What the hell is he?
The whole excuse about wanting to live free as an unregistered Esper sounded shady as hell. Judging by Rohan’s appearance, he had to be in his late twenties at the very least. Surviving without a Guide until that age was next to impossible.
The Center promised protection for Guides and offered benefits to Espers. As long as they took on missions at a pace they were comfortable with, they were guaranteed a salary that would let them live in luxury for the rest of their lives.
And finding a Guide—an essential lifeline for any Esper—was nearly impossible outside of the Center. Even if by some miracle a commoner manifested as a Guide and an Esper found them before the Center did, there were limits.
There weren’t many Guides capable of handling A-Rank Espers or higher. For someone like that to slip past the Center’s radar and, of all people, end up with an unregistered Esper? That was statistically impossible. No, the very idea of someone being able to control monsters at will was impossible.
No matter how he thought about it, it didn’t make any damn sense.
[……Bante. Bante? Are you listening?]
“…Ah, sorry. I was just thinking.”
[He’s definitely not normal. Be careful for now.]
“Thanks. I’ll see you soon, then.”
[Once I get back this time, I’m taking a long break. I did three missions in a row—I’m dead.]
Tearot had joined Banteon in the abandoned mine after returning from a mission at the start of the year. And the moment he got back to the Center, he had volunteered to help with the village restoration work. Word was, on the very night the compatibility rate between Banteon and Delroz was announced, he went straight back to the village that had been attacked.
Why did he keep throwing himself into trouble that no one even asked him to deal with?
“Seriously, why’d you volunteer for restoration work? If your head’s a mess, sort it out at the Center.”
[……Yeah. I was being stupid.]
“Well, nothing new there.”
Tearot snapped at Banteon’s teasing, and the two shared a short exchange. Banteon had been worried since they’d lost contact for a while, but Tearot seemed to be in better shape than expected.
Just as Banteon was about to end the call, Tearot asked a question.
[So are you going to rest now?]
“No. I’m heading to solitary.”
[What?]
Tearot’s voice shot through the device loud enough to rattle Banteon’s ears. He rubbed at his aching temple. What a loudmouth. Tearot didn’t stop there and kept firing questions.
[You’re going to see him? That brute? What’s so great about a guy like that?]
“It’s not because he’s hot. I’ve got things I need to say.”
There were a few things he needed to drive into that lunatic’s skull after his little midnight rampage.
***
A security guard, probably on shift duty, was stationed in front of the staircase leading underground. He wore the Center’s uniform and a few pieces of protective gear, standing stiffly at attention. As Banteon approached, the guard recognized him first and offered a salute.
“Sa-Salute! Welcome, sir!”
“You’re working hard. May I go in for a bit?”
“Of course, sir. Please just fill out the log.”
The guard stood frozen, visibly tense as Banteon moved. He seemed to have forgotten that he wasn’t even in the military—there was no need to salute.
Once Banteon finished writing in the register, the guard grabbed the key to Delroz’s solitary room and led the way.
Solitary confinement cells—used to detain those under disciplinary action—were all located underground. Long ago, before human rights were a concern, the place had functioned as a prison. Unlike the Center’s polished, remodeled main floors, the stairs leading down were dim and musty.
As soon as he set foot on the steps, the stale air made him instinctively cover his nose. It wasn’t just the isolation—it was the kind of space you’d avoid at all costs, even just for the sake of convenience.
He passed mostly empty rooms until he saw a door with a lit numberplate. The guard trailing behind him hurried forward to unlock the padlock on the door. With a rusty creak, the iron door opened to reveal Delroz sitting calmly inside, his hands cuffed.
He didn’t seem surprised, like he’d been expecting the visit. Relaxed, seated, eyes fixed on Banteon with a quiet glare. Sitting cuffed in that rundown room suited him oddly well, Banteon thought, and took the seat placed across from him.
Between the two was an additional layer of thin metal bars for security. As if that hunk of junk would be able to restrain someone like Delroz.
The guard, still behind him, quickly offered an explanation.
“The cuffs are made of a material that suppresses Esper powers. They’ve been confirmed effective for A-Ranks. There’s some effect on S-Ranks, too, but beyond that… we don’t really know.”
Well, yeah. No one would slap on a completely useless pair of cuffs on an SS-Rank. Banteon gave the guard a kind smile as he responded.
“Then we can use this visit as a test run for the data.”
At that, Delroz’s brow twitched slightly. He looked irritated at being treated like some lab rat. Still, given that he hadn’t made a move, the cuffs must’ve been working to some degree.
