DPGR 115

Dojin closed his eyes, exhaustion plain on his face. Just then, the Esper Director’s secretary entered.

“Um, Esper Director. Did you see the news? We just got a call from the embassy.”

The Esper Director took the phone from the secretary. Kwak Jiheon quickly pulled out his own phone to check the article.

It hadn’t even been two weeks since the investigation into the Nevada dungeon had begun.

“What… what the hell is this? They said we’d have at least one to three months.”

“They did warn the timeline could be moved up. I didn’t expect it to be this soon either.”

“Ha… wait, don’t tell me the next dual dungeon is also…”

Dojin shook his head with a helpless look that said he didn’t know either. Kwak Jiheon knew pressing him wouldn’t yield any new answers.

Still, with danger looming right around the corner, he couldn’t help but want to push his beloved student.

Hadn’t he already lost a precious son to a dungeon break?

If they failed to stop the final dungeon, that hell would repeat itself all over again.

And next time, not only would Dojin—whom he cherished like a son—be lost, but likely every person on Earth as well.

“I don’t remember it, but… I’ve supposedly been through this twice already.”

A wave of anxiety squeezed the air from his lungs.

“For now, that’s all the information I have,” Dojin said, shifting slightly as if to stand. Kwak Jiheon stopped him.

“You’re really not going to tell anyone? At the very least, we should talk to the other national centers.”

“…I just don’t want Guide Jiho to know that I’m regaining my memories. At least not for now. As long as that part doesn’t reach his ears, you’re free to tell anyone else.”

“Alright. Something like this needs to be shared with those involved as soon as possible so we can start looking for a solution.”

After saying this, Kwak Jiheon looked at Dojin and asked, “Do your teammates know?”

“…Not sure.”

“You should tell them yourself. Better for them to hear it directly from you than to be caught off guard by someone else.”

“…Yes. I’ll do that.”

Dojin bowed slightly. The Esper Director was too absorbed in the call to even notice his goodbye.

So Kwak Jiheon saw Dojin and Heendungi out in his place.

“Bring the kid and come visit sometime.”

“Sure. If I have time.”

“Alright. And—Fox… ahem. Heendungi, see you next time too.”

Heendungi, now back in his white fox form, let out a loud yip.

Maybe because he knew they were going back to Jiho, he seemed to be in a much better mood than before.

With the fox wagging his tail beside him, Dojin stepped out of the director’s office.

Click—

As the door closed, Kwak Jiheon—who had started to rise—suddenly collapsed onto the couch as if his legs had given out.

“God… the end of the world…”

The shock he’d barely managed to suppress crept back onto his face. With Dojin gone, there was no reason to hide it anymore.

“This is the final chance we’ve been given, after two failed ones… but will it really be enough this time…?”

Sinking deep into the back of the sofa, Kwak Jiheon closed his eyes.

“Maybe… maybe I’ll be able to see him again soon.”

The face of his long-dead son surfaced faintly, then faded. His emotions were a mess.

***

Meanwhile, Jiho was sitting with the Alpha team, enjoying a cheerful meal.

It was just a modest gathering with various takeout dishes spread around, but thanks to Kijoon’s excitement, it had been dubbed the “Welcome Home Guide Jiho!” party.

“Guide Jiho, please eat up. You’ve gotten so thin while we weren’t looking.”

“Y-yeah. Th-thank you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. If you want anything else, just say the word!”

As always, the mood was warm and friendly. Though they were curious about Jiho’s health, they refrained from asking anything, knowing it might make him uncomfortable.

Thanks to their quiet consideration, Jiho was able to laugh and chat with ease.

But as the food began to disappear and small talk filled the room…

“By the way, it seems the Captain and Heendungi have gotten really close? I mean, he even took Heendungi with him to the director’s office.”

Yulchan, sipping on a soda, made the remark absentmindedly, but Jiho froze mid-bite and slowly lowered his doughnut.

It sounded like a passing comment, but Jihye, who had a similar curiosity, chimed in and the conversation picked up.

“Right? I even bought dog chews for Heendungi…”

“Maybe they bonded after rolling through that S-class dungeon together.”

Knowing why Dojin had taken Heendungi with him, Jiho started to feel the weight of his teammates’ gazes.

No one directly asked him about Dojin or Heendungi, but it felt like he owed them some sort of answer.

‘But… is this something I’m allowed to say?’

He really should’ve talked to Dojin about it first.

But right before they’d come back to Korea, they’d had a fight, a confession, a kiss—and no real conversation.

As Jiho stewed over it in silence, inwardly calling out to Dojin—

“Is everyone done eating?”

The door to the team room opened, and Dojin stepped inside, looking slightly worn out.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Like they say, speak of the devil…

“Hyung…!”

Jiho, who’d just been thinking about him, lit up instantly and smiled wide.

