DP Episode 132

Episode 132

Two humans submerged in a long cylindrical tank were entwined as if they had been preserved in that state.

Beep, beep, beep. Hee-min had been staring at the undulating biometric waves for hours without moving.

Seven days had passed since Cha Yeon-woo and Ji Seo-joon were rescued from the final Gate site.

That tank was a piece of emergency equipment airlifted from NASA. It had taken roughly a day to arrive, and that day had been the most critical for both Cha Yeon-woo and Ji Seo-joon.

At the time, Cha Yeon-woo had been buried in the Gate for three days, while Ji Seo-joon had been little more than a walking corpse—his incomplete internal organs exposed, his body barely held together by patches of skin.

Yet now, Ji Seo-joon’s body was almost perfectly reconstructed, and the two remained submerged in a state of deep pivot.

“Director Kang.”

Song-hee approached him, offering an Americano. Hee-min silently accepted it and turned his gaze back to the monitor.

“Have you eaten?”

Song-hee glanced at the untouched lunchbox nearby.

“I’ll take notes for you, so please eat something.”

“I’ll eat later.”

Hee-min responded curtly, recording the charts. Song-hee sighed and sat beside him.

“You’re going to make yourself sick, Director Kang. You can’t die before winning the Nobel Prize.”

Despite her joke, Hee-min didn’t smile. But Song-hee genuinely believed he might win a Nobel Prize someday.

It had been ten days since Ji Seo-joon self-destructed at the Mega Tower site.

And remarkably, it had also been ten days since any emergency disaster alerts had announced a new Gate opening.

In other words, it had been ten days since the Gates disappeared.

This was the reason Hee-min, though dismissed from his position as research director, could still linger at the Korean Esper Research Center.

“Seo-joon is no longer a no-named.”

Hee-min compared Ji Seo-joon’s previous records with his current ones.

“He’s completely different now.”

Song-hee’s eyes caught the matching rate displayed at the bottom of the biometric wave monitor: 100%.

“…He’s become an ordinary human being.”

Given that their previous matching rate had been 98.8%, the gap of 1.2% filled in was staggering. As a medical student, Song-hee knew all too well how significant a 1.2% margin could be.

Ji Seo-joon was no longer a no-named, nor was he an Esper. The “No-named Ji Seo-joon” had vanished with the exploding Gate, and what remained now was a wholly new being—crafted from head to toe by Cha Yeon-woo alone.

A newborn human.

“Song-hee, what do you think this means?”

Hee-min, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, looked at Song-hee. It had only been ten days—too soon for any definitive conclusions—but they both shared similar thoughts.

“I’m not sure.”

They were certain of one thing: the no-named had disappeared. The Gates no longer opened.

What remained uncertain was whether the two in the tank would wake up unscathed.

Would Ji Seo-joon’s body function like that of a normal human?

And what about Cha Yeon-woo, who had molded him to this extent using only his guiding ability? Would he remain intact?

‘Director, if anything happens to me… please take care of Jeong-woo.’

‘He’s a good kid, obedient and smart. If you promise me this—just this—I’ll keep this equipment running and stay by Lieutenant Ji’s side to the end.’

Hee-min recalled Yeon-woo’s quiet plea as he attached NASA’s biometric wave chips in the helicopter. He had sworn to treat Jeong-woo like family.

The expression Yeon-woo had worn in that moment would remain etched in Hee-min’s memory forever: a mix of deep relief and the hopeful anticipation of finally reuniting with his lover.

Though Yeon-woo had confidently claimed he could guide Seo-joon, he had also fully understood that he had nearly a 100% chance of dying in the process.

‘It would be better if Yeon-woo himself could look after him. If only they could both survive, together.’

Staring at Yeon-woo, still unmoving in the tank, Hee-min silently prayed.

“Director, let’s pray.”

Their prayers were far from over. Within the tank, the two humans remained intertwined, utterly tranquil, as if they had been so since the beginning of time.

Chapter 8.

Aggie.

It was a day when the snow fell in great, heavy flakes.

Pale blue eyes fluttered open and closed, struggling to focus. A faint white mist slowly formed and disappeared inside the respirator.

“Yeon-woo, can you hear me?”

At Hee-min’s voice, the half-open eyes shifted slightly toward him.

“I think he can hear us.”

Song-hee whispered excitedly from beside him.

The hospital room where Cha Yeon-woo lay was filled with people besides Hee-min and Song-hee. Colonel Jin, Jin Cheong-oh, and Hong Yeong-gyo were present, having rushed over after hearing from the on-duty researcher that Cha Yeon-woo had woken up at dawn.

