Unknown time, Jujak-gate, Jae-ui Seongyeok

  “Welcome home, lieutenant.” Kwon Gi-tae smirked.

  The joke of hell being Yoon Taeha’s home may have landed well with the two men, but it had only been words that helped cope with what was coming. He didn’t look forward to going in at all, but he had to mask his fear with humor; otherwise, he would crack. And at that moment, cracking wasn’t an option.

  At times, Yoon Taeha thought to himself that maybe he was overreacting to the situation. After all, Kang Jeonhyun was the strongest hunter in the Unified Republic. Then again, the last major Jujak gate had killed two hundred ninety-nine hunters, and Taeha still didn’t fully understand the extent of Jeonhyun’s strength. He wanted to trust the man to survive, even if he was the last one standing, but after what he himself had witnessed, how could he? He’d rather go in to find himself useless than wait for their bodies to never come back.

  It was strange how many thoughts fit into those few seconds it took to teleport them into the dungeon. Lee Si-woo’s body felt warm as Taeha held onto him while the pixels formed their figures back together. Once fully formed, Taeha let himself drop from Si-woo’s grip and caught himself just before hitting the ground.

  “How do you do this?” Taeha exhaled deeply, sweat running down his temples. “I feel like throwing up.”

  “I guess my body knows what it’s doing,” Si-woo replied. His expression was strangely cold as he looked around the dungeon. The scene was much different from the one Taeha had witnessed ten years ago, except for one thing: there were already bodies lying around the moment they entered.

  For a moment, his mind went blank, like a typhoon swallowing his consciousness, dragging him back to the bloody memories of his comrades losing their limbs mid-air, followed by a rain of blood. He remembered the sound of fiery wings flapping and the voices screaming the names of the fallen.

  Yoon Taeha had to snap himself out of it in order not to lose himself to those memories again. He dug his nails into his palm until his mind snapped fully back to the present.

  The modern uniforms of the hunters on the ground confirmed it; this wasn’t the same dungeon. These were not the people he had lost before. The fabric was newer, and the insignias were different.

  Yoon Taeha eyed the cold bodies on the ground and exhaled in relief, noticing none of the faces were familiar. The relief was ugly and immediate, and he hated himself for it. Whatever was left of them, that was. What the birds had done this time was different from before. The bodies were not only ripped apart but also chewed on. The vermillion birds ten years ago had killed for sport and protection, but this time it was much more brutal; they preyed on the hunters as if they were nothing but feed. There was nothing left there for Taeha to heal.

  “Nine bodies,” Gi-tae counted. “That’s not bad.”

  “It’s nine too many,” Taeha scoffed. “How many were sent?”

  “My informant said fifty, but I can’t be sure.”

  “They sent three hundred of us ten years ago. Did they learn nothing?” Taeha gritted his teeth.

  “The chief doesn’t make mistakes like this. Learning is not the issue,” Lee Si-woo said.

  There was a brief pause. Yoon Taeha felt the warm breeze brush his skin. The heat wasn’t unbearable like it had been ten years ago; it was almost gentle in comparison. Walls of flames decorated the dungeon and lit the sky orange. The dungeon seemed almost man-made. There were ancient ruins, much like those of Greek and Roman empires, ones that didn’t suit the environment in the slightest. There were small pathways and bridges crossing pools of lava, and a mountain range in the distance.

  “Not a bird in sight,” Kwon Gi-tae said, almost disappointed.

  “That doesn’t mean there aren’t any,” Taeha frowned, remembering the herd attacking him after entering the last gate. “They’re distracted fighting the hunters.”

  “That’s a good sign. It means they’re alive.” Gi-tae placed his hand on Taeha’s shoulder. Taeha brushed it off in seconds.

  “For now. You seem confident he’s still alive,” Lee Si-woo said.

  “He is alive,” Taeha said. “He has to be.”

  “Being SS-class doesn’t make him immortal.”

  Yoon Taeha looked at him, pain across his expression. He couldn’t understand why Lee Si-woo would say something so hurtful, especially when saving Kang Jeonhyun was the sole purpose for Taeha being there. Lee Si-woo’s fingers twitched as he realized how deeply his words had stung the man.

