The Dimensional Swordmaster C9

Chapter 9 How I Ended Up in Another World (9)

The guild building they’d visited yesterday had been large, and Siyoung’s home had been impressive too—but this was on an entirely different level.

Was this what it meant to be overwhelmed by scale? Even craning his neck as far back as it would go, Yurian couldn’t see the top of the building—it disappeared into the sky.

The entrance teemed with people. As the crowd thickened, Siyoung turned the steering wheel.

“I need to make a quick call.”

The car slowed and came to a smooth stop along the curb. Siyoung’s finger pressed down on the very triangle button Yurian had been dying to touch since yesterday.

When he did, a tiny arrow began to flash, and a soft click-click sound filled the car.

“Wow, what’s—ah, okay, okay. Not talking. Mouth shut.”

The moment the word wow left his lips, Siyoung shot him a look so sharp it could cut glass. Yurian clamped his mouth shut, mentally repeating the rules—no “wow,” no “what’s this,” no expressions of amazement.

After staring at him for a long, silent moment, Siyoung slowly pulled something from his pocket. He held a small black rectangular device to his ear and began to speak.

“Hey, hyung. I’m at the entrance now. Where should I go?”

A communication crystal, maybe? No… it looked far too compact and convenient, and he couldn’t sense a single trace of mana. A machine, then?

This world truly overflowed with them—machines for everything. Everything here was simple, comfortable, efficient.

He wanted to touch it—just once. What did it do? How did it work? Yurian’s eyes gleamed with barely restrained curiosity.

“…Yeah, got it. I’ll head there now.”

Siyoung ended the call and shoved the device back into his pocket, rubbing his forehead as if trying to ward off the weight of Yurian’s eager stare.

“The guy we met yesterday? He’s waiting for you in the lobby.”

He got out first, and Yurian scrambled after him.

The moment he stepped outside, the sheer size of the building hit him all over again. How did they even build something like this? What if monsters appeared? Then again… maybe that wasn’t a concern in this world.

“Can you hurry up?”

Yurian realized he’d slowed down while gawking and jogged a few steps to catch up.

“There are a ton of people here,” Siyoung muttered irritably. “If you start daydreaming and get lost, guess who has to waste time finding you? Try to focus for once, yeah?”

“Okay, okay. Want me to hold your hand?”

He didn’t particularly want to get lost in this foreign place. Mana was too thin to rely on magic, he had no money, and if he lost Siyoung, he’d be completely helpless—a beggar in every sense.

So he grinned and clasped Siyoung’s hand tightly.

“I’ll behave. Don’t be mad, yeah?”

Like soothing a sulking cat, Yurian gently kneaded Siyoung’s hand. It was unexpectedly warm and firm—surprisingly pleasant to the touch.

Siyoung’s fingers twitched, and his ears turned a faint shade of red. He jerked his head away.

“Just follow quietly.”

“Of course, of course. I’m following you.”

Yurian had expected they’d enter through the main entrance, but Siyoung veered off toward a quieter path that wrapped around the back of the building. There were far fewer people here.

Still, those who passed by couldn’t help but notice him. Some gasped, eyes widening in shock. None approached, but murmurs rippled through the air.

“Is that… Gong Siyoung?”

“Oh my god, it is! Gong Siyoung!”

“Holy crap, he’s even hotter in person.”

“Damn, he’s insane—look at that face!”

Yurian blinked at the scattered voices. So Siyoung was… famous.

Well, it made sense. If an S-rank hunter was anything like a Sword Master or a Ninth Circle mage, fame was inevitable.

Even in his homeland, everyone knew the names of the five existing Sword Masters.

Still… comparing him to a Sword Master feels a little strange.

He remembered thinking he shouldn’t provoke Siyoung when they first met—but it wasn’t fear that held him back. Not really.

Yurian had seen Sword Masters fight before, even if he’d never crossed blades with one himself.

Just being near them was enough to make your skin crawl, every instinct screaming danger. The mana condensed around their swords radiated a kind of divine terror.

But Siyoung… he didn’t give off that same suffocating pressure. Then again, maybe it was because they hadn’t fought seriously—and the mana here was too thin to feel anything properly.

Or maybe…

Maybe it’s just because his face is cute.