Yeon-woo had blinked once before falling unconscious again for several hours. It wasn’t until midday that his eyes fully opened.

“Yeon-woo, it’s January now.”

Hee-min’s voice trembled as he tried to suppress his emotions. His tearful eyes crinkled into something resembling a smile.

“The year changed while you were sleeping.”

“Kid, you’re twenty-one now.”

“Our baby’s all grown up!”

Voices chimed in from various corners of the room, but Yeon-woo didn’t react. He simply blinked, his expression blank. A sudden fear gripped Hee-min—what if there was an issue with his cognitive abilities? He was about to speak again when Yeon-woo’s lips moved.

“Lieutenant….”

His barely audible murmur made Hee-min lean closer, his ears straining.

“Lieutenant Ji….”

Relief swept through the room, and someone audibly sighed. Tears finally spilled down Hee-min’s cheeks as he nodded.

“Seo-joon is fine. He woke up even before you did.”

“…Really?”

Yeon-woo’s breath fogged up the respirator with each word. Confirming that he could communicate fully, Hee-min’s tears flowed freely. Everyone else shared the emotional relief, but Yeon-woo alone remained calm, blinking as if absorbing the news.

“I want to….”

“Yes?”

“I want to see him…. I want to see the lieutenant….”

Yeon-woo’s hand, with an IV needle still inserted, lifted weakly. Hee-min grasped it tightly and nodded repeatedly. Of course, they would go see him. At that moment, there was nothing Yeon-woo could ask that Hee-min wouldn’t grant.

“Can you stand, Yeon-woo?”

“Yes… if someone helps me….”

Hee-min held his hand firmly, but Yeon-woo’s strength was so faint that he couldn’t support himself. Jin Cheong-oh stepped forward quietly to assist, helping Yeon-woo rise.

“Ugh….”

Yeon-woo groaned, furrowing his brow. With the respirator removed, he leaned on those supporting him and slowly lowered his feet to the floor. For the first time in what felt like forever, his feet touched solid ground.

“Yeon-woo, how are you feeling? Better?”

Hee-min shone a flashlight into his eyes, checking his vitals.

“…I think seeing the lieutenant will make me feel better.”

It wasn’t a particularly funny joke, but the others laughed anyway. Only Yeon-woo remained serious, letting Hee-min examine him without complaint. After a long moment of assessment, Hee-min finally patted his shoulder lightly.

“Alright, Yeon-woo, let’s go see Seo-joon. Sound good?”

“Yes.”

Hee-min took a deep breath, exhaling heavily, his expression clouding slightly.

“But, uh, Yeon-woo….”

The calm, unwavering gaze of pale blue eyes seemed to bore into him, making Hee-min hesitate. He finally looked away, fumbling for the right words.

“Seo-joon… he did wake up, but….”

Seo-joon had woken three days before Yeon-woo. However…

“There’s a bit of… an issue.”

Hee-min emphasized “a bit,” gauging Yeon-woo’s reaction. Yeon-woo blinked slowly, processing.

“What… kind of issue?”

✽✽✽

“Seo-joon.”

Seo-joon sat perched on the edge of the bed, staring out the window. Yeon-woo watched his back, his gaze searching for something familiar.

“Ji Seo-joon.”

Even at Hee-min’s call, Seo-joon showed no sign of turning around. A soft, hissing sound escaped between Hee-min’s front teeth and tongue.

“…”

Only then did Seo-joon’s head tilt slightly, though his body remained unmoving. Yeon-woo’s unsteady steps toward him mirrored the trembling uncertainty in his eyes.

“Lieutenant.”

As Yeon-woo circled around to face Seo-joon, their eyes finally met. It had taken them both such an agonizing journey to arrive here, face to face once more.

The gray eyes that landed on Yeon-woo widened dramatically. Beep, beep, beep. The sound from the heart monitor connected to Seo-joon spiked sharply.

“Uh, Yeon-woo, you shouldn’t approach him so suddenly—”

Seo-joon flinched, his hand yanking on the IV line as he recoiled. The IV stand wobbled precariously, clattering noisily as it nearly toppled over.

Yeon-woo froze, staring at Seo-joon. He had never seen the lieutenant look at him like this before—as though he were a wild animal caught in the gaze of a predator. Seo-joon scrambled to the corner of the bed, his entire body radiating alarm.

“Well… He’s been particularly wary of larger people,” Hee-min offered awkwardly.

“You’ll have to approach him slowly, Yeon-woo.”

Turning toward Hee-min, Yeon-woo’s voice shook as he asked,

“…Why is my lieutenant acting like this?”