Chapter 52: The Lingering Attachment

A little more time passed. By the time I realized that his actions might have been a subtle, hesitant confession, I had already adapted to my new surroundings. Dongjun, for his part, treated me as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened.

Another year slipped by. The fragrant white blossoms, the lush vegetation, and the fleeting splendor of spring and summer had passed, giving way to the white silence of winter.

Stepping outside, my muffler wrapped tight, the cold air clung to my cheeks. Yet, unlike before, my heart no longer felt on the verge of crumbling.

A horn blared.

It was a gentle, affectionate summons, just as it had been on the day we first met. Dongjun, having pulled his car right up to the cafe entrance, practically leaped out and opened the passenger door for me.

When I stared at him with a deadpan expression, utterly bewildered, he bowed respectfully at the waist.

“Did I not promise to serve you flawlessly?”

“Your tone. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Right. I’ll go back to normal.”

He nodded briskly, then fussed, urging me to get in quickly because of the cold. I chuckled softly and settled into the car.

We drove for a considerable time, reaching a secluded district on the outskirts of the inner city. It was evident he had chosen a place devoid of CCTV cameras and the city’s patrolling guards.

Dongjun ordered samgyeopsal and soju, while Yeowon opted for a carbonated drink. As they waited for the charcoal to arrive, a familiar voice emanated from a screen installed in one corner of the restaurant.

Yeowon, midway through picking up a piece of salad, froze, his chopsticks suspended in mid-air.

[A maze is a maze precisely because it has an exit. As always, we will find our way out.]

[It has been half a year since the public was informed that the number of Gates is decreasing. While the controversies and concerns have largely subsided, the anxiety in the hearts of citizens has likely not vanished entirely. They are merely keeping it to themselves, for jeering offers no aid to the heroes tasked with subjugating the Calamity.]

A panelist, who appeared to be an expert, pushed up their glasses.

[Yet, to claim we will overcome this without any basis whatsoever? Do you not consider that an incredibly irresponsible statement?]

Sagyeol merely smiled, a silent, sardonic twist to his lips. His eyes narrowed into a sharp, mocking gaze. Yeowon read the meaning of that expression perfectly.

‘It meant that a bastard whose only contribution was running their mouth on such a program had no business making such pronouncements.’

Though perhaps not understanding it as precisely as Yeowon, the panelist, having roughly grasped the atmosphere, flushed crimson. Startled by the sudden, apocalyptic turn of the discussion, the MC quickly stepped forward.

[Th-this newly designated strategy point, I hear, is different from the one two years ago. Its scale is twice as large, and the concentration of magic energy is 1.5 times greater. Moreover, the grade of the demonic beast that has nested within is still unknown…. Do you have any specific countermeasures in mind?]

[It is classified information, which makes it difficult to discuss in this setting. However, I would simply ask you to remember: who was it that breached the strategy point of the blocked maze two years ago?]

Ever since settling in Grisha, news of Sagyeol had reached my ears, whether I wished for it or not. He was, in every sense, the city’s undisputed hero.

He had resurrected a city once brought to its knees, and from that moment until now, he had led the subjugation forces on the front lines, fighting for those afflicted by magic poisoning.

Yeowon could not tear his eyes away from the man, who wore a smile of effortless composure, as if painted on his face.

“How unexpected.”

“What is?”

“I thought you wouldn’t be interested in such things.”

“I’m not interested.”

Dongjun chuckled.

“If you’re going to lie, just keep silent, I always say. Though, even when you keep your mouth shut, it’s pretty obvious.”

“……”

Yeowon stared intently at Dongjun, his gaze akin to someone observing something less appealing than a camel cricket. Realizing belatedly why they had come to eat meat, Dongjun let out a small gasp of understanding.

“…I seem to have babbled on, forgetting my place for a moment.”

Dongjun, unable to even recoup his initial investment, visibly shrunk. He was saved by a brawny employee, whose biceps bulged impressively.

“Charcoal coming through. Please be careful.”

The charcoal and grill plate were set. Seizing the opportunity, Dongjun began grilling the meat, chattering away about anything that came to mind.

As the meat sizzled and cooked, Yeowon’s mood softened. He began to eat in silence, and seeing this, Dongjun also breathed a sigh of relief and picked up his chopsticks.

The two devoured the meat as if possessed by hunger. Dongjun drank alcohol, Yeowon drank soda, and the table became littered with empty bottles.

As was inevitable, Dongjun eventually passed out. Yeowon, using Dongjun’s device, settled the bill before effortlessly scooping up the sturdy adult male.

“Ohh.”

“Quite strong, aren’t they?”

From a secluded corner, a group of tipsy older men applauded. Yeowon merely dipped his head in acknowledgment before exiting the restaurant.

After settling Dongjun into the passenger seat, I took the wheel. As I drove back the way we came, I found myself uncharacteristically lost in sentimentality.

It was the same path I had traveled after being ‘picked up’ by Dongjun in the past.

Two years.

During that time, I hadn’t solely dedicated myself to the cafe. Though not as pure and brilliant as Dongjun’s, I, too, had something I needed to achieve.

