AAGULT Ch 111

Chapter 111

 

 

With that, the video came to an end, and the screen shifted to show data related to the gate. However, the people in the meeting room couldn’t take their eyes off Jaeha…

“Hiccup.”

“…Esper Song Jaeha, stop bothering him and let’s focus.”

“S-Sorry… hiccup.”

Nervous, Jaeha had truly started to hiccup.

In his anxiety, embarrassment rushed to his face. To make matters worse, a stinging sensation hit the tip of his nose. Just like before, as a sort of aftereffect, a nosebleed began to trickle down. In a panic, Jaeha ducked his head, cupped his hands, and pinched his nose. He felt like he was going to die of embarrassment.

“Esper Song Jaeha, are you alright?”

“Ah, y-yes. It’ll stop soon…”

Where was a tissue? Frantically scanning his surroundings, he saw a hand approach him. A familiar, delicate hand held a handkerchief.

“Let me see.”

“Ah, thank you…”

He offered the handkerchief, but instead of pulling back, his hand lingered at Jaeha’s nose. He pressed firmly, as if to stop the bleeding himself. With his head still half bowed, Jaeha rolled his eyes sideways to glance at Aiden’s face. The face that had terrified him just moments ago had now returned to its composed state. …But it was so impeccably composed that it bothered him even more.

Should he try using his ability to read Aiden’s thoughts? The thought crossed his mind unconsciously as he looked up, only for Aiden to click his tongue.

“Don’t even think about using your ability.”

“…How did you know?”

“Because I love you, that’s how.”

“……”

Jaeha, flustered, was certain that some in the meeting room had heard that softly whispered voice. He didn’t know whether to scold Aiden, be embarrassed, or pretend he hadn’t heard. After a moment of indecision, Jaeha chose the last option. He firmly shut his mouth and turned his gaze away.

“Ahem… ahem…”

“Let’s concentrate.”

The Chairman redirected everyone’s attention. Thanks to that, the crushing tension on Jaeha’s shoulders eased a little.

“From now on, I’ll explain about the ‘Charon’ Gate that occurred at 92-17, Sinwol Industrial Road, XX District, Seoul Special City, which has been classified for over 20 years.”

“Charon…”

“There are several reasons why it was kept confidential, and not just because of the rumors within the Association. The fundamental reason is… because we never fully understood what exactly happened inside that gate.”

The Chairman turned to the secretary standing in the corner and gave a nod. The secretary operated the tablet, and the screen changed again.

“Now, take a look.”

The eyes of the people gathered in the conference room gradually turned toward the screen.

“……”

Jaeha looked at the screen as well. The screen, covering an entire wall of the room, displayed about fifty profiles. Most were in black and white, though some were in color. Jaeha tilted his head at the contrast.

Because the images were small, it was difficult to make out all the faces clearly, but each profile was categorized under ‘Esper,’ ‘Guide,’ or ‘Support Personnel.’

As Jaeha slowly read through the names, he suddenly froze. He had found familiar faces and names among the profiles.

“We deployed a total of 52 personnel. 26 returned alive. As of now, only 10 remain alive. Among them, only 4 are still active.”

What caught Jaeha’s eye was a photo somewhere in the middle of the third row. The image of a child looking straight ahead with clear, bright eyes felt familiar. It was Aiden… He was said to be 7 years old at the time? His chubby cheeks and youthful face were adorable.

And among the Guide profiles… was his father. That is to say, there was a profile of a man named ‘Song Joohyuk.’ Jaeha was overwhelmed with indescribable emotion and momentarily missed the Chairman’s ongoing explanation.

“Among the 26 who returned alive, about half—10 to be exact—had no memory at all of what occurred inside the gate. The remaining 16 claimed the gate had been ‘cleared’… but suffered severe mental trauma. All of them retired immediately afterward.”

“…What about the cams used when entering the gate? Any video records?”

Someone asked the obvious question.

“We couldn’t retrieve them.”

The Chairman replied briefly, heavily.

“…At the time, the Association assumed there were many monsters specialized in mental abilities inside the gate. Further investigation was impossible… as you all know, the Association’s situation back then was quite complicated.”

The Chairman trailed off. His sentence ended with a sigh.

“Therefore, once the dual gate reopens in exactly one week, we plan to dispatch a formal response team.”

“…Will Baek Beomwoo be sent in?”

