On Sunday, he really did everything imaginable. Just to show up at work on Monday in one piece, he had to plaster pain relief patches all over his body. Of course, he was also popping muscle pain meds. Fortunately, the ointment he used seemed to be pretty effective—the swelling between his butt cheeks had gone down. It was still a little bothersome, sure, but not enough to be noticeable.
Still, the back pain just refused to go away. Lee Tae-rim had no choice but to slap on a scentless pain patch and head into work. As expected, there was a huge difference between just grinding and actually putting it in. No wonder his back was shot—it was a position that had to hurt.
Not even thirty minutes after clocking in, the trio stormed in. The three of them had that look—like they knew something. Especially Yoon Ye-rin, who stared at Lee Tae-rim with this pitiful expression. Blinking wide-eyed, Tae-rim looked at them, confused.
“Just as I thought…”
Kim Hyo-il clicked his tongue. The three of them came in, sat down, and stared at Tae-rim with a look of genuine sympathy.
“What’s up? Did something happen?”
Tae-rim played dumb with a straight face, but Yoon Ye-rin just clicked her tongue as well.
“I don’t think there’s anyone else as tragically lacking a private life as you.”
“Huh?”
“I saw you and Esper Seon Juho on the way to work… He was glowing, literally glowing…”
“……”
Tae-rim had gotten so used to Seon Juho’s looks that he just assumed the man had gone through yet another visual upgrade. But glowing? He’d gone beyond radiant?!
“No one’s saying anything out loud, but…”
Tae-rim buried his face in his hands. He shouldn’t have wasted energy trying to hide his physical pain. He should’ve found a way to eliminate that bastard Seon Juho’s out-of-control good looks. The whole thing made him feel hopeless.
“But it’s not just Seon Juho Esper’s fault. You kept grabbing your back the whole time—you made it even more obvious.”
“M-Me?”
“…How much does it hurt that you don’t even notice you’re doing it?”
“Even the way you’re sitting right now—it’s totally unnatural. Anyone would think your back’s killing you.”
Tae-rim could feel his face start to burn.
“Did you at least put on a patch?”
“…Yeah…”
“If it’s still bad, go to the infirmary and get a painkiller injection. That stuff works like magic.”
“Ughhh…”
Tae-rim squirmed in his seat. By now, the entire Center probably knew. He really hadn’t wanted anyone to find out about this. Just the thought that everyone knew made him want to crawl into a hole and die.
“But hey, you’re not the only one everyone’s talking about. So don’t worry.”
“What?”
“Esper Kwon Hae-beom, uh… apparently he was using illegal esper-targeted drugs over the weekend. Got transferred to the infirmary, and it was a whole damn scene.”
“What?!”
Tae-rim, who’d been holed up at home all weekend, was hearing this for the first time. He didn’t check the bulletin board either, so he really had no clue.
“I haven’t heard anything about him being released yet, so I think he’s still stuck in there. And Guide Lee Hae-il didn’t show up today either, so he’s probably with him.”
Tae-rim had heard about those esper-specific drugs before—ones that could suppress someone’s Awakening and allow narcotics to actually affect them while the drug was in their system. Kwon Hae-beom must’ve gotten his hands on some during an investigation. If this had been premeditated, the disciplinary action would be even harsher. It was concerning.
“He’s not going out on fieldwork either, right? So they’re saying the punishment might be pretty severe.”
Since Espers were considered national defense assets, disciplinary actions rarely went beyond docking pay or maybe forced volunteer fieldwork. But Kwon Hae-beom was currently on sedatives, so even forced service wasn’t an option. Which meant… he might end up in the brig.
“He’s probably headed for military detention, don’t you think?”
“Most likely…”
An S-rank Esper ending up in military jail? That was extremely rare. S-ranks were vital combat resources. Normally, they’d find a way to discipline someone while still making use of that combat power. Locking someone like that away would be a waste—unless he was some kind of bloodthirsty maniac.
But Espers, unless their Guides were involved, rarely acted out emotionally. It wasn’t in their nature to derive joy from slaughter. Which meant… if an Esper committed a crime, a Guide was always somehow involved.
That was true for Kwon Hae-beom’s situation, too. A Guide had been involved. And not just a minor injury—it was death. Which meant there was likely room for extenuating circumstances in his case. Still, it didn’t seem like he’d be able to avoid military detention. For someone mentally unstable, the brig was actually a pretty fitting punishment.
