AAGULT Ch 117

Chapter 117

It hadn’t gone wrong from the start. The old man gripped the wheelchair’s handles tightly at the blunt and direct question, falling silent for a moment. Then, with a heavy groan, he slowly opened his mouth.

“…Yeah.”

But even that small response noticeably brightened the association president’s expression. He quickly asked,

“What was it like inside?”

[He’s in really good shape today. He can actually talk…]

Jaeha blinked and easily picked up on the association president’s thoughts. According to those thoughts, it seemed that old man was usually in such bad condition that he couldn’t even speak properly. So perhaps it was really true, just as the boss had said—that half of the survivors went mad, and the other half couldn’t remember anything about what happened inside the gate.

But then again, he realized—almost out of nowhere—that he now had no hesitation about reading others’ thoughts and piecing together information from them. It wasn’t that he felt no guilt anymore, but… how should he put it? He didn’t know what words to use for it himself…

“……”

“……”

Jaeha looked at Aiden. Feeling his gaze, Aiden turned to look back at him. His face still carried a sickly pallor, making the frailty all the more pronounced, and Jaeha was suddenly struck by the desire to reach out and touch it. But forcing himself to think rationally, he turned his gaze away. Unlike himself, Aiden’s eyes continued to rest on him—it wasn’t hard to sense.

“It was a mess…”

The old man began to speak again, and Jaeha focused on his words.

“……”

But the man sitting next to Jaeha timidly extended his hand, watching Jaeha for a reaction. His fingers, which lightly and hesitantly brushed Jaeha’s from beneath the chair, felt strangely hot—too hot to seem like his usual self.

There are moments when warmth can be felt even without skin touching skin. Like the faint brush of downy hair, a ticklish sensation that comes despite no real contact. For some reason, Aiden, who had been watching Jaeha carefully, didn’t interlace their fingers or grab his hand like usual. He simply bent the joints of his fingers slightly and let his pinky graze Jaeha’s.

“……”

Jaeha rolled his eyes, hesitatingly glanced at him, then withdrew his hand entirely and placed it on top of the table. Normally, he would have held it. But now that he knew the truth, he realized that if he continued to match his inexplicable behavior, he’d only be the one getting hurt.

“……”

Though he felt Aiden’s gaze lingering on him like a burning touch, Jaeha deliberately ignored it. Everyone’s attention was now fixed on the old man, whose expression had begun to contort, making everyone watch with tense faces.

“One of them, so, the wing… clock spring… uh, mirror…”

While Jaeha had looked away to glance at Aiden beside him, the once wise and composed voice of the old man lost all strength. His pupils trembled sluggishly, his words became disjointed, and above all, his voice gradually filled with pain.

Worried, Jaeha furrowed his brows and tried to read the old man’s thoughts. But unlike the boss, who could freely read even the minds of the mentally unstable, all Jaeha could hear were scattered fragments of nonsense and overlapping voices—chaotic noise that only gave him a headache. He quickly gave up on trying to read the old man’s mind.

“…Sunbae. You can stop talking now.”

[It’s no use… is it.]

He wasn’t the only one who gave up. The association president, who had been holding onto a faint hope, began to look increasingly despondent. It seemed he had brought the man in to glean any bit of information, encouraged by the talk of his condition improving—but things had turned out just as he feared.

“Tae-sik, Tae-sik. Half of them—half of them died…”

“Senior. But 26 people still came back alive. Most of them survived thanks to you.”

“What are you talking about? You think I only saved 26 people? I— I saved nearly eighty! It was close to a hundred! Eighty people, I—”

“……”

His words were obviously incoherent and insane. The association president, kneeling before him, lowered his head. Letting out a deep, heavy sigh, he composed his expression and gave a signal with his eyes to the nurse holding the wheelchair. The nurse, a sturdy man, bowed lightly and whispered gently to the old man.

“Shall we go now? The weather’s nice—let’s take a walk.”

“That’s not the issue right now!”

The old man thrashed about wildly, his eyes unfocused, but there was a reason the nurse had such a solid build. It must take strength to care for a patient like this—an esper from the association’s former combat division.

The nurse, unfazed, wheeled the old man out of the conference room. The old man’s screams echoed until the door closed behind them with a final thud, cutting off the sound completely.

“……”

“……”

The association president, who had been rubbing his face dry, rose from his knees. He then pulled up a chair and collapsed onto it.

“…As you saw, there’s a high likelihood that a mental-type monster exists inside.”

