DMG Episode 8

“Doesn’t sound quite the same.”

“It’s close, though, isn’t it?”

“Just stick with the bathroom one—it’s short and straightforward. Anyway, that’s not the point. My match rate with both Eun-young and Guide Heo Do-kyung is pretty similar, so honestly, Guide Heo Do-kyung is definitely better. But since the contact isn’t direct, I don’t feel a huge difference.”

Choi Soo-bin gave Kang I-won a few playful pokes on the arm and asked,

“Hey, Kang I-won. How was it for you? It must’ve been good with such a high match rate, right?”

Kang I-won nodded slightly.

‘Is that even a question?’ Heo Do-kyung’s guiding was on a completely different level compared to anything he’d experienced before. For the first time, he understood why so many Espers were so fixated on finding “their guide” or imprinting with one.

“Exactly, with guides, match rate matters way more than grade. I wish I could experience guiding from a high-match guide just once,” Choi Soo-bin sighed.

Most Espers assumed that a guide with a high grade would automatically be the best option. But when the grade difference wasn’t vast, match rate became the more critical factor.

Think of it this way: an Esper is like a machine, and a guide is a repair technician. The Esper’s wave state indicates how broken or stable the “machine” is.

In this analogy, guiding is the “repair.” A guide instinctively knows how to fix every type of machine as soon as their abilities manifest. But just knowing the repair methods doesn’t mean every guide can fix every machine to perfection. There are countless machine types, each requiring a different level of skill.

This skill level corresponds to the match rate, and the higher it is, the better the repair quality.

For the same machine, a skilled repairman with a high match rate can restore it to near-original condition, while one with a low match rate might barely keep it functional.

This is why Espers go to great lengths to find a high-match guide. With them, they feel an instinctive stability and comfort as their disrupted state is restored.

But then, does grade not matter at all for a guide? That’s not entirely accurate.

A guide’s grade reflects how many types of machines they can repair and the quality of their tools. Superior tools lead to better guiding, much like how repairing a complex machine is easier with a full toolkit than just a screwdriver.

In this analogy, a guide’s grade represents their unique aura and skillset, which divide them into classes.

So, both grade and match rate are essential for a guide.

After a lengthy discussion about guides and guiding, the topic shifted. The more they discussed guides, the more painfully aware they became of their still-vacant permanent guide position.

As they rested, Kim Young-ho asked, “Team Leader, how long do we have to keep this up?”

“Didn’t they teach you that in training?”

“Oh, come on, that was ages ago. Besides, I’ve been at this for half a year now!” he replied proudly, his fresh-faced confidence shining through. It was typical for rookie Espers fresh out of training to die on their first mission, so he had every reason to feel proud of his survival.

Han Kang-jin, humoring him, answered, “I don’t know either.”

“What? Really?”

“Who would know? With a Wave-Type Gate, you just hold on until it disappears.”

“…Wait, seriously? I-won hyung, is that true?”

“Yeah.” Kang I-won nodded.

A Wave-Type Gate typically vanished in three or four days, though that wasn’t always the case.

Some disappeared in a day, others lingered for a week or two, and one infamous Gate in the U.S. had lasted a grueling 97 days. The duration was unpredictable.

Seeing the rookie’s lack of knowledge, Han Kang-jin launched into a short lecture, which Kim Young-ho endured with a pained expression, while the rest of Team 5 ignored him entirely.

Eventually, Han Kang-jin ended the lesson. “Alright, time to get up. Our shift’s next.”

“Oh… I really think I’m going to die,” Kim Young-ho muttered.

Kang I-won let out a sigh and got to his feet, his clothes full of holes, allowing the cold air to bite at his skin. His body, aching and sore from accumulated strain, shivered as the wind grazed his wounds.

Kang I-won clenched and unclenched his trembling hand due to a lack of guiding, before following Han Kang-jin. Their rest time was over.

On the fifth day after the Gate appeared, as the last monster fell, the Gate swirled inward, shrinking to a small dot before disappearing entirely. Though many were injured, thankfully, there were no fatalities.

Half of the Espers collapsed on the ground, while others lay flat, and a few rare ones stretched their limbs stiffly.

The two on-site guides moved between the dozens of Espers, providing guiding to those who urgently signaled for help.

Lying on his back, Kang I-won pulled out a guiding drug from his pocket, hands shaking. It had thankfully survived the ordeal unscathed. As he tore open the packaging, Choi Soo-bin, lying nearby, frowned.