  “Let’s get going,” Lee Si-woo hurried them. “We’re getting nowhere by standing here.”

  They marched forward, calm but deliberate, wary of their surroundings. They couldn’t lower their guards. Crossing a bridge, Taeha walked a little too close to the rail and looked down at the bubbling lava beneath. He wondered whether he could still heal himself if he fell. How long would it take for him to wake up again?

  “Hyung, can’t you take us closer to the hunters?” Gi-tae turned to Si-woo.

  “I could, but I shouldn’t overuse my powers. We don’t know what we may face yet.”

  “And you call yourself S-class,” Gi-tae scoffed.

  “It has nothing to do with my hunter class, Gi-tae. You know I’m not used to these powers.”

  “But you said you reawakened years ago,” Yoon Taeha said, confused.

  “Are you used to your healing powers?” Si-woo turned to Taeha, who quickly looked away. Lee Si-woo let out a small laugh. “Just like you, I’ve had to hide my powers in order to remain in the position I’m in now. Teleporters are still quite rare, and I didn’t want to become a dog of the Association. Being an above-average soldier is enough for me, and I don’t want that to change.”

  Yoon Taeha understood better than anyone. He too had never wanted to become the dog, the slave of the Association. It wasn’t only that anymore. If people like him, Si-woo, or even Gi-tae were found out, what would become of them? They were different. There had never been public announcements of hunters being reawakened before, so who knew what their fate would be? Taeha was sure they were not the only ones. If someone so close to him had met the same fate, who was to say there wasn’t someone else nearby?

  Kwon Gi-tae, on the other hand, was what one could say defective. He was unregistered, not only to the system but to himself. He didn’t see his own monitor; he could only guess his class. Taeha knew he couldn’t be anything less than an A-class hunter based on his ability. Still, memory manipulation wasn’t something to take lightly. If the Association got their hands on such a valuable skill, no one would be safe anymore. Taeha shook his head, wanting the thought to leave him. Instead, he turned to Lee Si-woo.

  “Si-woo,” he began, “how is your skill different from Jaeseong’s?”

  Lee Si-woo scratched the back of his head and thought for a moment.

  “I’ve never seen him in action, so I can’t say for certain, but with Dimensional Split, you’re usually able to create portals to places you have a clear vision of. So how I think it works is that he needs to have been to the place he jumps to.”

  Taeha looked up, remembering how Jaeseong had carried him out of the Baekho gate. “And it doesn’t seem to work between our realm and the gates.”

  “Exactly. It’s a very useful battle skill for sure, but my quality is different. I don’t have to have been or seen the place I teleport to, but the power is not limitless. Even I don’t know the full extent of it, but what I do know is that I have to have some kind of connection on the other side.”

  “What kind of connection?”

  “I’m talking about human connection, or more like traces of it,” Si-woo said, the rocks crunching beneath his boots as they walked. “I need to know who I’m going to. So, whereas Kim Jaeseong needs a visual anchor, I need a human one.”

  “So what you’re saying is that you need to sense the person there?”

  “The person doesn’t necessarily have to be there at that moment, but their traces still have to linger there,” Si-woo explained. “Having said that, even if my rank rose to S-class, it doesn’t mean I have full control of my powers. There’s much to learn, and right now the signal is messy. When there are too many people, the connection distorts, and I have trouble tracing the one connection I need.”

  “What does it feel like? The connection?” Taeha asked.

  “It’s like a thread pulling me forward. It’s almost like following footprints.” He paused for half a second before adding, “And when the footprints disappear… there’s nothing left to follow.”

  Yoon Taeha swallowed hard. I hope he’s still walking.

  The conversation dragged Lee Si-woo back to the day his power had first manifested. He had lived so long as a mere E-class, not fully understanding what it was that had made him an awakened hunter in the first place. He was neither strong enough to matter nor weak enough to be entirely dismissed. He had no explanation for it. One day, he sensed a strange power within him, but it was only a spark, a fleeting moment. Still, he decided to report it, and during his examination, it did show. His class was a disappointment, but in the end, it didn’t change his life in the slightest. Because of his training, he didn’t have to go to office work like many others and could continue in the military. But it didn’t ease his feeling of inferiority. Why was he awakened if he remained useless?

