“I’ve never even heard of a power like this before.”
Cha Eun-hyuk muttered through clenched teeth. As Shim Tae-seong glared menacingly at the unvanishing window, a fleeting memory of his past brushed through his mind.
“……He’s probably an Esper hiding his abilities.”
“We’ll dig into his motives once we find him.”
Joo Cheong-gyeong responded coolly, his face devoid of expression.
“We just need to investigate every suspicious Esper thoroughly.”
“We might have to expand the search overseas. That would take way too long.”
Cha Eun-hyuk pointed out the steadily ticking time limit. It wasn’t impossible, of course, if they plotted the most efficient course. Silently, he began calculating in his head.
Whether it was the government, foreign powers, or some unknown secret organization—if someone knew Cha Eun-soo that well, he had to be either an Esper hidden away by those in the know, or one acting entirely on his own. It would be fastest if he and Jang Hee-gang handled the domestic search, while Shim Tae-seong and Joo Cheong-gyeong took the overseas leads, starting with institutions whose locations were already confirmed.
Just as they all remained silent, each lost in their own strategy—
Jang Hee-gang broke the grim stillness with a cold edge.
“My ability doesn’t work.”
All eyes snapped to Jang Hee-gang. He slapped his thigh in frustration and shook his head in disbelief.
They’d only just realized it now. Clearly, even he had been too rattled by the sudden chaos surrounding Cha Eun-soo to process things properly.
“If my power doesn’t work, then these windows weren’t created by an Esper’s ability.”
“……!”
The eyes of the other three widened. If Jang Hee-gang’s nullification ability wasn’t taking effect, then the source definitely wasn’t an Esper.
Shim Tae-seong spoke with a stiff expression.
“Then what the hell is it……?”
Suddenly, he recalled the text that had popped up when the windows appeared—a notification that a quest had begun.
It felt eerily like an order handed down by a superior, godlike authority.
…No way.
“We encountered something called the System. It’s basically… like a god in each world.”
Cha Eun-soo’s whispered words surfaced in his memory. A being that looked down on humans, doing whatever it pleased. Perhaps…
An eerie, inexplicable unease furrowed his brow.
“……The System?”
Joo Cheong-gyeong muttered icily. The way everyone’s thoughts aligned made it clear—they were all arriving at the same conclusion.
“At first, I thought it was on our side, but now I’m not so sure.”
“……”
“Again today, they’re toying with Eun-soo’s life.”
They had no way of knowing what that mysterious entity truly wanted, or why it kept making such outrageous demands. The content of the quest itself was absurd and completely out of the blue. Asking powerful individuals capable of taking down monsters solo to suddenly participate in a group guiding practice? And worse, the way it seemed deliberately designed to force physical intimacy with Cha Eun-soo…
Of course, even unlikely scenarios couldn’t be dismissed outright. If monsters far stronger than those they’d faced so far were to appear simultaneously, their resonance patterns could spiral out of control on the same day, in the same hour. Since no one could predict the future, there was no way to say with certainty that such a thing couldn’t happen.
But even if that moment did come, no one would willingly demand Cha Eun-soo’s guidance all at once. They all knew full well that even handling a single person was more than Eun-soo could bear. Having several S-rank Espers, especially in their worst states, descending on him would be the same as trying to kill their guide. The same went for lower-ranked Espers and Guides alike.
So the so-called “rehearsal” the quest demanded held no real meaning for anyone here. It was nothing more than a thinly veiled, explicit order: all five of them were to engage in physical relations with him—together.
“So what should we do then.”
Jang Hee-gang broke the silence.
“The answer’s already obvious, isn’t it?”
“…”
“The effect is clear, and we can’t cancel it. And not a single one of us here is the type to sit back and wait to pay the price for disobedience.”
Even if it left a bitter taste, there was no choice but to obey this invisible presence. No matter how disgusting or humiliating it was, if it meant protecting Cha Eun-soo, they had to go through with it—without a single complaint.
“Still, if Eun-soo doesn’t want it, we can’t do it.”
Cha Eun-hyuk stated firmly. When Shim Tae-seong gave a slow nod in agreement, Joo Cheong-gyeong let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Is this really the time to be setting conditions? Even if Eun-soo says no…”
And uncharacteristically, he let the sentence trail off.
He, too, didn’t want to force himself on Cha Eun-soo again. All the effort he’d made to stop being the one who hurt him—carefully, over time—would be undone in an instant.
Even Jang Hee-gang, who had been slowly chipping away at Eun-soo’s gentle nature with time and patience, didn’t rush to argue Cha Eun-hyuk’s point. Instead, he offered his own opinion.
