IDESGI Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Going straight to the administrative team’s office, Kim Eunha leaned his arm on the partition and frowned in irritation.

“So! Why all of a sudden can’t I go to Zone 1?”

The administrative staff member let out a deep sigh, perhaps tired of the string of questions since earlier, and replied half-heartedly.

“I already told you. Zone 1 is under entry restriction because monster poison has spread.”

“I understand restricting entry, but why can’t I even contact them? It’s not like I’m asking for much! Just connect me to the Zone 1 Guide Center. I just want to check if Guide Han Yeoul is doing alright, that’s all!”

“I’m telling you, you can’t even connect right now. The center’s in chaos over there, and they’re so busy trying to handle it that they’re not answering any calls. It’s been nothing but missed calls.”

“How does that make sense? If something like that happened, they should be contacting me for help, not ignoring me!”

Kim Eunha was a researcher with outstanding results in the field of monster poison studies. If poison had spread, it would be natural for them to call him first. But instead, there was no contact at all—just restricted access and ignored calls?

‘Something smells fishy.’

Eunha glanced at the administrative worker, who now kept her eyes fixed on the computer screen, fingers tapping away at the keyboard, as if she had no intention of engaging any further.

With nothing to show for his effort, Eunha had no choice but to trudge back to the lab.

“This is strange, no matter how you think about it.”

To move between zones, you had to get permission. And to travel to another zone, you needed the help of an Esper with teleportation abilities. Because of the risk of monster appearances, moving between zones by car or other transport was nearly impossible.

This process was so cumbersome that inter-zone exchanges were rare—at least for ordinary people.

It was different for Espers or those connected to them. While frequent exchanges didn’t happen, a minimum communication network was always maintained for cooperation requests. Completely losing contact like this was a first.

And that wasn’t the only odd thing. Even if the center was too busy to answer calls, why was it that he couldn’t reach the Guide personally either? It just didn’t make sense.

Eunha leaned loosely against his chair, slouching as he thought things over.

Then a thought struck him.

“Did Han Yeoul put me on spam block?”

Enraged, Eunha shot to his feet. That ungrateful brat! He’d even pretended to believe the most ridiculous things for him!

When Yeoul had talked about having returned from the future, Eunha hadn’t believed a single word.

‘It’s scientifically impossible.’

He was a man of science, through and through. He hadn’t offered to help because he believed that absurd story. He’d actually wondered if it was a case of severe depression causing delusions, planning to subtly introduce him to a psychiatrist later.

“Well. The increased efficiency with Esper Yoon Geon is worth researching.”

Whether Yeoul’s story was true or not, the test results with Yoon Geon were fascinating. The match rate had gone down, but the efficiency had gone up—something that had never happened before.

This was worth reporting to the academic community.

“I need the test results with Ihan so I can compare and analyze them. And he’s not even answering my calls! If he really did put me on spam, Han Yeoul, you’re dead.”

Though his words were harsh, the truth was Eunha was worried about Yeoul. Just how bad must things have gotten for him to spout nonsense about regression and even consider killing himself?

‘Is Ihan not treating him well?’

But Ihan had always treated him well before—was it only on the surface? Surely that wasn’t possible.

Torn between his fan devotion to Ihan and his lingering concern for Yeoul, Eunha made up his mind.

“Let’s check if he’s just avoiding my calls, or if no one can reach him at all.”

If there was someone who might be able to contact Han Yeoul…

“There’s only Esper Yoon Geon.”

Eunha pulled out his phone, scrolling down the screen until he found a certain name. He immediately placed a call. The ringing stopped, and a familiar voice came through the speaker.

—Hello?

“Ah, are you busy right now?”

—I’m fine. What’s up?

“I need to ask you for a favor.”

—What is it?

“Could you give me Esper Yoon Geon’s personal contact number? Since you’re one of the main Guides, you must have it, right?”

The person on the other end was Seo Yeon-oh.

* * *

Yeoul rolled his eyes. No matter how much he looked around the room, there was neither a door nor even a small window in sight.

“Yeoul, no matter how hard you look, there’s no door. Just give it up.”

Ihan whispered from behind, wrapping his arms around Yeoul. Heat flared up inside Yeoul, and he struggled out of Ihan’s hold.

“When are you going to let me out?”

“Hm? You want to go outside? If you promise to do Guiding, we can go out together.”

With a smile, Ihan brushed his fingers against Yeoul’s cheek.

‘A promise to Guide?’