  He kept his reawakening a secret for years. He hadn’t understood what he had done, only that they were alive when they shouldn’t have been. An accidental reawakening, but one that saved both him and Kwon Gi-tae. Power had saved them, yes, but it had also made him dangerous. A threat to the Association. Gi-tae was the only witness, and even now, Si-woo wished he hadn’t been.

  The walk in the endless heat seemed to take them nowhere. The ruins in the dungeon seemed to shift position ever so often, but changes were nothing new when it came to dungeons. Everything about them was unpredictable. There was only lava, ruins, and rocks around them. But Taeha knew better, there was something waiting for them in the distance that the other two had yet to notice.

  “We’ve been walking forever,” Kwon Gi-tae sighed. “There’s nothing here.”

  Yoon Taeha didn’t answer immediately; he only pointed ahead.

  “We’re on the right track,” he finally said. “They’re behind the heat shimmer.” The mountain range beyond the shimmer wavered like water, making it seem alive.

  “I see nothing,” Gi-tae said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “That’s because it’s an illusion,” Taeha answered.

  “Well, you would know, you’ve done this before,” Lee Si-woo said, his expression still serious and unchanged.

  “False.” Taeha turned to him. “This is the first time I’ve encountered this phenomenon.”

  “Then how do you know it’s an illusion?” Gi-tae asked.

  “I just do.”

  “You’re trusting that instinct again,” Lee Si-woo scoffed.

  He wasn’t lying. The previous gate had its fair share of thermal distortion, but it had only been a natural phenomenon that had nothing to do with illusions. Yoon Taeha feared that this was a creation meant for Jujak to hide itself. Still, Gi-tae’s question lingered in his mind harder than he wanted it to. How had he been able to tell it was an illusion? It felt like his body and mind were dragging him forward, wanting to pull him into the flames. There was no logic to it; only his body commanding him to continue.

  Which one of you bastards is pulling me there? Is it the beast or the bigger beast?

  They finally stood before the wall of fire. The dancing flames warmed their bodies, but their blood ran cold. Where there was fear, there was also hope, hope that once they crossed that wall, there would be familiar faces waiting for them, alive.

  Yoon Taeha reached his hand toward the flames. Lee Si-woo yanked him back before he could touch them.

  “What are you doing?” Si-woo held Taeha’s back against his chest. Taeha, glued to him, tilted his head back just enough to catch sight of Si-woo’s face above him.

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  “We need to get through.”

  “Yeah, we do, but without third-degree burns.” Si-woo’s brows furrowed. “I’ll take us.”

  He grabbed both their hands, and his mind drifted, focusing on the destination. Taeha opened his eyes seconds later, only to find himself exactly where they had stood before.

  “Are we waiting for someone?” He turned again to Si-woo.

  The man remained silent, his brows still furrowed as he gazed into the flames before them. His hand was still linked with the other two, and Taeha felt a tremble.

  “Si-woo,” Taeha said, “what’s going on?”

  Still no answer. Kwon Gi-tae yanked his hand free from Si-woo’s grip.

  “Hyung!” he barked. “Snap out of it. Why aren’t we moving?”

  Lee Si-woo couldn’t speak. His grip tightened, his jaw clenched. He knew whatever he said next would stir panic, so he chose to remain quiet. He chose not to look at Taeha.

  Taeha could only stare at him. They didn’t have time for this. Every second they wasted was a second away from Kang Jeonhyun, a second he couldn’t afford to lose.

  The realization hit him like lightning from a clear sky. His eyes widened. His heart skipped a beat.

  “There are no footprints,” he whispered under his breath, gazing down. Then his eyes lifted back to Lee Si-woo. Si-woo looked at him, his eyes full of concern and guilt.

  “You’re joking,” Kwon Gi-tae yelled.

  “I feel nothing from the other side,” Si-woo said. “There’s nothing to follow.”

  “It can’t be. I can feel him— I—” Yoon Taeha gasped for air, the heat filling his lungs. “—he has to be there!” He reached to grab Si-woo’s collar, but the man gently caught his wrists.

