The man’s eyes, though vibrant and dazzling the longer one looked, were utterly lifeless.
It had been the same on the rainy day—and nothing had changed now.
His gaze didn’t linger long on Ho-eun. No, perhaps it had never met his to begin with. Maybe Ho-eun had just imagined it.
His expression, unreadable and exhausted, looked as if he had resigned himself to this situation—as if such neglect were all too familiar.
“Hey. Go ahead and ignore us like last time. We’ll have you up for assault charges again. I’m curious what kind of punishment an Esper gets for repeatedly assaulting a Guide. You can’t even take Guiding meds anymore, right?”
Ho-eun clenched his fist as the senior intern spat out those foul, grating words. He felt like his ears were rotting.
Unable to listen any longer, Ho-eun finally stepped forward.
“Hello.”
“What the hell? Who are you?”
Ho-eun looked down at the senior intern who had been running his mouth the most, lightly stroking his chin.
He’d seen plenty of people like this in his life. Useless on their own but brave in packs, venting their stress by tormenting others—utter garbage.
People don’t just change overnight, no matter how much they try to grow out of those habits as adults. Trash stays trash.
“I don’t know what led up to this, but ganging up on one person like this isn’t right, is it?”
“What do you mean ‘ganging up’? This bastard’s been shamelessly gobbling up our Broadcast Guiding! A monster like that deserves whatever he gets!”
“Then don’t do Broadcast Guiding.”
“What?! You think I can control that?!”
“Oh, so you can’t. I’m still new, so I didn’t know.”
The group of interns, intimidated by Ho-eun’s overwhelming physical presence, checked the yellow employee badge around his neck. Realizing he was one of the newly arrived interns, they immediately shifted their tone.
“What, you think you can talk back just ’cause you’re a junior?!”
When Ho-eun was younger, he’d dreamed of many admirable professions—police officer, firefighter, doctor, social worker. They all shared one thing: the mission of helping people, like a hero.
There isn’t a kid alive who hasn’t admired the heroes who fight villains and save lives. For Ho-eun, that admiration ran deep.
In his cute elementary school days, he’d sleep wrapped in blankets printed with the most popular hero of the time, hugging a hero doll in his arms. That’s how badly he had wanted to become one.
Then one of his classmates told him that only Espers could become heroes, and that dream shattered into pieces.
“Hey. Who the hell do you think you are, still standing there?”
The senior intern prodded Ho-eun in the chest with a stick. Ho-eun frowned.
“You’re revolting.”
The boy who once adored heroes had grown into an adult bursting with nosiness and a sense of justice.
Which meant one thing: he had no intention whatsoever of treating these self-appointed villains in front of him as his “seniors.”
“I’m Intern Kwon Ho-eun. I heard we’re supposed to ask our intern seniors if we have any questions. Mind if I ask one?”
Even if he used the word “senior,” the look he gave them—like he was staring at trash—left no doubt about the scorn behind it.
“Are you insane? You think this is the time to be asking questions?!”
“What’s the criteria for Guide assault charges, anyway? Does just brushing past someone count? Or does there have to be physical force involved?”
Ho-eun casually grabbed the intern’s collar and slammed him to the ground.
He had only meant to grab him by the collar, but the guy was so light that he lifted clean off the ground, and in surprise, Ho-eun lost his grip and let him fall.
“Oops, sorry. You’re just so light I didn’t mean to. But since you’re a senior, I’m sure you’ll be generous and understand, right?”
Ho-eun flashed a bright smile.
He distinctly remembered asking about the role of a Guide when he first came for his interview. The man who’d given him the tour had said it was about Esper care, so this couldn’t possibly be a violation of duties.
If anyone raised an issue, he could simply say he was looking after a poor, bullied Esper.
The flustered senior interns, their faces burning red, shouted things like, “K-Kwon Ho-eun, was it?! Just you wait, you’re dead next time!” as they scurried to gather their fallen comrade.
The intern on the floor had apparently landed awkwardly and screamed that his wrist was broken. Probably out of embarrassment, the others quickly helped him and ran off.
Only once they were gone did Ho-eun turn to the man who had remained silently standing there.
“Are you okay?”
“…Next time, just ignore it.”
Unlike the last time, when he’d spoken informally, the man now used honorifics after seeing Ho-eun’s ID. Still, even with polite speech, his attitude was just as rude.
“Come on, I helped you. A simple ‘thank you’ would do, no?”
“I never asked for help.”
“…What?”
“I’m used to things like this. I don’t need help.”
“Seriously? No one gets used to being hurt.”
Ho-eun reached out gently, but the man coldly rejected the gesture. Stepping back, he turned his face away, making it clear he didn’t want to be near Ho-eun.
“Wow.”
As the man avoided even meeting his gaze, Ho-eun’s lips went dry. The more he was rejected, the more stubborn he felt himself becoming.
This time, before the man could refuse again, Ho-eun swiftly reached out and grabbed his hand.
“……!”
“This is when you’re supposed to say thank you and shake hands.”
“Let go!”
When the man tried to pull his hand away, Ho-eun held on even tighter with his other hand.
“I’m not contagious, you know? It’s just two guys holding hands—what’s the big deal?”
“You’re going to get hurt!”
“Hurt by what?!”
