DPGR 68

“Ah, ugh, hmmm…!”

Jiho’s climax came quickly. Dojin was also too excited to control his intensity.

“Hah…!”

Jiho, bending forward, trembled violently. Soon, a hot and sticky liquid splattered into Dojin’s mouth.

Dojin swallowed the liquid, seeming to enjoy it.

In the process, Jiho, stimulated by his tightened throat, gasped for breath and burst into tears.

Wh-why, why….

He wanted to ask why he was swallowing it, but words wouldn’t come out. As if he expected Jiho to cry, Dojin chuckled softly, sat up, and hugged Jiho to comfort him.

“Shh… It’s okay. Stop. Huh?”

“Huh-uh!”

“You said you’d guide me. If you keep crying, you won’t be able to guide me.”

“……!”

Ah, right. Guiding!

Guiding, which he had forgotten due to Dojin’s caresses, suddenly came to Jiho’s mind. He quickly regained his senses and lifted his head.

“Now stop. We need to guide.”

“Huh-uh.”

“Shall we continue?”

He nodded.

He shouldn’t have nodded there. At that moment, Jiho was so focused on guiding that he couldn’t think about what would come next.

“Then I’ll do it again.”

“Ugh, ah!”

In the end, Jiho had to climax several times in the bathroom, crying until his eyes were swollen.

From Dojin’s perspective, it was a satisfying guiding.

***

While washing up, guiding had been done, and Dojin’s arm healed completely without even a scar left behind.

Instead, Jiho, who had exhausted his stamina in various ways, was so overcome by sleep that he had to leave the bathroom cradled in Dojin’s arms.

“Uuung…”

“Shhh… It’s okay. Go ahead and sleep.”

Gently soothing Jiho, Dojin dried his hair and laid him properly down on the bed.

Jiho whimpered softly for a moment, but as soon as Dojin began patting his back, he soon drifted off to sleep.

“…Haa.”

At last, Dojin had a moment to himself.

He hadn’t even had the chance to properly digest the shocking things Jiho had told him about the future.

As he stared at the sleeping Jiho, the smile faded from Dojin’s face.

In its place, a flood of thoughts and worries made him look weighed down.

‘His parents’ deaths and the final dungeon…’

Naturally, his foremost concern was about the lives of his parents.

No matter how righteous a person may be, he was still human—more shocked by the idea of his parents’ deaths than the fall of humanity itself.

That didn’t mean the final dungeon didn’t concern him.

‘He said it would be the last one to break open.’

A dungeon with unknown rank and scale. If they couldn’t stop it, humanity would be wiped out.

Recalling Jiho’s lip movements, Dojin sat up. He pulled Jiho’s notebook out of his bag and flipped to the last page.

Remembering Jiho’s words, Dojin deciphered the barely legible handwriting.

Then, in the corner of the page, he carefully wrote down the same information in his own clear handwriting.

Tuk, tuk, tuk—

Dojin tapped the notebook lightly with the end of his pen, lost in thought, until he circled one specific sentence.

•An S-class medium-sized dungeon opens above Japan. Japan’s esper military retreats. Korean espers deployed to support. Alpha and Beta teams dispatched. Beta team captain dies.

‘This must be next…’

An S-class medium-sized dungeon above Japan.

Of course, this wasn’t the only thing to worry about.

Every single incident written after that would come crashing down on them eventually.

‘And everything’s already been pushed forward in time.’

Even the final dungeon would undoubtedly arrive sooner than originally expected.

Perhaps this was the price of regression.

If only he had just died instead—maybe that would’ve been the better outcome for humanity.

Though he had been given another chance to live, a bitter taste filled his mouth.

He could only hope the price of regression wouldn’t lead to a tragic end.

Staring down at the notebook, Dojin silently stayed up through the night.

His mind was too loud for him to sleep.

***

After the sudden dungeon incident in Gangwon Province, things quieted down again for Alpha Team as though nothing had ever happened.

Aside from going out a couple of times for minor A-class small-scale dungeons, their days were uneventful.

Always the energetic ones, Kijoon and Jihye whined that such a peaceful life was boring.

Jiho, on the other hand, took full advantage of the lull and doubled down on training.

‘I’m still far too lacking.’

He used to think Dojin’s shooting drills were a bit excessive. But having been out in the field, Jiho had realized just how inadequate his skills really were.

With that in mind, he began diligently training every day—physical conditioning, shooting, self-defense—you name it, he didn’t skip a thing.

“Guide Jiho. Wouldn’t it be better to take a break today?”

