13.10.2049, Seoul, Gangnam-gu, SHA Headquarters

  “Well, wasn’t this a surprise,” Kim Jaeseong sighed.

  “Definitely wasn’t how I imagined I’d spend this week,” Choi Yoonsun continued. “Fucking hell. We just got out of an S-class Baekho-gate yesterday!”

  “Y’all got your wills written, right?” Ryu Seojin gave a nervous laugh. His brother grabbed his hand, trembling.

  “It’s an A-class gate, we should be fine,” Kang Jeonhyun said as he adjusted his uniform. The Gate Resonance Meter pulsed steadily in the corner of the room, but the atmosphere swallowed its sounds.

  “This isn’t our first Jujak-gate,” Jaeseong said, forcing a grin as he slung an arm around the Second Lieutenant’s shoulders. “We’ll work like we always have. We’ll be back home in no time.” He leaned in slightly. “Then I’ll take our precious omega on a date.”

  Kang Jeonhyun’s gaze nearly stabbed the man, still Kim Jaeseong couldn’t help but laugh. His challenge was too obvious. After Jeonhyun’s pheromone release at the retreat, Jaeseong had stopped waiting. He believed Taeha deserved better than that, and that he was better. He was done pretending otherwise.

  “Will you call him, or should I?” Jaeseong asked, casually checking inventory on his monitor. Jeonhyun didn’t answer immediately.

  “He was forbidden to enter A-class Jujak-gates,” he said at last. “I don’t see a reason he should know about it.” With those words, the air in the lounge grew thick. His chest tightened from the guilt he didn’t let anyone see.

  Jaeseong didn’t answer, but anger stirred in him. His jaw tightened as he forced himself to keep breathing. He kept his expression neutral, kept it quiet, because arguing now, in front of the others, would only make it worse.

  “Why does it feel so wrong leaving him out?” Choi Yoonsun pressed his palms to his face. “We still haven’t been on many missions together. Worst comes to worst… we might never again.”

  “Worry about yourself now, will you,” Ryu Seoyeon snapped. Lee Hyunwoo, however, moved closer to Yoonsun and patted his back. Deaf or not, the tension seemed to reach him all the same.

  “Are you absolutely sure it’s A-class?” Ryu Seojin asked. “Any reinforcements?” Lee Hyunwoo tapped his monitor, turning it toward them. S-A1 and S-A2 had already reported for duty. A sense of relief fell over the team, even though they knew the only reason they were sending backup was that they couldn’t risk losing so many S-class hunters.

  Jujak-gates were the most dangerous ones; even Special Ops would not go alone. Kang Jeonhyun had been in two red gates before, both with different landscapes, though the beast had been the same. No one knew what the 2039 Jujak-gate had truly been like, only that two hundred ninety-nine people had never returned. They didn’t know what to expect if an S-class Jujak-gate opened again.

  Special Ops hadn’t existed back then. Neither had a system like theirs. The last S-class hunters had vanished with the gate itself. So far, the system had held, but who knew for how long?

  The Gate Resonance Meter was very sensitive to gates appearing. The less harmful gates needed fast reaction, as they also opened fast. But when it came to red gates, signs of opening appeared days before. The GRM would detect them instantly, and the prediction of the opening time would be very accurate.

  “You should all rest,” Kang Jeonhyun said. “The gate opens in five days. We’ll receive the alert when it’s time to move.” He paused. “Meanwhile, not a word to Tae—” He stopped, jaw tightening. “—the First Lieutenant. That’s an order.” No one argued.

  The rest of the team exited the room, some of them with heavy hearts, knowing what they would be facing would be yet again one of the most dangerous missions of their lives. Yes, it wasn’t their first Jujak-gate, but it didn’t make it any more predictable, nor did it ease their hearts that they would once again have to say goodbye to their families, just in case.

  Choi Yoonsun had been right before; hunters didn’t get a choice. Their paths were already forged for them before they even learned basic social skills. Awakening as an adult was rare; most awakened at the latest in their teens. Yoonsun, having awakened at the age of nine, knew it best. He was immediately thrown into the hands of the Association, given no choice in the matter.

