Chapter 88: Han So-hee
Day two.
Heading toward the aurora’s center.
So-hee’s pace was slow, so I considered carrying her to speed up but dropped the idea.
Even my stamina wasn’t infinite.
With unknown dangers in this gate, burning all my energy on movement was reckless.
Plus, I’d fought just before entering so I wasn’t in top shape.
I needed to conserve at least half my strength.
How long did we walk?
“Ugh.”
So-hee’s legs gave out, and she collapsed.
I hoisted her onto my back and picked up speed.
The good news: no incidents today.
The bad news: we found nothing.
“What kind of gate is this barren?”
I grumbled.
As a villain, I’d been in dozens of gates.
None were this vast and empty.
We stopped when the aurora faded again.
“Three-hour shifts today,” So-hee declared firmly, arms crossed.
Still sore about missing a watch shift, she’d repeated it all day.
I waved it off.
“Are you taking your first watch again?”
“Gotta. If I sleep first, you won’t wake me. I’m not waking up on my own like you.”
“Fine. I’ll sleep first.”
I lay down, using a monster’s shell as a pillow.
“Good luck.”
“Okay. Sleep well.”
She scratched her neck, scanning the surroundings.
* * *
Day three.
Rumble—
The ground shook lightly.
I felt it first, grabbing So-hee’s wrist and pulling her into my arms.
As I stepped back, the ground split, and a monster burst out.
Screech!—
Its open maw screeched like nails on a chalkboard.
“Loud.”
Hands full, I kicked its side.
Pop!—
Like a balloon bursting, half its body flew off.
Subduing it instantly, I muttered, eyeing the corpse.
“A larva?”
White flesh, like a beetle grub, and green fluid splattered the ground.
I’d rather eat the centipede than this.
The new monster sparked a theory.
What if this gate’s ecosystem wasn’t above ground but below?
That’d explain the barren surface.
As I pondered, So-hee squirmed in my arms, pushing my chest, voice small.
“L-Let me go.”
I released her.
“No need to hold me like a baby to fight, right?”
“What if I left you standing and you got snatched again?”
I shrugged cheekily.
“I get it, but…”
She covered her nose and mouth, face redder than ever despite the brief moment.
* * *
Day four.
The aurora’s center was closed now.
Push hard, we’d reach it by day five’s end.
Play it safe, maybe day six.
Calculating, I walked.
Flop—
So-hee collapsed.
I smirked.
“What, legs gave out already?”
No reply.
Why so quiet?
Uneasy, I turned.
She wasn’t just sitting—she was sprawled, motionless.
I rushed to her.
“Hey, hey! What’s wrong? Snap out of it!”
I grabbed her shoulders, lightly tapping her cheek.
“This heat…”
Her cheek burned like fire.
I was rattled.
Not the food.
Not hot enough for heatstroke.
What was it?
My gaze fell to her neck.
Flipping her, I saw a vivid purple scar from neck to back, mirroring the aurora.
“No way.”
I touched the scar—scorching, inhumanly so.
I clicked my tongue, irritated.
Now I know why the monsters lived underground.
That damn aurora wasn’t just light—it was the gate’s real enemy.
Two days, and this reaction?
No telling when she’d wake, or if aftereffects would linger.
Nothing was certain.
My eyes dropped.
A faint purple line marked my hand too.
Even with my stamina, time was running out.
If she didn’t wake, or couldn’t move, dragging this out—
I might be in danger too.
Staring at her, I clenched my fist, resolved.
* * *
This is how I die.
As consciousness faded, that was So-hee’s thought.
No matter how Ho-cheol cared for her, tending an unconscious body here was absurd.
No hospital, no medical gear—recovery was impossible.
Death was certain; this was just the process.
He wouldn’t drag a hopeless corpse.
He’d leave her.
He should.
She opened her eyes slowly.
Alone now.
She’d prepared mentally.
No one around?
Fine.
It had to be.
The first thing she saw was a black ceiling.
Had she been out till night?
No, it was monster shells stitched together, the aurora’s light still visible around it.
She tried to rise, but her body was heavy, immobile.
“Ugh.”
Groaning in pain, she twitched a finger.
Then, a familiar voice—one that shouldn’t be here.
“Hey!”
