“How was your first dungeon experience?”
“Ugh, don’t even get me started. That damn combat suit—why’s it so tight and uncomfortable? And the visibility? It’s pitch-black in there! I spent the first two days thinking I was going to die just trying to adjust. I hate to say this, but now I get why those nature-affinity and physical-type Espers always walk around acting like hot shit.”
Lee Hye-soo shivered just thinking about it, face twisted in disgust. Across from her, Lee Han-seo was lazily picking at some cold fries and clicked his tongue like he’d known this would happen.
“Seriously, who the hell insists on jumping straight into an A-Class dungeon on their first run? You should’ve started with a C or B-Class and worked your way up.”
It had already been a couple of months since Hye-soo was dispatched to Alliance HQ. In that time, Han-seo had cleared a U-Class dungeon in Central Asia, while Hye-soo, after years of being an Esper, had finally been classified as combat personnel. For the first time in nearly twenty years, she entered a dungeon. And despite Han-seo’s repeated warnings, she’d foolishly thrown herself into an A-Class dungeon after just a few weeks of training, thinking she could handle it.
Never mind that Han-seo—who was now scolding her—had once insisted A-Class was no big deal and even bragged that he’d waltz into S-Class dungeons. Clearly, he’d conveniently forgotten all that. The expression on his face practically begged to be teased.
“I didn’t think it’d be that bad! I handled the simulator just fine!”
“Obviously. The sim only runs for half a day at most. I knew this was going to happen the moment you got stubborn.”
“Stubborn?! You’ve got some nerve talking to your noona like that!”
“Pfft. I already ratted you out to Jung-hyuk hyung. You’re dead when you get back.”
“Hey! I told you not to tell him!”
“And I told you not to go into an A-Class!”
“Lee Han-seo!”
“What, Lee Hye-soo!”
They’d always been close, but this level of bickering was new. Maybe being far from home made people cling to familiar faces more tightly. The two had grown so close they practically acted like real siblings. Lee Jung-hyuk often came up in their conversations—he was the mutual connection tying them together. Sometimes, they even joked that since they all shared the last name Lee, they might as well be real family. If someone back in Korea overheard, they’d probably wonder if the three of them actually were siblings.
Hye-soo’s reckless dungeon deployment was a prime example. Aside from her ex-Bonded Pair, the only Guides she really knew were Jung-hyuk and Han-seo. And just her luck—those two marched in and out of high-tier dungeons like it was nothing. So naturally, she thought she could do the same.
“No, seriously—what the hell do you see in those terrifying, claustrophobic places? Last year, you were so dead set on getting into a dungeon that the whole Esper community was talking about it. Word is, your Team Leader was so pissed, the entire Central Branch staff was miserable.”
“I mean…”
He’d gotten better at pretending he was fine, but some scars lingered. Han-seo avoided her gaze, sipping on his now-flat beer.
“How can I just keep sending our Woo-jun in there alone? No way. I can’t stand it.”
Unfortunately, the person sitting across from him could read him like a book. Hye-soo clapped her hands, grinning.
“Still that easy to read, huh?”
“Yeah. Way too obvious.”
“Your Guiding must be—”
“Ugh, quit nagging already! I am getting my Guiding sessions, okay? I know refusing Guiding in a dungeon is basically suicide. Ever since we got to Germany, all you do is eat fries and lecture me.”
“Then why are you still so transparent?”
“Because I’m not in a one-on-one Bonded Pair—I’m part of a team. Today’s not my turn. I get my session tomorrow, so calm down.”
Most Guides still preferred working with a single Bonded Pair, but some volunteered for team setups. The Guide assigned to Hye-soo was one of those. Since her transfer to HQ wasn’t permanent—just about a year—she figured it was smarter not to get attached to any one person. Better to stay professional and blend in.
Han-seo glanced around the restaurant, checking to make sure no one nearby understood Korean, then leaned in.
“Want some Radiation Guiding?”
The injection marks had faded now, invisible even in short sleeves. Still, the unease lingered.
