DPGR 90

‘This place…’

Jiho opened his eyes in a familiar space, having just passed through a wash of white light.

A quiet room with stark white wallpaper. There, Jiho was sitting in front of a light brown desk.

Across from him sat a doctor in a white coat—someone with a familiar face—speaking to him gently, one phrase at a time.

“There’s still no response today.”

“……”

“Well, let’s keep monitoring for a while longer. This kind of case is… hmm, a first for us, after all.”

Jiho stared blankly at the doctor in front of him.

He understood that he was in a consultation room inside the Center’s hospital, and that the man before him was his attending physician.

‘But why am I here?’

The question rose in his mind, yet his head began nodding up and down entirely against his will.

‘Huh…?’

His body was moving on its own. Jiho had experienced this kind of thing once before.

In the ‘nightmare’ he’d had not long ago.

His body got up from the seat. Moving unsteadily, as if drained of energy, it left the Center’s hospital.

As he walked, whispers reached his ears.

“Isn’t that Guide Seo?”

“No way. It is. He still hasn’t let it go?”

“Oh, the one who lost his guiding ability? Do you think that kind of thing can be cured?”

“Well, if it could, would he still be doing this for two weeks straight? At least now he’s just a normal civilian, so he won’t get dragged into a dungeon again.”

Because of that, Jiho was sure of it. He was continuing the same nightmare he’d dreamed before.

The current moment seemed to be a few days after Dojin’s death—after the shock had caused him to lose his guiding ability.

Even as Jiho tried to force his hazy mind to process the situation, his body moved on its own, boarding a bus without pause.

Its destination: a small officetel about an hour away from the Center.

Click.

The inside of the officetel he arrived at was bleak and barren.

His body stood blankly in the entryway, staring at the empty space, then tossed off its outerwear wherever and crawled straight into bed.

‘I should really wash up before sleeping…’

That was Jiho’s own thought, discomfort creeping in—but his body, as if long accustomed to this routine, simply closed its eyes.

Then, a short while later, the scenery around Jiho shifted.

“Guide Seo. It’s been a while.”

“……”

Blink.

Jiho blinked in confusion. He was now sitting in the Center Director’s office.

Across from him sat the Esper Director, who looked a bit more worn out and aged than Jiho remembered.

“How have you been lately?”

“……”

“Hmm. You don’t look well. Are you eating? Getting anything down at all?”

“……”

Jiho remained silent, head bowed. His thin shoulders slowly shrank in on themselves.

The Esper Director continued to speak to him with concern, but eventually gave up when he received no reply.

“You must be uncomfortable. I’ve probably kept you too long.”

“……”

“…I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would turn out like that, with you…”

“……”

“I shouldn’t have sent you that day. That’s on me.”

“……”

Jiho’s body began to tremble. The Esper Director seemed to think it was fear or suppressed grief.

But Jiho knew better.

This wasn’t fear. It wasn’t sorrow either.

‘I’m holding back my anger.’

And Jiho soon realized where that rage was directed.

It was aimed squarely at himself.

‘…Because I couldn’t save Baek Dojin.’

If only he’d reached out when Dojin extended his hand. If his guiding ability had been stronger. If he’d pushed past the rest of Team One’s guides and run to Dojin just a little faster—just a bit sooner to try and guide him…

Then maybe, just maybe, he could’ve saved Baek Dojin.

“You should go. Weren’t you here for a medical checkup today?”

The Esper Director rose from his seat as he spoke. Jiho glanced up at him, then slowly stood as well.

The Esper Director personally opened the door for him and quietly followed behind.

‘……?’

It didn’t seem like he was just sending him off. Jiho realized he had no choice but to head to the Center’s hospital, now with the Esper Director trailing him like a shadow.

***

Before long, Jiho was lying on a hospital bed with guiding wavelength detection monitors attached to him.

He felt a little dizzy as he half-listened to the conversation between his doctor and the other medical staff.

“Uh… hold on. There’s a blip on channels 2 and 5.”

“Hmm. It’s too faint…”

“Let’s check again.”

How much time had passed?

“Here—there’s a wavelength!”

