DPGR 15

Jiho’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the tray on the table.

Two mugs were expected, but five plates of cake? That he hadn’t seen coming.

When Jiho couldn’t tear his eyes away from the cakes, Dojin spoke.

“You didn’t eat much for breakfast either.”

Not much? Me?

Jiho tilted his head, thinking back to what he’d had that morning—

Half a bowl of Chinese-style fried rice, two bites of black bean noodles, five pieces of sweet and sour pork, and three chili shrimp.

Compared to when he was at the illegal facility or even at the Center before regression, he’d eaten a lot.

Dojin had coaxed and nudged him into every extra bite, but apparently even that hadn’t been enough for Dojin.

“Go ahead.”

Dojin pushed one of the cake plates toward Jiho and even handed him a fork directly.

With things like that, Jiho couldn’t refuse anymore. Well, the cake did look pretty good too.

Nom.

He scooped up some whipped cream with his fork and put it into his mouth.

The thick, milky cream melted on his tongue.

Jiho, who had looked almost overwhelmed by the unexpected dessert spread, now had a sparkle in his eyes.

Unlike earlier, when he cautiously tested just the whipped cream, this time he boldly cut into the cake and took a big bite.

Dojin smiled contentedly and slid one of the mugs toward him.

“You might choke on it. Drink this too.”

“Mm…?”

Jiho glanced at it as if asking what it was, and Dojin answered,

“Strawberry latte. Basically, strawberry milk.”

He added that it was a staff recommendation. Jiho obediently picked up the mug and brought it to his lips.

Sip.

The sweet flavor was pleasant.

As Jiho continued sipping the drink from a cup nearly the size of his face, Dojin slid another cake plate toward him.

Though he was getting full, he was starting to believe that saying about having a separate stomach for dessert.

Jiho focused completely on eating, barely lifting his head—

Except when Dojin would occasionally reach out to wipe cream from the corner of his mouth.

He was fully absorbed in the sweetness of dessert when—

“Ah, one moment. I’ve got a call.”

Dojin politely excused himself. His phone was buzzing insistently in his hand.

When Jiho nodded, Dojin answered it.

“Yeah, what’s going on—”

—“Team Leader! You’re at Forest Café right now, aren’t you?!”

The voice on the other end was so loud that even Jiho could hear it.

Dojin winced and pulled the phone away from his ear. Then, in a slightly amused tone, he asked:

“How’d you know?”

—“SNS is blowing up with people saying they saw you! Something about walking around with a tiny kid—wait, is it that Guide from before?”

Jiho’s name came up in the conversation.

He glanced up at Dojin, who gave him a sheepish smile and quickly turned the volume down.

“Yeah. Mm. Yeah, it’s fine. What else…?”

The other voice was no longer audible, but Dojin’s expression and tone gave away the gist.

Sounds like his teammates, Jiho thought, chewing a mouthful of chocolate cake.

Unlike most Espers who kept things strictly professional with their teams, the Alpha Team had a kind of familial bond.

And Jiho knew that better than anyone. After all—When Baek Dojin was lying unconscious in the bunker, all of his team was there.

Faint memories floated to the surface—

“P-please, save our team leader… please…”

“T-Team Leader!”

“Team Leader!”

The big man who cried uncontrollably, the woman who turned pale and stamped her feet, and the slim man who clung to Dojin’s bedside, calling his name with desperation.

They had all despaired when Dojin was dying.

It had left Jiho’s chest heavy with emotion.

They must’ve always been close, Jiho thought, sipping his strawberry latte as he returned to eating.

Meanwhile, Dojin’s call continued.

“It’s not a date. Don’t start with that. Go back to training. Yeah. Mm. Is Yulchan there, too?”

Dojin’s voice dropped a little. After a short pause, he carefully asked,

“Is Yulchan doing okay?”

Yulchan—a name Jiho had heard a few times before. The Alpha Team’s support Esper.

Dojin chuckled awkwardly and asked to be put on with Yulchan.

