The Espers Who Regretted Losing Me Chapter 24

So basically, it meant watch the ritual and reap the benefits, huh.

From the named monsters’ perspective, it was probably infuriating—but for those clearing the gate, it was fortunate.

Besides, I wasn’t exactly in the right condition to provide proper guiding right now.

Everyone’s sulking, and I’m basically being treated like thin air. At this rate, I wonder if they’d even save me if a monster attacked.

Honestly, sitting on a bed of nails would be more comfortable than being stuck with these guys. A sigh escaped me without meaning to.

The only small consolation was how peaceful and beautiful the scenery inside this mysterious gate was.

While Cha Eunhwi continued explaining the dragons, I kept my ears open and quietly scanned our surroundings.

Then suddenly, I felt like something moved deeper inside.

“…?”

What was that? Did I imagine it?

Maybe it was just an optical illusion from staring at red and white for so long and then suddenly seeing green.

I tilted my head, then casually shifted my gaze—only to realize all three of them were staring at me.

What now…?

The pressure was unreal. I flinched instinctively, and Cha Eunhwi immediately turned his head away.

“…There’s nothing detectable here for now, so let’s deal with the original named monsters first and check again afterward. The fire dragon doesn’t pair well with ignition abilities, so Dogyeong, you should head to the glacial zone. It’ll appear once its territory is disturbed—take down a few field monsters and it should come out.”

“Okay. Just hit it lightly and lure it to the center, right?”

“Yeah. Shinra, stay on standby for now. Keep a barrier up just in case.”

“Got it. But hyung, aren’t you being a bit too cautious? This place looks really safe.”

“Seriously. It’s so calm, I can’t even remember why it felt ominous earlier.”

“Right?”

Come to think of it, they’d said that earlier and made me nervous for nothing.

While chatting with Shinra, Dogyeong shrugged lightly, then glanced toward the large tree I’d been watching and grinned mischievously.

“By the way, those look like apples hanging on that tree. Before we go, maybe I’ll grab one—”

“Dogyeong. I told you not to randomly eat strange things. …And just in case, that applies to you too, Guide Yoon Hyea.”

He’d been ignoring me nonstop, and now suddenly he was tugging my hair.

Still, I nodded right away. I had too much of a track record to deny it outright…

Dogyeong, who was even more curious than me, said gruffly,

“Does it really matter? You and I have eaten tons of weird stuff before and we were always fine.”

“The orc was one thing, but the peach definitely wasn’t ‘fine,’ hyung. There could be a monster like that here too. The environment’s kind of similar to That Weird Peach Blossom Paradise.”

“Similar? Kid, are your eyes broken? The art style alone is totally different.”

Dogyeong wasn’t wrong. Why did That Peach Blossom Paradise have weird in its name? Because it was genuinely weird.

The original Peach Blossom Paradise was supposed to be an idyllic land full of peach blossoms—but the one that appeared as a gate was more like… a fairy-tale world.

A picture book written for children.

You could tell just by looking at the peaches with faces drawn on them. The mist, water, trees, flowers, even the animals—everything was round, soft, and cute.

That’s exactly what ‘different art style’ meant.

Shinra retorted with a frustrated look.

“I meant the environment’s similar, the environment! Lots of flowers, lots of water, lots of trees!”

“Oh, that’s what you meant? Yeah, that part’s true. Then maybe the named monster here is some kind of giant apple.”

A giant apple…
That actually sounded kind of cute. The giant peach had been pretty cute too.

While I was silently imagining it, Cha Eunhwi—who’d been lost in thought—sighed and spoke.

“Don’t let your guard down just because it looks safe. The first gate ever explored was also described as a forest straight out of a painting.”

Then, almost absentmindedly, he glanced at me—like he always did—as if asking, You know this already, right?

Of course I did. It was the very first story we were told during gate training.

Even Dogyeong and Shinra, who usually avoided studying like the plague, nodded reluctantly.

Looking tired, Cha Eunhwi ran a hand through his hair and spoke again.

“Let’s go, Dogyeong.”

So… I just wait here like usual?

With no specific instructions, I stood there awkwardly as Cha Eunhwi and Dogyeong disappeared. Shinra suddenly grabbed my arm.

Right where Eunhwi had bruised it.

“…!”

I bit my tongue hard to keep from making a sound, but tears welled up instantly.

A sharp pain shot through me, making my neck prickle—then, before long, the pain vanished completely.

I glanced down to see my wrist glowing faintly green.

Shinra’s healing ability.

“Don’t fall behind, noona.”

“Ah… yes. Thank you.”

I hadn’t expected him to heal me.

I thanked him despite the rough grab, but Shinra snapped irritably,

“I’m sick of it too. That damn polite speech. You tiptoeing around us pisses me off, and your half-assed little schemes behind our backs piss me off too.”

Submitting my resignation was a “half-assed scheme”?
I appreciated the healing, but I was the one getting irritated here.

Being obsessed with someone while wearing them down like this was genuinely cruel.

You don’t have to hit someone for it to be abuse.

Maybe because I’d been pushed nonstop since yesterday, I already felt exhausted. My expression stiffened without me realizing it.

In the fragile, uncomfortable silence—like standing on thin ice—Shinra spoke again.

“What exactly are you so dissatisfied with, noona?”

“…What?”

That completely random question made me glare outright.

Dissatisfied? Me? I’m the one with complaints? …Me?!

I was honestly speechless. First they complained that I never spoke up—now I apparently had too many complaints?

I mean, I do have plenty!

But I’d never voiced them out loud or neglected my guiding duties.

Wow. I’m seriously pissed…

I wanted to shout it honestly—did they even know how much they put me through?

Why else would I keep submitting resignation letters?!

I swallowed the resentment climbing up my throat, but Shinra continued.

“You don’t seriously think you don’t, do you? If you weren’t dissatisfied, you wouldn’t keep turning in resignation letters. You know the headquarters will never let you quit, yet you still do it—just to ditch us and go with some other—!”

Shinra, who’d been shouting rapidly and irritably, suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.

He didn’t finish the sentence, but I knew exactly what he meant.

Bluntly put, he’s accusing me of planning to abandon them and latch onto other espers.

Since they’d always prioritized their own emotions and never cared about my will, I’d expected they thought something like that.

Still, hearing it out loud felt disgusting.

What bothered me even more was how he said something hurtful—and then looked hurt himself.

I could feel his emotions churning chaotically.

Shinra pressed his lips together and turned away. I stared straight ahead in silence.

It’s not like I can just run overseas…

The thought crossed my mind, but I knew the truth. No matter where I went, it’d be the same.

And there was a fundamental reason I couldn’t do that anyway.

I had no family.
I wasn’t particularly attached to this country either.

I could’ve fled with no intention of ever returning, international warrants be damned—but I didn’t.

Because I didn’t speak any foreign languages.

Awakeners are isolated from the outside world at a young age and raised within headquarters. Basic subjects like Korean, math, social studies, and science are taught there—like a small school.

But foreign languages, including English, aren’t.

Which is ridiculous, considering the ESP Association was founded in an English-speaking country, and nearly all gate- and teleport-related terminology is in English.

Well, I guess memorizing words and actually holding a conversation are two very different things.