  He looked back at the two men who stayed in the room, already predicting the outcome. The door shut, and it didn’t take long for Kim Jaeseong to open his mouth.

  “This is fucked up,” Jaeseong said immediately. “And you know it. Say it again.”

  “It’s an order.”

  “No. The real reason.” Jaeseong stepped closer. “The real reason you’re refusing to take him with us or even tell him.”

  “There doesn’t need to be another reason,” Jeonhyun snapped. “The Association ordered it. Telling him now will only complicate things. It’s better for everyone if this stays within the team.”

  “God damn it, Jeonhyun! He is part of the team! Since when did you start thinking with their brain instead of your own?”

  “Watch your tone, Sergeant.” Kang Jeonhyun’s jaw tightened.

  “No,” Jaeseong shot back. “You watch yours. When did you become their dog, huh? Following orders without asking who it hurts?”

  “This has nothing to do with feelings,” Jeonhyun said sharply. “This is what we do. My job is to keep us alive.” His voice dropped. “With this decision, he stays alive too.”

  “This isn’t protection. This is cowardice.” Kim Jaeseong slammed his fist on the wall, leaving a visible crack. “You don’t get to decide for him.”

  “Yes, I do. The Chief left me in charge of this operation, so what I say goes,” Kang Jeonhyun snapped; he couldn’t hold his words back anymore. “Let’s not forget he might be the reason for what happened ten years ago. Did you forget about that?”

  “You can’t still be suspecting him. He’s been nothing but loyal to us and helped us on our missions. He is our friend, for fuck’s sake.”

  “He is not my friend. He is a soldier, and a mediocre one.”

  “You really are a piece of shit, you know that?”

  “Remember your position, Sergeant.”

  “Ha.” Kim Jaeseong laughed dryly, bitterly. “So sorry, sir. I shall remember to respect my superiors, even if they don’t deserve it.”

  “Get out,” Kang Jeonhyun said.

  Jaeseong laughed again. “Gladly.” He paused at the door. “Keep telling yourself this was the right thing to do. Maybe someday it’ll work.” The door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls.

  Left alone in the lounge, Kang Jeonhyun didn’t move. His eyes fixed on the crack Kim Jaeseong had left behind. It didn’t matter what the team thought of him; what Jaeseong thought of him. Chief Han’s orders stood. This was his duty. He had already defied too many commands. There was no room left for hesitation or guilt.

  Kang Jeonhyun was willing to take the risk of receiving the hate he possibly deserved. He was willing to risk never finding out what happened at the gate ten years ago. He was prepared to lose the only thing that really mattered to him at that point, no matter how much it might hurt him. And he did have to admit that losing Yoon Taeha would be something he wouldn’t recover from easily. Even then, if this decision kept Taeha alive, then that was enough. He had to become the bad guy, masking his intentions with orders, even if Taeha never forgave him for it.

  At least he’ll be fine. And if the worst happens, he’ll be free of my imprint.

  14.10.2049, Gwangju, Buk-gu, National Unified Training Center, Gwangju Base

  It had been a long day for Yoon Taeha. Training new recruits always was. Sometimes it felt like they had no idea what the real world was like, or what dangers came with enlisting in the military. Most of them were in decent physical shape, but they struggled to follow orders. Some of it was fear. Some of it was laziness. It was as if the new recruits had enlisted only because they had no merits for any other kind of work.

  Taeha knew he wasn’t being fair. His own training in the North had been brutal. Compared to that, this felt almost soft. But it only seemed that way to Taeha, who had been practically beaten to near death in military school. These men had a choice. They weren’t hunters. They hadn’t been forced into service as dogs of the military but were entitled individuals.

  Laws were cruel for people like Yoon Taeha, and especially for Special Ops. Being S-class hunters, they knew from the moment of awakening that they’d have to carry the biggest burden of them all. They knew they’d have to enter the most dangerous dungeons, and they had to prepare themselves, as every entry could be their last.

  Exhaustion took him as he lay on the officers’ lounge couch. The dream came without warning. At first, it felt like a memory. It was more than that, one filled with guilt and grief.

