DPGR 4

Nod, nod.
Thinking of that moment eased Jiho’s mood a little.
When he relaxed and gave a small nod, Dojin let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh and hooked his pinky finger around Jiho’s.

“There. Now I can go, right? Head on over now.”

With things seemingly settled, Park Gitae—who had been standing off to the side—stepped up again and held his hand out toward Jiho.

It was clear he wanted Jiho to take it. But Jiho had no desire to make contact with him.

‘This is just a dream… I’m going to do whatever I want.’

Without even looking at Park Gitae, Jiho turned his head sharply and began limping down the hallway.
Gitae’s stunned voice called out behind him, but Jiho ignored it.

“Hey, hey—wait! You have to come with me!”

Dojin stood watching the two slowly grow smaller in the distance. Only when they had disappeared from view did he finally move.

The overlapping images in his mind—the Jiho who’d cried in his arms, the Jiho who’d shyly held out a pinky promise, the Jiho limping away—unsettled him.

‘I need to hurry.’

His pace toward the staging point quickened.

That day.
Even though there were no monsters involved, Dojin fully unleashed his multiple abilities and destroyed the facility.

Unbeknownst to Jiho, the past had begun to shift—little by little.

⸻

“Hey! Wait up—let’s go together! Hey!”

Despite the pain radiating through his body, Jiho kept walking, trying to ignore the annoyed voice behind him.

It was Park Gitae, trailing closely at his back.

“What, are you small and deaf too…?”

When Jiho continued to ignore him, Gitae, now visibly irritated, reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

“Ah…!”

Unfortunately, it was the dislocated one.
And since Gitae had heard about Jiho’s injury from Dojin earlier, a flicker of regret crossed his face as he immediately let go.

“Come on, I’m just saying we should walk together…”

“Ugh…”

“So why are you ignoring people, huh? Damn it… Hold still. Let me see.”

While Jiho froze in place from the pain, Gitae—without permission—pulled open the front of Jiho’s gown to examine his shoulder.

The loose gown, far too big for Jiho’s small frame, slipped down with no resistance.

“Uuugh…!”

Thankfully, the lower half of his body remained covered, thanks to the waist tie Dojin had secured.
But Jiho’s injured shoulder and one side of his chest were now exposed.

‘No…!’

Startled, Jiho flinched and began to struggle, twisting his body to push Gitae away.
But with his weakened body, it was impossible to push away an Esper like Gitae.

“Wait, you…”

Instead, Gitae caught Jiho’s wrist as it reached toward him.
Then his eyes slowly scanned Jiho’s now-bared chest, a look of confusion forming.

Jiho’s skin wasn’t just pale—it was ashen.
That only made the kiss marks, bite marks, and hand-shaped bruises stand out more vividly.

“Ugh, ugh…”

“…Shit, hold still. Wow. So this is how they treat you at the facility?”

The confusion in Gitae’s eyes quickly turned to curiosity—then to a disturbing kind of excitement.

He tried to hide it, but Jiho had seen that look too many times before. It was easy to read.
Gitae, unaware that his intentions were obvious, put on a fake expression of concern again.

With his free hand, he gently traced Jiho’s bruised shoulder.

“This is the spot that hurts, right?”

“Ugh…”

“They said your shoulder’s dislocated. Want me to take a look at it? Hmm?”

Gitae’s hand moved on its own.

He rubbed the bite marks below Jiho’s collarbone and on his chest, then slowly traced over the kiss marks.
His fingers lightly brushed the skin, tickling and creeping in a way that made Jiho recoil, shaking his head violently.

His breath came out in ragged gasps between clenched teeth.

“Even the way you pant is cute. You’re exactly my type.”

Clicking his tongue with regret, Gitae finally let go of Jiho’s wrist.

He couldn’t do anything here—so he’d just wait for a better opportunity.

“You know, I think we’re a pretty good match. Maybe we should run a compatibility test back at the Center, yeah? What do you think?”

Jiho thought it was complete nonsense.

But unable to speak, he simply glared at Gitae with watery eyes and clutched his fallen gown closed.

He had no idea that the sight only excited Gitae more.

“Looking forward to our match rate, okay?”

The grin on Gitae’s face stirred a wave of terrible memories.
Jiho felt like bugs were crawling all over his skin.

‘If I stay here, he might really grab me again.’

This was supposed to be a dream about Dojin. He didn’t want it to end as a nightmare.

Still staring at Gitae, Jiho slowly took a few steps backward—then turned and ran.

Thud-thud-thud—

The sound of bare feet echoed down the empty hallway.

Watching Jiho’s retreating figure, Gitae licked his lips.

His mind kept replaying the marks burned into Jiho’s pale skin.

⸻

-Beta Team: Clear.

–Gamma Team, clear!
Chhhk—chkk—

After wrapping up the last of his tasks,
Dojin looked down at the radio in his hand with a troubled expression.
The body of the radio was cracked, following the shape of his grip.

