He hadn’t set foot in the team office since that day.
At night, he grabbed short naps in the Guiding Room. During the day, he only stopped by when the place was empty—just long enough to change clothes before slipping out again.
If they really wanted to find him, they easily could. The fact that they hadn’t…
They’re giving me time.
Still, it didn’t put him at ease. He made a habit of staying in places they were unlikely to show up.
Eun-jo leaned against the wall, tilting the coffee cup in his hand.
These days, his favorite hideout was none other than the Security Team office—where Park Hee-won worked.
“Why are you drinking coffee here, of all places…?”
Park Hee-won muttered, eyes still fixed on the monitor. His slumped shoulders peeked out from the edge of the chair.
Two weeks of dodging Espers had brought the two of them closer.
Unlike the original novel, where Park Hee-won was portrayed as a pretty airhead, in real life he felt more like the lovable youngest sibling who’d grown up doted on.
Eun-jo reached over and messed up Hee-won’s hair.
“So? You don’t want me here?”
“…What’d you bring this time?”
Hee-won turned around, dead-eyed, and spotted the bag in Eun-jo’s hand. His eyes lit up.
“Tteokbokki?”
“Nope. Rabokki today.” (tteokbokki with ramen noodles)
As if someone had just handed him a bouquet of roses, Hee-won clutched his mouth with both hands, gasping.
“W–With cheese?”
“Obviously. I topped it with cheddar.”
“…Is that your bag strap under my foot?”
“Nope. I think that’s one of your loose screws.”
“That’s not possible!”
Gripping his temple, Hee-won groaned.
“I left those at home! How are they rolling around the office?!”
Yeah. He wasn’t doing great.
Hee-won shot up from his seat, mumbling rabokki, rabokki as he shuffled toward the break room.
Eun-jo followed him in, casually opening drawers like he owned the place. He took out chopsticks, set out some wet wipes and small plates.
It had become their little ritual. Hee-won liked it because he didn’t have to suffer through awkward lunches with his team. Eun-jo liked it because it gave him a quiet break away from the Espers.
No one ever had a reason to come bother the Security Team anyway.
“That time I was upset? The tteokbokki made up for it.”
As he opened the rabokki container, Hee-won smiled sheepishly.
“But aren’t you being a little too nice, Guide-nim?”
“I only bought it ‘cause I wanted some.”
Honestly, he’d probably spent over 100,000 won on tteokbokki since the evaluation test.
Hee-won took a seat and stirred the noodles with his chopsticks, sneaking glances at Eun-jo. But despite his words, Eun-jo didn’t look all that interested in the rabokki.
He poked around the rice cakes and cabbage, then maybe feeling Hee-won’s stare, finally picked up a fish cake and popped it into his mouth.
“You say you wanted it, but come on. You barely even eat…”
Does he even eat enough to stay alive?
Park Hee-won clicked his tongue as he stared at Eun-jo’s hollowed-out, half-wasted face.
“You really don’t have to feel guilty, you know. That evaluation actually worked in my favor—I got bumped down to C-rank, and honestly, it’s been great.”
The test results had shown that Park Hee-won wasn’t even B-rank—he was C. After several rounds of reassessment, the Center finally admitted the initial evaluation from when he first awakened had been wrong.
Even if he could still Guide the Espers he was Imprinted with, his rank wasn’t high enough to be considered suitable.
Thanks to that, Eun-jo had been able to give up on Hee-won without hesitation.
Sensing that Eun-jo was still beating himself up over it, Hee-won quickly put on a cheerful front.
“It’s a little frustrating, sure… but at least now the other employees pity me. They’ve stopped being assholes.”
“They don’t ignore you anymore?”
“Nope! Sometimes they even bring me coffee.”
Hee-won grinned, not a care in the world. Apparently, his salary hadn’t been cut despite the downgrade. He really was like the clueless youngest sibling—kind-hearted, but a little dense in weird ways.
“So you should hurry up and make peace too, Guide-nim.”