  He was walking down a dark corridor. The air was hot and thick, making it hard to breathe. At the end of the hallway stood a red gate, burning. He was already in his hunter uniform, as if ready for battle. Taeha stopped knowing he shouldn’t enter.

  The red light grew brighter, as if reacting to him. The heat intensified, crawling over his skin. Hands formed out of dark matter and grabbed his shoulders. Unlike the burning gate in front of him, they were cold. Before he could react, they shoved him forward. The gate closed behind him. Everything around him was flaming red.

  He moved forward while the ground beneath his feet burned, like walking through fire. Each step hurt. His skin blistered, healed, then burned again. The pain never stopped. It felt too real, too familiar. It didn’t take him long to figure out where he had shifted. Worse than the pain was the feeling that this time he was alone. Still, he kept walking.

  He walked for what felt like hours, waiting to see something other than the red around him, still burning his skin with every passing moment. Finally, an open space came into view, but if he had had the choice, he would have burned in the flames for all eternity rather than witness the scene in front of him.

  Figures stood there, dozens of them. They looked human, but their faces were wrong. Empty. Motionless. The same black matter that had pushed him. When they rushed him, they grabbed his arms and legs, pulling him down. They were quiet.

  Then they started crying.

  “Why?”

  “Why did you leave us?”

  “My son is waiting for me.”

  “Take me back home. Take me to my family.”

  “Taeha, we trusted you.”

  “You promised.”

  Their cries grew louder, leaving Taeha quiet. Frozen. He couldn’t move. His limbs felt like they were being torn apart, pain exploding everywhere at once. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

  Then one face became clear. He recognized it immediately. It was the one person he wanted to see the least, and at the same time, the one he longed to see the most. He wanted to kneel down before the man and ask for forgiveness.

  The man looked at him calmly. No anger. No blame.

  “Take care of them,” he said. That was all.

  Taeha felt something break inside him. He was the only figure he didn’t want to run away from, for he was the reason Taeha was alive. Tears streamed down his cheeks, guilt rushing through him as his body was torn apart.

  He woke up with a sharp gasp, drenched in cold sweat. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. For a moment, he couldn’t tell where he was. A hand touched his shoulder. He slapped it away instinctively.

  “Lieutenant,” Lee Si-woo said quickly, his voice tight with concern. “It’s just me.”

  Taeha forced himself to breathe. The room came back into focus. He could smell calming pheromones in the air. Strong. Dominant alpha pheromones, meant to ground him.

  “Si-woo,” Taeha said hoarsely. “Your pheromones—”

  They vanished immediately.

  “I’m sorry,” Si-woo said, clearly embarrassed, realizing he’d done wrong. “I didn’t mean to cross a line. I thought it might help.”

  “You were… calming me down,” Taeha muttered.

  “I came in and you were yelling,” Si-woo explained, crouching in front of him. “You were shaking.”

  He took Taeha’s hand. His touch was warm, a little unsteady. Yoon Taeha stayed quiet for a moment, recalling his dream. Si-woo brushed his thumb against Taeha’s cheek, gently. Taeha placed his own hand over Si-woo’s.

  “Thank you,” he said. A blue light blinked on Taeha’s watch.

  “That should be a Cheongyong gate,” Si-woo said.

  “I should head back to Seoul,” Yoon Taeha replied, pushing himself up slowly. “You’re lucky you don’t have to go in.”

  Si-woo laughed, but it sounded forced. “Yeah. The only dominant alpha around, and I’m stuck as E-class. Pretty pathetic, huh?” The frustration was obvious.

  Taeha frowned. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just didn’t want to go today.”

  “I know,” Si-woo said quickly. “No offense taken.” He reached up and touched Taeha’s cheek again, a little more confidently this time. “Just be careful, and come back to me safely.”

  Taeha froze, his jaw nearly dropping. What did he mean by that? As he walked away, the feeling lingered. That dream hadn’t felt like a nightmare. It felt like a warning.

  14.10.2049, Seoul, Yongsan-gu, Itaewon

  By the time Yoon Taeha arrived, the Special Ops were already waiting in front of the gate. Living in Gwangju worked as a disadvantage for him, having to rush to the faster-opening gates every time. Sometimes he didn’t make it in time, and the rest of the team had already gone in by the time he arrived. They didn’t hold it against him, understanding that the man had two jobs.

