“What? No, hold on—wasn’t it supposed to be a female Guide?!”
“Keep your voice down. He still doesn’t know.”
“How could that even be…? Well, now that I think about it, no wonder I never saw anyone who looked the part…”
Though Tearot nodded, his face was filled with confusion as if he couldn’t quite grasp it. So Banteon began slowly unraveling the story. He explained how he had come across Delroz on the verge of going berserk in the middle of the night, how the perception-blocking device had kept him hidden, and everything else that had happened. Tearot’s dumbfounded expression kept tightening and loosening in a cycle throughout the explanation.
Finally, Banteon briefly added how Delroz had instinctively found his way to the tent.
“That’s where we’re at for now.”
“So you ran off to the Subjugation Squad, where you didn’t even want to be, and now you’re saying you’re going to follow him into the abandoned mine?”
“Yeah.”
“Agh, damn it…”
Tearot ran a rough hand through his hair, tangling the dark strands tinged with red into a mess. It was hard to believe. Even Banteon himself was baffled by the whole situation—how could someone else who just heard about it possibly understand?
But Banteon hadn’t lied. He only stated facts. Whether or not to believe them was up to Tearot.
“I’m going to see if I can stay close and guide him for the time being.”
“Why the hell would you do that? Isn’t this the perfect chance to avoid him? He’s going to die on his own anyway.”
“Huh?”
The response caught Banteon completely off guard. He expected disbelief—or if Tearot did believe him, then naturally he’d insist on guiding Delroz and stopping the berserk episodes.
Unlike Banteon, who seemed to have cut off his conscience at birth along with his umbilical cord, Tearot was the type who fulfilled his duties without fail and took care of the dangerous work without complaint. He always grumbled about it, but he was reliable when it counted.
Yet now, Tearot had flatly refused. As if even if every dispatched agent died and the continent split apart again, there was still no reason for Banteon to risk himself.
Stunned by the unexpected words, Banteon asked again.
“That’s not like you.”
“You really planning to get matched with that bastard?”
“Mm…”
Tearot hit the bullseye of what Banteon had been agonizing over. Hearing it said aloud by someone else made it hit even harder.
No one knew why Delroz had suddenly changed like that, so there was no clear solution. If it was discovered that Banteon’s guiding worked on Delroz, there was a high chance he’d be tethered to him until a new Guide showed up.
Being tied as a matched Guide was a whole different matter from doing emergency guiding when needed. A matched Guide had to accompany the Esper on all missions and take full responsibility for their condition. Even now, the Espers in the Subjugation Squad with matched Guides had separate missions and lodgings.
And the reason for separate lodgings was… because matched pairs often guided through sexual intercourse for the sake of efficiency.
At the thought, Banteon buried his face in his hands and lowered his head.
“Horrifying.”
“Then why are you putting yourself at risk? Since when did you even have a conscience?”
“…”
No matter how he looked at it, Tearot was right. The Banteon thing to do would be to cut ties and run before he got dragged down. Yet his heart wouldn’t let him.
Tearot, frustrated that his persuasion had no effect, smacked his chest.
“That team’s leaving for the mine tomorrow. You’re really going? You? With your personality?”
The question made sense. Even in a simple tent, Banteon had insisted on installing every convenience possible and stocked up on mana stones—so how could he handle the cramped, dank, suffocating mine? Tearot knew him better than anyone.
Banteon rubbed at his aching temple and asked,
“If I go, how long does a typical expedition take?”
“…Unbelievable.”
The fact that he was asking for specific timelines made Tearot’s face crumple even more. Normally, Banteon himself wouldn’t have been able to understand this kind of behavior. If someone had told his past self he’d act like this, he would’ve kicked them and asked if they were drunk.
But this time was different. This was on a scale where half the continent could be wiped out. He couldn’t just back out without even trying.
Tearot let out a deep sigh and paced the ground, eyes locked on the floor like he could sink through it. After wandering around enough to wear a trench in the dirt, he finally dropped his arms in defeat.
“When we get back, I’m submitting a return request for both of us to the Center.”
“You’re coming to the mine too?”
Tearot’s eyebrows shot up sharply. His face turned fierce in an instant as he stared at Banteon.
“You expect me to sit around here and relax while you go in there?”
“But… it’s dangerous.”
“And you know it’s dangerous, yet still decided this? You’re driving me to an early grave.”
Normally, he’d lose his mind if anyone called him old, but now he was the one throwing that phrase around.
