“There is something I need to say about the time when Esper Delroz escaped from solitary confinement and his whereabouts were unknown.”
At Banteon’s words, the quiet room stirred. Everyone already knew that Banteon and Delroz had undergone a temporary match, but very few knew the nature of their relationship.
Were they close, or hostile? Had Banteon pulled strings in Esrante to get Delroz? Why, with such a high match rate, had they only gone through with a temporary match? Questions like these continued to snowball.
When Banteon appeared at today’s disciplinary hearing, people didn’t need to say it out loud to arrive at the same assumption. He must have come to defend his Esper. If Esrante stepped in, perhaps Delroz would escape further punishment entirely.
But Banteon, who had a completely different idea than what everyone expected, calmly began recounting the events of the previous day to the Center Director.
“On the night Delroz escaped, he came to my room.”
“Oh my god!”
“……”
The stunned silence cracked as jaws dropped. The murmuring, which had started as whispers, grew loud enough for Banteon to hear. All around, people speculated that Delroz must be deeply obsessed with Banteon.
“Did Esper Delroz seek you out because his condition had worsened?”
“No. Esper Delroz made no guiding request. His condition was stable. He simply… came late at night and left after warning me not to see anyone else.”
“You bastard…”
Delroz, who had been lounging calmly, straightened his back. He growled low, but Banteon only gave him a relaxed smile and shifted his gaze to the others. His eyes swept over those busy trying to make sense of the situation, landing last on the Center Director.
There was something Delroz had completely misunderstood.
He must have hidden his visit out of concern for Banteon’s reputation. But it was the opposite. If what Delroz had done that night came to light, it wouldn’t be Banteon who got into trouble—it would be Delroz.
“I kept quiet for the sake of Esper Delroz’s honor, but under the circumstances, I can’t keep it hidden any longer.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Esper Delroz is currently suffering from a severe case of Guide Awareness Syndrome.”
The murmurs, already loud, surged into a wave of gasps and exclamations.
“There should be a record of me requesting medication after he was placed in solitary confinement.”
“No wonder…”
“I thought something was off.”
Heads nodded all around. Now that it was revealed Delroz had Guide Awareness Syndrome, everything made sense—including why he would break out of prison just to stop Banteon from dating. Some whispered that it was a ridiculous condition only kids suffered from, while others murmured that it couldn’t be helped since it was his first time.
But the crowd’s reaction didn’t matter. Banteon had something else to say.
“Is what you just said the truth?”
“Yes. I swear to speak only the truth in this hearing.”
“What are you thinking…”
A low voice filled the hearing room. Delroz’s oppressive energy surged violently, instantly silencing the noisy crowd. All eyes turned to Delroz and Banteon, holding their breath. The room felt like it belonged to only those two.
Amidst the tense silence, Banteon alone raised his hand calmly and offered a respectful bow toward the Center Director.
“Director. As Esper Delroz’s only temporary Guide, may I speak?”
“You may. Go ahead.”
“To treat Esper Delroz’s Guide Awareness Syndrome, I request that he be sent to the isolation ward for one month.”
Delroz, who had been still until now, rose to his feet.
“What?”
“I believe what the patient needs is treatment, not punishment. I don’t think this request violates any regulations.”
To most ears, it sounded like Banteon was defending Delroz. After all, the isolation ward—unlike the old underground cell it used to be—was clean and equipped with proper facilities.
But for Banteon, it didn’t matter whether Delroz was in solitary confinement or the isolation ward. Either way, Delroz had a body tougher than stone flooring. It wasn’t like being locked up made any real difference.
What mattered to Banteon was how long Delroz would be separated from him.
They had made a promise—Delroz had agreed to complete the term and receive proper treatment. In that case, the longer, the better. A few extra weeks in solitary were nothing compared to the certainty of the isolation ward.
“You… you did all this just to…”
Realizing Banteon’s intention, Delroz looked ready to rush him at any second but stopped himself just in time. Thankfully, he still had some sense left. Unless he’d already forgotten the oath they’d made last night.
“Ha ha ha ha…”
The Center Director awkwardly stroked his beard and chuckled. He had likely anticipated this situation from the start—his reaction suggested he already knew Delroz had visited Banteon during his disappearance. And yet, he pretended otherwise with practiced ease.
