2

Two weeks had passed since Kang I-won’s first encounter with Heo Do-kyung.

After exactly two weeks, Kang I-won returned for another guiding session, seating himself across from Heo Do-kyung. With a practiced ease, Heo Do-kyung extended his gloved hand, and Kang I-won took it without hesitation.

For a moment, they were silent, focused on the guiding. Then Heo Do-kyung spoke.

“Considering the last time you had guiding was two weeks ago, your waves are remarkably stable. According to the records, you’ve been on a fair amount of field missions, too.”

There was an undertone of something unspoken in his voice. Kang I-won had been puzzling over Heo Do-kyung’s prickly attitude since their last session, finally realizing that Heo Do-kyung might be harboring a misunderstanding.

It was a familiar misconception.

Regenerative Espers like Kang I-won generally had a poor reputation. This perception had persisted over many years.

There had been others before him—regenerative Espers who had flung themselves into battle, just like Kang I-won. But they had all perished from injuries beyond the limits of their regenerative abilities. Those who survived were only the cautious ones who guarded their own lives. Thus, misunderstandings and prejudices against regenerative Espers grew, leading to a widespread belief that regeneration was useless in combat.

This prejudice, coupled with Kang I-won’s stable waves even after two weeks without guiding, made it easy for people to jump to conclusions.

To clear up the misunderstanding, he would need to explain that he had been using stabilizing drugs to keep his waves steady.

But did he really need to? Maybe it was better to leave the misunderstanding alone. Explaining would be tiresome, and after all, Heo Do-kyung was just a temporary guide he’d soon leave behind.

At least Heo Do-kyung was better than his last guide. The previous one hadn’t understood why Kang I-won even needed guiding at all.

That guide had refused every request for guiding, yet falsely reported that he had completed the sessions.

‘What reason would a regenerative Esper have to use his ability?’ the guide would say, dismissing the idea as a waste of energy.

At the very least, Heo Do-kyung didn’t do that. So, there was no need to correct the misconception.

Of course, letting someone form their own opinion about him, no matter how mistaken, wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Kang I-won found himself annoyed by his body’s response to even this half-hearted guiding. With his waves remaining steady, the session ended quickly, and their hands separated almost immediately.

Feeling the urge to reach out again, his fingers instinctively twitching as if unsatisfied, Kang I-won clenched his fist, suppressing the impulse. In a calm voice, he offered a brief farewell.

“Thank you for your time today.”

“Yes. You may go now.”

With a disinterested tone, Heo Do-kyung dismissed him. Kang I-won rose and exited the guiding room.

Just as the door closed behind him, there was a faint, almost inaudible sound of something dropping. He didn’t need to look back to know what had fallen.

There are three main types of Gates.

The first type is the ‘Summoning Type’, which summons between one to ten monsters before disappearing. The second type is the ‘Wave Type’, which spews out monsters by the dozens at regular intervals. The third is the ‘Dungeon Type’, where one has to enter the Gate itself to eliminate the boss inside.

Of these, the Wave Type is undoubtedly the most challenging. With each wave, dozens of monsters appear at once, and they continue to spawn periodically until the Gate closes.

Still, the Wave Type has some advantages over the Summoning or Dungeon Types. Unlike the others, which give little warning, the Wave Type Gate forms as energy accumulates at a single point. This phenomenon can be spotted with the naked eye, allowing for a rapid response if noticed early enough.

Late in the afternoon, the Detection Team quickly spotted the emergence of a Gate and called in the Espers. The location was a narrow alley in a residential area. Given the location, a delay in discovery could have led to significant casualties.

Five teams arrived promptly, evacuating residents and surrounding the Gate in a defensive formation. Since an emerging Gate can’t be stopped, all they could do was wait for it to fully materialize.

“I’ve never been on a Wave Type Gate mission before. Do you think I’ll do okay?”

Kim Young-ho, the rookie of Team 5, where Kang I-won was assigned, couldn’t hide his nerves. Their team leader, Han Kang-jin, patted him on the shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s no different from dealing with a Summoning Type, just with more monsters. Don’t worry about it.”

“He’s right. Just think of it as an extra tough day. It’s a good opportunity to work with other teams and gain experience. These experiences pile up, and before you know it, you’re surviving missions for a long time.”

“Wow… Sunbae Soo-bin, you sounded like a total boomer just now.”

“What? You little—”

Choi Soo-bin jokingly put Kim Young-ho in a mock headlock, making him yelp playfully. Amidst the teasing, Choi Soo-bin noticed Kang I-won standing silently, watching the emerging Gate with a distant look. He gave Kang a playful poke on the cheek.

“Hey, Kang I-won, don’t you have any words of encouragement for the rookie?”

Kang I-won, who had been quiet, looked mildly uncomfortable.

Words of encouragement… ‘Worrying is fine, but don’t overdo it. Most of the people here are veterans, so it shouldn’t be too dangerous. And even if things go south, at least you won’t die.’

Several thoughts came to mind, but all that emerged from his mouth was a simple, “Hang in there.”