  Yoon Taeha’s expression shifted as he looked into the pitying eyes piercing through him. He let go and, with resolve, took a step back.

  “If I’m on the other side, you will be able to find my traces.”

  “What are you—” Si-woo had barely opened his mouth when Taeha ran through the flames.

  “Taeha!”

  Yoon Taeha had heard him; still, he chose to run. The flames burned his skin; they burned every cell of his body. As his eyelashes caught fire, he still trusted his skills to save him. Even after passing through the flames, he still felt the burn on his skin. He crashed into the ground like a worn-out rag. He heard voices but couldn’t distinguish them. His body hurt too much. Then the voices suddenly became clearer.

  “This suicidal maniac,” a familiar voice said. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

  “He’s fine,” another voice said. “Look at the green light flickering around him. Give it a moment.”

  It fucking hurts.

  “Try walking through flames yourself if you’re so fucking confident,” Taeha muttered, the sentence escaping him with a cough before he meant to say it out loud.

  “See?” Kim Jaeseong’s voice said as Taeha slowly opened his eyes. The man with the long blond hair held him in his arms, just like he had before. “Told you he was fine.” He smiled.

  Yoon Taeha reached out his hand to Kim Jaeseong, as if to caress his cheek, but he stopped mid-air. He pulled his hand back slightly, gathered more power into it, and slapped Kim Jaeseong across the face as hard as he could.

  “Just because I can heal doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, you motherfucker,” Taeha yelled. He was fully healed as he sat upright.

  “Good to see you too, Lieutenant,” Kim Jaeseong said, his cheek red from the slap, and hugged Taeha.

  “Where is he?” Yoon Taeha had barely managed to ask when he looked past Kim Jaeseong’s form and saw a tall, black-haired figure staring right at him, eyes wide. He walked toward them slowly, as if he had seen something that wasn’t supposed to be there. And he wasn’t.

  Yoon Taeha stood up and took a few steps forward, ready to run to him, but Jeonhyun was faster. Taeha’s lips began to form a smile, until he saw the Second Lieutenant’s expression change from concern to fury.

  “Are you out of your mind!?” he yelled, loud enough for even Taeha to startle. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing following us here? I told you to stay put!”

  Yoon Taeha’s eyes widened as he listened to the man yelling at him. He wasn’t finished.

  “I told you we would come back. Why would you risk yourself rushing in here like that!? Who on earth let you march in here—”

  Kang Jeonhyun saw Kwon Gi-tae and Lee Si-woo standing behind Taeha. His gaze snapped back to Taeha. He was ready to open his mouth again but was met with a direct punch to the face, throwing him back a step. He lifted his hand to his cheek, in disbelief that the short omega in front of him had actually struck him so easily.

  Yoon Taeha didn’t stop. He grabbed Jeonhyun by the collar and shoved him backward.

  “You don’t get to yell at me!” he barked. “Do you have any idea what I went through to get here? You selfish—” He landed another punch. “Insolent—” Another one, lighter this time. “—bastard!”

  Kang Jeonhyun stopped his third punch mid-air. “I broke out of prison because of you!” Taeha kicked Jeonhyun’s abdomen, finally knocking him down.

  “I’ve never seen a relationship quite like that,” Kwon Gi-tae said, crossing his arms.

  Neither Kim Jaeseong nor Lee Si-woo were amused, because they knew that the fight in front of them was purely between two people who were equally worried about each other. Two people who had never learned to communicate with words, only with fists. And Taeha wasn’t fighting blindly.

  Kang Jeonhyun stood up quickly while Yoon Taeha’s fist was already coming his way. He dodged. Taeha’s words blurred beneath his anger; Jeonhyun barely understood a word.

  Taeha didn’t give up trying to land another blow. “That bitch, the Chief, she—!” He threw a roundhouse kick aimed at Jeonhyun’s side. Jeonhyun dodged again. It became a chain reaction: Taeha striking, Jeonhyun retreating, dodging every attack. Not once did he try to strike back. Every missed hit only fed Taeha’s fury.

  “You left me out there!” he shouted, launching a spinning kick that forced Jeonhyun to finally block instead of dodge. Jeonhyun gritted his teeth but still refused to counter.