Lee Myeong-hwan’s last trace had vanished at the main building of the Three Crescent Moons Guild. Experts speculated that the Gates had begun opening in rapid succession around that very location.

This was a fact I hadn’t known back in Baekdam.

‘I knew he had been swallowed by the Calamity, but I never imagined he’d be in its deepest core.’

At the time, all sorts of conspiracy theories seemed to be circulating. Some even claimed that, fearing public condemnation, he had simply hidden away in the city’s underbelly and was still living comfortably.

Yeowon rarely scoffed, but he did then.

‘Someone capable of such deeds wouldn’t fear mere condemnation.’

The damp, gloomy air within the building, the amplified echo of every small sound, the magic circles etched into the floor, and the people writhing in their final throes—all remained vivid.

So too did the man who observed it all with chilling indifference, and even the Gate Stone that felt as if it would freeze me solid the moment it passed my throat.

Every detail remained strikingly clear.

Caught by a red light, I pressed the brake. Snow began to fall, relentlessly, as if it would never tire.

After this winter, the third cherry blossoms would bloom.

From a dictionary he no longer consulted, Yeowon recalled the meaning of ‘lingering attachment.’

‘Was it a heart that couldn’t quite forget?’

The traffic light, hanging from a silver-gray tree, flickered green. Two young men, who had belatedly approached the crosswalk, suddenly began to sprint.

Jostling each other, laughing uproariously at some private joke, they darted across the street directly in front of Yeowon.

Just as the light changed, the two reached the opposite side, laughed as they faced each other, and subtly intertwined their fingertips.

Honk!

Spurred by the impatient honk of the car behind, I finally pressed the accelerator. Meanwhile, the intensifying snowflakes hammered against the car window.

My heart pounded in my chest.

Within his own heart, a silver-gray tree stood. It resided in a secluded corner of his mind, a place from which he hastily averted his gaze, lest his eyes accidentally fall upon it.

Even now, on its parched branches, a lingering attachment for Sagyeol bloomed like unopened flower buds.

Yeowon gripped the steering wheel tightly.

‘If I had stayed by his side, would something have changed enough to dispel this deep-seated regret? Could I have forgotten about Kratus, even with the scars etched upon my heart?’

It was impossible to know. A future without a past simply did not exist. Such futile imaginings were nothing but a waste of time.

“……”

Yeowon’s vacant gaze swept past the city lights, drifting towards a distant point. A powerful impulse stirred within him.

What had merely seemed far away during his time in Baekdam had, since his arrival in Grisha, transformed into a concrete objective.

‘The Calamity.’

And undoubtedly, its very core.

Vroom.

The car gradually picked up speed. His heartbeat, too, began to quicken.

Something out there was still calling to him.

The A-rank hunters of Credit dashed along the periphery of the Calamity.

Thump.

Crack.

Greatswords swung, and small bolts of lightning struck down ceaselessly. They were the ‘Cleanup Crew,’ tasked with handling Gates where subjugation was complete, Gate analysis finished, and regeneration cycles secured for the city.

The ‘Subjugation Team,’ whom people typically envisioned when they thought of a subjugation force, was primarily composed of S-ranks. Unsubjugated Calamities tended to have a dense concentration of magic energy, and even after initial subjugation and reconnaissance, unexpected variables often emerged.

For this reason, overwhelming firepower was necessary, even for the slightest contingency.

In other words, while A-rank hunters might suffice for Gates within the city, they were akin to greenhorns fresh out of basic training when deployed to a Calamity, where anything could happen even after a prior subjugation.

At that, a hunter wielding a *dojeon*—a blade-coin—shouted.

“If you whine about being tired, you’ll die by my hand first. Get your heads straight. We still have ten Gates left to close.”

“Ugh…”

The wind-element team member groaned miserably. Their allocation of Gates for the day was sixteen.

While other cities would have been horrified to hear such a number, it was merely routine for the Cleanup Crew; in fact, today was considered light. A fire-element colleague then inquired.

“I heard the Guild Master was deployed to the west today. And that they were chased out by the Vice Guild Master after complaining about being bored. Is that true?”

“Yeah. I heard that too.”

The wind-element hunter nodded. The fire-element hunter asked again.

“They’re closing ten Gates by themselves, I heard. Is that also true?”

“It’s true, but why have you been calling them ‘Guild Master’ this whole time? You should use their code name.”

“Is there really a need for that?”

“They’re not like nobodies such as us. They’re a precious individual, you know.”

“…So why?”

The wind-element hunter said, sounding exasperated.

“What if they get intercepted? What if another city sends an assassin?”

The Calamity was strictly outside the city, a lawless zone distinct from urban areas. While the possibility was remote, an attack was not entirely impossible if someone had the intention.

The fire-element hunter scratched their cheek, remarking, “I wonder.”

“Then shouldn’t we be worrying about that assassin instead?”

“……”

Unable to retort, the wind-element hunter fell silent. Just then, the team leader, clearly irritated, swung their dojeon in a long arc.

“Stop messing around and get to work, you brats!”