Mu Yichen exhaled a soft laugh.

  Not one of amusement—one of disbelief. Of surrender.

  “Unbelievable,” he muttered, lips quivering upward. “Completely heartless.”

  But his voice wasn’t angry.

  If anything, it sounded vaguely impressive.

  The others were less forgiving.

  Seo MinHyun looked like he’d just been left by a long-term partner and robbed at the same time. “Are we just a circus to him?” he asked the air.

  Park Taegun didn’t reply. He was too busy watching the mall doors swing slightly in the wind, as if waving goodbye to their dignity.

  He Ziqin sighed and rubbed his temples.

  “…This is our life now,” He whispered.

  A moment of collective silence passed. Then, as if synchronized by trauma, they all got to work.

  After all, Lee Aseok had only given them five minutes.

  Mu Yichen and Kang Juwon were the first to move.

  They walked over to the HQ support team, who had finally emerged from their hiding spots now that the gate was down and the monsters were dead.

  The staff looked wide-eyed, nervous, and more than a little concerned that the “chosen hero” had wandered off to find pants.

  Mu Yichen gave them a calm, practiced smile.

  “Clear out the remaining injured. Prioritize block B7—there’s gas leaking under the west corner.”

  Kang Juwon adjusted his cracked glasses and added, “Also, if you find a flaming raccoon running around, don’t engage. It’s not a monster. MinHyun set it on fire by accident.”

  “…I was aiming at the spider!” MinHyun shouted from behind a broken bus.

  Neither of them responded.

  With that, Mu Yichen and Juwon turned, opened mana potions in perfect sync, and downed them like they were wine at a state dinner.

  Then, without speaking, they made their way toward the nearby building that still had its department store signs intact. The escalators weren’t moving anymore, and a burnt poster that said Seasonal Clearance! 90% Off! was fluttering weakly on the wall.

  “You think he’s going to pick something practical?” Kang Juwon asked.

  Mu Yichen gave him a side glance.

  “…He wore an old T-shirt with a skeleton on it to our last raid. You tell me.”

  Elsewhere, Park Taegun had finished contacting the military response unit.

  He didn’t speak much while doing it, just barked a few short orders, gave coordinates, and told them to keep the press from getting anywhere near the crater that used to be downtown.

  His voice was sharp and clipped, like he was holding back a migraine and an existential crisis at the same time.

  Seo MinHyun, on the other hand, paced back and forth with his phone pressed to his ear, ranting into the receiver.

  “Yes, I know it looks bad. No, we didn’t die. Obviously. What do you mean the internet is calling this ‘Gate of Humiliation’? Who’s posting these things?!”

  Pause.

  “No, I don’t know if the Hero was smiling while we were screaming. That’s a rumor. It’s propaganda. Delete it.”

  Another pause.

  “…Okay, fine. It’s probably true. Just bury it.”

  He ended the call with a groan and slammed back a mana potion with the bitter acceptance of a man who knew this wasn’t the end, it was just the commercial break.

  He and Park Taegun regrouped at the broken intersection, standing under the flickering remains of a streetlight that buzzed like an annoyed bee.

  Rubble crunched under their boots. The air still smelled like sulfur and ozone.

  He Ziqin joined them a moment later, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in professional resentment.

  Then the rest of the team trickled in.

  Right on time.

  Five minutes.

  Not a second more.

  They stood in silence, lined up like survivors of a bizarre post-apocalyptic boot camp.

  Seo MinHyun was the first to break.

  “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “I’m the next heir of Flame Serpent. Park Taegun is from the military. And we’re being treated worse than—than stray dogs.”

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  “I was going to say worse than disposable mops,” He Ziqin said with a grimace. “But yeah, dogs works.”

  Mu Yichen chuckled under his breath, arms folded as he leaned against the wall beside them.

  “If you’re going to complain,” he said quietly, “maybe don’t do it now.”

  He nodded toward the street.

  They turned.

  Lee Aseok was walking toward them.

  Fresh clothes.

  Mu Yichen, ever composed and clean even in disaster zones, let out a dry chuckle as he caught the sight of Lee Aseok emerging from the collapsed mall.

  He didn’t need to say anything flashy. Just a simple glance and a calm smile.

  Then, with the ease of someone commenting on the weather, he lifted a finger and pointed toward Aseok.

  “I’d keep the complaints to a minimum,” he said, voice low. “You never know what he’ll do next.”

  Seo MinHyun shivered.

  Audibly.

  Like a chilled soda can being cracked open.

  Then, with the dramatic flair of someone in a K-drama who just witnessed his own funeral, he clicked his tongue and folded his arms.

  “This is emotional abuse,” he muttered.

  But even he knew not to raise his voice.

  Because Aseok had returned.

  And this time… he looked refreshed.

  Clean white shirt. Crisp white pants. Even the damn shoes were white. Bright, spotless, and out of place in the bloodstained, crumbling wreckage of what used to be a bustling city center.

  His long black hair was tied into a high ponytail, secured with a white ribbon that swayed slightly in the breeze. There wasn’t a scratch on him now. Not even a smudge.

  Lee Aseok looked like someone who had just walked out of a dream—and was now prepared to enter someone else’s nightmare.

  “Why does he look like a cult leader ascending into godhood,” Seo MinHyun whispered under his breath, visibly offended.

  Mu Yichen didn’t answer. He was too busy blinking at the surreal, glowing aura Aseok somehow exuded just by existing.

  Even Kang Juwon, who was notoriously unbothered by appearances, let out a small sigh and muttered, “...Should’ve worn sunglasses.”

  The pressure around them shifted.

  It wasn’t mana. Not even killing intent.

  It was just… aesthetic dominance.

  Whenever Lee Aseok wore white, the world seemed to slow down a little.