His training was so intense that even Dojin—normally a strict coach when it came to training—was at a loss trying to stop him.

“Uuung.”

But once Jiho was fired up, not even coaxing worked.

Despite constantly losing sleep from sore muscles, he showed no sign of slowing down.

Dojin’s concern only grew. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to stop Jiho when the latter was so full of determination.

So instead, he paced around Jiho’s training area anxiously, unable to interfere but too worried to walk away.

Feeling sorry for Dojin, the team members decided to help by distracting Jiho.

“Um, Guide Jiho. How about doing some guiding training for the first time in a while?”

“……”

“It seems like we’ve been skipping it a lot recently.”

The first to step up was Geonwoo. As if it were the most natural thing, his Pair Esper, Jihye, quickly joined in.

“Right! Guide Jiho, you’ve only been doing physical training lately, haven’t you? That’s great and all, but guiding training is important too. You are a guide, after all—so how about doing some guiding training today?”

“Ohh, that rhymed. Nice one.”

“Shut it, Choi Kijoon.”

“Aww… Kijoonie’s hurt.”

The conversation briefly derailed, but after Jihye landed a few smacks on Kijoon, both he and Sehun also joined in.

They all started going on and on with perfectly reasonable arguments—about the importance of guiding control, the necessity of keeping up with training, and so on.

Their words came in different forms, but the meaning underneath was the same:

Please take a break for Baek Dojin’s sake. Just for today.

“……”

Jiho picked up on the subtext and stared pointedly at Dojin with a sulky expression.

Dojin, caught off guard, looked awkward but didn’t stop his teammates.

“Haa…”

No helping it.

In the end, Jiho gave a grumpy nod. Let’s just say the mood in the office brightened instantly.

“Alright then. Let’s go—to the guiding training room!”

Naturally, the first to suggest it, Geonwoo, was also the first to get up, leading Jiho and Sena out.

Jiho followed behind, shooting a glare at Dojin who tried to trail after him.

“Uuunng!”

“…Can’t I come too?”

Was that even a question?

Dojin wasn’t necessary for guiding training.

Ever since the Gangwon dungeon incident, Dojin had shown signs of mild separation anxiety—and now, he wilted under Jiho’s baffled stare.

“Alright, Captain. How about you stay here and catch up on that pile of work?”

“I mean, I was just—”

“You’ve been tailing Guide Jiho nonstop for the past couple of days. HQ told you to submit Alpha Team’s budget proposal over a week ago. You did take care of that, right?”

“…I’ll get to it right now.”

“Good.”

Sehun pushed Dojin back into his seat and gave Jiho a quick glance—the kind that said, I’ve got it from here, don’t worry.

A faint smile crept across Jiho’s sulky face.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go. Sena, hurry up.”

“Hmph. I am going, okay?”

With Sena’s huffy voice in the background, Jiho stepped out of the team leader’s office.

The original plan may have changed, but having a bit of breathing room didn’t feel so bad.

Jiho’s guiding skills were better than anyone else’s.

He no longer had any issues guiding with Dojin, so truthfully, extra guiding practice wasn’t even necessary.

Geonwoo and Sena knew that as well—so this “training session” was really just a cover for a much-needed break.

“You’ve been working super hard on your shooting lately. How’s it going?”

The three of them settled into the guiding training room, sitting around comfortably and chatting.

Naturally, the topic turned to Jiho’s recent training progress.

“Haa…”

Jiho let out a small sigh and slumped his shoulders, clearly disappointed that he didn’t have much to show yet.

Realizing he’d touched a sore spot, Geonwoo quickly shifted the topic.

“By the way, Guide Jiho—maybe it’s because you’ve been working out a lot lately, but I think you’ve grown a bit taller.”

“…?”

“Have you measured your height recently?”

Jiho shook his head out of habit, then opened his mouth hesitantly.

“Ah, nooo…”

His voice came out slow and awkward, words trailing off softly.

This was part of the “speaking practice” Jiho had been dedicating himself to lately.

After he’d started talking, the counselor had recommended he keep practicing aloud regularly.

Though his speech was still slow, his pronunciation awkward, and his breath control poor—just stringing together a few words was already a step forward.

No one on Alpha Team ever seemed to mind Jiho’s speech.

Geonwoo smiled gently, patiently waiting for Jiho’s answer.

“You should go check it with Captain Baek. I’m sure he already suspects it, even if only vaguely. He’ll probably be really happy if he sees it himself.”

“Hmm…”

Jiho pursed his lips uncertainly.

‘I grew taller? That can’t be right…’