DPGR 79

Tak— Tadak— Tadak—

In a space filled with air.
Grotesque fish-like monsters lay flopping across the ground in massive numbers.
Like the Kraken, they were monsters that could only unleash their full power underwater.

“Oh. Fish.”

Naturally, the monsters, suddenly exposed to air, didn’t look to be in good condition.
That was fortunate for the espers of Alpha Team, who had to hunt them down.

“Looks like Jihye and I can handle this on our own.”

“Kijoonie too!”

“Alright. Then I’ll leave it to you.”

Sehun, Jihye, and Kijoon stepped up to take care of the lesser monsters.
Dojin had to conserve his strength to face the Kraken later.

With no guide around, everyone remained cautious, but Sehun was the first to act. He cast a wide-area spell that froze the flopping monsters solid.
It was up to Jihye and Kijoon to finish them off.

“Wow. This is easier than I thought.”

Watching the two of them gleefully dispatch the monsters, Yulchan gave a small murmur of admiration.
Dojin felt the same.

“Right? Just judging by the monster types, they’re not too hard to deal with.”

In fact, even the Kraken was a bit lacking in offensive power to be considered a proper A-class monster.
Dojin continued, using that as an example.

“It’s probably ranked A-class because the dungeon’s environmental conditions are unusually tricky.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Still, like with the Incheon dungeon, we could run into monsters that don’t match the grade, so everyone stay on alert.”

“Got it!”

But those concerns turned out to be unfounded—the battle continued smoothly.
Thanks largely to Yulchan’s spatial abilities.

“Wow! King-God-General Yulchan! Amazing!”

“Our youngest! You’re a full-fledged grown-up now! Grown-up!”

“Hyung, noona, you’re totally teasing me right now!”

The team—really just Kijoon and Jihye—cheered Yulchan on as they advanced with ease.
Despite being in the dark depths of the ocean, the atmosphere in Alpha Team remained warm and lively.

***

“Ugh…”

A familiar yet strange ceiling blurred in Jiho’s hazy vision.

“…?”

He blinked up at the patterned ceiling, a flicker of confusion in his expression.

‘This is… the Center hospital?’

His body felt oddly heavy, and his throat was dry and scratchy. Every breath carried a faint metallic tang of blood.
He had no strength in his limbs, and even his breathing felt feverish. He was probably running a fever.

‘Is that why they brought me to the hospital?’

Still dazed, Jiho was just beginning to gather his thoughts when something struck him as strange.

‘I was asleep in Dojin-hyung’s bed, wasn’t I?’

But then… who had brought him here?

Just as that thought occurred to him, the room suddenly erupted in chaos.

“Oh? Guide Seo Jiho! You’re awake?”

“Guide Seo is conscious!”

“Check his wave levels!”

“Tablet! Bring the tablet, quickly!”

A team of medical staff in white coats rushed in, immediately surrounding Jiho.
In seconds, they pulled off his top and began attaching electrodes all over his body.

‘…!’

Strangers swarming him and stripping off his clothes was overwhelming and terrifying, but Jiho couldn’t lift a finger, could barely even scream.
Cold sensors stuck to his skin, sending chills across his body.

Beep— Beep— Beep—

The staff paid no mind to his discomfort as they activated the devices connected to the pads.

Whirr—

The monitor blinked on with a faint hum. After a moment of silence, the medical team broke into another uproar.

“W-We’re not getting a reading on his wave levels!”

“The system says there’s no energy!”

“Starting a reboot!”

Right then, Jiho, his breath ragged from the fever, suddenly jerked and let out a harsh cough.

And at the same time—

From deep in his throat, something hot and metallic surged up.
Dark red droplets splattered across the pristine white sheets.

Jiho stared into space, frozen, unable to believe he’d just coughed up blood.
After all, right before falling asleep, he’d felt completely fine.

“Guide Seo Jiho! Guide Seo Jiho!”

“His blood pressure is dropping!”

“Sir! Please stay with us!”

But as if to say that had all been an illusion, Jiho’s consciousness once again sank deep into darkness.

And then—blink.

He opened his eyes again, and the scene had changed.

