Rumors about Lee Han-seo’s homeland were already well known. Thanks to its rigid, near-impossible-to-copy resident registration system, the country made discovering and managing Espers incredibly efficient. And with such a small landmass, it was practically unheard of for a dungeon to remain open.
Maybe that’s why he could afford to be so naïve—so blindly stubborn, clinging to his own selfish desires.
A faint heat pulsed through William’s right arm, the one that had healed long ago. He stared down at Lee Han-seo, lips parting but unable to find the words, and quietly wrapped his hand around his elbow. If he rolled up his sleeve, the grotesque scar would still be there. The wound had once nearly severed his arm—he was lucky to have even this much left. A scar was a small price to pay.
The memory of that day never faded. It never would. Not in life, not even in death.
He had only been eleven years old.
Their wooden house stood in a wide, quiet forest—like something out of a fairy tale. The backyard, where he’d run around with their dog, was a perfect playground for a child’s adventures.
The sweet smell of pies always drifted through the house. His father wasn’t much of a cook, but he’d learned to bake pies during a part-time job and made them exceptionally well. His mother would sit with a peaceful smile, savoring each bite.
William used to wedge himself between them, grinning as he took a huge bite of apple pie. Sticky syrup would flood his mouth, sugar coating his tongue until his teeth ached. It was sweet. Too sweet. But it was a time of warmth, of peace.
That fragile happiness shattered in a single moment.
A B-Class dungeon appeared just a few miles from their village.
These days, even S-Class dungeons weren’t all that rare—people barely blinked at a B-Class. But back then, things were different.
The Esper Affairs Center that oversaw the region decided it wasn’t worth the effort. The village was remote, and they didn’t have any Espers to dispatch immediately. So they made the call: better to sacrifice a dozen civilian households than lose two or three Espers.
There wasn’t even time to run.
Real-time monitoring systems weren’t fully developed yet. The most the center could manage was to surround the gate and set up a containment line. The civilians trapped inside? They didn’t even try to rescue them. Not because they didn’t care—but because they didn’t have the manpower.
But none of that mattered to the people inside. No excuse could ever justify it.
William had survived by hiding beneath his parents’ corpses after they’d been mauled to death. He lay there for four days, holding his breath.
He prayed harder than he ever had in his life.
He didn’t care if it was B-Class or C-Class. He just wanted to awaken—right then and there—as an Esper. He swore he would give everything he had, every second of his life, if it meant no one else had to die like this again.
But after the rescue, the results said something different.
He was a Guide. An S-Class Guide.
He hadn’t become the Esper he’d begged to be. But the moment he heard the results, he broke down in tears—shoulders shaking, overwhelmed by relief.
And yet… the grief still lingered.
If he had known just a little sooner—if he had entered the system a little earlier—maybe things could’ve been different. Maybe he could’ve moved his family somewhere safer. Or maybe, if he’d insisted on going into the dungeon himself, the center would’ve sent other Espers along.
“You’ve never actually seen it, have you?” William asked quietly. “What happens when a dungeon goes out of control. You know how they deal with the monsters that spill out from the gate?”
He gave a tight smile.
“Of course you know. But let me ask you this—have you seen it with your own eyes?”
Lee Han-seo shook his head slightly.
William had expected that. But somehow, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“We surround the gate. About a ten-mile radius. We build up a defensive line and take the monsters down—one by one. Slowly. Because we can’t afford to lose a single Esper or Guide. So we go slow. Carefully. Just enough not to strain our forces.”
Lee Han-seo’s face didn’t so much as twitch. He clearly knew all of this—at least, in theory.
“But the real issue is the civilians trapped inside that perimeter,” William continued. “Think about it. The gate’s already open. Monsters are flooding out. Do you think command is going to risk collapsing the defensive line just to save the people inside?”
“Wait—hold on. Can’t they evacuate them in advance?”
“You’re not seriously under the impression that every country on Earth has flawless real-time monitoring systems, are you?”
He was a greenhouse flower—untouched by reality.
William had thrown himself into training from the day he awakened, grinding himself into the dirt to become stronger, skipping sleep just to guide one more Esper, devoting every ounce of his strength for the sake of humanity.
But Han-seo?
He refused to even enroll until adulthood. Said he wouldn’t step foot in a dungeon unless he had a Bonded Pair. Spent his time sulking, whining, and acting spoiled.
For someone blessed with such power, living like an ordinary person—wanting to enjoy all the privileges of a normal life—wasn’t just lazy. It was indulgent. A sin.
Great power came with great responsibility. That was how William saw the world.
So of course, someone like Lee Han-seo—walking through life like it was a field of flowers, showered in praise—looked absolutely repulsive to him.
And painfully pathetic.
William was the one out there saving the world day after day. And yet, just because their ranks were the same—or because Han-seo’s stats were slightly higher—people always treated him as the superior Guide.
So William worked harder. Whenever a high-tier Esper didn’t have a Bonded Pair, he pulled them under his wing and guided them himself. While the privileged Guides were content guiding just one Esper and stepping back, he pushed further—desperate to do more.
And he truly believed it was all for the greater good.
If burning out one Guide meant getting five or six Espers into the field, how many dungeons could they conquer? How many lives could they save?
William Brown believed every Ability User should live by the same convictions he did—that they should willingly sacrifice their entire lives for the greater good. Because that was the right thing to do.
He’d fought tooth and nail for years, inching forward step by brutal step. And now, the system he had long dreamed of—finally, finally—was almost within reach.
He wouldn’t let it fall apart. Not because of one clueless Guide. Especially not Lee Han-seo—the one person who had, for years, fueled his feelings of inadequacy.
With a dry scoff, William pulled out a stack of photos he had prepared and spread them across the table. The timing had been almost laughably convenient. Just a few hours before his flight, it had all gone down.
A scandal big enough to shake even someone like Han-seo—a man William had thought would spend his life cozily nestled in his family’s arms, protected by his one-and-only Bonded Pair, untouched by the chaos of the real world.
“Take a look. See what your supporters—your precious Espers—have been up to.”
The moment Han-seo laid eyes on the photos, he let out a low groan. “Ugh…” His face turned stark white. William had deliberately chosen the most brutal, most provocative shots in the report. That reaction was exactly what he’d expected.
“They didn’t just oppose the new team structure—they boycotted the entire system. The Guides refused to guide—even their own Bonded Pairs. The Espers backed them up, refusing to receive any guiding at all. That went on for days.”
William’s tone dropped, cold and sharp.
“And because of that, even a simple B-Class dungeon couldn’t be handled. The Espers—unguarded, unstable—died inside. And the Guides who couldn’t reach the return gate in time? Same story.”
He let the words sink in before finishing.
“In the end, dozens of civilians were injured or killed by the monsters that broke through.”
“…”
“Congratulations, Guide Lee Han-seo,” William said, his smile tight and poisonous. “Is this what you wanted? Is this the result you were hoping for? Bravo. Truly… what a triumph.”
