After several long hours of testing, the three of them made their way to the Director’s office.
Inside, a teacup sat with steaming water and an unopened tea bag floating in it. The murky ink bleeding from the tea bag wrapper was almost as pale and sickly as Jung Young-soo’s face.
“What’s the verdict?”
Jung Young-soo let out a heavy sigh and glanced toward the staff member. As if waiting for his cue, the staffer stepped forward and placed a stack of documents in front of them, beginning his report.
“We ran a full analysis—checked the Esper wave, tracked any traces of Guiding energy. We even re-tested the rank classification just to be thorough…”
“Spare us the fluff,” Jung Young-soo cut in, clearly at the end of his rope.
“So? What’s wrong with his Guiding ability?”
Eun-jo, his whole body taut with tension, stared at the staffer. Under their combined scrutiny, the staff member fumbled, his eyes dropping to the documents.
“Well, according to the results… his Guiding ability has completely vanished. No resonance with the wave at all.”
“What?”
What the hell is he talking about? Eun-jo blinked hard, then pressed again.
“You’re saying my Guiding ability is gone?”
“Yes, that’s correct. That’s what the test results show…”
The staff member cast a quick glance at Heo Nan-gyeom before continuing in a hushed voice.
“Apparently, the other Team A Espers noticed it too. Esper Jung Tae-seok was the first to realize something was wrong, right after we came out of the Gate.”
Eun-jo’s mind went completely blank. His hands trembled as he reached for the documents.
“This can’t be happening…”
Failing to awaken as an S-Rank was one thing—but losing his Guiding ability altogether? That wasn’t even within the realm of possibility. It had never happened. Not even in the original novel.
It felt like the floor had dropped out from under him. Eun-jo bit down on his lip to keep it from trembling.
The staffer kept talking, spouting details about the test results, but none of it registered. Eun-jo’s eyes were locked on a single, bold phrase: Guiding Ability: Nullified.
Why?
Where did it all go wrong? He’d worked so damn hard for the Imprints. Pushed himself to the limit. For what?
“What the hell did you do out there?!”
A furious shout cracked through the air like lightning. Jung Young-soo, flushed with rage, stood and jabbed a trembling finger at Eun-jo.
“What the hell did you do to lose your Guiding ability? You even came back with Team Leader Jin’s Imprint!”
“Director.”
A low voice cut through the storm. Jung Young-soo turned to see Heo Nan-gyeom, who had calmly flipped over the documents, hiding them from view. His expression was unreadable—cool and composed, as if none of this was worth reacting to.
“For now, let’s keep this under wraps and observe the situation.”
“Observe what? Team A’s Guide position is empty!”
Losing control, Jung Young-soo hurled the documents and slammed his hand down on the table. A few papers fluttered into the air, one brushing across his pale face. Heo Nan-gyeom stood.
His movement was swift and smooth. He snatched the document before it could hit Eun-jo and sat back down, unfazed, as if nothing had happened.
“And you think that’s the only problem? Three Espers from Team A are locked in right now! We’ve got dozens of interviews and magazine shoots lined up!”
“We still don’t know if this is permanent,” Heo Nan-gyeom replied, voice steady. He turned his head toward the staff member.
“R-Right! We’ll need to check against similar international cases, but… there’s a good chance this is only temporary, Director.”
“You’re saying it could come back?”
“Yes.”
Finally, some of the color returned to Jung Young-soo’s face. He let out a groan, pressing his fingers to his temple.
“Just when I thought I could finally relax…”
He leaned back in his chair, muttering like a man clinging to a prayer.
Three Espers from Team A forming Imprints—that was a once-in-a-generation accomplishment, something that would go down in Guide Center history. An Imprint was practically an Esper handing over their life to a Guide. The strongest team in the country had, in essence, pledged allegiance to the Center.
Of course, that only mattered when Yeo Eun-jo still had his Guiding ability.
“Goddamn it, and now this in my twilight years…”
Slumping in his chair like a man who’d aged a decade in minutes, Jung Young-soo buried his face in his hands.
Eun-jo, who’d been sitting there like a child awaiting punishment, finally murmured,
“…I’ll make sure I don’t cause any more trouble.”
“You think this is something you can fix just because you want to, Guide Yeo?”
The Director’s voice was starting to rise again, but before he could fully erupt, Heo Nan-gyeom stood. He’d already gathered the documents neatly.
“I have work to attend to. I’ll be going.”
Work? Now? While they were all drowning in chaos? Jung Young-soo clenched his jaw, wanting to scream, but held it in. Until Eun-jo got his abilities back, they’d have to stay on Team A’s good side. If anything went wrong, they might blame the Center for the whole mess.
