“Esper Seon Juho!”
Seon Juho walked slowly toward Lee Tae-rim.
“Stop.”
But he was forced to halt before he could get too close. His eyes were fixed on the bomb fastened around Tae-rim’s neck.
“You’ll be transferred separately. The Guide’s life depends on your cooperation. Follow us without resistance.”
One of the Espers in a black combat suit stepped up beside Seon Juho. But Seon Juho didn’t even glance at him—his gaze remained locked on Tae-rim. Tae-rim blinked, his vision too blurry to make him out clearly, straining to see Seon Juho’s face.
And with a single blink, the world changed.
He was somewhere else.
Another blink—another place.
Tae-rim was moved over and over, the scenery before his eyes changing so fast it made his head spin. In the end, he collapsed from the dizziness.
The Esper gripping his arm didn’t care. Without hesitation, they hauled him upright and shoved him into another space. He dropped to the floor with a dull thud, his stomach churning, his head pounding so badly he couldn’t move.
Once the nausea eased a little, Tae-rim raised his head and looked around. At some point, the cuffs on his wrists had been removed.
He was in a white room, with one wall made of metal bars. Six black surveillance cameras hung boldly from the ceiling. Counting the ones outside the bars, there were nine in total—no blind spots whatsoever.
The only furniture was a white bed, a sink, and a toilet. It looked like something straight out of a textbook drawing of a prison. Tae-rim reached up and felt his neck. The collar—about a centimeter wide—felt like a choker. It was probably the bomb. He shut his eyes tightly.
Standing before a fully powered Esper, Tae-rim realized with his entire being how helpless an ordinary person truly was. And if that Esper was S-rank? The power gap was so vast, resistance was meaningless. Even someone like Seon Juho had been overwhelmed. They had to all be S-rank.
Tae-rim had never imagined Molt would dispatch a full squad of S-rank Espers just to capture one Guide. But he wasn’t the only one who’d underestimated the situation. The others clearly hadn’t expected it either. That’s probably why his guards had only been A-rank or lower.
But looking at it now, their real target hadn’t been a powerless Guide who couldn’t lift a finger against an Esper—it had been Seon Juho. The one known as S+.
Sending anyone less than S-rank would’ve been a guaranteed failure. Of course they’d brought an entire unit of S-rank Espers. It made sense.
Tae-rim—and all of them—had grown far too complacent. They’d gotten used to peace, treated danger like a distant possibility rather than a real threat. They’d thought, “It might happen someday”—but never planned for today. How foolish.
Their enemies had planned everything down to the smallest detail. They’d opened an S-rank Gate right at the barrier where the Guides were housed. Sent in S-rank Espers. Used teleportation again and again to keep anyone from tracking his wavelength. And to keep Seon Juho completely restrained, they’d even strapped a bomb to Tae-rim’s neck.
Thinking of Seon Juho surrendering quietly made Tae-rim feel hollow inside.
An Esper’s weakness is their Guide.
That phrase had never felt more real.
He could still picture the way Seon Juho’s expression faltered the moment he saw the bomb around his neck. Tae-rim bit his lip. He should’ve been more cautious. Why had he let his guard down so easily?
Regret was useless now.
In the end, he’d been taken without putting up any kind of fight—and because of him, Seon Juho had been captured too. Sure, there was nothing he could’ve done against S-ranks, but that didn’t stop him from feeling pathetic.
Where was Seon Juho now? What happened at the scene? If I’d kept my head, would things have turned out differently?
“Ugh…”
Tae-rim buried his face in both hands. Fear, shame, and regret spun through his mind like a storm.
He might’ve trained, but he was still just a civilian. Logically, he knew there was nothing he could’ve done against S-rank Espers. But the tears came anyway. He didn’t even know if they were from fear or frustration.
Sniffling quietly, he went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. There was no mirror, but he could imagine what he looked like—an absolute mess. He grabbed the towel hanging nearby and wiped his face.
Suddenly, the whole situation felt ridiculous. A room with no blind spots, no objects that could be used as weapons—after all that training, was this how easily he was going to get caught?
He walked over to the bars and gripped them. Of course they didn’t budge. He knew they wouldn’t—but tried anyway. The fact that he’d even made the attempt made him let out a bitter chuckle.
