IDSEGI Chapter 61

Chapter 61

Yoo Ihan stepped down hard on the shattered remains of the tracking device lying on the ground, grinding them beneath his heel.

Yushin, who had followed behind, swallowed hard at the sight.

That’s one calculating bastard.

How did he even realize a tracker had been planted on him? Yushin already knew Ihan had a fearsome reputation, but he turned out to be sharper than expected. Afraid Ihan might explode with rage, Yushin stole a glance at him.

Contrary to his expectations, Ihan’s expression was calmer than ever. That was when Yushin remembered just how cold and composed Yoo Ihan could be in the field.

Even in an urgent situation like this, Ihan made level-headed decisions. The harder the choice, the less he let emotions cloud his judgment—one of the reasons Zone 1 Espers trusted him so much.

Even if he made a choice that meant abandoning his comrades for the sake of justice, that trust would remain unbroken.

Yushin decided to trust him again this time. Placing a hand on Ihan’s shoulder, Yushin asked just one question.

“Where do we go?”

Ihan, who had been staring at the ground, suddenly lifted his head. His tightly pressed lips parted, and a low voice slipped out.

“Start by sweeping the coastline around here.”

Without hesitation, Yushin followed Ihan’s order. Ihan also headed straight toward the sea.

Earlier, Ihan had already learned from the gang that the man named Chi-ho was a C-Class Esper. More precisely, he had threatened them until they confessed.

“P-please, don’t kill me!”

“Spare me the nonsense. Among the missing bastards, which one’s the spatial-type Esper?”

“T-the scar…”

“The one with the knife scar on his face?”

“N-no. The one without the scar is the spatial-type Esper.”

“What rank?”

“C-Class.”

Being only C-Class, it would be hard for him to transport more than two people over a long distance. That meant they had to still be somewhere nearby.

But “nearby” could mean anything, and Ihan couldn’t be certain. Still, there was a simple reason he confidently said “the sea.”

If it were me, instead of hiding in some concealed place, I’d pick somewhere completely exposed in a situation like this. Lim Juho would’ve thought the same.

That bastard isn’t completely insane, after all.

Not that he wanted to admit it, but sometimes madmen understood each other.

* * *

Following the direction from which the stone had been thrown, Lim Juho and Chi-ho searched every inch of the area, but there wasn’t even an ant in sight, let alone a person.

“There’s no one here. Where did it even come from?”

Chi-ho tilted his head and asked. Lim Juho didn’t answer—he just turned back toward the warehouse.

The warehouse was empty.

Seeing the cold, abandoned space, Lim Juho covered his face with his hands and let out a laugh like a man gone mad. When he lowered his hands, a crooked smirk twisted his lips.

“It’s been a while since I was the seeker, hyung.”

He’d always been the one running away. Chasing someone for once was a new experience. As expected, life with his hyung was never boring.

“Hide real good, hyung. Don’t let even a strand of hair show.”

Because this time, I plan on devouring you from head to toe.

He was speaking lazily to himself when suddenly a hand slammed into him, smashing his head into the wall.

“Gah!”

Pain exploded through him, making his vision spin. With his cheek mashed against the wall, Lim Juho spat out words.

“Kh… Who the hell are you?”

“Freeze tag, you bastard.”

Ihan shoved Lim Juho hard enough that the concrete wall cracked. His hands were violent and merciless, as if he might crush Juho’s skull at any moment.

“Where’s Yeoul?”

Even with blood running down his forehead, Juho only chuckled darkly.

“Already killed him. Why ask?”

Veins bulged along the back of Ihan’s hand. The urge to smash this bastard’s head swelled like a rising tide, but now wasn’t the time—so he pushed it aside.

“Guess I picked the wrong guy to ask.”

Turning, Ihan hurled fire at Chi-ho, who was trying to sneak away.

“Eek!”

“The game’s not over yet. Why the hell are you moving?”

Ihan sent another burst of fire, forcing Chi-ho to scramble and dodge until he tripped hard and knocked himself out.

Ihan let out a disbelieving snort.

“What kind of bastard are you? Are you even an Esper?”

With a curl of his finger, the unconscious Chi-ho—ass in the air—gasped awake.

“Hhhk… Khp.”

Chi-ho writhed under the crushing heat, struggling to breathe.

