It took a while before Cha Eun-soo fully processed the news—Seo Junho was hovering between life and death. He’d been caught in a monster attack, left with severe injuries and poisoned. Compared to the other victims, it seemed he’d managed to hold on longer. Cha Eun-soo’s hands and feet turned ice cold, and a wave of nausea began churning in his stomach.
“Young Master?”
Shim Tae-seong, who had been walking out of the kitchen, called out to him. He must have been startled by the pallor draining from Cha Eun-soo’s face. In an instant, he rushed over and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Are you alright? Feeling sick…?”
“…Bodyguard-nim.”
Shim Tae-seong followed Cha Eun-soo’s gaze to the screen. He quickly assessed the situation and fell silent. He probably remembered Seo Junho’s face too—he’d accompanied them to the birthday party, after all. Cha Eun-soo grabbed his forearm.
“He looks seriously hurt.”
“…”
“They said… he might die.”
Calm down. Why am I so shaken?
“Could I… just go see him? Just to see his face?”
After all, Seo Junho had been around since childhood, ever since Cha Eun-soo was reborn into this life. He’d built relationships with many people, but among them, Seo Junho was one of the rare few he could clearly define as a friend—without hesitation. If that friend’s life was in danger, of course he wanted to see him while he was still alive.
Shim Tae-seong stayed silent for a long moment, as if carefully choosing his words.
“You know, don’t you? He doesn’t remember you.”
Cha Eun-soo stared blankly at Shim Tae-seong’s cautious response.
“And he’s probably not in any state to hold a conversation.”
“…That’s why.”
Cha Eun-soo bowed his head deeply.
“I just… want to hold his hand. Just once.”
His eyes burned with heat, filled with the sorrow he barely held back.
“Bodyguard-nim…”
He wanted to pour out every plea in the world, but his throat tightened, leaving him able to do nothing more than call out softly—almost as if to say, Please… Whether it meant letting him go or lending him his strength, he was asking Shim Tae-seong to help him reach Seo Junho, one way or another.
He looked up. Shim Tae-seong stood frozen like a statue, staring straight at him. His face contorted with the pain of someone who wanted to say yes but had no choice but to refuse. That clarity—how firm his rejection was—hit Cha Eun-soo like a splash of ice water.
Logically speaking, it wasn’t unreasonable. The last time he helped him get to Jang Hee-gang, they ended up separated. Maybe he’d developed some trauma about helping him go somewhere again. Or maybe he just didn’t want to expose him to the outside world—not when there was always the chance of danger.
Still, wouldn’t it be fine just to visit? Avoiding other people’s eyes would be nothing for him. I didn’t leave you guys on purpose, you know? Can’t we just be a little freer about this? Just this once?
Chaotic, anxious thoughts tangled in his mind, throwing everything into disarray. But the words Cha Eun-soo had been desperately hoping for never left Shim Tae-seong’s mouth.
“…I can’t allow it.”
“…!”
“I’m sorry.”
This apology bot…
Already floundering in shock, he felt the added weight of despair settle in. His expression twisted in frustration. Fuck, this is suffocating.
“Before I brought you here, Young Master, I had nightmares every single night.”
Shim Tae-seong spoke as if he were about to drop to his knees. Cha Eun-soo flinched.
“Now, I want to protect you completely.”
The large hands that had been holding his shoulders slid down and gently took his hands. Shim Tae-seong lowered his face and pressed it against the cold back of Cha Eun-soo’s hand.
You just want to keep me locked away.
Even as he delivered an unwavering refusal, his posture was so low it seemed designed to stir pity. Just when Cha Eun-soo thought he’d melted a fragment of his heart, it felt like Shim Tae-seong was afraid of being hated. In those trembling eyes and tightly pressed lips, he saw sorrow and unease that rivaled his own.
With the fog in his mind beginning to lift, Cha Eun-soo looked down at Shim Tae-seong.
…Yeah. What could I even do if I went to Seo Junho? He might not even be conscious. All I’d be doing is whispering desperate nonsense at someone who can’t even hear me. It’s not like I can use any of my powers right now anyway.
Seriously, what the hell kind of adjustment period takes this long? I can’t even use this shit when it counts. So fucking useless.
He closed his eyes tight, trying to quell the bubbling anger inside him, and just as he opened them again—
Ding!
[System synchronization complete]
[Auxiliary system activated. Communication available per Administrator’s intent.]
…Huh?
His eyes widened as he stared at the window floating above Shim Tae-seong’s head.
His hand instinctively tightened, making Shim Tae-seong lift his head. Cha Eun-soo hastily composed his expression and cast his eyes downward.
“Sorry, but… I want to be alone right now.”
Shim Tae-seong hesitated, then slowly let go of his hand. He looked like a drooping bear, and part of Cha Eun-soo felt bad—but there were more urgent things to focus on now.
He left Shim Tae-seong behind and stepped into the bedroom. The floating window flickered, repositioning itself in front of him.
‘Administrator’ probably refers to me… And it says I can communicate with this ‘auxiliary system’ according to my will?
No sooner had he formed the thought than a dry, mechanical voice rang out.
[Welcome, new Administrator.]
It didn’t sound like something coming from outside—it felt like it was echoing inside his head. A strange sensation. The newly generated window displayed the content of the voice that had just spoken.
[I am ‘Blue’, the auxiliary system designed to help the Administrator use his Authority efficiently.]