  “Considering how fast you shoot, you’re not very quick on your feet,” Park Minjae joked, but he sounded colder than usual. He quickly received sharp looks from his teammates, stopping him from speaking further.

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  “There was traffic,” Yoon Taeha said while strapping on his vest, noticing the strange atmosphere. He proceeded to check his inventory, realizing he was almost out of ammo. They’d probably last him for this round, but he’d have to refill soon if he was to continue entering gates.

  Unknown time, Cheongryong gate, Yong-un-san

  Taeha turned to Kang Jeonhyun to suggest formations.

  “No,” Jeonhyun said to every single one. “Stay back. Provide support only.”

  Taeha frowned. “I can—”

  “That wasn’t a suggestion,” Jeonhyun added, already walking away from him.

  Kim Jaeseong shifted uncomfortably, then stepped in front of Taeha without looking at him.

  “I’ve got it,” he said. Taeha swallowed and nodded. He wasn’t offended. He was confused.

  Cheongryong was not exactly the most dangerous of beasts, but it was still a difficult catch. The dragon was a flying type, so shooting it wouldn’t be easy. It wasn’t the first time he’d fought one; he’d taken one down before, but it never proved easier.

  Kang Jeonhyun, with his elemental manipulation and air control, was able to fly, so he would probably be able to take the A-class beast down by himself. Choi Yoonsun’s strength gave him the advantage of being able to jump quite high, not to mention the twins’ speed, making them defy gravity itself. Kim Jaeseong was probably the most valuable player in this gate. His dimensional split could take him wherever he needed to be, whenever, and it was as if his power was never exhausted.

  But Yoon Taeha, Park Minjae, and Lee Hyunwoo could only remain on the ground as backup.

  As Yoon Taeha had expected, he didn’t have to do much in this gate, not that he didn’t want to; he wasn’t allowed. He could only watch the others fight and sit with the feeling of being useless. As if he were being intentionally sidelined by orders from the Second Lieutenant. He might as well have been labeled unnecessary.

  Once the guardian itself presented in the misty mountain dungeon, Yoon Taeha tried to be of help despite the order he had received. With his weapon pointed at the moving beast and a clear view he had finally reached, he was ready to aim. A split second before he could pull the trigger, Kang Jeonhyun flew in front of him.

  “Lieutenant! I told you to stay put. You’re only getting in our way.”

  It wasn’t strange for the man to pick at Yoon Taeha, but it still felt like a stab. Everything felt wrong, somehow humiliating, even. Taeha grabbed his dog tag, wondering what he was even doing there.

  14.10.2049, Seoul, Yongsan-gu, Itaewon

  The atmosphere got weirder once they got out of the gate. At some point, Taeha felt that the team had distanced themselves from him, but he couldn’t be sure. The first moment he noticed the shift was when Kim Jaeseong made no physical contact with him. It wasn’t something Taeha craved, but it was strange that someone who was always attached to him had suddenly kept his distance.

  Choi Yoonsun seemed to avoid his gaze, and the rest he wasn’t very close to anyway, so he didn’t think much of their indifference. But there were no post-gate debrief jokes, no complaints, not even the casual insults that were normal for them. Whenever Yoon Taeha said something, he barely got any acknowledgment. And when he asked a question, the answer was always short.

  Then there was the one whose attention he craved the most. Yes, Kang Jeonhyun was the coldest person he had ever met, but despite them getting closer recently, even his behavior felt off. Taeha’s stomach twisted at the thought that they might have gone back to square one. How long would it be before they clashed again and fought? He didn’t even want to consider the scenario.

  Trying to strike up a conversation, he was nearly pushed away.

  “Good work,” Yoon Taeha said quietly to Kim Jaeseong, quickening his pace to walk next to him.

  Jaeseong nodded. “Yeah.”

  That was it. His usual grin had disappeared, no comments, certainly nothing physical. The others moved ahead, but Yoon Taeha deliberately slowed down and fell behind. He was being left behind. Had they finally decided he was useless?