Ho-cheol’s face appeared under the shells.
“You’re awake?”
Her eyes followed him.
“Why…”
He sighed, rubbing his brow with his thumb.
“Phew. Thank God. Thought you’d be out for days.”
Her emotions surged.
“Why!”
Her voice cracked.
“Why do you keep doing this!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just let me die!”
Her voice trembled piteously.
His presence, staying by her, broke her.
Every time she gave up, he was there, her rock.
It made her feel so weak.
As her body hit its limit, suppressed emotions erupted.
Propping herself up, she pounded the ground.
“Why keep giving me hope! Like I can survive! Never acting annoyed! Always, always!”
I couldn’t speak, frozen, staring as she sobbed.
“No, I’m sorry. But I… I can’t… Just… don’t be so kind… don’t make me rely on you…”
I just watched her ramble.
“You think your existence only burdens me?”
Bullseye.
She answered, dejected.
“I’m useless.”
She’d tried to prove her worth—standing watch, not complaining even as she collapsed.
All to avoid being abandoned.
But she couldn’t fathom why he cared now, when she was most useless.
In heavy silence, I reached out, placing my hand on hers.
“I…”
I started, calm down.
“In prison, I mulled my sins, waiting to die. Thought it was my fitting end. Then, by chance, I returned to society, but didn’t take it seriously.”
I gripped her hand tighter.
“Not serious, so my mindset was light. Why be earnest with someone who isn’t with me?”
The Legal Department deputy head never lied but hid something vital.
He wasn’t fully honest with me.
I didn’t blame him.
Our deal was transactional—give and take.
Normal.
“But you’re different.”
I recalled our first day.
How could I forget?
Arriving at the Academy, the Dean’s petty revenge blew up a door.
So-hee, regardless of status or strength, instinctively shielded me.
That act meant everything to the cynical old me.
Teaching at the Academy was a new chance, a second life.
It began not with release, but her sacrifice.
Without it, I’d just be an extension of my villain days.
“Old me was sharp, trusted no one, valued nothing. But meeting someone precious taught me what’s important.”
A cherished memory stopped villain-me.
But it only froze me in place.
“Just realization.”
I didn’t know what to do, just stood there rotting.
So-hee gave me direction, turned insight into action.
“Without you, I’d repeat lessons without grasping their meaning.”
She listened, sniffling, as my sincerity sank in.
“You call yourself useless.”
I placed my other hand on hers.
“But to me, you’re special.”
Her eyes widened like never before.
“Even if you want to die, think you’re useless—I won’t let you go.”
Her lips trembled.
My hands, words, sincerity—too heavy.
She couldn’t brush them off, get mad, or argue.
She Just cried.
“I want to wipe your tears now because of what you taught me. Without you, I’d know these feelings in my head, not my heart, and never act on them.”
She bowed her head.
“Why say that? It makes me want to live! I don’t want to die!”
I wiped her tears.
“Then let’s go. We’ll get out alive.”
“Okay.”
Her voice was faint, half-dead.
I stood first, removing the makeshift shade of shirts and monster shells, placing it over her head.
Plop—
“Wear this.”
The shells and shirt draped like a hijab.
She looked confused.
“Why?”
“That aurora’s light caused your collapse. Keep it off your skin.”
Understanding, she sniffled, pressing the shells down.
“Heavy.”
“Better than nothing. And…”
I crouched beside her, one hand under her back, the other under her thighs, lifting her.
“Eek.”
Startled, she clung to my neck.
“Don’t just pick me up like this.”
“Saw a lot of marks on your neck. Let’s do this for now.”
Exposure might be the same, but covering her neck seemed wise.
Carrying her, I walked slowly—much slower than usual.
Speed would strain her.
I asked quietly.
“Not too shaky?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Was it lingering heat or the smoother ride?
Her head felt hazy.
Blinking, she murmured.
“Ho-cheol.”
I’d never called her by name, nor did she me.
No matter how close, we were villains and minded.
Her calling my name startled me.
I realized we’d never done this.
The feeling passed, and I returned to my usual calm.
“What?”
“Thanks.”
“For not ditching you?”
“No.”
She pulled the shell to cover her eyes.
“Everything.”
“No big deal.”
For once, So-hee could sleep without standing watch.