  Another strike came Jeonhyun’s way, but he finally caught both of Taeha’s wrists mid-swing. They stood inches apart, both panting. Jeonhyun looked into Taeha’s eyes and saw the fear of abandonment blazing in them.

  “If you had died in those flames—” Jeonhyun began.

  “I didn’t,” Taeha snapped back, jerking himself free.

  Lee Si-woo stepped forward. Kang Jeonhyun’s brows furrowed at the sight of the dominant alpha approaching. Si-woo grabbed Taeha’s arm to pull him back.

  “This isn’t the time to fight.”

  “Yeah, you idiots!” Kwon Gi-tae rushed behind Si-woo.

  “The last two people I wanted to see right now,” Kang Jeonhyun muttered under his breath.

  Running footsteps echoed as the Special Ops closed in on them. Yoon Taeha’s expression brightened slightly at the sight of them all alive and almost well.

  “You look like death,” he said.

  The twins rushed to hug Taeha, one of them messing with his hair mid-hug.

  “Ugh, stop it.” Taeha tried to push them away, but they wouldn’t budge.

  Kang Jeonhyun’s sharp gaze lingered on Yoon Taeha a second too long before he looked away and turned toward Lee Si-woo and Kwon Gi-tae. He stepped forward as if the previous shouting match had never happened, deliberately ignoring the omega behind him.

  “I appreciate your assistance,” he said to Si-woo, extending his hand, almost reluctantly, not fully knowing what he was thanking the man for. Why had they come? “This gate escalated faster than anticipated. How did you manage to enter?” he asked instead.

  Si-woo accepted the handshake without hesitation, his expression calm and unreadable, fully aware of Jeonhyun’s annoyance. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  Behind them, Yoon Taeha’s face flushed a furious red. “Oh, now you appreciate him,” he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear. “When I show up, I get yelled at. When he does, it’s assistance.”

  One of the twins snorted while the other rolled his eyes, their arms still tightly around Taeha.

  “You were ordered to stay put.” Kang Jeonhyun’s jaw tightened.

  “And you were ordered not to die,” Taeha shot back immediately.

  “Do I look dead to you?” Jeonhyun snapped.

  “Looks like we’re both bad at following instructions.” A brief silence followed.

  Kwon Gi-tae stepped forward before the tension could build any further. “Cuz,” he said almost casually, “what happened? Where are the birdies?”

  Kang Jeonhyun’s brows furrowed as his gaze shifted to his cousin. “What are you doing here? Do you have a death wish? This is not a place for an average soldier.”

  “I missed you.”

  “This is not a family reunion!”

  “Anyway,” Gi-tae shrugged. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “We were attacked the moment we crossed the threshold,” Jeonhyun began, his voice heavier now. “Nine men from SA1 and SA2 fell before we could even establish formation.”

  “Some A- and S-class hunters we’ve got there,” Taeha muttered, still sulking. Kang Jeonhyun chose to ignore him.

  “We were not prepared for an immediate ambush. I blame my poor judgment.”

  “Poor judgment indeed,” Taeha muttered again, this time angering Jeonhyun.

  “Enough!” he snapped, turning toward Taeha before quickly facing Lee Si-woo again, his gaze colder now. “And you,” he said slowly, “why would you bring him here?”

  “I think he’s done with the appreciation,” Ryu Seojin said, with Seoyeon nodding beside him.

  Taeha blinked. “He didn’t bring me—”

  Si-woo cut him off. “He made his own decision.”

  “I believe you’re not an idiot. He doesn’t belong here. Neither do you. You should have stopped him.”

  “Should I have locked him up again, or what would you have suggested?” Si-woo’s question made the air drop. Jeonhyun’s eyes shifted sharply toward Taeha.

  “Lock him up?”

  “See? He didn’t even listen earlier.” Taeha shrugged. “Then he says he cares.”

  “Your Chief didn’t want him interfering, so she handled it,” Lee Si-woo said with a cold expression.

  “What are you talking about?” Jeonhyun asked, turning to Taeha again. “What did you do?”

