“Do you happen to know where the rumor started?”
“No idea. Now that you mention it, that’s kind of strange too. Every time I hear it, the rumor’s already well put together—like someone’s gone out of their way to make it sound believable.”
“And if no one knows the source, what am I supposed to do about it?”
“Yeah… you’ve got a point.”
“Running around correcting every rumor would be weird, too.”
“True.”
“Wouldn’t it be better for my mental health to just ignore it?”
“Sheesh…”
Faced with that ridiculous logic, Lee Tae-rim started thinking. The most likely scenario? One of those main character is secretly the final boss clichés.
Still, that didn’t mean he could just go around suspecting Choi Jiwoon without any proof. And even if he did, it’s not like it would solve anything. So for now, he decided to let it go. If there really was some mastermind pulling strings, the truth would come out eventually.
Besides, he had no intention of sticking his neck out and ending up with a death flag. Tae-rim planned to live quietly. Low-key and long-term.
“Oh, and by the way. You should loosen up your way of speaking—it’s way too stiff. Just call me hyung already.”
“Alright, I will.”
“You can drop the formal tone too.”
“I’ll do that once we get a little closer.”
Kim Hyo-il said “got it,” suggested they meet again soon, and headed off to training. Tae-rim wrapped up his own session and made his way to the Esper training hall.
“You stink.”
“Huh? But I took a shower.”
As soon as he arrived, Seon Juho, who’d clearly been waiting, blurted that he smelled. Thinking maybe he still had sweat on him, Tae-rim raised his arm and sniffed. It was June—starting to get hot out.
“You smell like someone else.”
…Wow. Tae-rim blinked in disbelief, mouth agape. Without warning, Seon Juho pulled him into a hug and started rubbing himself all over Tae-rim, like he was trying to coat him in his scent.
Sure, Tae-rim knew Espers had heightened senses, but he had definitely showered.
“What are you, a dog?”
“I don’t like it when hyung smells like someone else.”
With no better option, Tae-rim just let him do his thing until he was satisfied. What else could he do when the guy was so adamant?
“But seriously, why do you train so hard? Guides don’t even fight monsters.”
“I have to be prepared. What if I rely on the barrier and it suddenly fails?”
“I’ll protect you.”
“I’m a Guide who goes on external expeditions—I scout too. So I need to know how to protect myself.”
“Then just don’t go.”
“It’s my job.”
“Tch.“
Pouting, Seon Juho stuck out his bottom lip in protest. Still, heading home together after training made the day feel like it passed quickly. Just sitting around watching Seon Juho train had been unbearably boring.
Tae-rim decided to stick to this routine. Dr. Han had said practicing being apart would help. Understanding that they’d be fine even when separated apparently made it easier to break the Imprint.
“Hyuuung.”
“You’re heavy.”
As Tae-rim started prepping dinner, Seon Juho clung to his back. Back when Tae-rim was renting, he used to cook for himself to save money. But now that he’d tasted the convenience of a fridge always stocked with prepped meals and meal kits, he’d become a slave to convenience.
And the best part? It was all free. Meal service came with the dorm.
Even that wasn’t the half of it—the food was made by professional chefs. Lower-ranked Awakened stayed in dorms with a shared cafeteria, but S-ranks got individual meals. They could even place custom orders.
Tae-rim silently vowed to stay at this job forever.
“I said you’re heavy.”
“But hyung’s scent is the strongest right here.”
All he was doing was reheating food, but trying to do that with a large man latched onto him was exhausting. He tried to shake Seon Juho off—only to freeze at the unsettling thing that came out of his mouth next.
Seon Juho had buried his nose into Tae-rim’s nape and was inhaling deeply.
“Hyung, what’s wrong?”
Tae-rim forced himself to calm down. This world had no Alphas or Omegas. Everyone here was Beta.
“It’s nothing. Let’s eat.”
In Alpha-Omega dynamics, aside from the obvious, the nape of the neck was where the pheromone glands were located.
Back when his instructor taught him how to shoot, they’d correct his stance from behind. It startled him—a lot. Their similar height didn’t help, either. He’d been on edge constantly.
But humans could get used to anything. Eventually, Tae-rim no longer felt uncomfortable with someone standing behind him.
Still… for someone to suddenly say he smelled good?
Tae-rim reminded himself again—this world was Beta-only.
The nape of the neck was just a sweaty spot. That’s all. No need to think about weird, tropey nonsense. Even just imagining it gave him chills.