After seeing countless words prove useless, that was all he could offer. He scratched his side, ignoring the unimpressed look from Kim Young-ho, and Choi Soo-bin sighed.

“Real inspiring.”

“What did you expect from me?”

“Right? My bad for hoping.”

As they bantered, the Gate steadily grew larger, taking on a faint red glow. The Espers, who had been chatting in clusters, instantly fell silent and focused.

Gates were classified by color. The closer the color was to red, the higher the difficulty; the darker, closer to black, the easier it was.

The energy radiating from the Gate tingled against their skin. Staring intently at the red-tinged Gate, Kang I-won murmured, “This looks like a B-Grade… maybe C+.”

“Is that so? Should be manageable with this many people.”

“Don’t get too cocky, everyone.”

“You hear that, Young-ho?”

“I wasn’t getting cocky!”

At that moment, monsters began to pour out of the Gate in waves, and with a battle cry, Han Kang-jin raised his shield and charged forward, followed closely by Kang I-won.

This C+-Grade Gate produced 26 monsters every three hours. Though each monster wasn’t difficult to deal with, their frequent appearances required constant reinforcements.

On the third day, after eight teams had been rotating shifts to hold off the monsters, Kim Young-ho collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion during his break.

“Ugh… I think I’m really going to die…”

Kang I-won, who was also sprawled on the floor, replied in an indifferent tone.

“People don’t die that easily.”

“Are you seriously going to say that too, Sunbae…?”

With a look of betrayal, Kim Young-ho stared at him, his eyes wide. Taking a big gulp of water, Choi Soo-bin slapped Kang I-won’s back and laughed.

“He’s right. People, especially Espers like us, don’t die that easily. You think you’re done for, but somehow, you survive.”

“But why slap my back?”

“Because it’s right there.”

Watching Kang I-won and Choi Soo-bin bicker, Kim Young-ho turned his gaze toward a Team 9 Esper receiving guiding from their dedicated guide with a look of envy and asked Han Kang-jin, “Team Leader, when are we getting a dedicated guide?”

Han Kang-jin’s face darkened as he replied, “I’ve been pushing the higher-ups, but…”

With a furrowed brow, he continued, “No idea when it’ll happen. Guides are in short supply everywhere. For now, at least we have Guide Heo Do-kyung as a temporary replacement.”

At the mention of Heo Do-kyung, Kim Young-ho thought back to his initial impression of him. From the start, Heo Do-kyung was consistent—minimal conversation, only touching with gloved hands, and conducting guiding sessions with swift precision.

He was polite enough, maintaining a professional smile, yet somehow difficult to approach. Every attempt at small talk was met with curt replies, making conversation feel like running into a wall.

Kim Young-ho sighed.

“Guide Heo Do-kyung is good, much better than the last temporary guide we had. But he’s honestly so hard to get close to. I get that he has mysophobia and dislikes Espers, but every time I try to be friendly, he just gives these short replies. He’s always polite, yet there’s this cold, standoffish vibe…”

“Feels like he’s a bit of a jerk?”

“Yes! He’s so annoyi—wait, no, that’s not what I mean!”

The words slipped out thanks to Choi Soo-bin’s comment, and a startled Kim Young-ho sat up, immediately backtracking. Realizing he’d said too much, he slumped back down, his voice tinged with defeat.

“Honestly, I preferred Eun-young noona. She was way friendlier, responded warmly whenever I talked to her, and the atmosphere was always cheerful during guiding…”

Han Kang-jin, in a tone of mild reprimand, reminded him, “Young-ho, a guide’s job isn’t customer service. Their role is just to guide you effectively.”

Kim Young-ho rolled his eyes, adding in his defense, “I know, but my sync rate with her was way higher, too…”

Choi Soo-bin nodded thoughtfully. “True, wasn’t it almost 80% with her?”

“Not quite, it was 79%.”
“What about Heo Do-kyung?”

“61 percent. See, with guides, it’s all about the matching rate, not the grade. Guide Heo Do-kyung may be S-Class, but since his match rate is low, I honestly feel like Eun-young unnie’s guiding was much better.”

Kim Young-ho sighed deeply, sounding almost regretful.

“And Eun-young unnie would even allow hugs now and then, but Guide Heo Do-kyung? Forget hugs—he even wears gloves when we shake hands! It always feels… incomplete, like something’s missing. Just when things are starting to feel better, the guiding stops abruptly, leaving this lingering discomfort… what’s the word for this feeling?”

“Like, you know, when you, uh… don’t clean up properly after going to the bathroom?”

“Do you have to put it like that…?” Kim Young-ho grimaced at Choi Soo-bin’s analogy.

“Why, you got a better one?”

“Well, uh… it’s like drinking a drink with chunks, but you finish the liquid and only the chunks are left? You know what I mean? Like, you drink it all but a few pieces stay at the bottom of the can, and you keep tapping to get them out, but they don’t budge, and in the end, you can’t get them out and it just feels… incomplete.”