On the bed was a white outfit—something that looked like a hospital gown or lab subject uniform. Don’t tell me they expect me to wear this. Just looking at it made the hollow feeling in his chest grow worse. And beneath that, a flicker of fear.
Now that he was locked up, if they chose to treat him like a test subject, there was nothing he could do to resist. Not with a bomb around his neck. Tae-rim sat on the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the white wall. There was nothing else he could do.
At least they weren’t starving him. Next to the sink was a narrow rectangle etched into the wall. He hadn’t known what it was at first, but it slid open—and out came a meal. A sandwich.
The water cup they provided was made of some unbreakable material. No matter how hard he threw it, it wouldn’t crack or shatter. Completely useless as a weapon. Tae-rim quietly placed it back in the compartment.
Once he finished eating, the slot closed automatically. He was being watched—constantly, thoroughly. There was no doubt about that.
With no windows and no clock, it was impossible to track time. But after his fifth meal, Seon Juho finally appeared.
Two Espers in black combat suits and a woman in a white lab coat escorted him in. They opened the bars to Tae-rim’s cell and shoved Seon Juho inside.
“Hyung.”
“Juho.”
Seon Juho didn’t look well. Without his Watch, Tae-rim couldn’t check his ESP level, but the flush in his face suggested he had a fever. Without hesitation, Tae-rim pulled him into his arms and began Guiding.
Seon Juho let out a deep breath, like he could finally breathe again.
“Are you okay?”
“Hyung, what about you? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. They’ve been giving me regular meals… But don’t tell me—they’ve been experimenting on you?”
“Let’s not waste time on pointless talk.”
The outfit Seon Juho was wearing was the same white one-piece that had been left on Tae-rim’s bed. There was no mistaking it—those bastards had taken Seon Juho for experiments too.
Tae-rim opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out, the woman in the white lab coat cut him off, shutting him down with a cold glare. She stared at them both like they were nothing more than test subjects.
Tae-rim glared back and wrapped his arms even tighter around Seon Juho.
These people weren’t human. Dragging someone back who’d barely escaped from that pain… They looked like monsters deserving divine punishment.
“If you’re so desperate to run experiments, why don’t you try them on yourselves.”
The woman’s expression didn’t change. She stood motionless, like she hadn’t heard a word.
“I’ve thought that too,” Seon Juho said softly. “Hyung’s the only one who ever thinks of me like that.”
They couldn’t keep standing forever, so Tae-rim led him to the bed. They sat facing each other, still wrapped in an embrace. As always, Seon Juho buried his face in Tae-rim’s neck, breathing deeply like he could finally inhale for real.
Tae-rim held him close, starting the Guiding with strong, steady waves, then gradually easing into a gentle rhythm. The color slowly returned to Seon Juho’s face. Seeing it made Tae-rim’s chest tighten with emotion. He looked so exhausted, so worn down, that it brought tears to Tae-rim’s eyes.
I don’t know where we are, but the Center needs to find us soon… But will they even be able to?
A full day had passed. And if things were still this quiet, the chip implanted in Tae-rim’s body must be useless now. Honestly, that wasn’t surprising. The kidnappers had clearly planned for it—there was no way they would’ve acted without neutralizing every countermeasure.
“Wait… this necklace. Don’t tell me—”
While Guiding, Tae-rim reached up out of habit to brush Seon Juho’s hair—and froze when he saw the choker around his neck. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, too focused on checking Seon Juho’s condition. The white color had blended in with his skin until now.
“What do you think it is?” Seon Juho said with a lopsided smile. “Couple necklace. You and me.”
“Seriously? You’re making jokes right now?”
Even with an S-rank body, no one knew what would happen if a bomb went off right on your neck. Tae-rim was wearing one too, but that didn’t matter. He was more worried about Seon Juho. His chest ached, the tears threatening to spill again.
“It’s okay, hyung. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“……”
Fine? Tae-rim wanted to ask what the hell he meant by that, but the words wouldn’t come. Watching Seon Juho smile like nothing was wrong made him hesitate. He didn’t want to burden him with his own despair, didn’t want to be the one dragging everything down with hopeless thoughts.
So Tae-rim made up his mind—he would believe it too.
That somehow, like Seon Juho said, everything really would be okay.
