“What are you doing this weekend?”
“Nothing, really…”
“Then hang out with me.”
Ho-eun forced a bright smile, swallowing his anger. Honestly, it wasn’t a situation that made him want to smile—but he did it anyway, just to put Do In-ho at ease.
Because he’d come to accept the fact that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t be enough to change the mind of someone who’d been told since birth that their life only had meaning if it ended in death.
Still, Ho-eun wanted to save him. But he couldn’t give In-ho a reason to live—that wasn’t his place. The desire to live had to come from Do In-ho himself.
Maybe if he experienced more—if he learned to share his pain with others—he’d begin to change.
The first hurdle—roping In-ho into being his Guiding practicum partner—had been cleared. The next challenge was pulling him out of the well he’d been trapped in for so long.
“Ho-eun… do you usually… care this much about people?”
Do In-ho, who had quietly listened to the proposal, asked in a flat voice. His sharp features and stony expression naturally gave off an intimidating aura, but the way he stammered made him seem anything but scary.
“Not really. I mean… it’s just—this happened because of me, right? I’m the kind of guy who can’t stand being in someone’s debt. So I figured I should at least try to repay it.”
“If it’s about the disciplinary punishment, you don’t need to worry.”
“Wait, what? No, no—people shouldn’t just live taking hit after hit like that. You’re twenty, right? That’s the age when life’s supposed to be fun! Go see what people your age are doing out in the world. Anyway, it’s settled. You’re hanging out with me this weekend!”
He looked like a strawberry from last week. Seeing Ho-eun’s face turn red, In-ho couldn’t help but be reminded of the fruit. His expression looked like it was about to burst. Slowly, In-ho nodded twice.
He didn’t really understand what Ho-eun was saying—but being with him didn’t feel bad. Unless Ho-eun ended up regretting their time together later, it might be okay.
“Alright! No backing out!”
Do In-ho silently watched Ho-eun, who was beaming with joy.
So I can make someone smile like that.
Other people always wore annoyed expressions around him. Disgust, contempt—if he was lucky, a look of bland indifference. But this man kept smiling.
Looking at Kwon Ho-eun’s face made his palms itch.
“Were you always this…”
—Beep-beep.
A call signal cut him off. Do In-ho shut his mouth. He’d almost said something useless. Who Ho-eun smiled for had nothing to do with him. In-ho’s lips pressed into a flat line.
He left quickly, as if he’d never meant to say anything.
What a strange guy…
Ho-eun stared at the empty space Do In-ho left behind for a moment, then returned to his dorm.
***
Opening the door, he was met with the thick summer heat. Something felt off.
As he entered the living room, there was Hosoo, stretched out on the sofa, yawning and waving lazily.
“What are you doing?”
“Can’t you tell? Lying down.”
“No, I mean…”
Ho-eun started to explain what was wrong with that, but stopped. What’s the point? You can’t reason with that guy anyway. It’d be a waste of breath.
Hosoo chuckled at the way Ho-eun’s expressions shifted moment to moment.
“You really need to work on your poker face.”
“…Sorry?”
“I’m just here to update your Guide Watch.”
“Update?”
“Yeah. Intern Guide Watches can’t read Esper guiding percentages, but I’ve added that function to yours. From now on, you’ll be able to see Do In-ho’s guiding level.”
“Oh…”
“Keep him at around 20% with Broadcast Guiding as a baseline. If he gets assigned a mission, top him off with at least 50% via Direct Guiding. Judging by how they’re trying to trigger his Overload early, I wouldn’t be surprised if the missions are rigged too.”
“Do you think I can really reach 50% with Direct Guiding?”
“That’s assuming your max capacity.”
Hosoo slowly licked his lower lip. Ho-eun didn’t know his 1st measurement result had been 108%. The Guide Watch was sitting in Ho-eun’s room—he could’ve told him, but he didn’t want to.
Ordinary Guides wouldn’t be able to handle Do In-ho. But based on what he saw during their previous Guiding session, and Ho-eun’s measurement score, it should be possible—at least in theory. His output was high enough to manage Do In-ho.
The only question now was: how well could Ho-eun use that potential?
Even though his body was hidden under his clothes, Ho-eun’s physique looked decently solid. You could tell, even without seeing it directly, that it had been maintained for years.
Did he play sports as a kid? If I stripped him down, I bet the muscle tone would be impressive.
Hosoo stood and approached, pressing his hands to Ho-eun’s chest, arms, and thighs, admiring them without hesitation.
“W-what are you doing?!”
“Touching your body.”
“No, I mean—not like that—!”
“Well, we’ll find out during the physical test tomorrow anyway.”
Hosoo smiled again—on the surface, it looked sweet. But to Ho-eun, who had seen the devil lurking behind that smile, it was anything but friendly.