“No thanks. Even if I’m not in a Bonded Pair, I do have a dedicated Guide. Getting Guiding from someone else? That’s bad form.”
“Just a little. I’ll make it subtle, promise.”
Despite her firm refusal, Han-seo leaned in, his voice practically pleading. As he moved closer, the once-peaceful vibe in the restaurant subtly shifted. Outwardly, nothing had changed—half-full seats, an old pop song playing softly in the background—but every Esper in the room felt it.
None of them understood Korean, but they knew exactly what was happening. It didn’t matter if the surrounding chatter was in German, English, French, or Chinese—emotions transcended language.
And what filled the room now was pure, raw envy.
People would kill to receive Guiding from Lee Han-seo. And here she was, turning him down without a second thought. Honestly, you had to wonder—what kind of life do you have to live to be spoiled like this?
Even among S-Class Guides, Lee Han-seo stood out. His Guiding wasn’t just top-tier in purity—his total capacity was off the charts. Just being in that body of his made him a rare commodity. But it didn’t stop there. Thanks to that monstrous purity, he had the ability to absorb traces of another Guide’s energy lingering inside an Esper and refine it—turning it into Guiding that was even more potent and pristine.
When that ability first became known, the global Esper community practically lost its mind. The reaction was universal—shock, disbelief, and awe.
And Han-seo? He couldn’t have cared less. Every time he faced the press, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. When reporters stuck microphones in his face, asking how it was possible or what his secret was, he’d give the most apathetic answers imaginable. Stuff like, “Oh, that? I just got pissed one day and thought I’d try it, and then it worked.” Or, “It’s kind of like… osmosis? You know when you soak cabbage in brine before making kimchi? The water inside gets pulled out. It’s something like that.”
Korean media had it relatively easy—they could get interviews. But foreign broadcasters? They had to pay a premium just to license Korean interview footage and translate it. Half the time, they couldn’t even subtitle it properly.
Not that any of that mattered to Lee Hye-soo. To her, Han-seo was still just the annoying kid who used to argue with her over the last spoonful of fried rice at the tteokbokki place near the Center.
Whenever the two of them bickered like this, Lee Jung-hyuk used to get a headache trying to figure out why they wouldn’t stop when he was already offering to order more.
Things were different now. Jung-hyuk was officially paired with Kim Joon-young, who at the time had been the only S-Class Esper in Korea. Hye-soo and Han-seo had their own Bonded Pairs as well. Their trio didn’t hang out like they used to.
Looking back, though… that might’ve been the most peaceful time in their lives.
Maybe that’s why moments like this felt so precious—grabbing a bite with Han-seo at one of the little restaurants tucked inside HQ. It wasn’t anything grand, just the two of them sharing greasy tempura and shooting the breeze. But for a brief moment, it felt like they’d slipped back into the past.
Han-seo had grown taller, sure. But his face? Still the same as it had been back then. And sitting with him like this, even just exchanging stupid jokes, made her feel like they were right back in those simpler days.
“You really need to cut it out. You’ve got Park Woo-jun, so stop throwing your Guiding at every random Esper who comes along.”
“What do you mean, ‘throwing it around’? I’m just worried about you.”
“Worried, my ass. Honestly, if we exaggerated just a little, I’d say half the Espers in HQ have gotten your Guiding at some point.”
“Hmm…”
At first, it seemed like he only stepped in when someone was on the verge of a Rampage. But lately, the bar had dropped. Now, if someone so much as felt like they were running low on Guiding, the first place they headed was Han-seo’s dorm. He still turned a lot of them away, especially if they were being dramatic—but every now and then, he gave in. And that was enough for the rumors to spread like wildfire.
Saying “half” might’ve been an exaggeration—but only barely. The way he didn’t argue and just rolled his eyes said enough.
Hye-soo had to swallow down the sigh building in her chest.
No wonder Park Woo-jun’s emotions were all over the place lately. At this rate, if someone was going to snap first, it’d be him—not Han-seo.
