Mission: Barrier
The room was shrouded in darkness, thanks to the blackout curtains draped over the smooth wooden floor.
The faint outline of the bed.
Even in sleep, Yoo Min-jeong twitched with unease, her pale, slender fingers clenched tightly around the blanket. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead.
She bolted upright with a start, then realized she was in her own room and let out a long breath. The nightmare was over. Her ragged breathing gradually steadied.
I'll never forget. I'll pay them back—with interest.
She had no intention of forgiving Lee Do, who haunted even her dreams. She planned to return the favor tenfold.
Then, a savory aroma tickled her nose.
"Huh?"
Yoo Min-jeong's eyes widened.
Chicken porridge!
She slipped out of bed and headed straight to the kitchen.
A sturdy inverted-triangle back came into view.
Yoo Min-jeong couldn't believe her eyes. It felt like the old days, before anything had gone wrong.
"…Dad?"
"Awake already?"
Yoo Wan-seop turned, his right sleeve dangling limply.
"Dad!"
Yoo Min-jeong rushed over and hugged him tightly. She could feel his lean, rock-hard frame through his clothes and arms, but fear gnawed at her—was this a dream?
Yoo Wan-seop stroked her hair with his left hand. At the same time, he lifted a whole chicken into the air and dismantled it purely with internal energy, sending the bones into one bowl and the meat into the pot.
"You should've washed the sleep from your eyes first."
"Yeah."
As Yoo Min-jeong headed to the bathroom, she kept glancing back, terrified her father might vanish.
He was exactly as he used to be.
After a quick cat wash, she returned to the table. The chicken porridge was steaming invitingly.
As she scooped up a spoonful, doubt crept in. Why had her father—who hadn't reacted to anything for over three months—suddenly returned to normal?
Could it be because of what I told him yesterday?
Yoo Min-jeong eyed her father cautiously. If he knew what had happened during the first test, he wouldn't stay quiet.
Yoo Wan-seop sat across from her.
"What's wrong? Not tasty?"
"No, it's delicious."
She meant it. Her father's chicken porridge was a delicacy even her late mother had praised.
"You've had it rough these past months. I'm sorry."
"No. You've had it worse, Dad."
Yoo Min-jeong wanted to ask what had happened in the dungeon during Devils Day, why he'd shut himself away—but she held back. Even without specifics, pain flickered across his face.
"You left Jushin?"
"It's too big. I'm going to make Uramata Guild the best in Korea, just like you."
"Uramata? Go Cheolmin?"
"Yeah."
"Hm. He's not a bad choice."
Yoo Min-jeong was genuinely surprised. Her father was stingy with praise. He rarely even commented on people, deeming them unworthy of mention. "Not bad" was high praise.
Silence fell.
It wasn't uncomfortable for Yoo Min-jeong. Familiarity made it feel like peaceful normalcy had returned.
Yoo Wan-seop finished his bowl and set down his spoon.
"I'm thinking of heading to Jirisan."
The words were unexpected, shocking—but they also meant he'd shaken off that disaster and fully awakened. A part of her was glad.
Jirisan was where her father had honed his skills, laying the foundation for his status as Korea's strongest raider. Maybe because it was steeped in his blood and sweat, the name always filled Yoo Min-jeong with a warm, hometown comfort.
"Got it."
She wanted to go with him, but she knew it wasn't what he needed.
"Now, how about some coffee brewed by my daughter?"
Her father grinned.
Yoo Min-jeong smiled back and headed to the kitchen to boil water.
A rhinoceros charged down the roadside.
Rough, heaving breaths.
A passing bus blared its horn beside it.
His body was drenched in sweat, calves bulging and on the verge of cramping. Still, Choi Muhyun didn't stop running.
The morning commute noise couldn't drown out the scream in his head. That sharp cry from the darkness, while he was bound… it drove him forward.
He finally reached the Uramata Guildhouse.
Exhaustion bent his waist.
"Huff… huff… huff…"
Choi Muhyun collapsed in the empty parking lot. A brilliant blue sky filled his vision.
His heart felt like it would burst through his chest.
Groaning, he dragged himself inside and began stretching. Best to do it while his body was still warm.
Next, the Wollyeong Geumgang Heart Technique.
"Hyeon Jung-se."
Lowering his center of gravity, he felt the internal energy gathered in his dantian writhe and flow down his legs.
The moment it touched the Yongcheon acupoint in his soles, it rebounded upward—firmer and warmer.
Choi Muhyun scanned his surroundings.
Confirming no one was around, he shifted to Jiryu-se—a stance identical in form but utterly different in essence.
A snake coiling around his legs.
Internal energy responded to conscious thought. Visualizing a coiled serpent, it began spiraling.
Sweat beaded quickly.
Jiryu-se demanded several times the focus of Hyeon Jung-se.
Then, a screech of tires from the road out front. To Choi Muhyun in that moment, it sounded just like Yoo Min-jeong's scream.
Killing intent surged instinctively.
