DM Chapter 2

Yoon Min was carefully observing the situation, weighing her options. Would it be safe to leave the shantytown and move on? Could Choi Cheol-nam, the manager at Entrance 13 on the east side of the Sector 41 camp, truly be trusted to watch her back? Time continued to slip away as she debated.

This winter, she resolved, she would finally make a move. Yet her plans were stalled by a strange man who’d recently shown up. Of course, Yoon Min chose to stick around because of him—he had become a fairly reliable source of cash.

The man, who passed through the alleys of Sector 37 around the same time every day, would occasionally toss coins her way. With an indifferent expression, he’d do it without a word, as if he were merely indulging a pitiful beggar.

“What’s the dog’s name?”

Today, however, was different.

The man had spoken his first words upon seeing the black puppy frantically licking his shoes. Yoon Min, caught off guard, couldn’t believe he was talking to her.

“Dung-gae.”

She answered, still dazed.

“That’s a strange name.”

“…Did you contribute anything to it?”

Yoon Min shot back, irritated. She didn’t really have a reason to feel defensive over a simple comment about the dog’s odd name. But the memory of the old woman, who often griped about how ridiculous and rustic ‘Dung-gae’ sounded, had left a raw spot. Yoon Min was doing her best to forget those memories.

‘I shouldn’t have snapped.’

She regretted it almost immediately. A patron like him deserved respect; the more polite she was, the more she might get from him.

Luckily, the man didn’t seem fazed.

“No, I didn’t contribute anything.”

“Then leave a coin and be on your way.”

Her cheeky addition of ‘like usual’ made the man chuckle quietly.

This man had been lurking around the alley for days, and his outfit had caught everyone’s attention from the start: a dark brown coat, black hair, neat features, and polished black shoes.

While such attire might once have been ordinary, in today’s world, it was anything but.

There were guerrilla teams who looted department stores for supplies, yet even they wouldn’t dress like that. Besides, these teams typically gathered in the city center and would never be found in shantytowns.

Simply put, in this age, a “normal person” would never wander around dressed like that. Gates could open at any moment, and with living humans often as dangerous as Gates themselves, such fine shoes and a coat would only hinder someone’s ability to fight or escape.

Whenever the man appeared, the residents of the shantytown watched him with a mixture of fear, curiosity, wariness, and awe. Each time he passed Yoon Min, he would drop a coin without a word, and she would hurriedly stash it away.

Having lived in Sector 12 until the age of fifteen, Yoon Min knew exactly what kind of person this “strange type” was. From a safe distance, she’d occasionally glimpsed people dressed just like him—the low-level Espers.

Espers.

In this crazy, chaotic world, nothing was as unfathomable as those beings known as ‘Espers.’

* * *

One day, back when she lived in Sector 12, Yoon Min had asked:

“Who were those people earlier?”

“Low-level Espers.”

“Real Espers?”

“Yeah, though they’re probably just F or E rank,” her aunt had replied with a chuckle. There was no one in this world who didn’t know about Espers; they were the apex predators here.

Sector 12 had plenty of children Yoon Min’s age. They were all kids born among the women who sold their bodies and the soldiers who passed through. Fatherless, they spent their days running wild through the hills and fields, playing like feral animals while their mothers worked.

Due to the virus, the farmlands and foothills had been stripped bare, making way for games like ‘Esper vs. Guide.’ Most of the stronger kids wanted to play the Esper, while the weaker ones ended up as Guides.

Even at that age, Yoon Min was more focused on saving money to help her aunt than on joining the games. The self-styled Espers and Guides would tease her as she passed by, claiming a ‘monster’ was on the loose. Since she wasn’t an Esper or Guide, they had cast her as the ‘monster’ whether she liked it or not.

Exactly seventy years ago, an unknown phenomenon had opened Gates connecting Earth to other dimensions. Through these Gates, countless bizarre creatures had crossed over, bringing not only physical destruction but also viruses. Those infected—humans, animals, and plants alike—would die, raging and transforming into something monstrous in their final moments.

It was nothing short of the apocalypse. Cities fell, people died, and humanity faced extinction. In the midst of this collapse, a new type of savior emerged: the Espers.

Espers possessed strength comparable to, or even surpassing, that of monsters. They could wield telekinesis, supernatural abilities, and various energies at will.

But such inhuman powers came with a dire cost. As they used their abilities, their bodies deteriorated rapidly, and brain damage accelerated until, inevitably, they descended into madness and died. Such was the curse of being an Esper.

And the only salvation from this fate was the existence of Guides.

Guides emitted an energy with a different wavelength, one that could heal brain damage in Espers and help their bodies withstand the power they carried.

