“Alright, I’ve made up my mind.”
Closing his laptop, Kwon Ho-eun spoke in a firm voice, his expression unusually serious.
“Let’s get revenge on their behalf. We’ll witness that Esper suspect using their ability—and if any anti-government types show up, we’ll catch them!”
“…”
“And we’ll prove that the PR Department is way better than HR!”
Looking at the determined Ho-eun, Do In-ho began to wonder if he’d been roped into one of Bae Yeon-woo’s schemes.
“Not like we have to prove that…”
But Ho-eun was already fired up with passion, letting In-ho’s words go in one ear and out the other. With a resigned shake of his head, In-ho pulled out the extra bag he’d brought from home.
“Let’s change into these, then.”
Inside the bag were a wig and a pair of glasses. Since it would’ve looked strange to wear a hat and mask over a suit, he’d ordered these in advance.
“Brown hair would stand out too much, right?”
Ho-eun took the wig without complaint. With the shaggy black wig and glasses that made his eyes look smaller, he looked so different that even the HR Department might not recognize him.
“What if they really don’t recognize us?”
Ho-eun examined himself in the mirror, awkwardly running his fingers through the black synthetic hair. It felt surprisingly realistic—almost like actual hair—and his hands kept drifting back to it.
He glanced at In-ho, who was reflected beside him in the mirror. Unlike his usual clean-cut style that exposed his nape, his hair was longer now. With horn-rimmed glasses of a different design than Ho-eun’s, In-ho’s sharp features were slightly softened.
“Still handsome, no matter what, huh.”
Unlike himself, who now looked like a total dork, In-ho remained irritatingly good-looking.
“?”
“No, just… wondering when you prepped all this.”
Their eyes met briefly in the mirror, and Ho-eun turned his head with an awkward chuckle. In-ho zipped up the bag as he replied.
“Last Saturday, actually…”
“Oh, when you were out on that field assignment with Team Lead Nam Woon-soo?”
“Yeah.”
“Which site did you visit?”
“Park Ki-hyun’s.”
At In-ho’s answer, Ho-eun pulled up Park Ki-hyun’s profile. You shouldn’t judge someone by appearances, but the photo alone—tattoos visible on his skin and a cocky gait—made him seem like trouble.
“That disguise was relatively easy. Everyone around him dresses similarly.”
Ho-eun imagined In-ho dressed like a delinquent. A few shirt buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows… even knowing the black dragon coiled around his arm was just a tattoo, meeting its eyes felt daunting.
And those pitch-black sunglasses holding back his boldly slicked-back hair…
“You got any photos?”
Blushing at whatever image he’d conjured up, Ho-eun asked sheepishly. In-ho just shook his head.
“…I see.”
Looking like his whole world had crumbled, Ho-eun reluctantly let go of In-ho’s horn-rimmed glasses after gently fiddling with them.
Once they were fully prepped, the two made their way to the address the HR Department had sent ahead of time.
***
A soft jazz tune played in the café tucked away in an alley just beyond the elementary school Han Yeo-ul attended.
Inside, the lighting was dim, with thick curtains blocking out the midday sun, making it impossible to tell what time it was outside.
Past the spacious main hall was a room partitioned in a private booth style.
“Who are you?”
As soon as Ho-eun stepped inside, Kang Him-chan eyed him warily, clearly not recognizing him.
“It’s me, Kwon Ho-eun.”
Staring closely at his face, Kang Him-chan—despite knowing it was rude—reached out and pulled the glasses off Ho-eun’s face.
“?!?”
Frozen, glasses still in hand, Him-chan was quickly met by In-ho, who took the glasses back and gently replaced them on Ho-eun’s face.
“What the hell kinda glasses are those? His eyes shrank to a third their size!”
“Let’s all just take a seat first, Him-chan.”
Paul patted a chair beside him, urging Him-chan to sit down.
“From your reaction, I’d say the disguise worked pretty well.”
Smiling sheepishly, Ho-eun sat across from them. Once everyone was seated, In-ho set the tray he’d been holding down on the table.
“Did HR not bother with disguises?”
Ho-eun asked, noting that Paul and Kang Him-chan looked the same as yesterday.
“This is all we need.”
Paul pulled out a glass bottle filled with white pills.
“Since Han Yeo-ul’s an elementary schooler, there’s only so much we can do in our adult forms.”
“So what’s that, then?”
“These pills turn you into a kid.”
Ho-eun picked up the bottle and gave it a shake. The pills rolling inside looked completely ordinary.
“Once you take one, it keeps you in child form for a few hours.”
“They were a pain to make. And because of potential side effects depending on the user, we had to go through full testing to get them approved.”
