“They’re not human?”
“You are attending your training, right? At this pace, you’re not going to make any progress.”
“I just had my first class yesterday.”
“Ah. Should’ve known better than to talk to a bothersome newbie.”
With a smiling glint in his eye, the man delivered his cutting remark with a grace so striking, he looked like an angel solemnly delivering divine judgment. Almost enchanted by his appearance, Kwon Ho-eun tore his gaze away and checked the man’s company ID badge.
Blue meant Guide. Where others had their real names or aliases, his badge had “Hosoo” written under Code Name. His rank? S-Class.
All the interns had their names listed under “Name,” but this man’s badge used “Code Name” instead. Apparently, it didn’t matter whether you used your real name or an alias on the badge.
Now that he thought about it, the training supervisor’s name was Haneul. Was the company aiming for a nature-themed vibe with these code names?
“What now? Why are your eyes all wide like that? Look, you might not know this, but I’m very busy. Babysitting interns and answering their dumb questions is not part of my job.”
Hosoo looked like some pampered nobleman, but everything out of his mouth was sheer rudeness.
It was the first time Ho-eun had met someone who made it this obvious how much he didn’t want to be bothered. Remembering the senior intern he’d met yesterday, he started wondering if all the Guides in this company were just plain awful people.
“Well, since you’re so curious, I’ll explain what I meant about not being human.”
Despite it being early morning, the summer sky was already bright with the sun hanging high.
“You know how to kill an Esper?”
“What?”
Ho-eun had hoped to start his morning feeling refreshed under the warm sunlight. Instead, Hosoo’s next words turned that brightness into a cold, unpleasant fog.
“You have to pierce their heart. The core of their power is in the heart. Even if their limbs get cut off again and again, their bodies regenerate. You can only kill them if you damage the Ability Core by stabbing through the heart. Otherwise, it either burns out from an ability overload—”
“Oh…”
“One day, while researching Ability Cores, someone proposed a fascinating hypothesis. The Ability Core, which we call a ‘crystal’,—what if it could be used independently? What if you gave it to a normal person—would they become an Esper? Or what if you implanted it into an object—could it become a tool with abilities?”
Hosoo’s crimson eyes gleamed as he spoke.
“The Esper research team ran the experiments. The result was a resounding ‘Yes.’”
“Are you saying even regular people can become Espers?”
“Not just anyone. But if the person’s genetic traits are similar enough to an Esper’s, then yes—implanting the crystal worked. Turning objects into Ability Tools came a bit later, but human implantation was a success.”
“……”
“Now. Here’s the real question. Should we consider these artificially created Espers to be people? Or not?”
“What? Of course they’re people.”
“Sure, the original body is human. But they became Espers through surgery, so not everyone accepts them as the same.”
“What does that even—”
“They consume way more Guiding energy than regular Espers. That’s why people started arguing for a distinction, and the Korean Esper Corporation decided to reflect that difference in ID badges.”
Do In-ho, whom Ho-eun had met yesterday, definitely hadn’t been wearing a badge. So then… was he not a born Esper, but someone implanted with a crystal?
“Is that kind of surgery really necessary?”
“Espers represent a nation’s military strength. If the higher-ups want more, well… you don’t really get a say.”
“Still, calling them not human is just…”
“Crystal implants aren’t people. They’re tools—vessels for abilities.”
“……!!”
“Bottom line: wear your badge properly. Unless you want to be mistaken for a tool. Oh, speaking of, I heard there was some clueless intern yesterday trying to Guide a tool. That wasn’t you, was it?”
“So much for everyone keeping quiet. Word sure travels fast.”
“I’m honestly surprised you’re still in one piece.”
Hosoo’s gaze trailed slowly from Ho-eun’s profile down to his chin, his fingers following the line with open curiosity.
“Well, I’ve seen your face. I’ll be off now.”
Hosoo tapped his feather-shaped earring twice with his finger. It gave off a white shimmer, then vanished before Ho-eun’s eyes.
“Wait, wasn’t he a Guide?”
He had clearly been wearing a blue badge. Yet now he was gone—vanished just like that. A man as baffling in his exit as he had been in his entrance.
“Crystal implants, huh…”
The image of Do In-ho rejecting him flashed through his mind. Both Espers and crystal implants were users of abilities—yet for some reason, they were categorized differently. From Ho-eun’s perspective, it made no sense.
“Still a person, yet treated like a tool…”
His chest tightened with frustration. He could barely breathe. He didn’t even fully understand Espers and Guides yet, and now there was something else—crystal implants—to keep track of. His head felt like it was going to explode.
Ho-eun ruffled his hair with both hands and let out a low sigh.
“Not like it has anything to do with me anyway.”
Since Do In-ho had rejected him in such a flashy way, it didn’t seem likely they’d ever run into each other again. Even the umbrella—the one thing that had linked them—now felt meaningless.
It wasn’t like someone as abrasive as Do In-ho would ask for it back. And really, losing an umbrella was nothing special in today’s world.
As an intern, there was nothing Ho-eun could do. He understood there were moments in life when you just had to pretend you didn’t hear, didn’t see anything. He knew that.
“It won’t work. Not as a friend, not as a training partner. I’m not someone you should get involved with.”
And yet, for some reason, Do In-ho—someone he had no real connection with—kept lingering in his thoughts.
Every word out of his mouth had been infuriating, but the contrast between that sharp tongue and his withdrawn demeanor was oddly out of sync.