  “She detained me,” Taeha snapped. “Locked me in the glasshouse so I wouldn’t follow you.”

  Kang Jeonhyun pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “How long?”

  Yoon Taeha chuckled.

  “Barely a moment. These glorious bastards got me out.”

  “You broke him out!?” He turned to the two men again. Lee Si-woo looked away with a subtle smile, while Kwon Gi-tae openly grinned.

  “We had some help too.”

  Kim Jaeseong, who had been following the conversation from farther back, finally stepped forward. He pushed the twins off Taeha and pulled him into a tight hug, making him blush.

  “I, for one, am happy to see you,” he said and smooched Yoon Taeha’s cheek.

  Startled, Taeha brought his hand to his cheek and turned slightly to look at Jaeseong’s grin. The death stares from Lee Si-woo and Kang Jeonhyun were unmistakable.

  Jaeseong looked back at Si-woo. “So you are a teleporter?”

  “I guess nothing goes unnoticed by you,” Lee Si-woo answered.

  “I am that talented.” Kim Jaeseong flicked his hair.

  “It’s strange we made it to the other side in the end. The hunters are obviously here, so why couldn’t you sense them?” Kwon Gi-tae rubbed his chin.

  “The gate must be disrupting whatever traces were left behind,” Taeha answered.

  “I get that, but we made it in the end,” Gi-tae said.

  “I couldn’t follow their traces,” Si-woo said. “But I could follow his. I followed the ashes.”

  For a moment, everything went quiet. The sight of Taeha burning and the smell of burning flesh was something they all wanted to forget. Kang Jeonhyun’s face went pale at the thought.

  Kwon Gi-tae coughed to interrupt the building tension again, like the whistleblower he was.

  “This is the last time I’m asking about the bird.”

  “We injured it enough for it to retreat.”

  “Where?” Lee Si-woo asked.

  “We don’t know yet. The rest of the Special Ops are searching. I’m expecting to hear from them soon, considering Minjae’s and Hyunwoo’s abilities.”

  “Okay, cool, then we wait,” Gi-tae said, walking away to look around the area.

  Kang Jeonhyun, noticing Yoon Taeha being distracted by Kim Jaeseong’s flirting, stepped closer to Lee Si-woo.

  “You really don’t know when to stay away.”

  “I’m here because this situation escalated,” Si-woo answered, crossing his arms confidently.

  “He ran through fire.”

  “You know fully well that his ability protected him,” Lee Si-woo said, although his own heart had dropped when Yoon Taeha passed through the flames.

  Taeha rushed between them.

  “Can we focus on what’s relevant now?” he said, placing his hand on Si-woo’s chest.

  Kang Jeonhyun’s eyes reddened with fury at the sight of him touching the man.

  Taeha turned to Jeonhyun. “Show me the injured.”

  Although reluctant, Kang Jeonhyun walked toward the forces, knowing what Taeha’s plan was. The first hunter down on the ground was a young woman, barely of age. Before Yoon Taeha approached her, Kang Jeonhyun grabbed his arm.

  “If you do this, there’s no going back. Everyone will know.”

  “Small price to pay for all these lives,” Taeha answered, not meeting his gaze. He wasn’t ready to have the conversation with the man about what had happened before, though he knew it would be inevitable in the future, if he wanted to stay with him.

  “I need you to be careful,” Jeonhyun said quietly.

  “Look at you. I spread my ass for you once and you’re acting like my boyfriend.” Taeha laughed.

  “Wait—” Jeonhyun blinked, taken aback. “Aren’t we—” He couldn’t finish the question.

  Taeha’s smile faded slightly. “Aren’t we what?”

  “Forget it.” Kang Jeonhyun looked away, jaw tight. Yoon Taeha reached out, brushing his fingers briefly against Jeonhyun’s hand.

  “Thank you for the letter.”

  Then he turned away before he could hear whatever response might have followed.

  Yoon Taeha knelt beside the injured hunter. The girl sat up in slight panic.

  “Relax,” Taeha said gently. “I’m Yoon Taeha, First Lieutenant. You’re going to be fine.”

  Her uniform was drenched in blood, but her injuries didn’t seem too severe; a broken ribcage, some deeper cuts here and there. In a flash of green light, all of the pain was gone.