Banteon had plenty of things he wanted to say, but he knew he was in the wrong. So instead, he silently patted Tearot on the back. That clumsy gesture of comfort drew a long, resigned sigh from Tearot.
“Then go pack your things. I’ll take care of the supplies we need on-site.”
“Thanks.”
“Always running your mouth…”
Grumbling to the very end, Tearot finally disappeared. Even as he left the tent, he kept asking if Banteon wouldn’t reconsider, as though clinging to the hope that he’d change his mind. In total, he asked five more times before finally leaving with a body language that dripped with regret.
***
A rusted pickaxe lay abandoned. Warped, broken rail lines and empty mine carts scattered the area. Banteon stared out at the desolate remains of the abandoned mine, long untouched by human presence. The clearing was barren, only dust and broken stones whipping through the air. Beneath his feet, rotting scraps of leather crunched underfoot.
They hadn’t even reached the area where the monsters mainly nested, yet the sun was already beating down with no shade in sight. It must have been a sizable mine in its day, and the mission briefing included a warning that several days of travel under this blistering sun would be necessary.
By military vehicle, it would’ve been a quick trip. But since some monsters were sensitive to vibrations, they couldn’t use transport all the way to the destination. From a certain point, the squad had to proceed on foot. An order had come down: rest in shaded areas during the hot daylight hours and only move at night.
On the opposite side from where Banteon stood, people were erecting poles and pulling ropes to set up tarp shelters. Most of the manual labor had been assigned to lower-ranked Espers.
While spacing out under the shade of a tree, Banteon caught a mouthful of wind-blown dust and grit. He grimaced, frowning instinctively at the unpleasant texture.
“Save your stamina over there.”
Tearot had approached before he even noticed, gesturing toward a different spot. There, people were preparing a temporary base under the sunshade. Most of them were Guides stationed in safer zones. Among the crowd, one head stood out—Delroz.
The blazing sunlight reflected off his head, casting a black gleam.
“I really don’t want to do this…”
“Well, you’ve gotta get closer if you want to check things out. Let’s wrap this up and pull out quickly.”
“There are tons of Guides around him already. How am I supposed to observe anything? Why’s he gotta be right in the middle, making everything annoying?”
“Delroz didn’t wander into the Guides. The Guides went to him.”
Tearot unfolded a provisional site map and showed it. Just like he said, the area around Delroz had been designated for Espers. The Guides were lingering nearby of their own accord.
“Word’s already gotten around that he’s difficult to guide. But they’re all hovering, thinking they’ve hit the jackpot if by some chance it works.”
“It’s not a jackpot—it’s a damn curse.”
“Maybe you see it that way. To everyone else, he looks like a walking goldmine.”
“Sigh…”
Banteon shot a resentful glance toward Delroz. With so many people desperate to latch onto an SS-rank Esper, why did he have to be the one caught up in this mess?
Delroz looked different from a few nights ago in the tent. Now that he’d been formally deployed, he wore a proper uniform, and his usually unruly hair was combed back neatly. Dressed up like that, the wild, feral air he usually carried had noticeably diminished.
Objectively, he was handsome. Quiet and blunt, but that kind of demeanor was typical among Espers. And apparently, he was courteous to female Guides. Between that and his SS-rank title, it was no surprise that he had no shortage of admirers.
But so what? Those were advantages as useful to Banteon as a dog’s left nut.
Still reluctant, he slowly forced himself to take a step forward. Trying to suppress the revulsion and approach, he caught Delroz’s head turn from the other side. The man’s gaze rose unhurriedly, and without wavering, it locked straight onto Banteon.
“Did that bastard just look over here?”
“Looks like it.”
“There’s no way he heard us from this distance, right?”
It wasn’t just a matter of distance. The wind was howling, carrying sand and dry grass that lashed at their masked faces. Even in the more protected zones near the shelters, this wind was rough. There was no way Delroz could’ve heard their conversation from that far away.
“Did he sense that we were talking about him? That bastard’s intuition is unreal.”
“…Bante, I think he’s smiling.”
“What?”
They were too far for Banteon to make out his expression—he could only see Delroz’s silhouette. But Tearot, with sharper eyes as an Esper, squinted in visible discomfort.
Then he said, clearly displeased,
“That bastard’s heading this way.”
“No way.”
Before Tearot even finished his sentence, Delroz brushed off the people crowding around him and began walking. Watching cautiously, Banteon quickly saw that his course wasn’t random—Delroz was coming straight toward them.
