AAGULT Ch 138

Chapter 138

“Actually, Father, the law changes not long after your timeline.”

Jaeha, who had been inwardly breaking into a cold sweat, whipped his head around. Aiden was looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, still holding his hand. His face was so pure, so guileless, that anyone would believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“For minors who awaken, registration with the Association is completely prohibited until they reach adulthood. Even after becoming adults, and even if they are above F-rank, as long as they have the proper permits, they can live as ordinary civilians without issue.”

No. That was a lie.

Of course, following the Association reforms six years ago, such legislation was indeed being pushed forward. But a decade ago, none of these laws existed. And yet, no one voiced any objection to Aiden’s statement.

“……”

“……”

Neither Miae nor Geon-woo, walking ahead of them, said a word. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t hear the conversation.

“Ah, I see… I was worried about how dangerous it might be, so that’s a relief.”

Only then did his father allow a faint, relieved smile to surface. Jaeha found it difficult to meet his eyes, weighed down by the guilt of deceiving him.

“So, Jaeha here was doing something else for a while before we scouted him into our ranks.”

“Is that so? Jaeha, what were you doing?”

“I, uh… I was working as a bartender. Opened a small bar…”

“A bartender?”

His father chuckled in surprise.

“That’s hard to imagine… You’re not drinking too much yourself, are you? Alcohol’s bad for your health, you know. Be careful.”

“Come on, Father. That’s only because you haven’t seen it. When Jaeha makes drinks, it’s so— uh, I mean, cool.”

[Ah, almost said ‘sexy.’]

Please.

Jaeha squeezed his eyes shut for the first time in a while. Still, thanks to Aiden’s playful and affectionate tone, his own earlier awkwardness and overreaction seemed to be swept under the rug, which was a relief.

“Hm? Isn’t that one of those?”

Just as their conversation was tapering off, Miae, who was walking ahead, seemed to notice something. Instinctively, everyone turned their heads in the same direction.

There, embedded in the fifth-floor window of what looked like a twenty-year-old, run-down officetel building, was another orb. It gleamed faintly, resembling the ones they had seen before.

“It’s high up again. I’ll climb up and grab it—keep watch from below.”

“Yes.”

The group approached the building. The moment the orb caught their attention, a large screen flickered to life, just like before. Judging from the memory being replayed, the owner of the memory was likely a combat-type esper—a chaotic scene of someone dying in the gate and the memory’s owner desperately trying to save them repeated over and over.

The imagery alone was enough to make one frown, but since no one in this team personally knew the memory’s owner, they managed to maintain composure.

As Miae climbed the exterior wall of the officetel, everyone else stood guard, eyes scanning the surroundings for threats.

[Jaeha.]

A voice resonated in his mind, prompting Jaeha to turn his head. The speaker was Aiden. Despite his young face, there was a calmness and gravity to it—tinged now with concern.

[Are you going to tell him?]

He blinked dumbly, unable to grasp the meaning right away. Tell him what? To whom?

“Got it!”

Miae’s cheerful voice called out from above, but Jaeha didn’t look up. He continued staring at Aiden, who silently reached for his hand again.

[About your father’s death. Tell him beforehand, so maybe… he can avoid it.]

“……”

[If he knows in advance, maybe he won’t have to die.]

Jaeha was at a loss for words.

Could it really work that way? Would forewarning change destiny—or would it simply condemn someone to live with the countdown to their own death? If his father could avoid death, then so much could change. But if the future was fixed…

“Mr. Ido…”

The thought barely formed in Jaeha’s mind. Even though Aiden had spoken telepathically, Jaeha could only mutter quietly, low enough for Aiden to hear but inaudible to others.

Sure enough, Geon-woo, who had been glancing up at Miae, briefly cast him a puzzled look, but quickly dismissed it as Jaeha talking to himself.

Mr. Ido had entered this gate to save his wife. But he had failed. Which meant her death inside the gate was already set in stone—unchangeable.

Aiden, having heard earlier that Ido failed to save his wife, understood Jaeha’s implication from those few words alone. His amber eyes flickered with thought for a moment.

[That man died inside the gate. It might’ve already happened before he even met her. But your father died outside. There’s still time to prevent it.]

“……”

[At least think about it. I think he’s already half-suspecting something’s wrong.]

“……”

Jaeha silently nodded once. Unlike Aiden, he wasn’t good at acting; he knew he’d been awkward and stiff around his father, and he regretted it slightly. But even if he went back, he doubted he could have done better—it had been instinctive, reflexive.

“I’m back!”

“Welcome.”

Jaeha shook off his thoughts as Miae descended.

