DPGR 74

It was a dual dungeon so large that most teams, including the Alpha Team, had to be deployed.

Normally, after a dungeon raid, espers would come in for guiding, and he’d pick up bits and pieces from their conversations. But during that particular dungeon, he had lost consciousness while guiding Dojin, so he hadn’t heard anything.

All he knew was that a massive hole had been punched through Dojin’s abdomen. And that there had been no guide on-site to provide emergency guiding, which led to his death.

“So that wasn’t the final dungeon after all, right?”

“Yes.”

Jiho nodded, tears welling up in his eyes.

Rather than being shocked at the talk of his own death, Dojin felt more heartache for the young guide sniffling as he recalled those memories.

“Guide Jiho.”

Dojin reached out and pulled Jiho onto his lap.

Normally, Jiho would have refused because of the setting, but this time, he couldn’t bring himself to reject Dojin’s warmth.

Sniff.

Jiho clung to Dojin’s waist like a koala and buried his face in his chest.

As he listened to the deep thud of Dojin’s heartbeat, the chilling fear in his heart gradually settled down.

While Jiho calmed himself to the rhythm of Dojin’s heartbeat, Kwak Jiheon was quietly mulling over what Jiho had said about Dojin’s death.

‘If Dojin’s death was caused simply by a dual dungeon… then that means in the future, increasingly difficult dungeons will start appearing.’

It was Kwak Jiheon himself who’d dragged the clueless Baek Dojin in and personally trained him.

Even now, he was hearing reports about Dojin’s achievements from Changwook, the current Esper Director.

There was no one who had a more accurate grasp of Dojin’s capabilities than he did.

‘Baek Dojin’s skills were flawless. His combat sense, in particular, was better than mine.’

Fire, telekinesis, shadow control—

Every ability Dojin used was tailored for battle.

Even Kwak Jiheon, who was still mentioned as one of the most capable espers, couldn’t be sure he’d win against Dojin in a one-on-one fight.

For someone like that to have died from a fatal wound during combat meant the dungeon’s difficulty had to have been extreme.

‘I really thought that dungeon was the final one.’

But apparently, it wasn’t.

‘If a mere dual dungeon was enough to kill Dojin… then what kind of horror will the actual final dungeon bring?’

Now that he knew, there was no way he could turn a blind eye.

He had long since retired from the front lines, an old man now.

‘But how can an old man sit on the sidelines while kids are being thrown into the jaws of death?’

His pride wouldn’t allow it.

Finishing his thoughts, Kwak Jiheon cleared his throat with an exaggerated cough.

“Hrm. Hm. Seems like this old man’s invisible to you now. Sooner or later, you’ll be all lovey-dovey in front of me too, huh?”

Only then did he notice the cuddling going on between his student and the guide right before his eyes.

While it was a good thing his cherished student got along with his guide, seeing that kind of thing right in front of him wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“N-no, of course not.”

Dojin flinched and quickly denied it.

Yet the way he held Jiho even tighter in his arms was almost exasperating.

“Lovesick fool.”

“……”

“Tsk! Fine. So, the reason you came to me is because of the Taean dungeon?”

“Ah. Yes.”

Dojin nodded and reached out to the table, picking up a teacup and handing it to Jiho.

As Jiho quietly sipped the now-lukewarm tea, Dojin turned to Kwak Jiheon and began to explain.

“We need to mobilize the Center’s dungeon prediction division.”

“Hmm. You’ll have to search the sea. But the problem is the lack of concrete evidence.”

“Yes. But if we miss the dungeon’s emergence again, there’ll be massive casualties.”

“True, that’s right.”

Even though he hadn’t witnessed it himself, he could easily imagine how horrific the scene had been.

Kwak Jiheon nodded grimly, recalling the likely carnage.

“Alright. I’ll help you with that.”

“……!”

“But you should be honest with Changwook—no, the current Esper Director—about your regression.”

“Yes, I’ll do as you say.”

A wave of relief washed over Dojin’s face.

Even though Kwak Jiheon had long stepped back from the Center, he still held immense influence.

With him stepping in, things would now go much more smoothly.

Only then did the stiff corners of Dojin’s lips curl into a natural smile.

***

A perfectly ordinary afternoon.

As always, Changwook was buried in paperwork, sipping post-lunch coffee, when his phone started whining with an incoming call. He frowned.