Ihan slammed Juho into the wall again, then jerked his chin at Chi-ho.

“Talk. Where’s Yeoul?”

Chi-ho trembled under the suffocating pressure, forcing the words out with great difficulty.

“H-he ran away. I was guarding the warehouse and… h-heard a noise outside, khhk, and then… just like that…”

There was no time to hear more. The moment Ihan learned these bastards had let Yeoul escape, he bolted from the warehouse.

“Yeoul!”

Calling his name loudly, Ihan scanned the area around the warehouse. Spotting footprints leading off to the left, he sprinted in that direction.

“Yeoul! Answer me! Yeoul!”

He shouted until his voice threatened to tear, but Yeoul gave no reply.

Where did you go? Please… tell me where you went.

But no one answered. All he had to rely on were the faint footprints stamped into the dirt.

If he followed them, he would surely find Yeoul again. Even in the midst of despair, Ihan clung desperately to that thin thread of hope.

But at the end of the trail, all he found was a pair of shoes tossed carelessly on the ground.

Walking a little further, he saw the sea spread out beneath a cliff. Had Yeoul jumped from here? When could he have fallen? From this height, survival would be unlikely. Was he already dead?

Before such questions could fully form in his mind, Ihan dove into the water. The sea, heavy with gravity, swallowed him whole.

Before he could even properly clear his vision, he instinctively swam toward the sinking figure. Whether it was Yeoul, a piece of a wrecked ship, or a pile of plastic debris, he couldn’t tell with sight alone.

But it was Yeoul. The Yeoul he had been desperately searching for.

“Yeoul!”

Even though the muffled cry would never reach through the water, Yeoul seemed to understand, his eyes fluttering faintly open. In that fleeting moment when their gazes met, countless emotions flashed across Yeoul’s face, but only one remained in the end.

Before losing consciousness, Yeoul reached out his hand toward Ihan.

He wanted to live.

That was the last emotion left in him.

Ihan repeatedly breathed air into Yeoul’s mouth and pressed on his chest without pause. Yet despite his desperate efforts, Yeoul’s complexion grew paler and paler.

He couldn’t lose Yeoul like this. There were too many things left unsaid to let him go now.

I should have told you I loved you more. I should have cherished you more.

Even though he had expressed his love every day, regret still gnawed at him. He hadn’t even realized how much Yeoul had suffered because of him.

But ignorance was no excuse. It was entirely Ihan’s fault—and that was why he had to save him. I’ll atone for the rest of my life, so please, open your eyes.

Even at his desperate plea, Yeoul remained unresponsive.

Anxiety and fear tangled in his chest, dizzying him. At the same time, memories of his time with Yeoul layered over each other like sheets of colored cellophane.

The first time they met. Their first guiding session. The day Yeoul held him in his arms. The moment they finally imprinted.

Not a single memory lacked value. Every moment sparkled like light.

Yeoul, open your eyes.

Open them, please.

The words that couldn’t escape while he gave him breath spilled out instead as tears. Salt mixed with seawater dampened his tongue, but he had no mind to notice. All Ihan could focus on was saving Yeoul.

“Kuhhk, khhk.”

After repeated CPR, Yeoul coughed violently, expelling seawater.

Seeing him regain consciousness, Ihan’s trembling hands pulled his small shoulders into a tight embrace.

“Yeoul… Yeoul…”

When Ihan called his name through sobs, Yeoul gave a faint smile and slowly moved his tongue.

“I…han.”

“Yeoul, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know what you were suffering from… I only thought of my own desires… I’m really sorry.”

Seeing Ihan soaked and crying, Yeoul wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Then he pulled back and placed both hands on Ihan’s cheeks.

“My Ihan… you look handsome even when you cry.”

Yeoul smiled brightly through his tears. Ihan smiled with him, crying as well, and pressed his forehead gently to Yeoul’s.

And then, naturally, their lips met in a slow kiss. There was no emotional sharing between imprinted partners this time, yet they could feel exactly what the other was thinking.

Yeoul, I…

Ihan, I…

I love you.

They always had. They had always loved each other. The layers of misunderstanding were washed away by the tide, leaving only two lovers behind.

In death or in life, beyond the reach of time itself.

Only the lovers who had loved each other, and no one else, remained here.