He spoke in a voice so gentle, so tender, it could’ve soothed a foolish child—but his words cut like a whip, sharp and merciless. Watching Lee Han-seo’s pale face stiffen, that same Han-seo who had once glared at him with fire in his eyes, completely unaware of what he was up against… it brought a satisfaction far greater than he’d imagined.
“You seem to think I—or rather, this team-based restructure—is some kind of Guide rights violation. Unfortunately, the world we live in doesn’t work that way.”
That was when Han-seo’s head finally moved. He’d said nothing as those jagged words rained down on him, but now, it seemed he’d managed to wrestle his emotions into order. Swallowing hard, he stilled the tremble in his eyes, lifted his chin, and met Julian’s gaze squarely.
“I understand what you’re thinking, Mr. Brown. No need to explain any further.”
The way he said it was odd—measured. From William Brown’s perspective, his beliefs and actions were rooted in righteous intent. Everything he did was for the sake of making the world a better place. But Han-seo didn’t seem to see it that way. To him, it was all just “William Brown’s personal opinion.”
“I wasn’t sure where you were going with all this, so I listened. But you’ve seriously crossed the line.”
“You’re completely missing the point of what I’m saying—”
“No, I get it. I admit I didn’t fully understand the reality of the situation. I acknowledge my ignorance, and I regret how things turned out. But explain something to me—why exactly is this my fault?”
“You! Watch your tone!”
“Even if your mouth is crooked, your words should be straight. What exactly is it that I’m supposed to be responsible for? It’s not like I—or anyone else opposing the restructure—was planning to throw in the towel and walk away. All we wanted was to keep the current system. I’ve done my homework too. You’ve been pushing this team-based model nonstop, haven’t you? And now that your government doesn’t have the justification to force it through, you’ve turned to the Alliance for help.”
Han-seo let out a bitter laugh, his voice razor-sharp as he called William out. As if to say: You’re not the only one who can use words like weapons.
“If you hadn’t pushed for this sudden restructure, do you really think the Espers here would’ve boycotted their missions? That they wouldn’t have been able to handle a single B-Class Dungeon? Would all those civilians and Espers have died?”
“……”
“By your logic, I should be congratulating you. Because thanks to your stubborn insistence, people who didn’t have to die ended up dead. So let me ask—‘Congratulations, Guide William Brown. Are you satisfied now?’”
William blinked, stunned. The words were identical to what he himself had said earlier, down to the syllable—minus the honorific. And now, hearing them thrown back at him with a smirk, he couldn’t believe how jarring it felt. This version of Han-seo was unfamiliar. He didn’t know how to process it.
“Also, pretty sure I awakened before you. That technically makes me your senior. So here’s some advice.”
Who is this person? Ever since Han-seo entered the Center, William had always seen him as a rival—someone who stood on the opposite end of the world, but always loomed close in comparison.
South Korea had been careful to shield their Guide from the public eye, revealing only carefully selected images and stats. But William had pieced those fragments together, building a shadow rival in his mind. One he hated with burning passion.
Maybe it was because they were the same age. Maybe because they were both S-Class Guides. Researchers had praised Han-seo’s rarity in public, but behind the scenes, they’d obsessively dissected his data, marveling at how different—how exceptional—he was.
The Han-seo William knew came from a family so wealthy that “rich” didn’t even begin to cover it. A pampered brat who’d lived comfortably under his parents’ roof until fifteen and had the audacity to whine about not wanting to be admitted. He’d rejected the chance to Pair with Korea’s only S-Class Esper, waiting instead until someone easier to control awakened—and only then did he leisurely consider forming a Pair.
While William was diving into Dungeons day and night, Han-seo was off hiding somewhere safe, sending his Esper to fight alone. William had been furious when he heard that. But beneath the fury… was relief.
Of course. Han-seo was exactly who he’d always believed he was—a coward hiding behind others, even with all that power. That knowledge brought an odd sense of comfort.
And now, the world was starting to agree. No matter how good your stats were, if you couldn’t use them in the field, you were useless. So if there was a “strongest” Guide in the world, it wasn’t Lee Han-seo. It was William Brown.
That’s why he’d boarded the plane to Berlin with confidence. Some naïve kid thought clearing a few U-Class Dungeons made him a hero and started stirring people up? Please. William was sure he could crush someone like that with ease.
“If you’re trying to convince or manipulate someone, maybe start by fixing your expression.”
“……”
“You’re so obvious about how much you hate me, it’s honestly kind of pathetic. I’ve been trying to be civil, but you’re making it impossible.”
The soft face he’d seen in the media now looked older—strangely mature. William could still remember Han-seo, teary-eyed in his school uniform, standing in front of the cameras. That image had left a strong first impression, but it was just that—an old impression.
The real Han-seo was now twenty-five. No, twenty-six. A full-grown adult.
“Anyway. Like I said, I didn’t think things through completely. I’ll admit that. There are benefits to the team model. You’ve managed to lead your team successfully, after all. And it’s true—a Guide who pushes themselves can deploy multiple Espers simultaneously. That’s something the current one-to-one Matching system just doesn’t allow.”
This was the real Lee Han-seo. He didn’t break down after a blow. Without anyone noticing, he’d quietly gathered himself, shed the bitterness, and was now calmly, steadily stating his case.
“Still—even if everything you said is true, even if you’re absolutely right—I can’t agree with something that’s forced on us like this. If you really wanted to make this work, you should’ve gathered feedback properly, put together a real implementation plan, and brought in countries and Guides willing to participate in a pilot program. But forcing people to cut their Imprints? Who in their right mind would say yes to something that insane?”
There was even a faint laugh in Han-seo’s voice at the end—so casual, so light, you’d never guess they’d just been firing verbal knives at each other moments ago.
He might’ve claimed ignorance earlier, but William could no longer deny it—not to himself, and not in the face of everything that had unfolded. The situation had gone too far to hide behind pride and stubbornness.
Lee Han-seo wasn’t some clueless kid, and William no longer had the right to look down on him.
***
Six months later.
After countless international meetings and open forums, the details of the team-based restructuring plan were finalized. Everything from penalties for forced physical contact or coerced Guiding, to procedures for handling incidents after the fact, had been discussed thoroughly. The pilot program was now entering its final stage, with hundreds of Guides volunteering to take part.
Meanwhile, a few small changes had taken place within the U-Class Response Team.
They had cleared three U-Class Dungeons during that time. The new physical-enhancement Esper and their Guide, brought in to fill the gap left by Charlotte, had quickly found their rhythm with the team.
Thankfully, there had been no additional casualties. And no matter how Han-seo might’ve felt personally, there was no denying that Simon—known for his healing abilities and unmatched competence—kept everyone alive through sheer grit and skill.
If there was one notable shift in all that time, it was probably this: Han-seo’s once-local nickname—the rabid dog who never backs down—had finally made its way to the top. Now, even the Alliance headquarters knew it.
But that change still couldn’t hold a candle to this one:
“Morning, Han-seo.”
“Mm.”
“Seriously? You could at least say hi.”
“Can you move your face? It’s ruining my mood.”
“Baby, breakfast time. I made your favorite—” (Park Woo-jun really stressed this part) “—spicy kimchi stew.”
Two of the most powerful S-Class Espers alive—both with enough offensive power to level a battlefield—were now living under the same roof.
Julian Moore and Park Woo-jun… were living together.