After a short wait, it sounded like Yulchan had taken the call.

Dojin spoke again, sounding slightly embarrassed, slightly concerned.

“You’re feeling alright? Hm, it’s nothing serious… just, I had a weird dream last night.

There’s no news about a dungeon, is there? Rainforest-type terrain. Yeah.

It showed up in my dream. The scale was small, but there was a monster way too big for that type.

It’s probably just a silly dream, but… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Tropical rainforest dungeon? A large monster?

Jiho’s fork froze midair. The words coming out of Dojin’s mouth weighed on his mind. Especially the way he deliberately brought up an Esper named Yulchan and expressed concern about his health.

“No way…?”

Jiho’s expression darkened. The look in his eyes as he stared at Dojin was far from normal, but Dojin remained completely unaware.

On the way home, Jiho was lost in thought.

Tropical rainforest dungeon, large monster, Yulchan, dream.

He couldn’t know the exact contents of the dream Dojin claimed to have, but the scattered words were enough for Jiho to piece together a rough idea.

“One of the support Espers from Alpha Team retired due to an accident, didn’t they?”

A B-rank small dungeon had appeared in the sea off Incheon. The rank wasn’t particularly high, but because it was underwater, the terrain was unpredictable and tricky to deal with.

In the end, Alpha Team was tasked with clearing it. During the operation, one of the Espers was seriously injured and forced into early retirement.

Was it that his leg had been crushed?

Even Jiho, who spent most of his time in the Guiding Room, had only heard vague rumors.

“That dungeon was supposed to have a tropical rainforest terrain.”

As far as he could recall, that incident was something that should occur about a year from now. It was a long way off, so Jiho couldn’t understand how Dojin had dreamed of it.

Could it be… he had the same dream before the regression?

That thought crossed his mind for a moment, but he quickly shook his head. Given Dojin’s personality, if he’d had a dream like that before, he would’ve felt déjà vu and tried to protect Yulchan in reality.

That meant he hadn’t had the dream before the regression.

Or… is he dreaming of events from before the regression? If so, does that mean he might regain his memories?

Strangely, Jiho felt a flicker of hope. If Dojin truly remembered both the past and the future, then perhaps Jiho was part of those memories too.

He liked the current Dojin just fine, but sometimes he ached for the old Dojin—the one who used to quietly come find him to spend time together.

Wait, still… I shouldn’t get my hopes up. It might just be a coincidence. More importantly…

Jiho glanced sideways at Dojin. He was driving with a clueless expression on his face.

Jiho remembered how much Dojin had changed after Yulchan’s retirement in the previous timeline.

He grew quieter, like someone drained of emotion. Blunt, withdrawn…

He almost never smiled the way he did now. He remained kind to Jiho, but to others, he built a wall of stone.

Jiho knew that Dojin had suffered under the weight of guilt. It was a future he had forgotten while focusing only on saving him as his designated guide.

It hasn’t happened yet.

Maybe, just maybe, he could change that future. If the Esper named Yulchan stayed safe, then Dojin might live a happier life than he did before the regression.

To change the future…

Jiho started recalling every major event from the future he remembered.

Looking back, Yulchan’s injury wasn’t even the worst of it. Far bigger catastrophes had followed.

Most of them were beyond the power of one person to stop, but maybe, just maybe, he could help by taking the initiative.

With renewed resolve, Jiho glanced at Dojin’s profile again.

It’s not enough to just keep him alive. I need to figure out what I can do… to make Baek Dojin happy.

***

Back at home, while Dojin unpacked the groceries, Jiho wandered around the house.

He was looking for a place to be alone.

This spot will do.

Avoiding Dojin’s eyes, he slipped into a narrow utility room. Clutching a pink notebook and a yellow pencil, Jiho settled into a corner and curled up.

Flip—scritch scritch—

The pencil in his hand moved quickly. Even if Dojin saw it, Jiho made sure the handwriting was deliberately messy—so messy it couldn’t be deciphered.