His good-looking face didn’t match the lifeless void in his eyes, and though he looked like he was nearly 190 cm tall, he hunched over like he was trying to make himself smaller.
His voice, though full of scornful words, was so soft and indistinct it was hard to make out what he was saying.
Listing out everything he’d noticed about Do In-ho gave rise to a strange sense of dissonance. Didn’t all those traits sound like the result of long-term isolation?
“Is there no such thing as an Esper Human Rights Association? Or maybe a strike or something…”
Ho-eun caught himself coming up with ridiculous ideas and let out a nasal laugh at how concerned he clearly was, despite trying to convince himself otherwise.
“Ugh. Damn bleeding heart.”
Sitting in a bench seat, he looked up toward the sky. The sunlight had grown piercingly bright.
A black umbrella would’ve helped block it. He raised his arm to shield his eyes instead.
***
“Today, we’ll be learning about crystal implant recipients—those who became Espers through implantation.”
Sitting in the same spot as yesterday, Ho-eun was startled by the eerie coincidence that today’s lecture topic was exactly about crystal implant recipients.
“The crystal, also known as the Ability Core, functions as the heart of an Esper. Guiding energy wraps around the crystal like a protective barrier. When an Esper uses their ability, the crystal absorbs this energy. If there’s ever a shortage of Guiding energy entering the crystal, the Esper may go into an Ability Overload.”
Ability Overload. Ho-eun still didn’t fully grasp the weight of that term.
“The higher an Esper’s rank, the more Guiding energy they require. Among them, crystal implant recipients are particularly demanding. They need large amounts of Guiding energy—and it has to be high-frequency. That’s why Guides ranked below A-Class are not permitted to Guide crystal implant recipients. If someone below that rank tries, it could result in shock-induced death. So if any of you interns encounter one, avoid them at all costs.”
“Shock-induced death? That’s terrifying…”
Kim Se-hee whispered nervously beside him. Ho-eun nodded, finally realizing why Do In-ho had refused to let him touch him.
‘…If it’s that dangerous, he could’ve just said so. Did he really have to shove me away like that?’
“…And so, historically, Guides were treated…”
With a groan like he was dying, Ho-eun slumped over his desk.
That short explanation about crystal implants had been the only useful part of the session. From there, the lecture dove into the origins of Guides and a bunch of even less relevant content than yesterday.
He stared blankly at Haneul, who was passionately droning on about Guide history. Wondering if he was the only one zoning out, he glanced at the others.
Kim Se-hee was secretly playing a mobile game. Ryu Yoon-jae was nodding off. That was strangely comforting.
He didn’t even know how he got through the day. Even his favorite meal felt like something he was either smelling through his nose or hearing through his ears—his brain was so fogged over.
As he watched Kim Se-hee pack up her bag, Ho-eun cleared his throat.
“Ahem. Se-hee, have you found a practicum partner yet?”
“No, not yet. I feel like… everyone else is a grown-up and I’m just a student, so they won’t take me seriously. And to be honest, thinking about working with people who have superpowers is kinda scary…”
Ryu Yoon-jae jumped into the conversation.
“Don’t worry! I heard the Espers are supposed to come to us and offer to partner up!”
Just as he finished speaking, a group of people wearing black ID badges appeared at the front of the classroom.
With friendly smiles, they approached to offer themselves as partners for the practicum sessions.
All except for Ho-eun.
“Alright, instead of just standing here, why don’t we head to a café and talk about who you want to partner with?”
A man squeezed between the bulkier Espers—someone Ho-eun thought he’d seen recently.
When he saw the guy with a cast on one arm, Ho-eun’s jaw dropped.
“Since Kwon Ho-eun already said he’ll be pairing with Shifok, only Se-hee and Yoon-jae need to come with me. We’ve invited more Espers to the café, so it should be easier to find a partner.”
‘That bastard…’
So yesterday’s threat to “wait and see” hadn’t been a joke. The senior intern had just kicked off a petty little act of revenge.
Kim Se-hee and Ryu Yoon-jae looked at him in surprise, as if silently asking if he really had a partner. Their glances were awkward, almost sympathetic.
Forcing his mouth into an upward curve, Ho-eun gave a stiff nod.
“Pfft.”
He looked at the senior intern’s badge and caught the name: Ahn Oh-hyuk. That ridiculous laugh was practically screaming, “Go ahead and try—bring Do In-ho if you can.”
Word had definitely gotten out about his failed attempt to ask Do In-ho to be his practice partner.
“I’ve never once seen Shifok agree to be someone’s partner. Good luck pulling that off, junior.”
“I will bring him. Senior.”
Sparks flew between them as they locked eyes. Then Ahn Oh-hyuk led the others away, and the room was quiet once more.
The moment he was gone, Ho-eun sank into his seat.
‘Are you insane, Kwon Ho-eun?! What made you think you could actually bring Do In-ho?!’
He’d responded to Ahn Oh-hyuk’s childish jab with equal pettiness, but there was no way this lie wouldn’t blow up in his face next week.
He could almost hear the crack in his pride. There was no way he could let that guy win.
‘Wait. If I do bring him, that’s that, right? I can do this. Kwon Ho-eun, you can do this.’
Do In-ho had rejected him because he was a crystal implant recipient.
A new Guide trying to handle someone like that could be dangerous. But if Ho-eun could prove he was capable of Guiding without issues, maybe Do In-ho would accept.
Things were getting more tangled, but strangely enough, the thought of having a reason to see Do In-ho again calmed Ho-eun’s nerves.