His body slumped heavily against the chair with a loud thud—maybe because he was truly drained, or maybe because the room was so silent that every sound felt louder than it was. In any case, it was the first time he looked truly worn out.

“As I said earlier, the meeting will be split into two parts. Part one… Wait, what time is it now?”

“…One-thirty.”

“Right. Then we’ll conclude part one here, and resume in fifteen minutes.”

The association president leaned his elbows on the table and massaged his temples. Gesturing vaguely to his secretary with the other hand, the secretary quickly turned off the projected data on the wall.

“……”

A few people, sensing the awkwardness of staying in the room, slowly got up and stepped out. The president also said he’d get some fresh air and left. In the end, only a few people remained in the conference room.

“Sigh…”

Since fifteen minutes wasn’t really long enough for a proper break, Jaeha stayed where he was. Like when he’d be tired at school, he hesitated for a moment before resting his head sideways on the desk. Something felt strange. Was it a mistake to rashly say he’d go into the gate? A faint sense of regret hovered.

Why did the boss want to go into a place like that with him?

If this had been before he came to the association, Jaeha would have thought, ‘Sure, the boss must have his reasons. I’ll just do as I’m told.’ And if he hadn’t found out that the boss killed his parents, he would have wondered, ‘Why would he make that decision?’ and tried to understand him.

But now, it was different. He just… wanted to finish everything quickly and shake off the boss’s presence. He didn’t want to care anymore.

“Tired?”

Aiden’s voice pulled Jaeha out of his spiraling thoughts. Leaning on his hand, Aiden was looking down at him as he rested his head on the desk. Jaeha gave a sheepish smile.

“It’s just… things have been chaotic lately. I’m fine.”

“Once the gate is over, take a good long rest.”

Aiden hesitated before reaching out his hand. Jaeha thought about avoiding it, but decided to leave it be. Aiden’s face showed obvious relief as he gently brushed back Jaeha’s hair. His hair, usually neat, had started to fall over his eyebrows and made his eyes sting a little.

“…Come to think of it, didn’t you say you didn’t really want to go into this gate?”

“Hmm…”

Aiden didn’t deny it. He rolled his eyes thoughtfully, then smiled quietly. His brows sloped into a soft, troubled expression.

“That’s true. I had a bad feeling about it.”

“…If you’re forcing yourself to go because of me…”

“No, Jaeha. This is my choice. I’m not letting you go in alone.”

“……”

Jaeha didn’t respond. He just looked up blankly at Aiden. He glanced around—no one was close enough in the spacious conference room to overhear. Once he was sure, he cautiously brought up the topic Aiden had once asked if he wanted to hear—one he had declined then.

“Can you tell me a bit about ‘back then’?”

“‘Back then’?”

“When you were seven, Aiden. That gate… you really don’t remember anything?”

“…Yeah. I remember entering the gate, but nothing about what happened inside.”

He answered gently. Jaeha felt relieved by that reply. Whatever had happened in that gate, it was horrifying enough to shatter even a seasoned esper’s mind. There was no way a seven-year-old could have endured it. Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, he heard Aiden chuckle softly. He looked genuinely happy—a rare sight these days.

“So half the survivors… were just like you?”

“Ah, well, not exactly.”

“Huh?”

“Only four of us lost our memories as completely as I did—from beginning to end. The rest seem to recall maybe ten percent, in bits and pieces.”

“Four people…”

Four people. The number struck a chord of familiarity. He felt like he’d heard it somewhere before. As Jaeha frowned in thought, Aiden’s fingers reached out and gently smoothed the lines on his forehead. Aiden leaned down toward him.

The timing wasn’t exactly right, but Jaeha instinctively closed his eyes, thinking Aiden might kiss him. His heart beat pleasantly. Though he felt slightly—just slightly—pathetic for reacting so readily after saying he wanted to sort out his feelings first, he tried not to show it.

“……”

“……”

But even as he kept his eyes closed, Aiden didn’t come any closer.

Instead, there was the faint sound of air shifting, like someone pulling away, and a sharp inhale. Embarrassed, Jaeha opened his eyes. Maybe he had over-interpreted things out of habit. After all, he had said he wanted to sort out his feelings first…

“……”

“……”

But what he saw wasn’t the Aiden he had imagined. He should have been grinning mischievously or scrunching his nose playfully like usual.

But instead…

“…Aiden?”

“……”

With eyes wide open, his face flushed as red as a tomato, Aiden covered the lower half of his face with his hand. When their eyes met, he quickly turned away.

He was so red that even the tips of his ears and the back of his neck looked like they were burning.