“Hey, I told you not to use that stuff. Can’t you wait until Heo Do-kyung comes back from his day off? You could just ask one of the on-site guides over there.”

“I need it now.”

Without hesitation, Kang I-won uncapped the syringe and injected it into his thigh with practiced ease.

The drug quickly spread from his thigh muscles, seeping through his entire body.

The feeling after injecting guiding drugs is somewhat like sleep paralysis.

Your mind remains sharp, but no matter how hard you try, your body doesn’t respond. Each person reacts differently, but side effects are common.

For Kang I-won, the side effect was usually shortness of breath. His chest felt as though a heavy weight was pressing on it, his breathing became labored, and it felt like something was choking him. At the same time, the erratic waves in his body gradually calmed.

As if his life force were ebbing, his waves slowly stilled, suppressed by the drug.

After about three minutes, the chaotic waves were somewhat pacified, and their activity slowed. Only then was he able to move again, though breathing remained challenging.

Watching him with a scrutinizing gaze, still lying on the ground, Choi Soo-bin asked, “Why do you keep using that stuff when you’ve got a perfectly good temporary guide?”

“It’s a habit.”

“Break that damn habit, will you?” Choi Soo-bin turned his head in exasperation. Kang I-won, unbothered, capped the needle and tucked the empty syringe into his pocket.

It had been about a year and a half since Kang I-won had been assigned to the Third Branch of Southern Gyeonggi. Here, he could get guiding sessions once every two weeks—something he could only have dreamed of before.

Before this, Kang I-won was mostly sent to places no one else wanted to go. These places were either dangerous, exhausting, or simply too remote.

Assignments like these were typically given to those without families to support or without the “connections” to avoid them. Kang I-won, falling into both categories, had plenty of reasons to keep receiving such placements.

These regions had one thing in common: monsters from undetected Wave-Type or Dungeon-Type Gates would spill into the surrounding areas, hiding in mountains and forests or openly roaming the streets, threatening any sign of life.

Even the centers were hardly safe. Monsters, constantly hunting for prey, would sometimes attack, and it wasn’t rare for defenseless staff members to meet tragic ends.

Guides were already in short supply, and in these high-risk areas, they were almost nonexistent.

Now and then, a guide would enter these death zones out of a sense of duty, but they were few and far between. Most were there for the pay, as the danger bonuses were decent—though even that wasn’t enough.

With so few guides, it wasn’t unusual for a single guide to be assigned to dozens of Espers.

Of course, no single guide could realistically handle that many Espers, so most had no choice but to rely on guiding drugs.

The law required one guiding session every two weeks, but in those places, the law was meaningless. With no guide available, it simply wasn’t enforceable.

As a result, Kang I-won was practically addicted to guiding drugs, only receiving proper guiding when he was on the verge of losing control.

Not everyone in those regions lived on guiding drugs like he did. Most would take every chance to seek guiding from a guide if they could. But Kang I-won, stubbornly refusing to rely on anyone, became accustomed to the drugs instead. Over time, in emergencies, reaching for drugs rather than a guide became his habit.

That habit persisted even after he was transferred to the Third Branch of Southern Gyeonggi, where guides were more available. He still relied on guiding drugs, reserving actual guiding sessions for the bare minimum.

Of course, there was a reason behind this habit.

Espers suffer in many ways when they lack guiding. For some, the effects are mental, while for others, it’s physical—or both.

In Kang I-won’s case, the effects were both.

Mentally, it just made him a little more irritable. Physically, he’d get mild headaches, nausea, and a dull, aching pain like a lingering fever. At those times, it was as if injuries hurt a little less, though it was just an illusion.

Kang I-won was always in pain. He’d simply grown skilled at enduring it; the pain itself had never become familiar.

When it became unbearable, he’d chew on the painkillers he always kept close.

It would be nice if he could take painkillers in advance, but stronger painkillers dulled his mind, slowing his reactions, so he could only take them after a fight—not during or before one.

Of course, even with his mind dulled, Kang I-won wouldn’t die. His regenerative ability wouldn’t allow it.

But his teammates would. His mistakes could easily lead to their deaths.

Pain never became familiar, but losing comrades and surviving alone? That was something he could never get used to.

So, Kang I-won always kept himself on the edge of guiding deficiency. It kept him from hesitating in the face of pain. To do that, guiding drugs were more effective than direct guiding.

But who could he explain any of this to? Kang I-won took a deep breath.

After a short rest, he slowly rose, his body feeling somewhat better. A wave of hunger struck him, and he rummaged through his pockets, only to find an empty wrapper. The realization left him sighing in disappointment.