“I’m sorry to say… your guiding ability has been lost. It might be permanent, or it could be temporary. There’s no way to be certain.”

Before he knew it, Jiho was in a consultation room.
Sitting across from a doctor he recognized.

‘What… When did I…?’

Still dazed, Jiho tried to make sense of it all as the doctor continued.

“You pushed your guiding energy to the limit, and the psychological trauma can’t be ignored either. This is the first case of its kind, so we haven’t been able to pinpoint the cause.”

“……”

Loss of guiding ability. Reaching energy limits. Psychological trauma.
Words he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

He had guided Dojin heavily the previous day, sure—but not to his limits.
As for psychological trauma? All he’d done was worry about Dojin going into the dungeon. That was the full extent of his stress.

But to lose his guiding ability over something like that?

Jiho tried to ask the doctor a question—
What exactly had happened?
Who had brought him to the hospital?
Had anyone contacted Dojin?
And if he really had lost his guiding ability… what would happen to Dojin now?

More than concern for himself, Jiho was worried about Dojin.
Once Dojin made it out of the Taean Dungeon, he would need guiding before heading to Japan. If Jiho couldn’t guide him—what would happen to him?

The questions piled up, weighing down on Jiho’s chest like a heavy stone.
But when he tried to speak, no words came out. In fact, he couldn’t even move his lips.

‘Huh…?’

It was like he was trapped inside his own body.

‘What… is this…?’

All Jiho could do was watch and listen to the doctor in front of him.
The doctor looked at him with pity in his eyes and spoke gently.

“Your body’s also in a weakened state, so let’s focus on rest for now and do regular wave-level checks. The Esper Director has agreed to support your treatment, so we’ll keep monitoring your condition.”

In the midst of that confusion, Jiho’s head suddenly gave a small nod—though it wasn’t of his own will.
At the same time, his vision began to tremble, and just like that, the scene changed again.

‘Uh…’

This time, he was standing in a corridor of the Guide Wing, staring down at something in his hands.

A box.

‘This is…’

A box just big enough to fill his arms. Inside were the kinds of snacks, chocolates, and candy wrappers Dojin used to give him often in the past—before the regression. Mixed in with other bits and pieces.
Jiho didn’t understand why he was there now.

Then whispers began to drift toward him.

“Oh. Is it today? The day he’s moving out?”

“Tsk, tsk. They say he lost his guiding ability.”

“He got caught up in Team Leader Baek’s rampage. That’s what happened.”

Team Leader Baek? Baek Dojin’s rampage?
His heart dropped.

It felt like someone was squeezing the breath out of his chest.

“They say he couldn’t even go to Team Leader Baek’s funeral. Apparently he was unconscious the whole time.”

“Please. That’s just an excuse. Even if he was conscious, he wouldn’t have gone. Look at what happened to him because of Baek.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have gone either.”

“So now that Baek’s gone, what’s going to happen to Alpha Team?”

“It’s basically disbanded. There’s only three members left.”

“Then for the Final Dungeon coming up…”

The murmuring around him felt like clues being tossed in his direction.

Only then did Jiho realize this wasn’t reality.

This was a dream.
Judging by the timing, it was sometime after Dojin’s death—before Jiho had regressed.

‘A meaningless dream, huh.’

Jiho was sure of it.
After all, the moment Dojin died, Jiho had passed out and immediately regressed.
He had never experienced anything that came after that.

Thinking it was just a dream helped calm him.
He even scoffed at himself, blaming his overactive imagination.

‘Must’ve had a dream like this because I fell asleep worrying about Dojin-hyung.’

As if responding to his thought, a voice began to hum in his mind.

A strange voice—neither male nor female—echoed inside his head.
Startled, Jiho glanced around.

But no one else reacted, as if they hadn’t heard anything.

Then the voice spoke again.

A murmured whisper of concern.
He wasn’t hearing it with his ears—he could feel it resonating directly in his mind.

And just as he realized that—

The ground beneath his feet gave way.

“……!”

Jiho shut his eyes tight as the sensation of falling swept over him.
And the world turned upside down.