Hosoo pointed toward Ho-eun’s room, telling him the Guide Watch was in there. When he turned to leave without another word, Ho-eun instinctively grabbed his arm.
“Wait. Just answer one question before you go.”
“What?”
“You said you have an obligation to collect Do In-ho’s Ability Core, right?”
“Yup.”
“Then… if I stop him from Overloading—if I help him survive… what happens to the Core?”
“There’s no way to collect it unless he Overloads. But tell me—can you stop him from Overloading for the rest of his life?”
“…For the rest of his life?”
“Espers and Overload go hand-in-hand. You keep him alive, you’d have to stay by his side till the day he dies. I told you already—those with Crystal Implants burn through guiding energy like crazy. Can you really shoulder that for a lifetime?”
“I…”
“That’s why you don’t pity Espers lightly. You have no idea how heavy that weight really is.”
Hosoo’s voice was weary as he said that. But in the next second, he flashed his usual smirk and yanked his arm free.
“Go on. Use that tiny little brain of yours and think real hard.”
He stuck out his tongue teasingly, brushed his wing-shaped earring, and vanished like the wind.
“A lifetime, huh…”
It’s like stopping a child from wandering into traffic. Like holding an umbrella over someone standing in the rain. Like helping someone pick up what they dropped.
The kindness Ho-eun had offered until now had always been light. Momentary.
It’s easy to be kind. Offering help was never a hard thing. From a young age, he was taught—at home, at school—that helping those in need was just the right thing to do.
Wanting to save Do In-ho was just another small kindness. Like Hosoo said, it didn’t carry any real weight. Right now, there was someone in front of him who was about to die—so he was charging ahead like a racehorse with blinders on.
He went to his room, picked up the Guide Watch lying on his bed, and checked the updated interface. A new shield-shaped app had appeared. When he tapped it, a name and number popped up:
Do In-ho – Guiding Level: 21%.
This isn’t a game. It’s not like raising that number to 100 means you win.
He strapped the Guide Watch to his wrist. Normally, he barely noticed its weight. But today—it felt like a shackle.
***
Day Two of Practicum Training.
The three interns met up outside the building and entered together. A staff member checked their IDs and handed each of them a shopping bag—time to change into training uniforms for the physical assessment.
The changing rooms were divided by gender, located down the right-hand hallway on the first floor. They each took their bags and headed off.
The uniforms were simple: black short-sleeved T-shirts and high-waisted, snug-fitting pants with an elastic waistband. Both the top and bottom bore the letter “G.” The sneakers were white with sky-blue accents. They fit perfectly—comfortable and snug.
After changing and neatly stashing their clothes in lockers, the three regrouped. Kim Se-hee had already changed and was waiting.
They headed to the practice field behind the building—artificial turf stretched across the training ground. After some light stretching and warmups, Hosoo finally arrived, ten minutes late, walking at a snail’s pace.
“Looks like you already warmed up. Let’s follow the order listed on the test guide.”
Just like the day before, Hosoo only said what he needed to say and nothing more. Ho-eun took out the printed test sheet he’d brought along just in case.
[1.5km Run – Sit-ups – Push-ups – Pull-ups]
First up was the 1.5km run. Hosoo, now wearing sunglasses that covered half his face, blew the whistle and started the stopwatch.
At the sound of the whistle, Ho-eun shot forward. He overtook Ryu Yoon-jae in seconds and pulled into the lead. His speed was insane—and his breathing didn’t even falter.
Watching his back as they ran, the other two were stunned. They had no idea Ho-eun was this fast.
“Kwon Ho-eun: 3 minutes. Ryu Yoon-jae: 6 minutes, 15 seconds. Kim Se-hee: 7 minutes, 30 seconds.”
After the run, they moved on to sit-ups, push-ups, and pull-ups in order. Though short breaks were given between exercises, the scorching summer sun took its toll. The black uniforms didn’t help—soaking in the heat, they quickly became drenched in sweat.
The only one still holding up was Ho-eun. It was almost like he was in a different environment altogether—barely sweating, barely showing signs of fatigue.
He breezed through 100 sit-ups in one minute. At this point, he didn’t seem human.
Ryu Yoon-jae prided himself on his stamina—he worked on a farm, after all—but even he was floored. Ho-eun’s endurance was on another level entirely.
Finally, the long, grueling physical assessment came to an end. As a reward, Hosoo handed each of them an ice-cold water bottle.
“That’s it for the morning. You’ve got a two-hour break. Clean yourselves up and meet back at the training hall.”
Without another word, Hosoo disappeared again.
Ho-eun found himself wondering seriously—Does that guy ever use his legs like a normal person?
Clicking his tongue internally, he returned to the locker room with Ryu Yoon-jae.