  He couldn’t shake off the cold goodbyes as he hopped into the borrowed military car and drove back to Gwangju. Anxiety followed him for the entire drive. He couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. It felt as if they were ready to kick him out of the team. He knew he wouldn’t remain jobless, and that eased his mind a little, but he couldn’t help remaining confused by the sudden shift in his relationships.

  14.10.2049, Gwangju, Buk-gu, National Unified Training Center, Gwangju Base

  Yoon Taeha had contacted Lee Si-woo to let him know he was heading back. As he drove up to the base gates, he saw the man waiting for him, waving at his arrival. After the gate, having someone welcome him with such warmth didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. In fact, it somehow made him happy. Taeha parked the car and unconsciously rushed to Lee Si-woo’s side. It was only once he was standing in front of him that he realized what he was doing, and his face flushed. Si-woo, however, took the chance and pulled Yoon Taeha into a tight hug, catching him completely off guard.

  “You came back sooner than I expected,” Lee Si-woo said.

  “Turns out I wasn’t exactly needed. The others took Cheongyong down very quickly. Seeing them in action, it didn’t feel like it was an A-class beast.” Yoon Taeha forced a smile.

  “But you seem disappointed.”

  “I’m just tired,” Taeha lied.

  Lee Si-woo was sharp and noticed Yoon Taeha’s discomfort. He grabbed Taeha’s hand and began walking toward the base. For some reason, Yoon Taeha didn’t mind it. Was it selfish to seek the man’s attention while simultaneously having feelings for another? Yes. Was it obvious that Lee Si-woo was flirting with him? Also yes. Still, he couldn’t help himself, even if he was giving the man the wrong idea.

  Yoon Taeha walked to his dorm room while Lee Si-woo insisted on accompanying him. He opened the door slowly, then turned to look at Si-woo.

  “You know what? I could really use a drinking buddy right now.”

  “You don’t even have to ask.”

  Yoon Taeha brought soju bottles and beer cans to the table. The amount was enough for a whole team of soldiers rather than just the two of them.

  “Your liver must heal fast. Or how are you planning to down all of that?” Lee Si-woo asked with a slight grin.

  “That’s why there’s two of us.” Yoon Taeha laughed dryly as he sat down. He poured a beer into a large glass and dropped a shot glass full of soju inside. Lee Si-woo did the same, making jokes anyone else would have found dry, but Yoon Taeha laughed, nevertheless.

  “You don’t have to laugh if you don’t feel like it,” he finally said, smiling at Taeha.

  Taeha let out a quiet breath. “I know. But today, you’ve been the only one I feel like smiling at. So I’d rather laugh at your lame jokes than cry on your shoulder.”

  Lee Si-woo reached across the table and caressed Taeha’s cheek. He was far too comfortable touching him. Even Kim Jaeseong wouldn’t do it to this extent, but in that moment, Taeha didn’t mind.

  “Have you ever thought about staying here full-time?” he asked, tone casual, like it was an idle thought. “The base could use someone like you. Someone who actually cares if the soldiers make it back alive.”

  Taeha blinked. “I already work here.”

  “I mean really here,” Si-woo clarified. “As my partner. No being treated like backup. You’d stay with me.”

  Yoon Taeha wasn’t sure if this was an attempt by Lee Si-woo to keep him as a soldier or if he wanted him to stay to be something more. Things were already getting dangerous between them, considering how much alcohol both of them had already had. Taeha tried to brush off the question as a joke.

  “I’m important, you know? The Special Ops wouldn’t let me go that easily.”

  “I could steal you.” Si-woo’s words were playful, but Taeha’s heart dropped for a moment. “I’m serious,” he added quietly. “I’d keep you. Right here. Where I can see you come back every day.”

  Yoon Taeha knew it was wrong to take comfort in those words, but that day had been difficult for him. Not only had he had that ominous dream, but the way he was shunned at the gate bothered him more now than when it had happened.

  They drank more than they planned. The cheap soju went down too easily, while Lee Si-woo kept making Yoon Taeha laugh at his awful jokes. His cheeks were now red, his head felt light, and his thoughts were finally nowhere near the events of the day.

  “Taeha,” Si-woo said softly, “you should slow down.”