Quickly calculating the political cost, the Director waved a hand.
“Fine. Go.”
“……”
The staff took the hint and quietly exited the office. Heo Nan-gyeom turned to look at Eun-jo, who was still staring at the floor. Even from behind, his confusion was palpable.
Heo Nan-gyeom picked up the documents sitting in front of him. Only then did Eun-jo lift his head.
“What are you doing?”
Finally breaking free of his daze, Eun-jo rose to his feet. He bowed politely to the Director, then silently followed Heo Nan-gyeom out of the office.
They walked in silence down the hallway. Even as they stepped into the elevator, Heo Nan-gyeom didn’t say a word.
What do I even say?
He should offer an explanation. Or at least an excuse. But nothing came to mind. Now that his power was gone, pretending to be “Yeo Eun-jo” meant nothing.
It’s not like sucking up to Heo Nan-gyeom is going to bring my powers back.
It’s not like the Center would let him stay, either.
Staring at Heo Nan-gyeom’s broad back, Eun-jo stepped into the elevator. Without a word, Heo Nan-gyeom pressed the button—then held out a hand, offering the documents.
“Take these. Go through them carefully. They might help.”
The pages were flipped over, concealing the contents. He clearly knew all Eun-jo had done was fixate on the words: Guiding Ability: Nullified.
Eun-jo took the documents with limp hands. Heo Nan-gyeom turned his head slightly.
“You’re left-handed, Mr. Eun-jo.”
His voice was quiet, but it rang out clearly.
Eun-jo looked down. The papers were in his right hand. A surge of irritation flared up without warning. Clenching his jaw, he snapped,
“I use my right hand now. Always have.”
“You used your left to shoot. To hold documents. To eat. That’s who you were.”
“……”
“You couldn’t even raise your voice like this before.”
“……”
“You couldn’t even bring yourself to say sorry to the Director.”
If he knew him so well, why hadn’t he taken care of him? Why hadn’t he kept him alive? Why show up now, after everything?
Eun-jo knew better than to lash out, but the words spilled out anyway.
“So what are you gonna do now?”
“……”
“Gonna out me? Tell the Center I’m not really Yeo Eun-jo? File a report?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
Bullshit.
As soon as the elevator dinged, Eun-jo slammed the documents against Heo Nan-gyeom’s arm.
“Yeah, well—keep thinking. You’re good at that.”
If Heo Nan-gyeom had really been Eun-jo’s sanctuary—if not a lover, then at least a friend—then Yeo Eun-jo wouldn’t have died alone. But now, there was no Yeo Eun-jo.
All that remained was him: a right-handed fraud. Just some civilian who’d fooled Espers with a borrowed name.
Eun-jo stepped out of the elevator—and froze.
The lobby was bustling with people heading home.
Where am I even supposed to go?
Without Guiding powers, he was just a regular person. No home. No family. Nothing.
Can I even go back to the dorms?
Heo Nan-gyeom passed by silently. Unlike Eun-jo, there was no hesitation in his stride. He moved with the certainty of someone who belonged somewhere. He was tall, and it didn’t take long for him to vanish into the crowd.
Eun-jo stayed there, staring at the people moving around him. Then he crouched in front of the elevator, letting the noise blur around him.
A pair of familiar dress shoes came into view.
“What are you doing here?” Eun-jo didn’t look up. His voice was barely audible. “This isn’t your place, so leave me alone. I’m just resting.”
“……”
“I’m right-handed. I’m not Yeo Eun-jo. So just go.”
But the shoes didn’t budge.
Tch.
Just as he looked up to tell him off, Heo Nan-gyeom leaned down. A soft scent of fabric softener brushed his nose.
Without a word, Heo Nan-gyeom gently wrapped his fingers around Eun-jo’s right hand—and pressed a communicator into it.
The line connected. On the other end, a gruff voice answered, annoyed.
—“I’m in the middle of something. What do you—”
“Eun-jo-ssi is in front of the first-floor elevator.”
—“…What?”
“Come get him.”
There was a beat. Then Jung Tae-seok’s voice came through, low and muttered.
—“Are you fucking serious right now… Why the hell are you the one calling—?!”
Click.
Heo Nan-gyeom ended the call and turned away. He walked off. Gone again, just like that.
Eun-jo sat there, clutching the communicator like a child left behind.
“…What the hell are you trying to do…”
He couldn’t figure him out.
At least Jin Mu-seong had dropped hints now and then. But Heo Nan-gyeom—he knew the truth from the very beginning. And still, he’d handed him the communicator.
“…Heo Nan-gyeom.”
Eun-jo whispered his name.