He gave Eun-jo’s shoulder a light pat.
“There are some… interesting rumors going around lately.”
“What kind of rumors?”
Rumors?
Eun-jo lowered his chopsticks. Hee-won immediately started piling rice cakes and fish cakes into his plate like he was trying to distract him.
“You haven’t heard? There’s this rumor going around that the Espers are chasing after you like lost puppies because you dumped them.”
“…What?”
“Well, they’re constantly circling around wherever you are. Of course people are gonna talk.”
“Here, look.”
Hee-won pulled out the Security Team’s private tablet. When he tapped on the names of Team A’s Espers—including Jin Mu-seong—a map of the Center popped up, dotted with blinking markers.
Several Espers were hovering near the Security Team’s office.
Two were right upstairs.
Two were blatantly loitering just outside the main entrance.
“Wow. You guys are really making progress, huh?”
Hee-won glanced at the entrance as if half-expecting someone to burst through it.
What the hell.
Eun-jo quickly zoomed in on the screen. He’d figured they might be nearby, but not this close.
They’re literally stalking me instead of doing their jobs. Fucking lunatics.
Eun-jo stared blankly at the screen, and Hee-won tapped it gently with a fingertip.
“There’s this horror game where you monitor possessed dolls with a tablet like this. They move really fast—it’s freaky as hell…”
“……”
“And you know what happens when one of them reaches the door?”
“No…”
Eun-jo mumbled weakly.
Hee-won let out a dry chuckle.
“They open it. And drag you out.”
“…….”
“So please, just make up with them already. I don’t want to get smacked in the forehead again.”
Eun-jo let out a heavy sigh and popped a rice cake into his mouth.
Those bastards probably didn’t have much patience left. The one-month grace period was almost over. Still, the thought of facing them again made his head pound.
As he pushed the tablet aside, Hee-won let out a surprised gasp.
“Huh?”
When Eun-jo looked over, Hee-won pointed at the screen.
One of the markers had started blinking—right in the Guiding Room.
“Why’s Esper Heo Nan-gyeom in your Guiding Room?”
“…What?”
“He doesn’t even need Guiding, does he?”
At that moment, the rice cake in Eun-jo’s chopsticks dropped.
He doesn’t need Guiding?
Eyes wide, Eun-jo stared at him. Seeing his reaction, Hee-won quickly added,
“You didn’t know? They say Esper Heo Nan-gyeom isn’t at risk of Overload at all.”
“No risk… of Overload?”
“I only caught bits and pieces, but apparently that’s his ability. They said he’s more stable than other Espers—something about his wave patterns or… whatever it was…”
Hee-won scratched the back of his head, clearly struggling to remember. Eun-jo, who had been sitting in a daze, suddenly put down his chopsticks and stood up.
“Sorry, but can you clean up for me?”
“Guide-nim!”
Hee-won called out after him, but Eun-jo didn’t stop.
As he stepped out of the office, the hallway outside was mercifully empty. Either no one had heard, or they’d quickly disappeared.
For the past two weeks, Eun-jo had been running Guiding sessions with Heo Nan-gyeom, trying to figure out what made him different from the others.
He still hadn’t found the answer.
But maybe… this was it.
He could feel the weight of curious stares from passersby. God only knew what direction the rumors would take next.
He didn’t care.
Breathing heavily, Eun-jo threw open the door to the Guiding Room.
“Heo Nan-gyeom…!”
Even with the sudden entrance, Heo Nan-gyeom showed no sign of surprise. He just sat there, calm as always, in the usual Esper chair, his gaze fixed quietly on Eun-jo.
“You’re here.”
“Is it true?”
Eun-jo slammed the door shut behind him and hurried closer.
“Is it true you don’t need Guiding?”
“Yes.”
“H-How…?”
In this world, Espers had to be Guided. It was the cost of power—the price they paid for being born with abilities.
Eun-jo collapsed into the chair across from him, completely shaken.
