# Chapter 17
Even though this body was B-class and they were S-class ability users so the guiding might not have been sufficient, and although he hadn’t provided guiding lately… Still, they had previously received guiding regularly and were among the few Espers in a proper Guide’s “my,” so he hadn’t realized it was this serious.
He quickly moved his fingers to search through his phone’s call history. No matter how awful they might be as human beings, he didn’t want them to die, so he intended to contact them immediately to offer at least basic guiding. Or perhaps direct them to go to the Center for machine guiding.
“Ah…”
He’d forgotten. That he didn’t have their phone numbers.
That this relationship was abnormal.
Ko Eungyo clutched his head and groaned with a pained sound. There was no solution. Nothing but to wait until next Monday.
When he didn’t know, he didn’t know, but now that he was aware, he couldn’t ignore it. If things continued like this, Woo Sihyun and Lee Seungwoo would have to endure massive physical and mental damage.
Surely they weren’t waiting for that? Were they trying to find fault with Ko Eungyo to escape from “my”? But, for their matching rate…
‘This is just going in circles anyway.’
The Center had created a system that unconditionally guaranteed guiding from Espers with a matching rate above a certain threshold, specifically for Espers with excessively low matching rates.
He could somewhat guess why Ko Eungyo had easily put them in his “my.” But was Ko Eungyo that lucky? Surely, Ko Eungyo hadn’t manipulated the matching results using his connections?
If so, he needed to find a solution as quickly as possible. He needed to find the right Guide for them.
With his thoughts becoming more complicated, he overslept. As soon as he woke up, Ko Eungyo rushed to the school as quickly as possible.
And there…
“Ha.”
“Professor… good morning.”
He felt a sense of déjà vu. Nam Seonjae sitting at the front of the classroom with an awkward smile, and an empty classroom.
Having only roughly dried his hair before rushing out, his bangs had fallen down over his forehead. He sighed lightly while fiddling with his hair.
Nam Seonjae, who had been cautiously observing Ko Eungyo, quickly grinned when Ko Eungyo looked at him.
“What’s going on today? Seonjae.”
“Um… the festival. The festival starts today. So everyone went to prepare…”
“From Monday’s first period?”
“…Well, I guess there was a lot to prepare.”
So this meant it was another group boycott. Of course, today’s presenters were also nowhere to be seen. Since they didn’t present, their assignment score would be 0. He didn’t even snort in derision.
Somehow, he now understood why Lee Seungwoo had agreed so readily back then. They had planned to skip the presentation from the beginning.
These-absolute-lunatics.
The resolve he’d barely maintained to fulfill his minimum duty as a Guide disappeared in an instant. He spoke in a cold voice:
“Alright. You should go too, Seonjae. You should enjoy your time.”
“Um, Professor.”
If this could be called experience, he wasn’t as flustered as when it first happened to him. As he was about to leave the classroom, Nam Seonjae called out to him from behind. When he turned his head, he could see Nam Seonjae looking quite distressed.
Good kid. He was worried about him. He was concerned that Ko Eungyo might be hurt from having his lecture rejected. Realizing this, his rigid mood softened a bit.
He added in a more relaxed voice:
“It’s fine, I’ll see you next time.”
He had already marked absences for those who skipped the first day. This time was no different. Though the grades were on a curve so it wouldn’t make much difference, the assignment scores were another matter.
This was a failing grade.
Woo Sihyun and Lee Seungwoo wouldn’t be able to graduate after finishing this semester.
Well, if they got perfect scores on both the midterm and final exams, they might narrowly avoid failing.
“Ah, um, Professor…!”
Of course, whether they got a D- or an F was none of Ko Eungyo’s concern. He stood in place and repeatedly told Nam Seonjae that it was fine.
“But still…”
“I said it’s fine. Go on.”
Nam Seonjae continued to fidget and whine like a dog needing to pee, but he couldn’t say anything more in the face of Ko Eungyo’s firm attitude.
Back in his office, Ko Eungyo processed attendance mechanically.
Just then, there was a knock on the partition.
“Professor Ko Eungyo?”
“Ah, yes. That’s me.”
When he looked up, there was a middle-aged man who appeared quite senior standing in front of the partition.
“I’m Professor Shin Jeongcheol, department head of the Special Department.”
“Ah, yes…”
What business would the department head have here?
He rose from his seat in surprise. Generally, tenured professors have their own offices. That meant he had no reason to be in this building. It seemed… he had come specifically to see him.
The department head glanced around the office once with his hands behind his back, then looked at Ko Eungyo.
“I understand that our Special Department students are under your care, but as you know, the students are busy with the festival. You know how much our kids have to do. But I heard your class this week isn’t canceled?”
“Ah… yes.”
“Don’t be too strict during the festival, hmm?”
“…”
He didn’t know how to respond. Ko Eungyo looked at the department head with an indescribable expression. Did that mean all other courses were canceled during this period?
He unconsciously asked what he was thinking:
“Are all other courses canceled?”
It would have been good to know what other courses were doing in advance. He even learned about today’s festival from Nam Seonjae. It had been quite some time since he graduated from college, so he couldn’t remember whether classes were held on festival days or not, and since no one had informed him in advance that today was a festival, he couldn’t have prepared a response even if he wanted to.
The department head cleared his throat.
“Well, there are some courses that aren’t major requirements. Those courses are so important… Professor Ko should know. That there are important courses for students, and courses that aren’t. I heard you’re from the Center Guide background?”
Whether he didn’t like his question or for some other reason, the department head frowned as he spoke. He seemed displeased that Ko Eungyo wasn’t immediately complying. He couldn’t answer right away. But…
But wasn’t it a bit inappropriate to say some courses are important and others aren’t right in front of a professor of a “not important” course?
He responded, hoping to sound as respectful as possible:
“My class is a presentation course, so if presenters miss the class, I can’t give them assignment scores. In that case, I won’t check attendance for students other than the presenters.”
Though he offered a compromise, the department head’s expression hardened even more. Silence fell for a moment.
The department head looked around the office once more. Then, taking a step back from him, he said:
“Well, since you’re the one teaching the class, I can’t tell you what to do.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you for understanding…”
“Must be because you’re a part-time lecturer.”
With that, the department head clicked his tongue, turned around, and left. He blinked, remaining seated quietly.
“…”
Until now, he had never heard remarks that disrespected him. To be precise, during his rookie days, he had considered it a natural part of the learning process when seniors pushed him around, and he had never felt humiliated or reproached himself for doing something beyond his station.
After all, if he learned more and worked harder, he would become as proficient as his seniors, and then he would properly establish himself as a member of this society.
Most people who met him acknowledged his efforts. Those who didn’t were individuals who weren’t proper humans themselves and couldn’t exert any influence over him. People who rode on the back of power, people who didn’t consider others’ efforts and felt envious of others’ achievements, were particularly like that. Yet even such people gave a minimum level of acknowledgment when dealing with Jang Iju.
What kind of life had Ko Eungyo lived? No, was this really Ko Eungyo’s fault?
With a reddened face, as he changed the attendance records, he felt a sense of injustice and embarrassment. Perhaps it was because of the glances, both knowing and unknowing, from the few professors, teaching assistants, and students who were in and out of the shared office while preparing for classes. They would all have heard what the department head said to Ko Eungyo.
As he changed all the absences of students who skipped class using the festival as an excuse to attendance, he wondered if this was really the right thing to do, but eventually shook his head vigorously.
It had been his own decision to rewrite the lecture plan from the beginning. Sharing feedback with students, providing presentation leading, and being ambitious about a class that wasn’t his own—all were decisions he had made himself, not anyone else.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