  Kang Jeonhyun jerked at the gasps around them. He was already worried about Taeha’s fate if people found out, and now he was willingly exposing himself.

  The hunter’s breathing steadied as the light faded. She touched her abdomen in awe.

  “…What are you?” someone whispered from behind.

  Taeha moved on to the next hunter. And the next. He barely spoke, only confirming where the pain was.

  He knew his power would have been enough to cover the whole field, healing every minor scratch on the hunters, but he chose not to. He located the wounds and used the minimum amount of power necessary to heal them. It had nothing to do with exposing himself. He was preparing. He was saving his strength.

  That fucker might appear at any time; I need to preserve it.

  Kang Jeonhyun stayed beside him through every step, through every hunter he healed, until he was finally done. There were too many witnesses. Worry was the only thing on his mind.

  Taeha exhaled deeply and stood up after his last patient. He walked slowly back to his friends, stopping next to Kwon Gi-tae and placing his hand on his shoulder.

  “Do your magic.”

  Kwon Gi-tae grinned, stretched his hand forward, and cracked his fingers.

  “With pleasure.”

  Just like Yoon Taeha, he didn’t need to do it individually. He created a force field, much like a bubble around the hunters. Without sound, without visible action, he was done. He walked back to the men.

  “I imagined your quality to be something much more dramatic,” Yoon Taeha scoffed. “I’m kinda disappointed.”

  “What can I say? I’m calm and composed.” He looked around. “What about them? Should I?”

  Gi-tae pointed at Kim Jaeseong and Kang Jeonhyun.

  “They’re alright,” Taeha exhaled.

  Kang Jeonhyun’s gaze lingered on the faint shimmer that had just dissolved into nothing.

  “…What was that?” he asked quietly.

  Kwon Gi-tae tilted his head. “What was what?”

  “That.” Jeonhyun’s eyes narrowed. “You.”

  Gi-tae shrugged. “Guess I had a late awakening.”

  Jeonhyun stared at him. “Since when?”

  “Long enough.” Gi-tae’s smirked. “I guess this family reunion was necessary after all.”

  Kang Jeonhyun didn’t smile back. His gaze shifted briefly toward Si-woo, then Taeha.

  “How many of you are hiding things from me?”

  Gi-tae lifted both hands in mock surrender. “Chillax. I only did some memory altering.”

  “…You did what?”

  Gi-tae’s grin widened. “Mostly harmless.”

  Footsteps echoed from farther away. Walking turned into running.

  Taeha sensed it before the others did, but in that moment, he realized something. His telepathic abilities had weakened. He didn’t know whether it was the healing quality taking over the power he had already possessed. He hadn’t even realized the change in him.

  Weapons were raised instantly, but Kang Jeonhyun signaled for them to lower them. Park Minjae’s form appeared in the distance, Lee Hyunwoo right behind him. Choi Yoonsun, sweaty and tired, ran behind the two younger hunters.

  They all stopped dead when they saw him.

  “…Lieutenant?” Minjae gasped. For a moment, Taeha sensed a slight annoyance in his tone.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” Yoonsun said, panting.

  Taeha gave them a dry laugh. “So I’ve been told.”

  Jeonhyun stepped forward before anyone could say more.

  “Report.”

  “We tracked the guardian to the altar. We believe it’s repositioning.” Choi Yoonsun’s breathing steadied under Jeonhyun’s command.

  “The altar?” Lee Si-woo frowned, confused, but he noticed Taeha nodding.

  “Then we need to move forward. We can’t wait for the mountain to come to us; we need to strike first.”

  Kang Jeonhyun’s gaze turned sharp. “You’re not coming.”

  “We’re not having this talk again. Lock me up when we’re back if you want. I’m working now,” Taeha snapped.

  “The Chief will do it for him. You’re a fugitive now, Lieutenant,” Lee Si-woo said.

  Yoon Taeha let out a loud laugh, as if it were the funniest thing he had ever heard. He waved his hand dismissively.

  “Let her. I need a vacation after this.”

  Kang Jeonhyun’s fists tightened. This omega was going to be the death of him.