“If we try to explain everything that’s going on and try to convince him, it might backfire. Even if he gets past the disbelief, the shame alone could make him refuse.”
In the end, what he was saying was: even if Cha Eun-soo refused, they might have no choice but to go through with it.
Cha Eun-hyuk didn’t deny it. He turned toward the bedroom he’d been avoiding until now.
From beyond the door, the faint sound of Cha Eun-soo’s peaceful breathing reached them—still sound asleep, unaware of what was coming.
***
When he first checked the recommended quest that Blue had written, the only thing that came out of his mouth was a string of curses. Like hell—who the fuck does this bastard think he is, deciding whether I lose lifespan or not?
…But then he found out it was just one second.
Even if he failed the quest, he’d only lose a single second of his life.
Still, the quest window had purposely omitted that detail, making it seem far more threatening to the reader. A deliberate choice, clearly meant to give the impression of a harsher penalty.
And honestly, that tactic seemed pretty effective. If the failure consequence had nothing to do with him personally, people would probably react with indifference.
Blue was a damn clever assistant.
After sending out the recommendation quest to the S-ranks out of sheer curiosity, he’d planned to watch their reactions—only to pass out from the overwhelming fatigue. Just collapsed, like a light switch flipping off. Fuck’s sake. It’s not like he did anything world-shattering—just used a bit of divine authority, and he was down for the count.
When morning came and he finally opened his eyes, he stepped off the bed with an empty, hollow feeling.
“You’re awake.”
After washing up and leaving the room, he was greeted by Shim Tae-seong. Wearing an apron, Tae-seong was setting dishes on the table. He blinked in mild surprise—this guy rarely skipped work even one day, let alone two in a row.
“You’re not going out today either, Hyung?”
“No.”
It wasn’t just Shim Tae-seong—every one of the S-ranks was home. Pretending not to notice, he nodded and stepped closer to the table. Then, his mouth fell open belatedly at the sight laid out before him.
They usually set the table nicely, but this—this was more extravagant than any buffet. And considering how he usually ate light in the mornings, breakfast was typically on the simpler side…
He glanced back and forth between the table and Shim Tae-seong.
“Wait… is it someone’s special day or something…?”
The question came with an instinctive hint of suspicion. After all, he’d been watching these Espers butt heads and throw daggers with their eyes every single day. There was no way in hell they’d sit at the same table to celebrate someone’s birthday.
But even knowing that, he couldn’t help asking, reflexively, with a puzzled expression. And then he faltered.
He already knew the birthdays of both Hyung and Shim Tae-seong. Which meant if it was a birthday, it had to be one of the other two…
He reached out and absently brushed the back of a chair. Even though they always tried to keep things strictly professional outside of guiding sessions, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere—like they were being oddly attentive.
Noticing the conflicted look on his face, Shim Tae-seong quickly spoke up.
“It’s nothing like that. I just ended up making a little more than usual while cooking.”
“Ah… okay…”
“Just eat what you like.”
With careful hands, Tae-seong guided him into the chair. He automatically picked up his chopsticks, hesitating. …This is way too much. I’m definitely going to leave leftovers—I can already feel the guilt. And most of this food isn’t the kind you can just pack up and store away, which made it all the more overwhelming.
He had a rough idea why they were all trying to feed him so well.
…Thanks for the food, Tae-seong Hyung. But really, I can prepare my own meals. It’s your day off—please take a break. You didn’t even get to rest properly yesterday because of me.
I hadn’t asked him to follow me around, but thanks to him, I could get to and from my destination comfortably—so of course, I felt grateful.
“It’s nothing. I don’t mind.”
That was his second “It’s nothing.” Shim Tae-seong’s expression was unusually stiff as he opened and closed his mouth once.
He clearly wanted to say something, but couldn’t bring himself to. His gaze drifted vaguely toward the air, like he was checking the quest window.
Actually, I can see that thing too.
“Young Master.”
At last, he called me with a hint of anxious urgency in his voice. I lifted my head and looked at Shim Tae-seong. Even though he’d prepared the entire meal himself, he hadn’t taken a single bite. I could understand the unease—there was a time limit hanging over us.
“Yeah?”
“…”
He called out to me, but said nothing.
I started to tense up. Don’t tell me he’s about to spill everything and try to convince me we all have to fuck now. That would be… a bit much. I mean, I’ve always been fair with guiding, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to leap into something like that with open arms. Being shocked would be the normal response here.
It was sweet of him to want to be honest with me, sure—but honestly, I’d rather he just did it. That would at least make it a little more thrilling.
“……Never mind.”
Thankfully, Shim Tae-seong closed his mouth again. I stared at him curiously, but didn’t press. Instead, I quietly continued eating.
So when is it going to happen?