“No way…”

The monitoring room grew noisy. The Esper Director, who was thought to have already returned to the Esper Wing, appeared from somewhere and leaned over the monitor.

“What’s going on?”

“Ah, it looks like Guide Seo’s guiding energy might be coming back…”

“Coming back? You mean fully recovered?”

“No, no… not quite.”

The doctor quickly explained that while a wavelength had indeed been detected from Jiho, it was nowhere near what it used to be.

Still, it was the first time a signal had been detected, so they emphasized the need for further observation.

“Guide Seo, if you’re willing, I think it would be best for you to stay hospitalized for a few days so we can monitor your condition.”

Jiho didn’t respond—just stared blankly at the ceiling. His attitude said he didn’t care either way.

The Esper Director answered in his place.

“Of course. Let’s do that. If there’s even the slightest chance, we’ll try everything. I’ll personally make sure you get full support.”

And so, following the director’s orders, Jiho was admitted to the hospital’s VIP suite.

Unlike when he lived alone, he now received sedatives, slept regularly, and ate balanced meals.

Perhaps because of this, the body that had once been so gaunt it struggled with even short walks slowly began to recover.

His physical condition had apparently been the problem—because as his health improved, so did the faint guiding waves.

And then, two weeks later—

“…S-rank. He’s S-rank!”

Jiho had reawakened, officially registering higher than the previously estimated A-rank—he was now S-rank.

In truth, he’d always had guiding ability that exceeded S-rank, so “reawakened” wasn’t quite the right word.

“Guide Jiho! Oh my, our treasure! Now we can all survive together!”

Even the Guide Director, who hadn’t shown his face once during Jiho’s hospitalization, came rushing in at the news.

And so, regardless of his will, Jiho was re-registered as a guide.

After his return to duty, Jiho fell into ruin once more.

An unpaired guide who had risen from A to S-rank.

Once upon a time, people would have revered him. But now was the worst possible time.

With the final dungeon offensive looming, guides were in short supply, and multi-person guiding methods had become standard practice.

But that wasn’t the only problem.

“What, not guiding properly? You think this is some kind of joke?”

“Is he showing off because he became S-rank or what? What, he’s too good to guide B-rank espers like us now?”

The constant dungeons outbreaks and the fear of death hovering over them all had made the espers sharper, crueler.

Some, teetering at the edge of life and death, vented their anxiety in all the wrong ways.

They became more sadistic than before, stopped hiding their violent tendencies, and even saw it as justified.

“Tch. This is why you can’t trust unpaired guides…”

Some espers openly resented the unpaired guides who refused to enter dungeons.

Their violence was typically directed at unpaired guides—especially high-ranking ones who refused dungeon missions.

“Hey. You gonna snap out of it or what?”

An S-rank guide. An unpaired guide. And mentally unstable on top of that—Jiho, who didn’t enter dungeons thanks to the Esper Director’s protection, became an easy target and punching bag for the espers.

“You little—!”

Jiho’s body hung limply, unresponsive to his will.

Perhaps that passive appearance only provoked the espers more. The one standing in front of him raised a hand high—and the sound of impact followed.

Jiho only realized he’d been hit after he tumbled sideways to the ground.

Next to the esper who had struck him, another laughed mockingly.

“Hey. Don’t hit him that hard. Our delicate S-rank guide might actually die.”

The mocking esper approached the collapsed Jiho and reached down.

A hand grabbed Jiho’s hair and yanked it violently.

“Ugh…”

“Guide Jiho. Let’s just get this over with, okay? You don’t want to die, do you? We’re not even asking you to go into a dungeon. Can’t you just cooperate with this little thing?”

“Move aside. Looks like he still hasn’t come to his senses. Let me help with that.”

The esper who had first slapped Jiho raised his hand again.

Jiho couldn’t even process what was happening.

“Look at him. Completely out of it.”

“What, first time getting hit in the face?”

“Must be. Ha. That bastard Baek Dojin used to keep him so damn coddled…”

Beeeeep—

A sharp ringing pierced Jiho’s ears. He must’ve taken a bad hit.

Through the ringing, he tried to focus on the faint sound of a name—Baek Dojin.

But his body erupted into a cough, and he spat out blood before going limp.

Jiho’s consciousness slipped away again.