  The air got colder. The sky looked greyer. And somehow, everything he walked past looked a little bit less important.

  The others stared at him like survivors watching the antagonist of a noir film walk toward them in slow motion.

  He Ziqin said nothing, but even he looked like someone who had just lost a bet with God.

  Then there was the sword.

  The holy sword—still floating behind Aseok like an overprotective knight that no one had dared to comment on for the past two days.

  It gleamed like moonlight, hovering loyally behind him in perfect synch, sharp and regal, as if proclaiming silently: This is our king, and you’re all peasants.

  And Aseok?

  He still had the same weapon in hand.

  That same worn-down, half-bent iron rod.

  Because of course he did.

  Seo MinHyun looked between the holy sword and the iron rod, then back at Aseok’s face.

  Then he clicked his tongue again, more aggressively this time.

  “God is unfair,” he declared. “Unbelievable. He gives a literal fallen angel’s face to a man who only has two moods—die quietly or kill the entire world.”

  Park Taegun, standing beside him, let out a low breath.

  “That’s generous. I’ve only seen him smile once, and it was while drinking expired coffee.”

  “…It was black coffee,” He Ziqin added softly. “No sugar.”

  Seo MinHyun looked at him in horror.

  “That explains everything.”

  Despite their complaints, they were all thinking the same thing.

  Lee Aseok was terrifying.

  Not in the conventional way. Not because of how strong he was, or how silent, or how emotionally absent he acted after every mission.

  But because even now, after all they’d been through—after the Gate collapse, after the monsters, after watching him annihilate an entire elite-ranked beast with a piece of rebar—he was still a mystery.

  A man who didn’t speak unless it was necessary. Who didn’t boast. Who didn’t explain. Who changed clothes in the middle of a disaster zone like it was part of the plan.

  And he was clearly hiding something.

  All of them knew it now.

  It wasn’t just gut instinct anymore. It wasn’t just a suspicion.

  There was something massive, catastrophic, and deeply personal that Lee Aseok hadn’t told anyone.

  And none of them had the courage to ask.

  Especially not now.

  As if summoned by their thoughts, Aseok stopped walking.

  He stood right in front of them—silent, immaculate, radiating apathy—and looked directly at He Ziqin.

  He didn’t blink.

  He didn’t sigh.

  He just said, in that quiet, disinterested tone of his:

  “Teleport.”

  One word.

  Simple.

  He Ziqin’s lips curled into a small, tragic smile.

  Not sarcastic. Not angry.

  Just tired.

  He looked like a man about to escort a war criminal to a party and pretend everything was fine.

  With the weight of all seven continents in his expression, he lifted his hand and summoned the teleportation circle.

  As the light began to gather, the others glanced toward him in sympathy. A rare moment of solidarity.

  No one said it aloud, but it was written all over their faces:

  Be strong, Ziqin.

  We believe in you.

  Don’t cry. He might find it annoying.

  Then the circle flared.

  White-blue light surged up around their boots, washing over the ruins, humming softly beneath the wind.

  The city behind them was in ruins. The ground beneath them cracked and broken. And ahead of them..

  Another unknown gate.

  Another disaster waiting to unfold.

  As the teleportation spell activated, Seo MinHyun muttered one last complaint under his breath:

  “We’re not a team. We’re prisoners. We’re war prisoners in matching uniforms.”

  Mu Yichen chuckled again. “Speak for yourself. I wore black on purpose.”

  “Traitor,” Seo muttered, just as the light swallowed them whole.

  And they vanished.

  Off to the next crisis.

  Dragging their sanity behind them.

  One iron rod at a time.

  Far away, Yoo Eunsae sat under the shade of an old maple tree, phone in hand.

  She had been scrolling through the news feed, and her thumb froze mid-scroll.

  The headlines were already flooding in: “Lee Aseok and Team Clear Another S-Rank Gate”—“Holy Sword Sighted Again”—“Is This Man Even Human?”

  Her eyes widened slightly, but only for a moment.

  Then she turned her head.

  Pudding, the husky, was chasing a butterfly across the grass like it had just discovered the concept of joy.

  It leapt, tumbled, barked, and immediately forgot why it was barking.

  Eunsae let out a sigh.

  She had wanted to help them, just once, to stand in the same fight, to do something meaningful.

  But the truth was simple.

  She was a B-rank.

  Against what they fought, her presence would be more liability than help.

  Another sigh slipped out.

  She pushed herself to her feet and began to jog after Pudding before the dog decided to run into traffic—or worse, into the neighbor’s koi pond again.

  The husky always did whatever it pleased.

  Just like its owner.

  When the teleport light faded, Lee Aseok and the others stood in front of their next obstacle: a shimmering, swirling Gate, dark purple in color, marked with glowing A-rank warnings.

  The gate pulsed faintly like a living thing, leaking the scent of ozone and danger into the air.

  The staff on duty froze the moment they saw them appear out of thin air.

  For a second, their faces lit up in recognition—and then in shock.

  But before they could get a word out—before the polite greetings or protocol could kick in—Lee Aseok walked right past them.

  Straight toward the gate.

  Expression calm.

  Eyes half-lidded.

  The staff might as well have been oxygen molecules—necessary, but entirely beneath notice.

  Behind him, Mu Yichen offered the staff a slight nod, followed by Seo MinHyun’s casual wave and Park Taegun’s short acknowledgment.

  The staff didn’t mind the lack of conversation.

  Author Note:

  Every “OH MY GOD ASEOK STOP” gives me the strength to write the next disaster.

  Mon ? Wed ? Fri

  (Yes, I too question my life choices.)

  https://www.patreon.com/c/LithutheBloom

  please leave a review or rating—it helps summon new victims readers. ??