AAGULT Ch 116

Chapter 116

His insides twisted, and his anger boiled. His vision alternated between blinding white and pitch black. It felt like the entire world had collapsed.

He’d thought, “He’s cute, so I’ll date him and see”? That he was merely “just cute”? Bullshit. You fucking lunatic. Ye Aiden cursed his past self.

This wasn’t just a matter of a guide and an esper. Aiden loved Jaeha as a person. But because he hadn’t realized it, he expressed it poorly. Like a grade-schooler giving a caterpillar to the kid they like, he acted on impulse, and that impulsiveness had led to this result.

No, calling it a “caterpillar prank” was far too kind. It was much worse than that.

Aiden knew. He knew that Song Jaeha had lived his entire life being crushed under the weight of “education.”

He knew, from spending time with him, that Jaeha’s real personality wasn’t timid or easily intimidated. Jaeha occasionally lost his temper. He talked back. He was only like this because he’d been suppressed his whole life. If that bastard Baek Beomwoo hadn’t been around, Jaeha would have grown into a cheerful, good-natured young man who everyone would like. He was merely a victim of gaslighting.

And yet, Aiden had used that knowledge.

He’d used it—first, to get him out of there, and second, to provoke and bait Baek Beomwoo. Because that was the fastest and most efficient way.

Because it had been the easiest option at the time.

Ye Aiden, you lunatic.

He had fastened the first button completely wrong.

Jaeha didn’t hate or resent him. He’d even said it himself. That he would “continue to like him for the time being.”

But… the problem… was just one thing. If only Jaeha had hated him or resented him, things might have been easier.

Now, even if he were to confess that he loved Song Jaeha, it would be meaningless.

Because…

Song Jaeha no longer held any expectations for this relationship.

He wouldn’t believe him.

No matter what Ye Aiden said.

“Thank you all for coming.”

The meeting was held in the same room as before. And the attendees were the same familiar faces. Jaeha, overwhelmed by a strange sensation, quietly looked around. Whether it was by choice or not, everyone had ultimately agreed to enter the gate.

“This meeting will be divided into two parts. Given the circumstances, I ask for your understanding.”

With a brief explanation, a thin document was handed out to each attendee. It was the meeting material.

As Jaeha looked down at the papers in front of him, a strange emotion rose up. It was his first time being formally included in such a gathering. It felt unfamiliar, and yet… he felt as though he’d truly become an adult. The weight of sitting here by his own decision, not by anyone else’s will, pressed upon him.

The first page summarized the basic information about the gate. Since its interior was unknown, the contents weren’t very detailed. High probability of encountering psychic-type monsters. Various precautionary measures advised. Likely scenarios listed… It was vague at best.

The next page outlined the operational guidelines and mission overview. Like the previous dual gate incident, this deployment involved nearly 50 personnel. To ensure efficiency, they were organized into teams. Each team’s leader, strategy, and expected movement route were listed. There were five teams of about ten people each—Jaeha was in Team 5. Aiden was also in Team 5.

The material contained quite a few unfamiliar terms. Having never received formal esper training, Jaeha understood only about half the content and slowly flipped through the pages.

The Association President gave everyone time to skim through the documents. Then he began to speak. As expected, the explanation wasn’t very specific due to the nature of the gate.

“Now… each team will receive additional briefings separately. Today’s session will just cover the general overview.”

A large screen lit up on the wall. It appeared to be a visual aid. The photo displayed showed people emerging from a gate that had cleared and turned white. Jaeha instinctively scanned the image for Aiden.

“…”

…He didn’t see him. Aiden must not have been captured in that photo. Still, everyone in the picture looked exhausted and injured. It wasn’t exactly encouraging.

“As mentioned before, we were unable to retrieve the camera. However, based on the returnees’ testimonies and indirect records…”

The Association President flipped through the documents as he continued at a measured pace.

“It’s estimated that time spent inside the gate was about five days. On the outside, however, approximately… three months had passed.”

A short silence fell across the conference room. Then someone muttered quietly.

“…Only five days?”

“Not even a week? Usually A-rank gates take two to three weeks.”

“Wait. Why did so much more time pass on the outside?”