Yeoul’s insides boiled. That damned demand for Guiding again! Whenever he said he wanted to go outside—trying to bait an opportunity to escape—Ihan would always respond like this. Yeoul had no choice but to give in. If he wanted to go out, he had to Guide him.

When Yeoul reluctantly agreed, Ihan would claim it wasn’t enough and keep clinging to him. Maybe their match rate was dropping, because he seemed to need more and more energy. To keep that from being noticed, Yeoul adjusted the amount and Guided him for longer each time.

Still, there had to be a limit to everything!

It was as if Ihan had taken the reins off entirely—he worked Yeoul to exhaustion all night. And when Yeoul complained, Ihan would shamelessly reply with wide, innocent eyes,

“But Yeoul, you begged me for more too.”

Yeoul pressed his lips together. It was true that, thanks to Ihan constantly teasing him in the middle of it, he’d lost his reason and started rubbing against him on his own.

Suppressing his irritation, Yeoul glared at him. Ihan’s cheeks flushed, his eyes narrowing into a sliver.

“When you look at me like that, I get turned on.”

Yeoul twisted his face, lips parting in shocked disbelief.

“You—you…! After all that last night, it’s still not enough for you?”

Ihan’s smile deepened, and he said brazenly,

“For me, it’s never enough when it’s you. If you want to go outside, just say so. As long as you Guide me, I’ll take you out.”

Startled, Yeoul shook his head. If he Guided again now, his back really might give out for good.

“Forget it! I don’t need it!”

“Yeah? Alright.”

Ihan smacked his lips as if disappointed. Yeoul grumbled, patting his aching lower back.

“I’m starving because of you.”

He had been so stressed lately that his appetite had suffered, and he often replaced meals with coffee. He’d lost weight, and his pants had started slipping down.

‘Since coming here, my clothes finally fit.’

When he’d first been locked up, his T-shirt had been loose, but now it fit just right. Not only that—those constant sharp pains in his stomach had eased a lot. After dealing with Ihan’s demands, he often passed out from exhaustion, which had also solved his insomnia.

‘I hadn’t been able to sleep properly for a while.’

The desperate pressure to save Ihan had weighed on him so much that he’d spent night after night in worry and fear. Now that he was eating and sleeping well, the darkness in his complexion had noticeably lightened.

Ihan gave him a light kiss on the forehead and smiled warmly.

“I’ll get the food ready in a minute. Just rest a bit.”

When Ihan left the room, Yeoul let out a sigh.

“…I can’t be wasting time like this.”

‘About a month left.’

The match rate had dropped to 9.98%, leaving little time before Guiding became impossible altogether. Yeoul couldn’t hide his unease and flicked at his nails—accidentally scraping his skin and drawing blood.

“Ugh!”

He stuck his thumb in his mouth, tasting the metallic tang of blood.

“If Ihan sees this, he’ll make a scene again.”

Ihan always overreacted when Yeoul got even the smallest injury. Of course—he’d probably tear up, saying their precious Yeoul had cut his hand. Yeoul gave a short laugh.

“Ihan thinks the world would end if I got hurt. And he probably would.”

But Ihan didn’t know—the world wouldn’t end because of a little injury like this. What would truly end Yeoul’s world was if Yoo Ihan died.

“I have to get out of here somehow.”

Yeoul’s eyes filled with a heavy shadow. Those dark, sorrow-tinged feelings kept gnawing at him. The thought that he had to die stabbed at his conscience every moment.

To save Yoo Ihan, I have to die.

In the first round, he and Ihan had worked together, racking their brains to find a way out of the crisis. And not just Ihan—dozens of skilled researchers had joined in, trying to figure out why the match rate was dropping. But it had all been futile.

In the end, Ihan had died without ever knowing the reason. Telling him now wouldn’t help—if anything, like in the second round, Ihan would try to kill himself to save Yeoul instead.

So this burden was his alone to bear. Even if every breath brought the crushing pain of his heart being squeezed.

Slowly, Yeoul got to his feet and searched every corner of the room. He felt along the floor and ran his hands over the walls. He checked behind the bed, but there was no door.

“Phew, where is it?”

It wasn’t supposed to be custom-built, so there had to be a door somewhere. Maybe it was from bending over too much, but his back throbbed sharply, and he sank down to the floor. Leaning back, his head bumped against the wall.

“Ugh!”

Rubbing his head with a small groan, a sudden thought struck him.

‘The inside of the wall… feels hollow?’