Then again, maintaining appearances was a necessary virtue in his position. And in this chamber, no one was better at playing their part than Banteon. Matching that performance, Banteon lowered his head slightly, feigning remorse.
“I apologize for making such an excessive request after a ruling has already been made.”
“No, your suggestion is perfectly understandable.”
Though the Center Director’s eyes were curved in a kindly expression, a sharp glint lurked beneath them as he studied Banteon. Behind that composed demeanor, swift calculations were undoubtedly unfolding. Who would it benefit him more to side with—Delroz or Banteon? Which verdict would serve his interests best?
Which way would the scales tip in the Center Director’s judgment?
Banteon, having spoken his piece, returned to his seat without further insistence. He could have pressed the Director to make a wise and fair decision, but there was no need. In matters of weighing influence, Banteon had never once lost.
“Then I will now issue a revised ruling.”
The sound of nervous gulps could be heard throughout the room. Everyone rested their arms on the sides of their chairs, waiting for the Center Director’s decision. Delroz, the person most affected, kept his gaze fixed elsewhere—more precisely, he glared daggers at Banteon, who had just outed him.
“When an Esper escapes solitary confinement to seek out their Guide, it is deemed a situational outburst based on temperament. No additional disciplinary action will be imposed.”
In other words, the previously declared seven-day extension was being nullified. Before people could react in surprise, the Center Director continued.
“However, considering that he did not request guiding during that incident, and instead confronted the Guide about a private matter—furthermore, taking into account the physical intimidation exerted due to the Esper’s natural superiority—Esper Delroz is hereby sentenced to one month in the isolation ward for treatment of Guide Awareness Syndrome.”
As expected.
The Center Director had, predictably, sided with Banteon. Or at least, that’s how it would appear publicly. In truth, it was a fair decision for both parties—Delroz’s solitary confinement was lifted, after all.
Delroz kicked the desk in front of him and stood abruptly.
A crash echoed as the wooden railing in front of his circular seat was knocked over. As the sound reverberated from the floor to the tall ceiling, Delroz’s gaze never left Banteon. In his eyes was a tangled storm of shock, fury, and subtle betrayal.
Betrayal? How ironic. From the beginning, Delroz had made no effort to hide his dislike for Banteon. Just as Banteon had kept his distance, Delroz had openly shown his hostility. So when had trust ever existed between them, for betrayal to even be possible?
“This concludes the disciplinary hearing for Esper Delroz.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The wooden gavel struck the block with a clear, ringing sound.
The agents stationed beside Delroz moved in to escort him. Four of them grabbed his arms and pulled, but Delroz didn’t budge an inch—he stood like a mountain, unmoving, his gaze still burning into Banteon. Even if every Esper in the Center swarmed him, it likely wouldn’t make a difference.
He could do anything. He chose not to.
Because if he caused a scene here, everything—the promises, the leniencies—would be gone. He had vowed not to cause any more trouble.
Exactly. Promises shouldn’t be made lightly. He’d only have himself to blame now—for promising to quietly endure his disciplinary period and receive proper treatment.
Banteon turned and walked toward the exit with light steps. One month of freedom. It was a generous reward for a single ruined date and a rough night.
Just as Banteon reached for the door to leave the hearing room, the Center Director approached with his usual kind expression.
“Thank you for your efforts today.”
“Not at all. I was only doing my job.”
The exchange was polite, empty, and utterly devoid of sincerity.
“Banteon-nim. If you’re not too busy, could I borrow a moment of your time?”
“How could I refuse a request from the busiest person in the Center?”
At the Director’s subtle signal, a waiting aide stepped forward to guide the way. A door opened—one that bypassed the corridors entirely and led straight to the Director’s office. While the other attendees filtered out into the bustling hallways, Banteon followed a quiet, secluded path.
Why the need for a private meeting away from prying eyes?
With the question quietly forming in his mind, he followed in silence.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of shoes echoed crisply in the enclosed space. Not long after, another small door came into view. When he gently pulled the handle, he entered the Center Director’s office—familiar to Banteon.