Their confusion was understandable. It was common knowledge that time flowed differently inside gates. But there had always been some consistency. Typically, time moved faster inside the gate, making the outside duration shorter. That’s why when Aiden entered a gate for a week last time, two to three months passed inside.

But this time, it was the opposite.

A murmur of unease spread through the room. The drop in morale was visible in real-time. It was only natural. Jaeha also furrowed his brows.

This meant—

“Then last time…”

Twenty-six people had died, and half of the survivors went mad—in just five days inside the dual gate.

In such a short span of time.

…Was this really okay?

“Everyone, please focus.”

The Association President clapped. The murmuring slowly died down, the room quieting once again.

“To help us better understand the gate, we’ve invited a guest… a survivor of the last dual gate. Some of you might remember him.”

If they were mentally stable enough to speak at a meeting like this, they weren’t one of the survivors who’d lost their memories as mentioned in the previous meeting. If Jaeha recalled correctly, the Association President had said the survivors either lost their memories or went mad…

“After returning, he went into long-term care. Today… well… he’s made a special exception to be here. I heard he’s in good condition today.”

The President’s expression was conflicted in many ways. It looked bitter—pained, even. From that alone, Jaeha could tell: the President must know this person personally.

“…”

Jaeha felt uneasy. He feared the guest’s presence might lower the already-dwindling morale even further.

While he was caught up in such thoughts, the rear door of the conference room slowly opened.

Everyone’s eyes turned toward it. Jaeha leaned slightly, trying to see. His view was mostly blocked by the backs of other people’s heads, but he could faintly hear the sound of wheels dragging.

“…”

“…”

Soon, a caregiver came into view, and Jaeha realized the elderly man in the wheelchair must be the “guest” the President had mentioned. The caregiver pushed the wheelchair to the front, next to the Association President—where everyone could see.

“…”

The old man looked to be in his early seventies. His face appeared serene, free of any worry or concern, but there was something unnervingly calm about it. His eyes scanned the room as if staring into empty space. His hospital gown was so loose it made him look even more emaciated.

Once the wheelchair reached the front, the President knelt on one knee before him. With gentle eyes, he smiled and addressed him. His voice was kind.

“Sunbae. Have you been well?”

“…”

To everyone’s surprise, the old man—who looked as though he wouldn’t say a word—parted his lips and slowly responded. His voice was hoarse and low.

“I’ve been well enough… What does an old retiree have to do anyway…”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

The President’s use of “Sunbae” startled everyone into stunned silence. Some clearly recognized the man. Jaeha was more surprised by the fact that someone thought to be mentally unstable could respond so coherently—and quietly relieved.

Still kneeling to meet the man’s gaze, the President gently patted his shoulder. That small gesture was full of unspoken emotion. The President turned to address the room.

“This is Jung Baku, a former esper with the Association. He was also my mentor when I first became an esper. I’m sure most of you have heard of him.”

“…”

A collective gasp spread through the room. Jaeha was shocked too. He remembered the name from old media broadcasts in his childhood. A famous A-rank combat esper—he’d wondered why the name disappeared. So this is what had happened.

Despite all eyes being on him, the old man didn’t shrink back or tremble. He simply snorted softly and laughed.

“My word… The Association President, huh? Feels like just yesterday you were whining and crying, scared of entering a gate.”

“Sunbae…”

The President let out a quiet groan. The mood lightened. Tension visibly drained from many shoulders. People glanced at each other, some chuckling or sighing with relief.

“So, what is it you’ve gathered these kids for?”

The old man clearly sensed the heavy tension in the room. With a casual comment, he alleviated it. He leaned back against the headrest of the wheelchair and asked the President. The President looked unusually hesitant. But eventually, he opened his mouth.

“Do you remember what I told you the other day, Sunbae? It’s opened again.”

“…What’s opened?”

“The dual gate.”

“…”

The old man’s lips pressed into a firm line.

“I’m sorry to disturb your rest, but I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to talk about it.”

Believing the man was in a stable condition, the President cautiously tried to engage him and watched his expression.

“…”

“Could you share your story with us?”

Everyone in the room held their breath, eyes fixed on him.

To get to the point—

That was a grave miscalculation by the President.