Compared to the rugged, battle-scarred Sword Masters Yurian knew, Siyoung was smooth, polished—almost delicate. His skin was flawless, his hair pitch black, his sharp eyes framed by lashes that made him look even more like Ggambi.

No matter how angry he got, he looked more adorable than intimidating. Younger, too—and that little mole on his cheek was just unfair.

“Hey, can I ask something?”

“…What now?”

He grumbled, but he still answered every time. How could Yurian not find that endearing? Smiling faintly, he tightened his grip on Siyoung’s hand.

“Do you have a lover?”

Siyoung froze mid-step. His head turned with an audible creak, his eyes wide and trembling.

“W-what… why are you asking that?! W-why would you even—what kind of question is that?!”

“Just wondering.”

Did he need a reason? The thought had just popped into his head. Yurian shrugged lightly.

“You look like someone who would.”

He briefly wondered if Ggambi had a mate too. He’d adored the cat but never really thought about its… personal life.

He always said whatever came to mind, really—there wasn’t a shred of ulterior motive in it.

“Can I ask your age too?”

“…Why would that matter?”

Siyoung subtly pulled his hand away, his voice tight. The warmth left Yurian’s palm, and immediately he sensed something was wrong. Maybe Siyoung didn’t like personal questions?

“Well… we did sleep together, didn’t we? Thought it might be good to know a few things.”

If he was going to rely on Siyoung for a while, he figured he should at least know him better—to avoid doing anything that might annoy him.

Not that he could outright say “I’m broke and plan to mooch off you.” So he smiled, dressing the truth up in charm.

“I’m really interested in you, you know.”

Grinning, he reached out and caught Siyoung’s hand again.

Always be sweet to your benefactor. That was rule number one.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit—

Alarms blared in Gong Siyoung’s head. He’s insane.

Absolutely, certifiably insane. Some kind of perverted lunatic, no doubt.

Why else would he ask something like that? Why would it matter whether he had a lover or not? And if he didn’t—what, was Yurian planning to be one?!

The man’s hand was still clasped around his, stubbornly refusing to let go. That nonsense about “not wanting to get lost” was clearly just an excuse.

It had to be a ploy—some elaborate excuse for casual physical contact. Siyoung’s fingers twitched with restraint.

What, so if I don’t have a lover, he’s just going to… what, ask me out?!

Not that he had one anyway. Sure, he was an S-rank hunter with a seven-figure income, but his job was about as appealing as a death sentence.

Love was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Hunters never knew if they’d survive the next dungeon. Work-life balance didn’t exist when gates could open at any hour of the day or night.

He was always the first name called.

And once inside a dungeon, a raid could last for weeks—sometimes months.

No relationship could survive that kind of distance.

Not that he’d ever been in one. Or even wanted to be.

Since awakening at fifteen, his life had been nothing but raids. He’d never met anyone, never had the time—or the inclination—to fall for anyone.

But hearing “Do you have a lover?” right to his face had short-circuited his brain.

Was he supposed to have one? Was that some kind of social expectation here?

And then—then Yurian dropped the second bomb.

“Since we did sleep together, I figured I should know.”

Holy. Shit.

What kind of maniac phrases it like that?!

They’d slept under the same roof, not the same bed! And yet, the way he said it—it sounded filthy. Suggestive.

Even his eyes seemed indecent now. Everything about him screamed shameless.

“This way, right?”

Before Siyoung could process any of it, Yurian tugged him gently forward, steering them toward the glass doors of the Bureau’s lobby.

Across the hall, Gong Sijin spotted them and waved cheerfully.

Yurian waved back, but Siyoung yanked his hand away like it had burned him.

“I’ll go ahead.”

He didn’t even wait for a response before striding off, his heartbeat hammering in his chest.

He glanced down at his palm—his fingertips were red from how tightly Yurian had held on.

Clenching his fist, he forced his mind to steady.

“…Not like I’ll ever see him again anyway.”

Right. Once this was over, that was it.

He’d never have to deal with that perverted, delusional weirdo again.

To make a clean break, he just needed to go into the dungeon, retrieve the sword, and hand it over. No guilt, no attachments.

They’d part as strangers—forever.

He could do this. He would do this.

Determination flashed in Gong Siyoung’s eyes.