A white glow flickered on the skin of his slightly extended right hand. Startled, he pulled it back, and the light vanished.
Myeoloksu. It was definitely Myeoloksu!
No time to savor the joy.
His chest tightened, heart squeezed. For at least a minute, he couldn't breathe at all.
His breathing slowly normalized.
Choi Muhyun realized what had happened.
His father had warned him while teaching the Patchun Gong: incompatible techniques used together could overwhelm the body.
He checked himself. Fortunately, the energy flow near his chest was merely sluggish, not blocked.
Jiryu-se active… and Patchun Gong's Myeoloksu emerged. Whew, that was close.
A warm liquid filled his mouth.
Blood?
Rinsing in the bathroom, Choi Muhyun understood why his father had been silent about Patchun Gong for so long.
Someone entered the parking lot.
Yoo Min-jeong.
Choi Muhyun's chest tightened again.
Seeing her reminded him of his own powerlessness. It was hard to bear.
Yoo Min-jeong spotted Choi Muhyun. An awkward expression crossed her face. She was thinking of it too.
"You're early."
"Couldn't sit still."
"Where's the master?"
"Not here."
"I'll change."
"Okay."
Choi Muhyun tried not to watch her head to the locker room. He could guess at Yoo Min-jeong's feigned nonchalance.
Yeah, best to pretend it never happened. Talking about it won't help. But those bastards… I won't let them off.
In her form-fitting training suit, Yoo Min-jeong was stunningly beautiful—and alluring. Even seeing her daily, being alone with her flustered Choi Muhyun; he looked away.
"No Kim Jun. What's up with him?"
"At the hospital."
"Hospital? Why? Hurt? Did he get hit by a car jogging? Which one? We can't just sit here!"
Yoo Min-jeong's voice rose, until she was practically yelling at him.
"Not hurt. Regular checkup."
"Regular checkup?"
"You know about the Nuclataurus explosion in Gwanghwamun Dungeon during Devils Day?"
"Yeah."
Yoo Min-jeong recalled Jushin's Nakdonggang Team wiping out there. Their leader, Jo Dong-gun… someone she'd once liked.
"I went in. So did Kim Jun."
"…."
Her eyes widened, mouth agape.
"You didn't know. Anyway, we survived by miracle, but they check for side effects regularly."
Yoo Min-jeong clenched her fists at the explanation.
Now she understood Choi Muhyun's terror of the simulated Nuclataurus. And why the master praised Kim Jun.
…As team leader, I should've noticed then. Asked the master.
If she'd thought calmly, she'd have spotted the oddity. But with no room for anything but herself… she'd missed it.
Her face burned.
"H-how'd you survive? I mean, what miracle?"
"Lyposaurus."
Choi Muhyun recounted the white deer that appeared, licked his wounds, and healed him miraculously.
Even his father had seen a Lyposaurus only once. Its core, Lyphium, was a miraculous ingredient that could revive the dying.
"But why're you here? Not at the hospital?"
"I went recently. Today’s for carriers."
At "carrier," Yoo Min-jeong realized she'd overreacted. Would Choi Muhyun think it weird?
"Tell me ahead next time. So I can plan as team leader."
She feigned casualness.
"Got it."
"Where's Sang-taek?"
"No idea."
"Can't slack just 'cause he lucked through the first test. Where the hell is he?"
Yoo Min-jeong headed to the locker room for her phone.
Kim Jun stepped off the bus and looked up at the building.
Pointed at the top, it pierced the sky. No matter how many times he came, it never felt familiar.
He approached the reception desk and handed over his regular checkup form instead of speaking.
The smiling receptionist made a call.
"Seventh floor, please."
Kim Jun walked to the elevator, pressed the button, and waited.
Someone approached and stood beside him.
"Checkup day today?"
"Oh, Doctor!"
Kim Jun looked up at the tall man.
Hong Mun-hak, with his snow-white hair and mustache, stood 193 centimeters tall—most had to crane their necks before him.
"You look fine enough to skip it, but Dungeon Association rules are rules."
Hong Mun-hak said, coffee in hand.
The doors opened.
Kim Jun followed him in.
He felt the piercing stare. At first, those intense eyes had unnerved him.
He'd learned from a nurse it was just the doctor's habit—staring as if peering into the patient's innards.
"Prepping for raids?"
"Yes."
"Everyone else ran. Why'd you stick around?"
Kim Jun slowly turned to Hong Mun-hak. "Ran" grated on him.
Anyone who'd faced a Nuclataurus explosion in that hopeless dungeon wouldn't say that.
He imagined tossing this arrogant doctor in. Even a small Goldisaurus might make him cry like a baby, those skinny legs buckling—or worse, wetting himself.
The thought brought a natural smile. The gaze no longer bothered him. Ignore the clueless.
Hong Mun-hak startled at the expression.
This punk.
"We're here."
Kim Jun exited first.
Hong Mun-hak's face twisted at the confident back ahead.