out a sharp sound and bit down hard on her tongue.

‘……!’

It felt familiar. Ha-gyeom, too, had once injured himself in front of Baek Seung-woo to make a statement.

Different method—same intent. That wish to choose death over the greater pain that was sure to come.

Ha-gyeom clamped a hand over his mouth just as blood filled Ah-rang’s. Bright crimson spilled down her chin, running in thin streams along her jaw. She swayed forward as if about to collapse, blood spilling from her mouth as though she were vomiting it up.

Baek Sa rushed to her, pried open her clenched teeth, and reached into her mouth. His hand was startlingly calm as it stopped her from biting down again.

‘Mercenary!’

Calling out at once, Baek Sa caught her falling body in his arms. The veins in his forearms bulged as he supported her frail frame.

‘Here—take this…!’

The mercenary, having rushed in and assessed the scene, tore the bedsheet and handed it to Baek Sa. Without hesitation, Baek Sa shoved the bundled cloth into her mouth. At first, Ha-gyeom thought it was just to stop the bleeding.

But when he saw Baek Sa’s face—delivering a chilling warning to Ah-rang, whose eyes had shut tightly in pain—he understood differently.

‘Harming resources here is a crime.’

Resources—he meant guides.

That a guide, even in such a moment, wasn’t allowed to hurt themselves… That he could say such a thing now, in a moment that felt like the world was ending.

It was cruel beyond words.