“Would it be alright if we spoke alone?”
“Just the two of you, sir?”
The guard, clearly aware of last night’s incident, looked at Banteon with a worried expression. Banteon answered that silent concern with a calm smile. The guard’s face instantly flushed red.
The guard unfastened a slim baton from his belt and handed it over.
“Just in case, please keep this with you. There’s also an emergency button on the right wall.”
“Thank you.”
The guard fidgeted awkwardly, murmuring something about feeling sorry for the trouble, and then left. Delroz’s eyes narrowed. Under normal circumstances, he’d have already thrown out some snide remark about Banteon seducing another man—but for some reason, his lips stayed sealed.
At last, it was just the two of them in the cramped, dimly lit room. They silently stared at each other. Delroz, handcuffed and dressed more loosely than usual with his shirt hanging open and his clothes light, looked like an untamed beast. Some might find that appealing, but Banteon simply clicked his tongue inwardly.
Just because they were alone didn’t mean he had to look that disheveled. Still, since Banteon was in a good mood today, he decided to let the small things slide.
He gave a light wave.
“Hey. You don’t look so good.”
“Didn’t think you’d come.”
“Well, after the way we parted, it felt like we at least needed a proper goodbye.”
Usually curt with his words, Banteon’s casual, smiling reply made Delroz’s eyes narrow further.
“You look like you’re in a good mood.”
“Maybe.”
“So you came here just to tease me?”
Tease him? That kind of thing only made sense when there was affection or interest involved. Sure, Banteon had enjoyed seeing him like this, but he didn’t have nearly enough enthusiasm to come all the way here just to tease someone in this miserable place.
Banteon crossed his legs with a cryptic smile. Delroz’s gaze instinctively followed the motion, moving up and down.
“I didn’t come to tease you. And I sure as hell didn’t come because I missed you.”
That sharp look in his eyes reminded Banteon of last night. That same expression had cornered him with an almost feral intensity. The memory soured his mood.
“It wasn’t exactly a confession last night, but you did say something along those lines. So I figured I should at least give you a reply.”
Delroz had claimed he was sober, but he’d spewed insane nonsense like how it didn’t matter whether they were lovers or officially matched—like someone totally out of his mind. Maybe he hadn’t been in his right mind, but still, it was best to set things straight.
“Delroz.”
He paused briefly before speaking.
“You probably weren’t serious, but I think this is something you need to hear in advance.”
“……”
“From now on, even as a joke, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop with the whole ‘lover’ or ‘matching’ talk. It’s unpleasant.”
The sound of grinding teeth echoed menacingly off the surrounding stone walls. No one liked being rejected by someone they didn’t even have feelings for, but if he didn’t want to hear that kind of rejection, he should’ve acted better. He’d dug his own grave.
“Interesting. So that’s why you came all the way down here?”
“Among other things.”
He also came to see how ridiculous Delroz looked, cuffed and locked up in solitary—but there was no need to say that out loud.
“Don’t take it too personally. We both find each other unpleasant, don’t we?”
“And what if that’s not the case?”
The retort came with a tilt of his head. That particularly low voice echoed off the stone walls.
“…We’re not exactly in a position to be joking around.”
“It’s not a joke. Or an empty word. If I told you I genuinely liked you—how would you respond?”
The sudden seriousness made Banteon rub his forehead. He’d had a bad feeling about this, and sure enough, his instincts were right. What was he even supposed to say to that? He pressed his fingers to his temple, thinking hard.
He had to stay calm. Yelling wouldn’t change anything—it’d only wear him out.
Delroz’s reaction wasn’t completely unexpected. Banteon had considered the possibility of something this absurd happening. It was enough to drive him crazy, but it wasn’t unheard of. Just consider it a bit of extra hassle. Taking a breath, he looked straight into Delroz’s fierce eyes.
“You probably don’t know this, but there’s a condition we call ‘Guide Awareness Syndrome.’ It often shows up in Espers during their first matching.”
“……”
One of Delroz’s eyes twitched at the sudden comment, clearly trying to make sense of where this was going. Banteon continued.
“Regardless of their own will, they become obsessively attached to the Guide. Typical signs include suddenly being drawn to someone they’d never cared about before, or acting on random impulses—like you did last night.”
Having worked as an instructor for years, Banteon delivered the explanation like a textbook lecture. Guide Awareness Syndrome was a condition that could arise when an Esper developed an ongoing bond with a specific Guide.
