The Espers Who Regretted Losing Me Chapter 15

I grabbed even Yeon Do-gyeong with my empty hand and focused immediately—more seriously and deeply than usual.

As my energy seeped in, I felt the bodies we were touching slowly heat up.

On top of that, I added radial guiding for Cha Eun-hwi as well, and before long, the surroundings were completely covered in my energy.

Yeon Do-gyeong shuddered, letting out a languid breath as he muttered,

“If only Yoon Hyeya would always do it like this.”

“Seriously.”

Lee Shin-ra, who was concentrating to the extreme, said nothing, but Cha Eun-hwi voiced his agreement.

Since I’d been caught doing sloppy guiding, it looked like arms-linked would become the default instead of just holding hands from now on. A bleak future.

Yeon Do-gyeong even hummed to himself, as if he’d never been irritated in the first place, swinging his hands around freely.

He looked genuinely delighted to be drawing out his abilities to the fullest for the first time in a while.

Each time Yeon Do-gyeong moved his hand, flames burst forth and the forest burned away.

The fire swallowed everything at once—the strangely writhing tentacles, the bleached, withered trees, even the decaying Barometz.

Sparks flew in all directions, but thanks to the barrier, not a speck of harm reached us.

After incinerating everything in sight, the flames twisted into a vortex and rose into the sky.

When everything disappeared without a trace that a forest had ever existed—

“The gate’s been cleared.”

Shin-ra said as he dismissed the barrier.

At the same time, my vision synced and shared the view.

Clearing an A-rank gate this easily, without a single casualty, was fortunate—but I couldn’t bring myself to be happy.

[ ‘Barometz’s Nest’ and ‘The White and Pallid Conservatory’ have merged. ]
[ ‘The White and Pallid Barometz Conservatory’ has been cleared. ]
[ Information will be reset. ]

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
Clear Time — 00:40:23 (New Shortest Record)
Total Deaths — 0
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Cha Eun-hwi’s hypothesis—that the gates had merged—was confirmed by the Voice of the World itself.

 

 

 

****

 

 

“…So although the Named Monster Barometz launched a surprise attack, its danger level was incomparably lower due to the influence of the ‘White and Pallid Conservatory.’ The trees inside the nest were already infected by the virus, and the only real threat was the tentacle plants, which were easily eliminated.”

Because the situation differed from the norm, headquarters had expected the raid to take longer.

However, the Geumgang Second Squad and the Cheonggeum Squad exited the gate in under an hour.

Cheonggeum Squad Captain Ji Gyeong-min laughed awkwardly, saying they hadn’t really done anything.

Only after hearing the report did Director Jeong Si-gyeom fully grasp the situation.

Gate merger.

An unbelievable phenomenon—but one that had undeniably occurred.

In the conference room sat not only Cha Eun-hwi and Jeong Si-gyeom, but also department heads and captains of A-rank squads.

Most wore expressions of headache or irritation.

All except one—Baek I-deun, captain of Geumgang First Squad.

Upon hearing that an A-rank gate had appeared, he had rushed through a B-rank gate he was clearing and returned, only to find everything already over.

And yet such an intriguing anomaly had occurred.

Regretting that he hadn’t been present, he tapped the table lightly and spoke.

“The issue is that when the gate was first entered, only ‘Barometz’s Nest’ was displayed as the gate name. Isn’t that right, Captain Cha?”

“Yes. Even if a merged gate appears again, we won’t know until it’s cleared. This may not have been the first merged gate either. Also, judging by the total death count resetting to zero, it seems the system recognizes it as a separate gate from those before the merger.”

Cha Eun-hwi replied indifferently and took his seat.

Anyone might wonder how or why such a thing happened—but no one voiced it.

After all, gates themselves were a mystery that had appeared seventy years ago without warning.

Even with all of humanity’s knowledge, no one had been able to determine where they came from or why they appeared.

What mattered now wasn’t uncovering the cause of the anomaly, but how headquarters would respond going forward.

Director Jeong Si-gyeom pressed his chin and sighed.

“This time, all I can say is that we were lucky… among countless gates, those two happened to connect. But there’s no guarantee such luck will follow us next time.”

He was right.

A gate dominated by plant-type monsters merging with one that carried a virus lethal to plants—it was an almost absurd stroke of fortune.

Everyone had reached the same conclusion and began voicing worst-case scenarios.

“There’s no guarantee this phenomenon is limited to our country. First, we should notify headquarters in each nation, and we may need to reorganize raid squads for gates that have already appeared.”

“If B- and C-rank gates start merging with others, the number of possible scenarios becomes endless. All the data we’ve accumulated so far could become obsolete overnight.”

“The biggest issue would be A-rank gates merging with other A-rank gates. There’s no harm in preparing early—strengthening esper training and accelerating squad reorganization—”

Cha Eun-hwi, who had remained silent since finishing his report, showed the slightest twitch of his brow.

Director Jeong Si-gyeom, seated across from him, narrowed his eyes.

Espers and guides were, by default, members of the ESP Association. It wasn’t optional—it was mandatory.

Without rules, espers who acted on their own would cause civilian harm, and in the early days, such cases were common.

The Association existed both to emphasize the special nature of awakened individuals and to protect the unawakened from them.

However, belonging didn’t create a strict superior–subordinate relationship like a typical company.

In other words, espers did not blindly follow headquarters’ orders.

A-rank espers, in particular, were irreplaceable assets with considerable influence—hence why the A-rank captains were present.

Among them, Cha Eun-hwi was one of headquarters’ most useful long-term pieces. Meaning, he was easy to handle.

He didn’t get overly close to others, nor did he stir conflict with pointless chatter.

No matter which guide he was paired with, his compatibility was stable even in live combat.

He possessed the rare ability of teleportation and the sense to weaponize it.

His individual strength was impressive, and his leadership ability as a captain was outstanding.

He accepted any order so long as it had a reasonable explanation.

He knew the environments and strategies of every gate that had ever appeared.

Most importantly, Lee Shin-ra and Yeon Do-gyeong obeyed Cha Eun-hwi’s commands.

Director Jeong Si-gyeom valued him highly—so much so that he considered him a future candidate for Director.

That is, until today.

When the topic of squad reorganization came up, Yeon Do-gyeong and Lee Shin-ra reacting aggressively was expected.

Every time Yoon Hyeya threatened to resign, she said the same thing:

‘The espers in my squad look down on me too much, it’s wearing me down.’

But that was nonsense.

Jeong Si-gyeom had watched them grow up. That Do-gyeong and Shin-ra disliked Hyeya was impossible.

They had seemed a bit distant lately, but Jeong himself had been too busy to look after them, and since they’d been together since childhood, he’d carelessly assumed things would resolve themselves.

What he hadn’t anticipated was Cha Eun-hwi’s reaction.

Cha Eun-hwi hadn’t lashed out like the other two—but he had openly displayed his displeasure and irritation.

Not just then, but now as well: hadn’t his expression changed the moment squad reorganization was mentioned, despite appearing utterly indifferent before?

Seeing that unmistakable reaction, the crease between Jeong Si-gyeom’s brows deepened.