  “I’m fine,” Taeha murmured. He reached out without thinking, palms on Si-woo’s cheeks. “Jeonhyun…”

  Si-woo froze. Taeha didn’t notice. He leaned closer, breath warm with alcohol.

  “You’re always so cold to me.”

  Si-woo swallowed. “Taeha,” he said, “look at me.”

  He didn’t. He didn’t see him at all. The room was soon filled with pheromones, those of a dominant alpha, followed by the ones Yoon Taeha reacted to. They were warm, gentle, making Taeha’s body respond.

  “Hngh.” He crawled closer to Lee Si-woo until he was sitting on top of him. Heat rushed under Si-woo’s skin. He had hoped Taeha would notice his intentions, but he hadn’t expected it to happen while Taeha thought he was someone else. Yoon Taeha had left all clarity behind.

  “Taeha,” Si-woo whispered, his mouth close to his ear. “You know this isn’t him.”

  Taeha didn’t answer, nor did he pull away. His arms moved around Si-woo’s neck, and Si-woo’s expression darkened.

  “I’m not going to pretend you don’t,” he murmured. “Just remember… you’re the one who started this.”

  Their bodies moved on instinct. Lee Si-woo placed his hand on the back of Taeha’s neck, pulled him closer, and kissed him. Taeha’s soft moans echoed in the room, their pheromones spiking. One piece of clothing left after another, until they were both tangled together. Taeha couldn’t see clearly and, despite the cold floor beneath him, he felt warm. He didn’t want to stop.

  The rest blurred.

  15.10.2049, Gwangju, Buk-gu, National Unified Training Center, Gwangju Base, Omega dormitory

  A pounding headache finally woke Yoon Taeha from his slumber. His vision was still blurry, but as it began to focus, the first thing he saw was the unbelievably gorgeous face lying sideways next to him. The horror hit him instantly. Startled, he fell off the bed and hit the floor with a loud thump.

  Lee Si-woo’s eyes opened at the sound of the fall. Yoon Taeha struggled to find the words, so Si-woo began instead.

  “Nothing happened,” he said. “Well… it did a little, but we stopped before doing anything we’d regret later.” He hadn’t stopped because it was wrong. He had stopped because Taeha had said another man’s name.

  “I—I’m sorry. I jumped you,” Taeha said, a memory of him calling for the Second Lieutenant rushing back into his mind. “So sorry.”

  “It was my fault, I almost—” Si-woo looked directly into his eyes. “I don’t have a habit of pouncing on someone barely conscious.” He sighed. “I understand that it might be a bit too forward of me to say, but I want you to stay with me.”

  “Yeah, I mean, we talked about this already yesterday. I will keep working—”

  “No, I mean with me. As lovers, not colleagues.”

  Si-woo’s expression shifted to something far more serious. Yoon Taeha was not completely oblivious to the man’s desires; his flirting had been too deliberate not to notice. Not playful like Kim Jaeseong’s, but obvious. “You don’t have to answer—”

  “No, I’ll think about it,” Taeha interrupted him. At that moment, he couldn’t find a reason to decline immediately. Kang Jeonhyun’s behavior was unstable again, and Yoon Taeha didn’t know how long he dared to hope. More than that, he didn’t want to be alone anymore.

  Lee Si-woo’s expression brightened at his words. He moved to the edge of the bed and took Taeha in his arms. He released a small bundle of pheromones, just enough to ease the tightness in Yoon Taeha’s chest.

  “Take your time.”

  Yoon Taeha had only a morning shift that day. By noon, he was already lying on his bed, going through everything that had taken place over the past few days. It was unbelievable how much of a roller coaster his life had become. Not only was he still confused from waking up after a ten-year coma, but he was already back to fighting in dungeons, meanwhile trying to control his pheromones around a certain man. And if that wasn’t enough, there was now Lee Si-woo stirring the pot with his confession.

  He felt his life was cracking little by little, and there was very little he could do about it. He couldn’t make Kang Jeonhyun want him, he couldn’t stop Lee Si-woo from having feelings for him, and he couldn’t tell anyone about his healing qualities either. He had to do what the Association told him, and that was it.