The saviors of humanity were the Espers, and the saviors of the Espers were the Guides.

At a glance, it might seem like Guides were at the top of the hierarchy, yet ironically, the world was structured so that Guides were bound to serve under the power of the Espers. A brutal world of survival of the fittest had dawned.

Research on Espers and Guides was still ongoing. The first generation of Espers, who had no knowledge of Guides, met tragic ends as adults. The government had seized on this weakness to control them.

However, the discovery of the first-generation Guides changed everything. The government’s control began to erode, and despite their efforts to maintain power, it became clear that their influence was waning.

Thirty-five years ago, amidst the chaos as fifteen Gates opened, the government fell to the hands of the Espers. The world functioned on principles completely unlike those before the Gates appeared. The one now running the Centers and controlling this world was a second-generation Esper named Jin Dong-han.

All of this information had been carefully taught to Yoon Min by her aunt.

“In my prime, I even had those low-level Espers as clients. One of them was an F-grade Esper. I still remember him—one of the worst bastards I ever met, but he paid well. Instead of ‘that act,’ he preferred to tie me up, humiliate me, beat me. That’s how most Espers are, you know. Twisted somehow. The moment they start using their power, it’s like they give up on being human.”

Her aunt muttered this as she smoked, speaking bitterly of Espers—figures seen as heroes by children and feared and revered by adults. To her, they were nothing but “rich bastards.”

“If you ever leave Sector 12, it’s unlikely you’ll see an Esper again, but if you do, it’s best to steer clear. They’re all mad. Think of them as rulers from another world. Ruthless rulers.”

* * *

Yoon Min didn’t understand why an Esper would be wandering around Sector 37, which wasn’t even close to an active combat zone, but she had no doubt that the man in front of her was indeed an Esper.

Her aunt had warned her to avoid Espers at all costs, but the coins he tossed her were too tempting to resist.

The man passed through the shantytown alley every day for a week, and each time, Yoon Min eagerly collected the coins he left behind.

Today, she hadn’t expected him to strike up a conversation.

To her cheeky demand for a coin, the man silently pulled a wallet from his coat and extracted a crisp bill. The note dangled from his long fingers, its newness gleaming. Yoon Min’s eyes widened; she hadn’t seen cash since leaving Sector 12. Even there, paper money was something she’d come across maybe once a month.

Yoon Min glanced around cautiously. Luckily, no one else was around. Those who’d deduced that the man might be an Esper were likely keeping their distance, fearful of potential trouble, a Gate opening, or the risk of provoking the man.

Even the curious children, their eyes bright with interest, remained firmly held by the adults, too wary to let them approach.

“Thank you.”

Yoon Min held out her hand politely.

The man smiled warmly, his neat gaze softening. His clean-cut face, so composed, looked entirely out of place in this shantytown alley. He even smelled pleasant—something foreign in this grimy place.

“Seeing money makes you speak respectfully, huh?”

“Haven’t I always?”

“I thought you might not even know how, since you talk so freely with me.”

“One must show respect to those who have money.”

“How old are you?”

As he extended the bill, Yoon Min swiftly took it, tucking it away carefully within her tattered layers.

“Sixteen.”

She lied without missing a beat.

“…That’s awfully young.”

The man’s brow furrowed as he looked at her small frame, hunched shoulders, and grime-streaked face.

“Young or not, I know how to take care of myself.”

The man chuckled dryly at her return to a cheeky tone.

The reason Yoon Min felt so at ease was because he wasn’t dressed in the specialized combat suit Espers usually wore. This meant there was no danger of a Gate opening nearby.

Besides, it seemed unlikely he’d take his money back just because she spoke informally.

Throughout their conversation, Dung-gae circled around the man, licking his black shoes. The man didn’t push the dog away or show any dislike. He didn’t pet its tangled black fur, either, merely alternating glances between Yoon Min and the dog with a faintly awkward smile.

‘Espers really are loaded.’

Yoon Min thought, feeling the weight of the bill pressing in her pocket.

In this era, the value of money had shifted to absurd extremes. The city center, overrun by guerrilla teams, was a lawless land, a hub of looting and violence. While there was some currency exchange there, possessions were usually acquired by force rather than trade.

To get even one meal from the military-run ration stations, one needed money issued by the Center. And to earn that money, you had to work as a porter in the Gates—hauling monster-bait corpses, cleaning up scenes, handling menial tasks.

Women couldn’t work as porters, so most either sold their bodies or begged. Those with husbands or protectors had it easier, but finding a trustworthy guardian in the midst of war was as rare as catching a falling star.

Another option was finding employment in Sector 58, where all essential goods and food supplies were produced, but for the lower classes, that was nearly impossible—like capturing a star and placing it in the sky.