So it even had a name. Cha Eun-soo crossed his arms and tapped his elbow.
Helping me use it efficiently—what exactly does that mean, and how?
[I carry out the commands issued by the Administrator.]
…It didn’t seem inclined to give long explanations. Well, that made sense. Some things had to be experienced firsthand. Glancing between the floating message and the door, he pointed toward the doorknob. Lock it.
Click.
No verbal response, but the door locked.
“…”
Even though he was the one who gave the command, something about it gave him the chills.
No, no. This is a good thing. It’s like I just got a highly capable, all-purpose secretary. I give instructions directly through thought using this medium, and the power executes—simple, efficient.
But then he remembered—the system had warned that he had very little Authority left. Even if it allowed for a broad range of powerful abilities, what if he didn’t have enough left to heal Seo Junho? Saving someone who’s on the verge of death had to come with a heavy penalty, didn’t it…?
[The scope and limitations of Authority use are determined by your capacity as Administrator—in other words, by the amount of Authority you currently possess.]
[To fully heal ‘Seo Junho’ in his current condition would require 1,968,351,472 repetitions. All of your currently held Authority would be consumed.]
It sounded almost like it was telling him not to worry—there would be no issue.
Cha Eun-soo let out a sigh of relief. Then excitement surged in his chest as the reality hit—he could save Seo Junho. The urgency swelled. Forget hiding or debating the risk of being seen—he had only one goal now: get to Seo Junho and heal him.
[Would you like to move to Seo Junho’s location?]
…What?
The auxiliary system had read his thoughts and now posed the question in its usual flat tone.
[As Administrator, you may instantly relocate to any area within your jurisdiction.]
“……!”
***
Shim Tae-seong sat alone on the sofa, his forehead resting against a clenched fist. The way he’d told Cha Eun-soo—right to his face—that he understood his worry for an old friend but still wouldn’t grant him even the slightest freedom… even to himself, it felt inhuman in retrospect. He had no right to judge other espers.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine how heartbroken and disappointed Cha Eun-soo must’ve been. Since going into the room, claiming he needed to be alone, he had been completely silent. With his senses dulled after a full guiding session the day before, Shim Tae-seong thought perhaps Cha Eun-soo had fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be unusual—when overwhelmed by stress, Cha Eun-soo sometimes escaped into sleep.
“Hoo…”
A long sigh escaped from his tightly sealed lips. Even with his wavelength in perfect sync, his head throbbed. He shouldn’t have brought up nightmares and other pathetic things like that.
But still—he swore it hadn’t been a lie. Every time he managed to drift into sleep, the same nightmare would find him, making his chronic insomnia even worse. In those dreams, time was frozen on the day he last lost Cha Eun-soo.
Jang Hee-gang, right before going berserk, had been more monstrous than any actual monster in this world. Shim Tae-seong had been utterly destroyed by attacks that couldn’t be defended against in any way. Pathetic. He’d collapsed into a mangled heap, temporarily robbed of both sight and hearing—he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, nothing. And by the time those senses barely started returning, despair was already waiting for him.
Cha Eun-hyuk was on the ground, also incapacitated. Cha Eun-soo sat frozen, collapsed in place. Jang Hee-gang had begun approaching him.
It had been a horrific scene, one that branded itself into Shim Tae-seong’s mind. The only thought rampaging through his head was that he needed to get Cha Eun-soo out of there. But his thoughts and body moved far too slowly, failing to keep up with his will. All he managed was the tiniest twitch—and that was it.
That twitch hadn’t gone unnoticed. Jang Hee-gang turned toward him. And that’s when Cha Eun-soo charged him. A fragile Guide who could’ve been killed with a flick of a finger threw himself at an esper who had lost all reason, just to protect another esper. All he could do was hold him, wrap his arms around him—but that contact was Cha Eun-soo’s power in itself.
After that, Jang Hee-gang turned eerily calm, like the stillness before a storm. Cradling Cha Eun-soo in his arms, he turned his back and disappeared.
That was the moment. That was when Shim Tae-seong should’ve come to his senses. He should’ve stood up, should’ve done something. Not just reach out with a useless, trembling hand before completely blacking out.
The nightmare—the shameful past—wasn’t centered around Jang Hee-gang taking Cha Eun-soo. No, it was about himself, who had let Cha Eun-soo be taken.
And realizing that… that was the punishment he lived with. A sentence passed onto himself, for having arrogantly believed he could protect Cha Eun-soo alone.
Carried by the same gloom that weighed on Cha Eun-soo, Shim Tae-seong found himself lost in those pitch-black memories and emotions. He glanced sideways. The sky outside the window was glowing with the colors of dusk.
Rising slowly from the sofa, he quietly made his way toward Cha Eun-soo’s bedroom.
“Young Master.”
He called out gently, tapping on the door. He waited a moment, but there was no reply. Seemed like he really had fallen asleep.
Wanting to check on him once before preparing dinner, he reached for the doorknob—and froze.
The door was firmly locked.
Since the day he’d brought Cha Eun-soo here, not once had this ever happened. Shim Tae-seong’s expression hardened. A sudden sense of wrongness crawled up his spine.
Not a single sound—no faint breath, no subtle stir—came from beyond the door.
Crack!
Without hesitation, he crushed the doorknob in his grip and forced his way in.
What greeted him inside was an empty room.
Not a soul in sight.