“Ah, geez… this guy’s been quiet for a while.”

The caller ID displayed none other than Kwak Jiheon, the former Esper Director.

Every time he called, he’d make ridiculous demands or say absurd things that only wasted time, so Changwook wasn’t particularly thrilled to see the call.

‘Still… who knows what kind of chaos he’ll cause if I ignore it.’

Sighing, he shook his head and pressed the answer button.

—Hey. It’s me.

“What now? What is it this time?”

—Watch your tone, brat.

“You’re calling when I’m swamped here.”

—Like you’re that busy.

“……”

Should I just hang up?

He hesitated for a moment but suppressed the impulse out of loyalty—after all, they’d once fought back-to-back in dungeons.

“What did you call about, anyway?”

But the reply that came next was more than enough to test Changwook’s patience.

—Yeah. I think we need to search the sea.

“……”

—Somewhere near Taean, though I don’t know the exact location. Just start sweeping all the deep areas… Hello? Hey. You still there?

Changwook’s finger pressed the call-end button.

“Oh—whoops. Accidentally hung up.”

He mumbled an excuse to himself, pretending it had been a mistake.

Did this guy finally go senile or something?

Nothing else could explain it. Sure, he made useless calls now and then and played dumb jokes, but—

Now he wants me to search the sea? What, does he think the ocean’s the size of a playground?

Grumbling, Changwook picked up his paperwork again. But none of the words registered.

Jiheon’s voice had been unusually grave and heavy when he said to search the sea.

“Goddamn it… now it’s bothering me.”

He raked a hand through his hair in frustration—just as the phone rang again. Of course, it was Kwak Jiheon.

Jiheon kept calling persistently until Changwook finally picked up in exasperation.

“God, what is it now?!”

—Hey. The world’s ending.

“…What? The world—ha. What, you watch some doomsday movie again?”

—Do I sound like I’m joking to you?

“You do.”

—……

“…What? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

By this point, even Changwook started to feel uneasy.

Usually, Jiheon would burst out laughing with a “Gotcha! You dumb kid!” right about now.

But this silence…

Either he really has gone senile, or…

The world really is ending.

Changwook started to wonder if Jiheon had gotten some kind of divine revelation in his old age.

Thankfully, before the misunderstanding could get worse, Jiheon spoke again.

—You remember the artifact I gave Dojin?

“Huh? Uh…”

Changwook couldn’t answer right away—there were a lot of artifacts Jiheon had given Dojin.

—You know. The resurrection artifact. The one you wanted so badly.

“Oh. Ohhh, that one. Yeah, I remember. That artifact you gave to Baek Dojin, even though I was with you for over a decade.”

The one he’d desperately wanted, and Jiheon had just handed it to Dojin like it was nothing.

Changwook pouted, clearly still salty. Jiheon muttered something about being a petty brat, then continued, voice serious again.

—That artifact’s been used.

“…What? What did you say?”

Changwook wasn’t clueless—he knew exactly what it meant if that artifact had been used.

Baek Dojin’s death. And then—

“Wait. Don’t tell me… time got reversed?”

—Yeah. And Dojin’s pair guide—the kid—has memories from before the regression.

“Hah…”

Changwook let out a dry laugh in disbelief before his expression twisted into something more serious.

He clutched the phone tighter in his trembling hand.

“W-wait a sec. So, does that mean… the whole ‘world’s ending’ thing…”

—Yeah.

Jiheon’s voice, even lower now, rang cold in Changwook’s ears.

—An SS-rank large dungeon. Maybe even worse.

“……”

—A lot of people are going to die. Maybe you. Maybe me.

Or maybe everyone will be wiped out.

Changwook swallowed hard at the whisper. He wanted it to be a joke, but Jiheon’s voice was dead serious, echoing with weight.

—So if you don’t want to die, cooperate.

It was hard to tell whether it was a threat or a plea. But Changwook didn’t dare reject it.

“…W-what do I… what am I supposed to do?”

—Start with the sea. Search it. A dungeon break’s coming, and soon.

Jiheon began explaining calmly. The call ran long, but Changwook never interrupted.

He couldn’t—his mind was spinning.

—You need to prepare for the final dungeon. As Esper Director, your role is crucial. Got it?

The unexpected situation crushed down on him with a heavy sense of responsibility.

The hand holding the phone was slick with cold sweat.