The results of that investigation were astonishing. Contrary to the anxious speculation that perhaps their lifespan might differ from humans, they had all died between the ages of forty and seventy—just like humans. But every single one of them had died by suicide.
Whenever their matched Guide died, they followed soon after. Not a single naturally occurring Esper had died of natural causes. That meant no one truly knew how long a naturally occurring Esper could live.
They were beings that appeared in the world already in adult form. There was no way their lifespan could be the same as a human’s. No one knew where they were born, how they were born—not even when they would die.
If Banteon’s instincts were right, Rohan had to be an SS-Rank Esper. Only one SS-Rank Esper had ever been recorded in history. The first naturally occurring Esper, who was said to have gone berserk and died due to the absence of a Guide.
If Rohan was that Esper, then it wouldn’t be impossible for him to still be alive even now.
‘I’m not going crazy, am I?’
Even when he asked himself whether he was just making a poor judgment because of the recent stress, the answer remained the same.
As much as he wanted to dismiss it as a ridiculous assumption, the string of recent events seemed to scream that it was the truth.
Reeling under the weight of a truth too much to bear alone, Banteon stood and held his device in both hands, wrestling with the dilemma.
‘Who should I tell this to? No—who would even believe me?’
Perhaps the Center Director, the one who first asked Banteon about the existence of Espers, might already know the truth. If that was the case, should he go to him?
He quickly shook his head at the fleeting thought. He couldn’t trust the Center Director. The man had asked Banteon strange questions from time to time. If it were him, he might’ve known the truth from the moment he asked—but had chosen to silently observe the situation instead.
The next option was Delroz. If anyone would know the truth, it would be Delroz himself. Asking him directly was the surest way to get a clear answer. And yet, his feet wouldn’t move.
Banteon still didn’t know how to react if Delroz confirmed the truth. He didn’t even have the courage to face him yet. But this time, he couldn’t afford to make the mistake of avoiding Delroz just because of his own discomfort.
After all, he was the only one who could provide a definitive answer.
Banteon turned on his device. He took a deep breath and sent a message.
[There’s something I want to talk about. Can we meet? Let’s meet in my study tomorrow.]
With a complicated heart, he pressed send and gripped the device tightly. A few moments later, the screen lit up. A white notification popped up, signaling that a message had arrived.
Could it already be a reply?
He tapped the screen with a nervous heart, and a short sentence appeared. The sender wasn’t Delroz—it was a code from someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.
[Bante. Long time no see. I’ll be leaving the capital soon. I know it’s shameless of me, but… would you see me off one last time? If you’re okay with it, come to the garden in front of your study at 4 PM today. I’ll be waiting.]
It was a message from Tearot, whom he’d almost forgotten amidst all the recent chaos. The weight pressing down on his already-troubled chest grew heavier, like a stone.
Tearot was someone he didn’t want to face when his mind was in such turmoil—but at the same time, a part of him longed to see him again.
In the past, Tearot was the friend he would’ve turned to first in moments like this—when everything felt overwhelming, when he needed to share the truth with someone.
Banteon sighed and set the device down.
Yeah. As long as Rohan was in custody, nothing more dangerous should happen. Even if this truth came to light a little later, it would be fine.
[Okay.]
He sent a short reply and turned off the screen.
***
Because the study had been deliberately chosen as the most secluded and quiet spot, the garden remained empty despite the cheerful afternoon sunlight.
Ever since Rohan was captured, external walks had been restricted, so the already peaceful garden was now devoid of even a single shadow.
A head of reddish-brown hair peeked over the back of a chair.
Banteon approached slowly, steadying his breath at the sight of that familiar back after so long.
Even though he surely knew Banteon had arrived, Tearot continued to sit quietly, facing forward.
“You’re here?”
Only after Banteon came close enough for his footsteps to stop did Tearot turn and greet him.
That familiar face hadn’t changed. He smiled awkwardly, wearing the same expression Banteon remembered so well.
“I wasn’t sure what kind of face I should show you… but now that I see you, it’s good.”
“Tearot……”
“Just for today, let me off the hook, yeah?”
His voice was thick with lingering feelings he hadn’t managed to let go. Banteon’s voice dropped lower.
Was it inevitable? The thought that maybe time and distance could make things easier felt meaningless in the face of how unchanged Tearot was.
“This… this feeling has been with me for so long. Even though I know you hate it, I just couldn’t make it disappear.”
“You’re leaving today?”
“I had it out with my father. We made a deal. He’s still as sharp as ever.”
Tearot lifted a hand and gave a small wave.
A deep blue bruise was visible just below his wrist.