Whatever that was—it could never, ever happen.
Deciding to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, Tae-rim pushed the thought out of his mind.
***
“Already?”
It had only been two weeks since training began, but Seon Juho’s Esper instructor said he was ready for field deployment.
“Espers learn faster on the job. At this point, training’s more than sufficient.”
Tae-rim almost blurted out, He’s still just a kid, but swallowed the words. He couldn’t deny it—not after seeing Seon Juho tearing through monsters in the holographic combat simulator, clearly enjoying himself.
Monster subjugation was a constant necessity. If the number of monsters surged suddenly, everyone was mobilized. But most of the time, the work was divided among rotating squads on a weekly basis.
District 1 had the fewest gate openings, and even then, they were never above A-rank. Because it was close to central operations, it housed a high concentration of S-rank Espers—and consequently, the highest real estate prices. In other words, it was overcrowded.
Where there are more people, there’s more concern for safety. That led to more S-rank Espers being stationed there, which in turn attracted even more people. The cycle repeated endlessly, and no matter how much the government tried to redistribute the population, District 1 teetered on the edge of bursting.
That meant Seon Juho might be reassigned to another district.
There were already six S-rank Espers in District 1. With Seon Juho added in, they were over capacity. If not for Tae-rim, he might’ve been relocated long ago.
Now that training was over, Tae-rim was seriously considering transferring with him.
Their Matching Rate was an incredible 90%. Even once the Incomplete Imprint was lifted, that number was more than enough for the Esper to hold on. The problem was whether the Center would be willing to send a valuable S-rank Guide like him to another district.
But staying here only meant dealing with two clinging, walking death flags—and thanks to one particular incident, his reputation was already in the gutter. There was nothing left for him in this district. If he had the option, he’d leave in a heartbeat.
In the end, Seon Juho’s deployment was confirmed. They would depart in three days, and Tae-rim decided to go with him.
Jung Jae-heon was appointed as the Esper to oversee Seon Juho in the field. Experienced and composed, Jung had mentored other S-rank Espers before. With his calm nature and expert control over his abilities, he was the perfect person for the job.
Three days later, Tae-rim and Seon Juho packed light and left their dorm.
Seon Juho kept fidgeting with his new uniform, clearly not used to the fit. Tae-rim, meanwhile, found himself smiling as he watched the awkward “puppy” squirm.
Not long ago, Juho had been skinny and timid, a bundle of nerves. Now, his frame had filled out with muscle, shoulders broad and strong. It was hard to believe someone could change so much in such a short time—but then again, Espers were different. That fact hit Tae-rim all over again.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good.”
As they greeted Jung Jae-heon, Seon Juho subtly moved closer to Tae-rim. Jung Jae-heon chuckled at the gesture.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to steal your partner.”
“……”
“Juho, say hello to your instructor.”
“…Hello.”
“Haha, adorable.”
That comment only made Juho sulk harder.
“You’ve changed so much since the first time I saw you. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
His face was full of pride—genuinely happy to see Juho looking so healthy. But Juho still wore a scowl.
Fortunately, Jung Jae-heon was easygoing. Tae-rim shot Juho a subtle look, silently telling him to stop pouting. Juho stayed grumpy, but at least his lips weren’t sticking out anymore.
The three of them boarded the helicopter together.
They were joining mid-mission, and someone had mentioned Kwon Hae-beom might already be on-site. That made Tae-rim uneasy. But Jung Jae-heon said he’d just be handing things over and returning to HQ right after. Tae-rim quietly hoped he wouldn’t have to cross paths with either of them.
But of course, life never went the way he wanted.
As they touched down, Tae-rim sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead.
Waiting at the landing pad were none other than Kwon Hae-beom and Choi Jiwoon.
Kwon Hae-beom stood off to the side, looking as disinterested as ever. Choi Jiwoon, on the other hand, greeted them with a bright, cheerful smile.
No matter how lonely or miserable he was, this guy was unshakable—a textbook Candy-type protagonist. But even so, Tae-rim hadn’t expected this level of obliviousness.
Even Jung Jae-heon gave an awkward chuckle at the strange tension in the air.
“Hello.”
Tae-rim knew from the novel exactly what he had done to Choi Jiwoon. But he greeted him with a calm smile, acting like he knew nothing—because he had no choice.
Tae-rim had no friends.
There was no one to tell him what kind of person he used to be.
Which meant there was no reason for him to act awkward.
If he did, it would only raise suspicion.
