The Last Esper [BL]
Chapter 26: You have to decide

Chapter 26: You have to decide

"That’s precisely why we’re here," he said. "To offer you an alliance."

"An alliance?" Eun-woo looked at him in bewilderment. "But... what can I offer you?"

Gunnar let out a short exhalation and moved a little closer.

"There are Guides within the rebellion. If you choose one, you could bond with him."

Eun-woo wanted to bond with Rhys.

He had known it long before he even understood what bonding meant, long before anyone had ever told him about Espers or Rifts. He’d known it when he first touched him, when he felt safe by his side, when his body began to seek him out.

But along with that thought came a clear memory from moments ago.

Rhys, his fingers clutching the hem of his shirt as he began to peel it off. His gaze unfocused. Terror, not at Eun-woo, but at himself. At what that closeness meant.

And then, panic on his face.

Eun-woo looked down.

He didn’t want to force Rhys to do something that caused him fear or pain.

And, for the first time, he wondered if Rhys had been hurt by someone. If someone had used his body without his consent, as if he were merely a tool for something.

Eun-woo gulped, not knowing if it was a good idea to tell them he wanted to bond with Rhys.

What if they made him go through with it?

Milo took the floor.

"We know it’s hasty, and that you’re just beginning to understand what you are. But we don’t have time. You’re connected to something dangerous, and you can’t fully control it. You’re a ticking time bomb, Eun-woo. All we’re offering you is a home and someone to support you. In return, we’re asking for something equally important."

"What thing?" Eun-woo asked.

"Your help in this war," Milo said. "Against Blackwood."

Silence fell again in the room, but this time it was heavier. Eun-woo looked down, trying to process what he had just heard.

A war.

He knew what that word meant... in theory.

He had read it in the books his parents had given him. Old tales with illustrations of soldiers with swords or firearms, stories where good and evil clashed on battlefields stained with mud and blood.

But he had never experienced it.

He’d never heard real screams. He’d never felt the ground shake beneath his feet from an explosion. He’d never seen someone die in front of him.

Until he saw the creature emerge from the Rift.

That memory was still etched into his skin.

The light that sliced ​​through the sky, the roar that split the air, the vibration of the cracking asphalt. The gigantic tentacles, crawling out of that glow. The paralyzing fear. The chaos that engulfed everything, like a fire that couldn’t be extinguished.

That felt very much like war.

Bloody.

Cruel.

Unstoppable.

And although it had only lasted a few minutes, it had been enough to make it clear to him that war wasn’t like the stories. There was no glory. Only loss.

He didn’t want to go through that again. He didn’t want to see everything shatter around him, people running aimlessly, chaos taking physical form.

But... he also couldn’t forget what he had seen before the disaster.

The city was already broken.

He remembered the alleys he’d walked through. The barefoot children playing in the dust, their ribs poking through their skin. The pots steaming on rusty barrels, the grease from burnt food mixing with the soot. The people dressed in layers of threadbare clothing, the grime clinging to their bodies like another layer of skin they couldn’t peel off.

There was no happiness.

Just hunger.

Only desolation.

And then he realized that the destruction had not begun with the creature.

It had started long before with Blackwood.

He felt something ignite inside him. A spark that wasn’t anger, but a kind of strength. An instinct. The desire to protect. To do something. To stop that world where children grew up with their feet on rotten concrete and mothers cooked over stolen fire from continuing to be the only option.

But along with that impulse, fear also arrived.

What if he didn’t do it right?

What if his power, instead of saving, destroyed even more?

He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t a hero. He was just someone who was just beginning to understand who he was.

"What did Rhys say?" Eun-woo murmured.

Gunnar ran a hand through his beard before answering.

"He told us you’re peaceful. That you don’t like conflict. That you prefer to heal rather than harm. And that’s... not a flaw, Eun-woo. But he also asked us to tell you the truth." He paused, searching Eun-woo’s eyes. "Only you can end this war."

Eun-woo looked at him, puzzled.

"Why don’t you ask another Esper?"