As an Esper, the man could have easily broken free if he used a bit more force. But if he misjudged his strength, Ho-eun’s wrist might have dislocated, so his voice was laced with both irritation and concern.
However, the moment Ho-eun responded with a booming voice that could tear the air, he had no choice but to stop moving.
“If someone like me does G-Guiding, people get hurt.”
“You’re not hurting me, though. You keep saying that—but what’s getting hurt exactly?”
Though the man stammered in his attempt to explain, Ho-eun continued holding his hand.
Eventually, the man stopped resisting. Through their clasped hands, the guiding began to flow in.
That sweet, potent guiding seeped rapidly into his body. The overwhelming noise died down. The floral scents that others praised but always seemed like garbage to him became tolerable. The chaos in his head fell silent.
It was as if the whole world had stopped moving, leaving only the two of them.
“You’re an Esper, right?”
The man slowly nodded in response.
“My name’s Kwon Ho-eun. What’s yours?”
“…Do In-ho.”
Whether from the effects of the guiding or something else, Do In-ho answered quietly, his defiance fading.
“Mr. Do In-ho. I’m planning to give you something you’ve lost. But before that, can I ask you for a favor?”
“……”
“They said we need to bring an Esper for next week’s guiding practicum. Come with me.”
Their hands were still joined, the guiding still flowing. As he observed the now-quiet Do In-ho, Ho-eun took a moment to really look at him. Despite the gloom that clung to him, his thick red lips, sharply defined nose, and slightly upturned eyes without a double eyelid were striking.
‘So it’s true what they say about Espers being ridiculously good-looking.’
With his celebrity-level looks and shadowy aura, Do In-ho was fascinating.
‘He’s huge, so why is he curling his shoulders like that?’
Ho-eun couldn’t understand why he kept hiding those beautiful eyes by hanging his head.
“I helped you today, Mr. Do In-ho, so now you help me. I might not look it, but I’m actually really shy. Talking to new people takes a lot of courage.”
Ho-eun looked at him with the most pitiful expression he could muster.
“Mr. Kwon Ho-eun. Let go now.”
Even though Ho-eun clearly saw his shoulders flinch, Do In-ho’s voice remained ice-cold. Reluctantly, Ho-eun released his grip.
He should’ve noticed right then that something was off. But instead, chugging down a bowlful of hope, he congratulated himself on landing a practicum partner with ease.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“…What?”
He hadn’t even imagined a rejection. The words hit like a slap.
Standing there under the scorching summer sun, locked in this subtle power struggle, he felt an odd sense of déjà vu.
‘I swear something like this happened before too…’
***
“If you help someone in need, something good will happen.”
Young Ho-eun had nodded as he licked the ice cream his mom had given him.
‘Goodwill always comes back to you.’
Ho-eun had been unusually well-developed since childhood, with a healthier physique than most his age.
Gifted with a naturally strong body and sharp physical intuition, he couldn’t memorize math formulas worth a damn, but when it came to movement, he could master any new skill after just one try.
For a time, his parents had dreams of him going to Taereung Athletic Village. They had him try everything—taekwondo, swimming, judo—leaving no sport unexplored.
Whatever he tried, people called him a prodigy. He came home with gold from every competition. His parents were joyfully torn between which type of athlete their son would become.
During his elementary years, he bounced between sports, but when he entered middle school, things changed.
There, he discovered a kingdom of small animals.
In elementary school, the hierarchy among boys hadn’t been so clear. But that was because he’d grown up with the same kids for years.
Middle school brought together kids from all over. And the ones who’d been top of the food chain in their neighborhoods were now desperate to assert dominance.
And their chosen targets? Always those at the bottom.
If you want to show off strength, aim for someone strong—that was Ho-eun’s belief. He couldn’t understand why anyone would pick on the weak.
From a young age, Ho-eun had always been strong—and there was one phrase he’d heard so often it practically calloused his ears.
“Kindness comes back as kindness, and malice returns as malice.”
Power wielded with malice can’t save anyone. It’s just violence that leaves people hurt.
In the classroom, a loud group was teasing a particularly small boy who still looked more like an elementary schooler than a middle schooler, poking at him and laughing.
“Hey, when did I tell you to buy Monster bread? I said sausage bread.”
That day, Ho-eun had been unable to sleep and was quietly sitting at his desk. At the sound of the bullying, he got up from his seat.
“Hey, it’s a little loud. Mind keeping it down?”
Ho-eun spoke to the group in a kind voice. Using gentle words—that was kindness. And just as the saying went, kindness brings kindness. The group exchanged hushed whispers the moment they saw him, then slipped out of the classroom.
In his first year of middle school, Ho-eun already stood 175 centimeters tall. He was the biggest boy in the class, both in height and build.
Normally, he sat in the back, slouched over his desk napping, so his size didn’t stand out much. But when he stood among the other boys his age—like today—it became painfully obvious just how un-middle-school he looked.
Unaware that his physical presence was intimidating, Ho-eun walked over to the boy who had been bullied for running bread errands.
“You okay?”
“Yeah… Thanks…”
The boy’s soft voice murmured in gratitude. Glancing at his name tag, Ho-eun saw three characters: Han Yeoreum.
“Yeoreum, can I have that Monster bread?”
“Mhm!”
As expected, kindness comes back as kindness.