“At this pace, we’ll find them all quickly. They’re so easy to spot from afar.”

“True. But where should we store these?”

“Oh, I can take them. I’ve got a subspace item.”

“Perfect.”

Miae handed the orb to Geon-woo as she landed. Wisps of mist unfurled gently around it, much like dry ice but warm to the touch. Seeing it up close for the first time was fascinating.

The orb was opaque, seemingly ephemeral, as if it might dissolve into mist at any moment. Surprisingly, one could peer into it. Those who did immediately frowned.

“Ugh… You don’t notice it from afar, but up close you really see it.”

Indeed. When the orb was observed, it projected memories onto a large screen. But once held, the projection vanished and the memory looped faintly inside the orb itself. You couldn’t see or hear it unless you looked closely—like a witch’s crystal ball out of a fairy tale.

“Still not exactly pleasant to watch.”

“Ugh, let’s just gather them all and hand them over quickly. Come on, let’s move.”

Geon-woo, grimacing, placed the orb into what looked like a subspace bag. The group prepared to continue forward—

Except—

“Help…”

“Hm?”

If not for that voice.

At the far edge of the street, beneath a pavilion, someone was pinned down—quite literally crushed. The clothing wasn’t an old Association uniform, nor a current one, yet the face was vaguely familiar. Likely an esper dispatched from abroad.

“Holy—”

“Wait!”

Everyone scrambled toward the sight in alarm.

“Please…”

Pinned beneath the debris was a young man about Jaeha’s age. Sweat-dampened and deathly pale, his face was twisted in agony. His light blond hair gleamed like sunlight, and even from a distance, it was obvious he wasn’t Korean. Beneath long lashes, warm amber eyes trembled with pain; even his slightly contorted lips somehow radiated kindness. He was broad-shouldered—hard to gauge while prone, but likely comparable in build to the boss.

“Wait, isn’t that Sasha?”

“Sasha? The Russian-American esper? Oh, right! He did come for support!”

Jaeha didn’t personally know him, but he vaguely recalled seeing him standing beside Lucas when the foreign espers had gathered earlier.

“Help, I think my leg’s crushed…”

Apparently, during the gate’s structural shift, he’d been pinned down. His leg was nearly embedded into the ground, trapped beneath a pavilion pillar.

“What do we do?”

“Miae, can you break this?”

“I could break it, but with his leg pinned like this…”

Right. Smashing the structure wouldn’t be difficult for Miae’s ability, but if the man thrashed from pain while being freed, his leg could be severed.

The ground around him was soaked in blood. He’d lost so much that his eyes were unfocused, his consciousness hanging by a thread. Nearby, remnants of battle equipment were scattered; his translator device was shattered beyond repair.

And—

“Where are we? Who… who am I? What the hell is happening here?”

…He’d clearly fallen victim to a psychic-type monster.

Realizing this, everyone’s expressions tightened grimly.

“For now… it might be better to knock him out; his mental state’s unstable.”

“He’s bleeding too much. Wouldn’t it be better to keep him conscious?”

Kneeling beside him, Jaeha examined the wound carefully.

“If he struggles, his leg could get severed entirely. We need to free him fast and stabilize him—ah, right. Baek Beomwoo! Can you put him to sleep?”

Miae decisively turned back toward the man standing idly behind them. The boss tilted his head lazily, arms crossed.

“Why?”

“Just knock him out, painlessly.”

“No.”

“Figures.”

Jaeha wasn’t particularly surprised. He hadn’t expected Beomwoo’s cooperation in the first place; the man was accustomed to giving orders, not taking them.

“Should I try guiding? It’s tough, but I might be able to knock him out with it…”

“Oh? You can do that?”

The offer came from Jaeha’s father, stepping closer to assess the esper’s condition. Perhaps sensing help, the injured man sobbed, clutching at Jaeha’s leg and practically clinging to him.

“Thanks… please hurry…”

Honestly, enduring this long—pinned, mentally shattered, uncertain even of his own identity—was remarkable in itself. Jaeha carefully stroked his hair, trying to soothe him. The man clung tighter.

“It’s okay. Just hold on a little lo—”

Before Jaeha could even finish, the man’s head lolled forward like a broken doll, slamming into the ground. He’d lost consciousness.

“……”

“…Huh.”

Jaeha startled, heart lurching—then realized what had happened and almost laughed at the absurdity. He turned around.

Two men, conspicuously avoiding his gaze:

The boss, who could seize minds at will.

And Aiden, perfectly capable of remotely inducing sleep—or torture—through guiding.

“……”

Jaeha had so much to say. But he swallowed it down.