Milo and Gunnar exchanged a look. Milo was the one who answered, in a low voice.

"Because there is no other."

Eun-woo’s entire world began to collapse. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His throat tightened with a lump he couldn’t quite recognize. He blinked several times, feeling the beginnings of an uncomfortable pressure in his chest.

"And my parents?" he asked in a whisper.

Milo hesitated before answering.

"This may be hard to hear, but... there’s a chance that the people you thought were your parents weren’t. They may have been a surrogate family. We don’t know for sure," he added quickly. "It’s just a theory. But what we can tell you, Eun-woo, is that you are the last Esper."

The room seemed to shrink. The edges of the mattress, the murmur of the fan, the dim light filtering through the blinds... everything became distant.

Eun-woo felt himself gasping for air. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his fingers clenched in the blanket. Milo’s words swirled around in his head: latest, a time bomb, no one else.

He brought a hand to his mouth, as if that would stop the pressure building inside him.

He thought of the two blurred figures he had called his parents.

He remembered the gray days in the basement of the house. The smell of disinfectant. The silence when they entered the room. The way his "mother" gently pushed him aside as she passed. The way his "father" looked at him as if he didn’t quite know what to do with him.

There were never any screams or blows.

Only distance.

A care that was not born from affection, but from duty.

Despite everything, Eun-woo had loved his parents. He wanted to believe that, deep down, they had loved him back. That they had done what they could. That they were his family.

And now Milo was saying that maybe they weren’t. That maybe they were only looking out for him because someone had told them to. That they were just a bridge between where he came from and where he’d ended up.

The idea was unbearable to him.

Because if they weren’t their parents, then who were?

Where were they?

Had they abandoned him?

Or had they died?

That thought pierced his chest. More than the fear of the Rifts, more than the weight of war, more than any word spoken in that room.

It was the idea of ​​not belonging anywhere.

It was then that the door swung open.

Rhys came quickly, walked over in two strides, knelt beside him, and cupped his face in both hands.

"Calm down," Rhys whispered. "I’m here."

Eun-woo slumped against his chest, clutching his shirt tightly. Rhys wrapped him in a firm hug, shielding him from those words. For a moment, he said nothing. He just held Eun-woo.

Then Rhys looked up at Milo and Gunnar.

"Was it necessary to tell him all that?" he snapped. "Did you really think it was time?"

"You brought him here so we could give him answers, Rhys." Milo didn’t lower his gaze. His expression remained calm, though his voice sounded firmer than before. "And that’s exactly what we did."

Rhys gritted his teeth.

"Not like that."

Gunnar then intervened.

"It would have been worse if we kept it from him and he found out on his own. Or worse, if he found out from someone else. What if he thought we lied to him? That we manipulated him? At least now he knows we weren’t playing with him."

Rhys didn’t respond immediately. He looked down, where Eun-woo was still breathing heavily against his chest. He gently stroked his hair, like someone calming a wounded animal.

"You could have told me before," Rhys murmured. I would’ve found a way to explain it to him."

"We’d better go." Milo took a step toward the door.

Gunnar nodded and followed him, but before crossing the threshold, he turned one last time to Eun-woo.

"Just one more thing," he said. "You have to decide which side you want to be on, Eun-woo."

Eun-woo raised his head slightly from Rhys’s chest.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life hiding every time a Rift opens? Every time Blackwood troops cross the streets?" Gunnar continued. "Just be another civilian, waiting for someone else to do what you could do? Or do you want to change the world?"

Rhys glared at Gunnar in obvious annoyance, but said nothing. He just pursed his lips and pulled Eun-woo a little closer.

Eun-woo didn’t respond with words. He just nodded.

Milo watched the exchange in silence, then placed his hand on the door frame before leaving.

"Think about it," Milo said gently. "We’re not asking for an answer now. Just for you to think about it."

And with that, they walked away, leaving behind the echo of something that was just beginning.

Rhys held him close. Eun-woo kept his eyes on the floor, but inside, something had changed.