  He would know what to do. Yoon Taeha lifted his hand into the air and stared at the ceiling through his fingers.

  15.10.2049 Seoul, Mapo-Gu, Jujak Memorial Park

  Driving back to Seoul was more exhausting than ever. It had only been a day, and in just one day the city had become a place Yoon Taeha didn’t want to enter. Even knowing he was breathing the same polluted air as the Second Lieutenant gave him anxiety. He had to admit he liked the man, but why was it so difficult to get through to him? After everything they had done, gone through, and talked about, why did he still think of him as someone bad? Even if what happened wasn’t his fault, Yoon Taeha already felt guilty about his past, and he didn’t need a constant reminder of it, especially from someone he desperately tried to reach.

  Taeha walked down the wide pedestrian street; everything around him was green. The Jujak Memorial Park was empty. Of course it was, it was a weekday, and this was the Unified Republic of Korea. People didn’t have time to mourn; they had to work. On that day Yoon Taeha, however, wore no uniform. This was not a formal visit as a hunter, a dog of the military, a slave to the Association, but the visit of an old friend to the hunters who had fallen.

  It was his first visit to the memorial park. He had heard of it but had lacked the courage to come before now. It felt as if he were visiting a past he didn’t want to remember. But right then, he desperately needed guidance from someone who had meant the world to him.

  A large marble stone stood in the middle of it all. In front of it, a mountain of flowers and offerings brightened the sadness of the place. Yoon Taeha had to stop for a moment to breathe. The wind was blowing hard, almost enough to make his uncovered ears hurt. He no longer paid attention to his surroundings; he only stared at the memorial tablet in front of him. A tear streamed down his left cheek, he wiped it away as he walked closer.

  He was now standing face-to-face with the names of the two hundred and ninety-nine men and women who had lost their lives in the Jujak-gate. The hunters had come from four different cities, so Yoon Taeha didn’t know all their names, but that didn’t make facing them any easier. There were hunters he knew better, ones he had once trained with, once joked with, men who had once trusted him.

  He knew his own team better than anyone, and one name stood out the most. He ran his finger over the carved letters and smiled. It wasn’t a smile one made when happy; it was the kind you faked when you didn’t want to worry the ones you loved.

  Being from the North, Taeha was by no means religious. He hadn’t found Jesus like most of the South had, and he wasn’t interested either. He believed religion to be a wonderful thing for people who needed to rely on someone else to save them, but he also knew these were people he could never truly respect. Despite his beliefs, there was a part of him that wanted to believe his friend’s soul was resting in peace, even somehow hoping he was watching over him, just like he had before. He ran his finger over the name, back and forth, until he exhaled slowly.

  “What am I doing wrong? Why did everything fall apart like this? No matter what I do, I can’t reach the one I want the most, and I can’t be the soldier I was before. It’s like I don’t belong in this world anymore. It’s all different. You’d hate this place too, it’s so crowded. Your ugly face wouldn’t fit here either; everyone’s too handsome.” Taeha laughed, knowing his friend would have too. “I’ll keep my promise, and I’ll visit Jihee soon. Your son must be all grown up now, huh? I hope he visits you every now and then. I’ll throw him a few punches if he doesn’t.”

  Taeha couldn’t hold his tears anymore.

  “I’m so sorry. Hic…” He kneeled down in front of the tablet. “I don’t know what to do without you, Jeonhak.”

  It took a long while before Yoon Taeha finally gathered himself and stood up. His legs had gone numb, and standing took effort, but he did so without help. He looked once more at the names on the stone tablet.

  Going through the names of the Seoul hunters, he remembered one that should have been there but wasn’t, a man who was supposed to enter the gate with them but never did. The veins at his temples twitched at the thought of the coward who was supposed to be part of that mission. A quiet rage took over, the memory of it all coming back too clearly, hardening his sorrow.

  “What are you doing here?” a voice called from behind him.

  Taeha startled despite himself. He hadn’t sensed anyone approaching, hadn’t felt any intent, any presence at all. It sent a familiar, unpleasant shiver down his spine. This wasn’t the first time it had happened. He frowned, confused, before turning around.