Someone asked in a low voice. The Chairman replied without hesitation.

“Yes. The Association has decided to send him in.”

The room stirred with murmurs. The mood was far from positive. Jaeha, too, was at a loss for words. He recalled the terms presented by the President.

“I know it’s difficult to understand. But this gate… is dangerous. The detailed information will be revealed during the briefing, so please wait and trust us.”

“…What about international support?”

Another question followed—an expected and practical one.

“Two mental-type Espers from the U.S., one from Japan, and one from France.”

“That’s not a lot.”

“Well, it’s complicated.”

Records on dual gates were extremely scarce. Each country had kept such records strictly confidential, and since they were usually cleared before causing significant civilian damage, the public paid little attention. To them, dual gates just seemed like any other gate, often relegated to the status of urban legend.

However, no matter how tightly secrecy was maintained, there were limits. Half the team deployed had died, and of the survivors, more than half had gone mad—there was no way people wouldn’t talk. Whispers among bereaved families and close acquaintances eventually spread the sense of danger and unease like a thick fog. If such a gate truly failed to be cleared and broke open…

“The surviving Espers who are still active today… we’ve sent them requests to join the operation. Two are currently overseas, so we haven’t received replies yet.”

“What about the other two?”

An Esper sitting at the end raised a hand and asked. Instead of the Chairman, it was a middle-aged Esper seated beside him who answered.

“I’m one of them. If the gate really opens, I will participate. …Though I’m only saying this officially now, I don’t remember what happened inside the gate.”

He was a well-known Esper. Jaeha also recalled seeing him several times in the media as a skilled combat-type Esper. After that, silence fell again. Eventually, the Chairman let out a long sigh and slowly spoke.

“…Guide Ye Aiden?”

“Yes.”

“……”

“I know. It’s me. I haven’t decided whether I’ll go or not yet. And I don’t remember what happened inside either.”

Aiden, who had been sitting listlessly beside Jaeha, finally spoke, albeit reluctantly. Normally, he would have at least forced a polite smile, but now he seemed visibly irritable.

Jaeha glanced at him sideways. Come to think of it, Aiden had once said he’d tell him about dual gates, but he’d never seemed happy when the topic came up. …Maybe I should ask him after this meeting. Will he answer?

The clueless Esper who had asked the question let out a soft exclamation of understanding. Rumor had it throughout the Association that Aiden had once been caught up in a power struggle as a child and barely made it back alive from a dual gate—so there was no way he didn’t know.

“…Everyone present here today will receive a gate participation request.”

The Chairman said solemnly.

“What happens inside the gate is still uncertain. We’ll do our best to prepare for the briefing in three days, but due to the lack of data, it will surely be incomplete. The danger is significant as well… so whether you choose to participate will be left entirely up to each individual. Please decide freely, without pressure.”

“……”

“……”

But everyone understood without needing to be told.

No matter how much the Chairman said “decide freely,” that was only a formal gesture. A “free choice” declared under these circumstances was, in the end, a form of pressure. Moreover, just now, a renowned Esper who had already survived the dual gate had said he would go in again. Who would dare say they wouldn’t go?

Jaeha felt the pressure too. No—he felt it especially strongly. He was still a criminal under the Association’s watchful eye, and the gate had been revealed thanks to the President… the most dangerous and suspicious figure in the room, who had specifically named Jaeha as a condition for his cooperation. If Jaeha refused here, and if the President somehow escaped the Association’s grasp, it would be all too easy to officially pin the blame on Jaeha.

“……”

Jaeha looked at the Chairman. He fully understood that no one was purely good or kind, especially not someone sitting in the Chairman’s position, who had to weigh countless factors.

That’s why, though the subtle pressure being applied in this public setting left a bitter taste in his mouth, he could understand it. Objectively speaking, resolving a high-risk gate was more important than respecting each individual’s personal circumstances or opinions.

So of course, everyone remained silent. No one raised a question or showed hesitation. At most, glances were exchanged.

In such a situation, who would dare say, “I don’t want to go,” and risk falling out of the Chairman’s favor?

“Now, this is getting ridiculous…”

Ah… except for one person.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

The only one who didn’t need to worry about the Chairman’s opinion or the Association’s scrutiny—or rather, the only one who didn’t care—spoke up.

Naturally, it was Aiden.