Dojin seemed a bit surprised to be greeted so warmly.

He’d expected Jiho to be shy and blushing, or at least sneaking glances at him like before they parted.

And while all of those reactions were cute in their own way, nothing beat this—being welcomed with a beaming smile by someone he loved.

“Guide Jiho.”

With a gentle smile, Dojin walked over and brushed the donut crumbs from Jiho’s lips.

“Did you enjoy your meal?”

“Y-yes!”

Jiho, blushing, grabbed Dojin’s hand and brushed off the crumbs clinging to his fingers.

The thought of having food on his mouth—and letting Dojin see it—suddenly made him feel unbearably shy.

“I’m glad. You’re not too tired, are you?”

“I-I’m fine.”

“Good. Then just a little while longer… I need to talk to the team. Once we’re done, we’ll head home.”

Nod, nod.

Jiho nodded and lifted his hips slightly, intending to scoot over and make room for Dojin.

But Dojin was quicker.

“Up you go.”

With a small grunt, he scooped Jiho up—who had barely lifted himself—and sat down in the spot Jiho had just vacated.

Jiho naturally ended up sitting in his lap.

“H-Hyung…?”

“Yes. Just wait here for a bit.”

Dojin didn’t even flinch. The team members stared at him in disbelief, just as surprised and flustered as Jiho, but Dojin remained completely unbothered by their stares.

“Captain, there’s a seat right here, though,” Kijoon said, patting the empty spot next to him.

Dojin merely raised an eyebrow.

“I know.”

“Then why… ugh. Never mind.”

As Dojin looked at him with a quiet smile, Kijoon gave up and shook his head.

The rest of the team whispered among themselves, wondering if Dojin was being overly protective because of Jiho’s injury.

“Hm. First, I need to talk about something important,” Dojin said, tapping the table with his fingertips to get their attention.

Even while whispering among themselves, the team members quickly went quiet at the captain’s words and focused on him.

Dojin looked over them one by one, searching for the right words.

He hadn’t yet fully organized his thoughts, unsure where to begin.

But the hesitation didn’t last long.

His mouth slowly opened, and words came spilling out—less polished than usual, but clear and unfiltered.

At first, the team’s reactions varied: confusion, shock, suspicion.

Some thought Dojin was joking in a way that didn’t sound like him, and others questioned whether he was mentally stable.

But as his story continued, everything began to click into place, and the team members sat frozen, mouths agape and eyes wide.

And finally—

“Wait, a god? Are you saying there’s really a god? And monsters that can turn into humans…?”

“Regression… Captain, you’re not just telling us some sci-fi story, right?”

“Damn… dual dungeons? Hold on—does that mean Earth has been destroyed twice already?”

“And this is our final chance…?”

As Yulchan muttered the last line, silence blanketed the team room.

Everyone’s faces had turned pale.

Jiho, still sitting quietly on Dojin’s lap, looked nervously around at his teammates, unsettled by the sudden heaviness in the air.

Just moments ago, everyone had been smiling and relaxed. Now their faces were lined with despair. Jiho’s heart ached at the sight.

‘They must be really shaken…’

Unlike Jiho, who worried about the team, Dojin remained calm. Finishing what he had to say, he stood up with Jiho in tow.

“For now, keep your mouths shut. Don’t let any of this leak. Alpha Team will resume official duties next week. This week, everyone rest. That’s all.”

With that, he led Jiho out of the team room.

Still a bit dazed, Jiho followed along down the hallway, glancing back at the door multiple times.

“Hyung, is it really okay for us to just leave? Everyone looked really shocked…”

“They’ll need time to process. They’re not children—don’t worry.”

“Still…”

Jiho glanced back again, only to stop short when Dojin came to a sudden halt and looked straight at him.

Startled, Jiho blinked up at him.

Then, from above, Dojin’s low voice came down—quiet, laced with both amusement and mischief.

“More importantly, don’t we have a lot we need to talk about?”

“W-what?”

Flustered, Jiho’s voice squeaked. Dojin let out a soft chuckle and gently rubbed Jiho’s now-reddening earlobe with his fingertip.

“From what I saw earlier, you’ve had plenty to eat. Right?”

“…Hic!”

Dojin’s gaze brushed along Jiho’s jawline. Jiho trembled like a rabbit dropped in front of a starving predator.

Dojin’s hand slipped from his ear and trailed down Jiho’s neck.

“…Shall we go?”

Jiho had the terrifying feeling that if he said no, something irreversible might happen right here and now.

He looked from Dojin to the team room door… then back to Dojin, and finally gave a small nod.

“Y-yes…”

He’d been thinking about what kind of conversation they needed to have.

But when Dojin said softly, with a strangely intimate tone,

“We’ll be spending the whole week together, just the two of us,”

Jiho’s mind instantly went blank.