Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C38

Chapter 38

By the end of the second week of the Wave, time seemed impossible to measure.

The monsters that had appeared sporadically at first began showing up en masse, as if they’d planned it together. The area that had been covered by just me and Lee Taeon was suddenly crowded with Espers and Guides dispatched from other sectors—fewer than twenty people had swelled to nearly a hundred. The once quiet base was now full of motion — or more accurately, fatigue.

In a way, that was a relief.

Hours blurred from endless exterminations, weekday or weekend, day or night, and my thoughts about Taeon faded in step. With work commanding all my focus, I’d recovered something like my usual composure.

…until today.

“Doesn’t this seem small for a Grade 3?” I asked as I scanned the data passed over by the monitoring officer and research team—a photograph of something huddled on the seabed. Shot zoomed from a distance, the image was grainy, but its outline was clear enough: a solitary Grade 3 gray sea toad with 3 pairs of legs and 10 eyes.

“Male, probably,” said Taeon, having checked the reference material before me. His gaze pointed far off toward the surf, where white foam fanned across rocky outcrops. He wasn’t admiring the view—he was imagining the space beneath, where the toad would be hiding.

“A male, huh. That’s rare.”

On the West Coast, Waves almost always tied to monster spawning—egg-carrying females forming colonies and moving to safer inshore waters. Males were usually left behind, eaten, or too depleted to recover, dying soon after mating. For one to make it near the shore alive was unusual.

There were exceptional species, like seahorses, where males carried eggs, but sea toads were among the common type with egg-laying females.

“I’m hoping it’s exhausted,” I said. “It’s so still—odds aren’t bad.”

“If it’s truly drained, pulling it to the surface won’t be easy,” Taeon added evenly. “It wouldn’t have the strength to rise if provoked.”

Killing it underwater was also risky. Here—the massive reef near Seonmi Island—was free from the environmental hazards of Daebudo, but the monster posed its own contamination threat, like the toxic flyingfish.

“If it’s not exhaustion—if it’s an outcast?” I pressed.

“That’d be worse. Especially if it’s old.”

I grimaced.

A sea toad male, ancient and unmated—ghastly in fact and feeling. The danger stemmed from their biology: sea toad sperm was highly acidic. When in mortal danger, they sprayed it reflexively, like a cockroach scattering eggs before death. Enough of that could pollute seawater like the flyingfish’s venom, especially in old, desperate specimens.

So: exhaustion or outcast. I prayed for the former—sometimes just light provocation could make them spend the last of their strength.

“Let’s try a light prod first. If we can draw it up, we will.”

“Fine. I’ll keep my distance.”

He meant to focus on initial provocation. I stepped away immediately, picking my path across the jagged coral ground until I reached the reef’s center.

“If it goes wrong, just fry it!” I called.

He nodded from the edge, waves splashing against his boots. That hadn’t been a joke—it was for safety. If the sea toad didn’t just poke its head out but leapt onto this reef, I’d have nowhere to go, risking broken bones, crushing, drowning.

…Rescued before drowning, maybe. I could swim, but still.

Mostly, I stayed close because of guiding range. From a distant island or base, I’d be safe but too far to assist. Guiding energy wasn’t infinite.

And we might need sensory sharing, I thought—a partial excuse. Still, unlike before, we couldn’t overuse it. Consecutive high-use days had raised my accumulated fatigue; even my load rate—usually low thanks to Taeon’s unusual physiology—had climbed past 20%.

So during this Wave, we’d save it for when it was absolutely necessary.

Besides, it shouldn’t be that tough.

If the grade were higher, or if it were a group kill, I’d have held back. Clearly, the Center thought similarly—they hadn’t objected to our team being sent.

Maybe they even meant it as hard experience for a newly paired team.

“Anyway, I don’t doubt you. An S-rank can handle an undersized Grade 3. I believe it, Mr. Lee.”

My fist pumped lazily as I spoke—not that he could see it with his back turned.

Kneeling at the edge, Taeon dipped his fingers into the water. From here I couldn’t see clearly, but he was probably sending an electric pulse to irritate the creature below. Even hunched, his frame looked solid—broad shoulders, narrow waist, that naturally athletic V-shape.

Stop it, Yunseong.

I smacked my forehead and forced my mind back—

Sploosh.

The splash came suddenly. At first I didn’t catch it over the wind.

Sploosh.

“…A reaction…,” I heard—including fragments of his voice between the noises.

Not the surf. More like something disturbing still water in a tidepool.

Fish, maybe?

Strays washed into tidepools sometimes flailed with similar sounds.

Sploosh.

But when the splash came again—closer, bigger—a cold prickle traced my neck.

From the left, not behind. Waves couldn’t reach here. If something had leapt from the water and landed nearby, I should have seen it.

Maybe it had been here all along—quiet until now?

More importantly—

“Ji Yunseong, behind you!”

Whether fish or something worse, nothing with that weight had splashed into a rockpool before—

Screech!

The first thing I saw was Taeon’s face, turned to me and caught in alarm. His saturated hand dripping seawater. That usually impassive expression jolted into shock.

Then came the shriek—a ripping inhuman cry.

I turned. From my left, vaulting straight for me, came a huge dark shape: mouth gaping in a spiral of sharp teeth, three pairs of legs jutting from its sides, a short tail flailing behind.

An oversized sea toad tadpole.

Here? How? Why? No time to think.

“Move!”

“—!”

No breath left—I lunged forward but stumbled instantly, the uneven reef catching my foot. Pain twisted up from my ankle as I crashed down.

“Ugh!”

“Guide Ji Yunseong!”

Pain flared from bone to skin; the hair at my neck rose. Behind me came its screech again—the rapid thud of it scuttling across stone with stubby legs. The sound was close, too close. And through the blur I thought I heard Taeon yell again.