‘…I got too worked up.’

He was fully aware of how agitated he’d been, but still couldn’t ease the tension in his hand.
The static from the broken radio grated on his nerves.
Maybe it was the aftereffect of unleashing his power so explosively—his entire body was hypersensitive.

“Haa…”

He was taking a deep breath, trying to pull himself together,
when members of Alpha Team, who had been scattered around the building, started gathering around him.

“All done, all done! Kijooni’s here~!”

“God, I swear to—shut your damn mouth.”

“Hehe~”

Their usual playful banter grated on Dojin’s nerves now, just added noise.
His brows furrowed slightly.

Jihye, noticing first, grabbed Kijoon by the collar and gave him a shake.

“See? Because of you, the captain looks disgusted.”

“Gasp! Captain! Are you… disgusted by Kijooni? Do I make you want to puke~?”

“Is that even a question? Of course you do.”

“Sniff. Kijooni’s feelings are hurt—ack!”

“Just shut up already.”

Jihye smacked him hard on the back.
She wasn’t even a physical-type Esper, yet her hits hurt.

“Do they never get tired of this? Anyway, Captain—aren’t you going to report in?”

“…It’s broken. The button doesn’t work.”

“Oh. Then I’ll do it.”

Since Jihye and Kijoon’s antics were nothing new, the others just ignored them.
Vice-captain Sehun shook his head and took out his own radio.

“Alpha Team, Kang Sehun reporting. Alpha Team is clear. Contacting on behalf of Captain Baek—his radio’s broken. Over.”

Sehun’s radio crackled with chatter.
Questions like “Did Baek break another one?”, and muttered comments like “No wonder it went fast—Baek must’ve jumped in” all came through.

Reading the mood, Sehun turned off the radio and checked on Dojin.
He seemed overly sensitive to noise, likely from a guiding deficiency.

“Alright, that’s enough. Both of you, quiet down. And Yulchan—if you’re up for it, can you use your ability?”

Sehun, realizing something was off, calmed the others and gestured to the youngest.

Yulchan glanced at Dojin with concern and nodded.

“Sure. Do you want me to connect directly to the Center?”

Yulchan’s ability was spatial manipulation.
Unlike others who could barely make a few pillars, he could create portals that connected entirely separate spaces.

With just a few steps, they could arrive at the Center.

“Yeah, please… Wait. Not the Center.”

“Captain?”

Despite the throbbing headache, Dojin shook his head.
Because of the promise he’d made with a pinky swear.

“Let’s go to the meeting point.”

“It’s not like it’s the end of the world if you miss it. You clearly need guiding. Wouldn’t it be better to go to the Center and request an emergency session?”

“I have guiding meds. I’ll be fine. Yulchan—take us to the meeting point.”

“Uh, okay…”

“Now.”

“Yes! O-on it!”

Sehun couldn’t understand Dojin’s stubbornness.
His complexion was beyond pale—it was turning blue.
Why insist on going to the meeting point?

‘He must be in a lot of pain.’

As a fellow Esper, he could tell.
Dojin didn’t usually show discomfort, so if it was this visible, he had to be suffering far more than he let on.

Most Espers in that state would have already caved.
When guiding deficiency peaks, your mind goes blank and only one thought remains: I need guiding.

But Dojin was different.
Even in this state, he was pushing guiding to the backburner.

‘He still has that much aversion to it…’

As far as Sehun knew, Dojin had awakened four years ago—at age thirty.
A late awakening, unlike most.

Maybe it was because he spent so long as a regular person.

He’d always seemed awkward and uncomfortable with the whole concept of guiding.
Even while in obvious pain, he’d avoid proper guiding and make do with pills or machines.

‘Maybe he just hasn’t met a compatible guide yet.’

His energy wavelength was unusually distinct, likely because of his late awakening.
That made it nearly impossible to find a matching guide, forcing him to rely on artificial means.

“…At least take the pills now. Aren’t you in pain?”

With a sigh, Sehun stepped back.

Dojin, pretending not to notice his concerned stare, pulled a pill bottle from the pouch attached to his harness.

He grabbed a few tablets, tossed them into his mouth—and crunched them.

The sound made the others wince.

“…Aren’t they bitter when you eat them like that?”

“They are.”

“Then why—”

“Works faster this way.”

As Dojin answered calmly, Yulchan finished forming the portal.

Dojin ruffled his hair once—messy but affectionate—and turned to the gate.

The child would be beyond it.

That guide.
The one who kept drawing his eyes, even though it was the first time they’d met.
That young, baby-faced guide.

The meds shouldn’t be working yet, and still—his headache was already starting to ease.

“Let’s go.”

He stepped into the portal.

Maybe it was another symptom of the deficiency, but his head felt light, his throat a little ticklish.

It was strange.