“Honestly, it’s a miracle he didn’t go into Rampage mode. A Guide died, for god’s sake…”
“He probably didn’t because of you, Tae-rim. I heard Guiding can have a sedative effect, especially when the Matching Rate is high.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. That’s why I think Esper Kwon Hae-beom might’ve been avoiding Guide Lee Hae-il. With a 99% Matching Rate, the sense of stability he felt must’ve been overwhelming. But on the flip side, I feel like that might’ve made things even harder for him. Since he’s on tranquilizers now, Guide Lee Hae-il’s the one Guiding him. And he probably hated himself for feeling so calm when he was supposed to be mourning. If it were me, I think I’d feel the same.”
Tae-rim found himself agreeing with Lee Jae-hwa’s take. It must’ve been tormenting—feeling like you weren’t truly grieving Choi Jiwoon’s death. Tae-rim thought of Seon Juho, who melted into a blissful puddle whenever he Guided him, all because it felt so good. If Seon Juho was that reactive at a 90% Match, then 99% must’ve delivered near-perfect emotional stability.
“Still, they can’t just leave him like that forever. So even if he gets sent to military detention, Guide Lee Hae-il will probably keep Guiding him…”
“Yeah, most likely.”
A brief silence fell over them until Yoon Ye-rin, sensing the mood had grown too heavy, changed the subject.
“Speaking of, did you hear Guide Bae Jieun submitted a transfer request? To District 6. I guess her partner’s over there.”
“They’ve been doing long distance for over two years, right? Maybe they’re finally talking about getting married?”
“The Esper could’ve applied for transfer to District 1 too, but I guess it didn’t work out…”
“The competition in District 1 is brutal…”
“But don’t S-rank Guides need someone to fill their spot before they can transfer?”
“Yeah. So even if she submitted the paperwork, who knows when the move’ll actually happen? Realistically, another S-rank Guide has to appear for her to transfer.”
Naturally, no district wanted to lose an S-rank Guide. So unless a new one Awakens or there’s a one-for-one swap, nothing’s going to happen. The fact that Bae Jieun hadn’t already moved suggested that the S-rank Guide in District 6 had no plans to leave.
Still, Tae-rim couldn’t help but wonder—how did she even meet an Esper from another district? Was it during a deployment? That was the part that intrigued him the most. From what he knew, S-rank Guides from District 1 almost never went on solo missions. So how had she managed to meet someone?
It brought to mind that old saying: if you’re meant to meet someone, you’ll meet them eventually. Kwon Hae-beom had somehow met Lee Hae-il—someone he might never have known otherwise. If that hostage situation at the airport hadn’t happened, Lee Hae-il might’ve lived his entire life never knowing he was a Guide.
“I wonder if her partner’s S-rank too…”
“Probably. When it comes to Espers, maybe not, but it’s pretty rare for a Guide—especially an S-rank—to date a lower-ranked Esper. And they almost never Guide anyone outside their own rank.”
Technically, if the Matching Rate aligned, a Guide could work with an Esper of any rank. But in practice, S-rank Guides were expected to prioritize S-rank Espers on missions. That unofficial rule meant lower-ranked Espers didn’t even bother asking for Guidance from S-ranks.
Maybe someone like Lee Yeong-jun or Bae Jieun had one or two non-S-rank cases, but Tae-rim had none. Ever since Seon Juho’s Incomplete Imprint came to light, Tae-rim’s profile had been updated to accept Guidance requests from any rank. But not a single lower-ranked Esper had ever submitted one. None in his records either.
“Actually, I’ve been wondering… why don’t I get any Guiding requests from non–S-rank Espers?”
“Because it’s intimidating to come to your private Guiding room.”
“Ah…”
“Even Guide Lee Yeong-jun and Guide Bae Jieun pretty much only work with S-ranks, right? That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”
“Unless they’re literally the only Guide available with a high Matching Rate, I doubt anyone would even try to come.”
“Is it that intimidating?”
“Well, think about it. They’re probably hyper-aware of how they’ll look to the S-rank Espers. That’s gotta be the biggest reason. There’s so few S-rank Guides, and even if they don’t say anything, the competition among S-rank Espers is intense. What non–S-rank Esper would willingly throw themselves into that pit?”
No one, obviously. It’d be like a shrimp caught in the middle of a whale fight.
“I had a lot of fun when I was working with Team 5… but I guess that kind of opportunity won’t come again.”
“Fun? Didn’t you get sexually harassed all the time back then? You even filed reports against some of those Espers, and you’re calling that fun?”
“Ah… I mean, thinking back, it was kind of fun unraveling their Wavelengths. It was good practice.”
The three of them stared at Tae-rim, utterly baffled. Tae-rim stared back at them like, What? Why are you looking at me like that?