  Of course, Kang Jeonhyun had recognized the redhead standing before the stone from far away, but Yoon Taeha hadn’t heard him coming.

  “Oh,” Taeha sighed in frustration, “it’s you.”

  Kang Jeonhyun didn’t say anything, only walked past him and laid down a bouquet of flowers in front of the memorial tablet.

  Taeha’s gaze lingered on the flowers. He couldn’t help wondering who Jeonhyun had come here for, which of the fallen hunters had been important enough for him to visit. He searched the names instinctively, but none stood out in a way that answered the question.

  “I didn’t think you’d know about this place,” Kang Jeonhyun finally said.

  “I’d be stupid not to find out where my friends are,” Taeha snapped unintentionally. The rage from before, mixed with the frustration Jeonhyun caused him, stirred something new inside him. He wasn’t one to act passive-aggressive, but he couldn’t help it.

  “Friends, huh?” Kang Jeonhyun smiled slightly, his eyes still on the memorial tablet.

  “Yes, friends. The last ones I had.” Yoon Taeha laughed dryly. Jeonhyun turned around slowly.

  “Childish,” he said. “You don’t consider your teammates your friends?”

  “Me?” Taeha raised an eyebrow. “I probably would if I were treated like a friend. But I guess it’s all my fault for being late to the party. You had a good thing going on without me, so you’ll be fine without me too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kang Jeonhyun’s eyes sharpened.

  “Jeonhyun, I’m tired,” Yoon Taeha began. “I’m so tired of trying to make you see me for what I am. I’m tired of having to explain myself to you constantly, as if I had anything to prove to you. But you know what tires me the most? The fact that you will always, always see me as a liability and not as a human. I really thought…”

  “Thought what?”

  “I thought—” Taeha stopped. What would his words achieve at this point? Nothing. There was nothing he could say that would change the situation with Kang Jeonhyun. What he said wasn’t wrong. He was tired. “Forget it.”

  “No. Finish your sentence.”

  “Why? So you can pretend none of this matters? So you can look at me like I’m dirt?”

  “You’re not wrong. None of this matters.”

  Taeha laughed a dry, ugly laugh. “This again. Just tell me what I did wrong. Tell me why you’re looking at me like I’m a bomb about to go off.”

  “You should stop asking questions you don’t want answers to.” Kang Jeonhyun’s eyes sharpened again.

  “I do want them. I’m tired of feeling like shit whenever I’m around you.” The tears he had cried were about to surface again.

  “Fine. Because every time you walk into a gate, I don’t know if I’m sending in a soldier… or a curse. Because you shouldn’t have survived when they didn’t. Because I don’t know what you are, and I don’t know whether you will be the death of us all.”

  Taeha stilled. He had heard this all before, but after everything, he had really thought Kang Jeonhyun’s opinion of him had changed, but in the end it hadn’t. He tightened his fists. The words hit too hard.

  “Haa,” he exhaled. “…So that’s it.” He brought his hand to his forehead. “And here I kept trying, like an idiot. I kept thinking if I tried hard enough, you might actually let me in; maybe, just maybe, stop thinking about me like I’m a murderer. You and I— never mind.” He turned to leave.

  “Lieutenant,” Kang Jeonhyun called back. Taeha stopped but didn’t turn to him. “Stay away from the next gate.”

  “Or what?” Taeha scoffed.

  “Or I’ll drag you out myself.”

  Yoon Taeha finally turned around, his eyes wet and furious.

  “Fuck you, Lieutenant. You don’t get to act like you care only when it means locking me up.”

  “Caring is the problem,” Jeonhyun muttered.

  “…What?” Taeha wasn’t sure whether he had heard right, but he was too tired to care further. Kang Jeonhyun’s eyes fixed on him, but only for a second, before he turned his back to the man.

  “Go home, Lieutenant. That’s an order.”

  Taeha did what he did best. He laughed, a devastating laugh, but bright enough to fool the Second Lieutenant.

  “There it is. The Lieutenant we all know.” Taeha proceeded to walk away. “Stop calling me back if you’re just going to throw me away again.”

  “I’m trying to keep you alive,” Kang Jeonhyun muttered once Yoon Taeha was far enough away not to hear him.