Since Tearot was an A-Rank Esper like his father, there was no way he’d gotten beaten one-sidedly. It meant he had submitted to punishment willingly.
“I thought maybe if I got beat up a little, I’d come to my senses. But it just hurt.”
“Did you get treatment?”
“This much? Just a bit of spit and it’ll be fine.”
Looking closely, there were faint bruises around his eyes too. No matter how you looked at it, his father must’ve beaten him without holding back—even though he was fully grown.
“He’s just like me, pathetic as hell, but I’m the only one he lashes out at. You know, right? My father… he still hasn’t let go of your mother……”
“Shh.”
Banteon quickly stopped Tearot from blurting out his family’s disgrace in an open space. Even if it was a commonly known fact to those with sharp ears, this wasn’t the place to bring it up. Tearot gave a sheepish shrug, his expression flinching.
He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before speaking again.
“Thinking it’s the last time makes it hard to control myself.”
“Don’t call it the last time.”
Tearot only smiled faintly, offering no reply. Fool. If he could just sort out his feelings, he could come back anytime he wanted. It was frustrating to see him act as though everything was already final.
“When will you come back?”
“Who knows. Maybe once I’ve sorted things out.”
He answered with a bitter smile. Tearot opened his mouth as if to say more, then hesitated, closing it a few times. His wavering, with no clear promise, caused Banteon’s brows to knit tightly.
“And when’s that supposed to be?”
“Still… it makes me a little happy, you know? I thought you’d tell me coldly not to even think about coming back until I had my act together. Are you saying you want me to come back?”
Even if he constantly nagged and scolded him for being annoying or foolish, Tearot had always been his only friend—practically family—since childhood. The way he pretended to ask a question with such an obvious answer only irritated Banteon further.
“Of course. You’re my friend.”
“Right. We were friends.”
Lowering his head, Tearot murmured almost to himself, then lifted his gaze again, eyes drifting up to the sky.
“I’ll come back when I can truly see you as a friend. I can’t promise when that’ll be… but I’ll try. You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
“You’re being cold again. We won’t see each other for a long time—can’t you at least talk to me kindly?”
If he wanted kind words, he should’ve done something to deserve them. Expecting warmth while being this frustrating—he was dreaming. Instead of a sweet reply, Banteon crossed his arms and stared him down.
“Why should I, when you’re doing whatever you want?”
“Yeah. That’s just like you.”
Even with the sarcastic tone, Tearot still couldn’t let go, clinging to his feelings to the bitter end. Banteon no longer wanted to look at his pitiful face. If he really got himself sorted, he’d come back eventually—just like he said.
Banteon turned his back coldly.
Behind him, Tearot’s hollow voice called out.
“Take care of yourself. I know you’ll be fine without me, but… still, think of me now and then.”
“I won’t. Don’t act like it’s some noble farewell—you’re just going on a trip.”
Anyone who overheard would think he was leaving to save the world or something. He was just running off because he couldn’t handle his own feelings—and yet he had so much to say. Let him wander the country, eat delicious things, enjoy all the pleasures he wanted. Maybe that stiff head of his would finally loosen up.
Eventually, he’d realize there were plenty of good things in the world outside of Banteon.
Then, from behind, Tearot’s voice rang out once more.
“Be careful of Delroz too. Don’t get too close.”
“Mind your own business.”
Instead of answering, Banteon waved a hand over his shoulder. He lifted his arm and shooed him off like a bothersome peddler. From a distance, Tearot froze at the motion, eyes suddenly going wide.
“Huh…?”
Tearot’s voice trembled, stunned by something he’d just seen. He opened his mouth again, his gaze locked in place.
“What… what happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
“There’s no way it’s nothing.”
Tearot strode forward and grabbed Banteon’s shoulders. His eyes, staring directly at Banteon, burned with an emotion Banteon had never seen in him before. A dark emotion—whether it was fury or jealousy—boiled deep inside.
Startled by the abrupt shift, Banteon asked,
“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”
“Your wrist—what’s this mark? What is this?”
Tearot yanked his arm roughly, exposing pale skin beneath the sleeve. And there it was—the mark left by Delroz from a few days ago, still clearly imprinted. A round, red bite mark, unmistakably made by someone’s lips.
He must’ve spotted it when Banteon raised his hand to wave—assuming it had been hidden beneath the long sleeve.
“I just bumped into something.”
“You think I can’t tell the difference between a bruise and this? Who the hell did this to you?”
“……”
“Keslan’s been demoted, and you haven’t had time to meet anyone new, so it couldn’t have been him… you.”
Jealousy turned to flame as Tearot’s eyes lit up with a burning black fire.