“Right! And each pill costs sixty-five million won!”
Hearing the price, Ho-eun carefully set the bottle back on the table.
“It’d be great if you could take some too, but since they’re custom-made, we’d recommend placing a separate order if needed.”
Shaking his head quickly, Ho-eun had zero interest in spending that kind of money.
“Alright then, let’s come up with a plan before school gets out.”
Paul clapped his hands, refocusing the group.
“We sent you Han Yeo-ul’s schedule. Did you get it?”
“Yes, we received it.”
Showing them the schedule, Paul pointed to her after-school plans.
“Tuesdays are English academy days. Him-chan and I are infiltrating as students there.”
“God, with all this backlog piling up, having English classes every Tuesday is killing me.”
Grumbling, Him-chan gulped down his drink.
“I didn’t think observing meant getting this up close.”
Ho-eun imagined the two sitting in a classroom with the kids.
“Abilities that are visible to the eye can be monitored from a distance. But for ones like this, especially if they’re subtle or psychological, the best chance to catch them is by getting close—posing as acquaintances.”
“Exactly. And cases where we get this close are usually only when there’s a month to five years before ability manifestation.”
“Five years? That means from age five?”
At Ho-eun’s sharp observation, Paul handed him a thick set of documents.
“Han Yeo-ul experienced her second awakening the year she turned five. She was so young, and our side assumed the likelihood of her being an Esper was low. But we started hearing rumors she was saying strange things.”
Flipping through the pages, Ho-eun saw a record, almost like a résumé, listing major life events since her birth. The repeated adoptions and relinquishments stood out.
“She was an orphan, huh.”
“Yes. Her first adoptive family returned her, claiming she spoke nonsense. The second one said she didn’t get along with the other kids at daycare and also spoke strangely.”
Running his fingers over the page marked “Returned,” Ho-eun noted the timeline—first adopted at age five, returned at six. Adopted again at seven, then returned three months later. Finally adopted by her current family at eight.
“There hadn’t been any new complaints from her current parents, so we were leaning toward her just being a kid who wanted attention—not an Esper.”
Paul placed a photo on the table. Taped to the window of a lottery shop was a sheet of A4 paper that read “1st Prize Winner.”
“This year, she won a scratch-off ticket, and soon after, rumors began circulating at school that Han Yeo-ul could predict the future.”
“Predict the future?”
“Yeah. Only a few of her peers seem to know the exact details, and they’re surprisingly tight-lipped, so we don’t have a clear picture yet.”
“Then… isn’t it more likely that she really is an Esper with future sight?”
At Ho-eun’s question, Kang Him-chan finally spoke up.
“Seventy-five percent.”
“Huh?”
“Seventy-five percent chance she isn’t an Esper.”
Paul rested his elbows on the table.
“When someone’s on the verge of awakening, their ability becomes hard to control. I once fell asleep in my bed and woke up on a park bench. Another time, I was showering and ended up in my college club room—completely naked.”
Just remembering it gave Paul the chills, and he rubbed the goosebumps on his arms.
“But Han Yeo-ul’s suspected ability is foresight. Even if she sees the future continuously, no one else would know unless she says something. And if a ten-year-old were going through that… what do you think she’d do?”
“Hmm. She probably wouldn’t realize it’s an ability. Maybe just think it’s cool and tell people?”
“Exactly. But all we’ve heard are unverified rumors and that scratch-off ticket win.”
Seeing Paul explain so earnestly made Ho-eun feel strange.
At first, he thought of him as a teleport-happy lunatic. But now he was helping with the intern practicum—and before he knew it, they were working together.
“Well, her observation window ends in about ten days. We’ll know soon enough whether she’s an Esper or not.”
Having finished his drink, the only sound from Him-chan’s cup now was air through the straw.
“Since it’s your first HR field assignment, Ho-eun, it’s probably best you just observe today.”
Paul set up the laptop on the table and connected a pair of headsets.
“We’ll share audio and video of what we see and hear during our infiltration at the academy.”
Putting on the headset like a pro, In-ho tested the sound.
“School’s letting out soon.”
Him-chan pulled out two pills—popping one himself and handing the other to Paul.
The two grabbed a change of clothes and stepped out. A few minutes later, two young kids walked into the room.
With soft, pale skin and chubby cheeks, Kang Him-chan now looked like a mischievous boy from the neighborhood. Paul, on the other hand, had such a gentle look you’d think he’d never give his parents any trouble. Even as a kid, his arms and legs were surprisingly long.
“Wow! That’s an actual transformation!”
Ho-eun instinctively reached out and pinched Him-chan’s squishy cheek.
“Ow—it hurts!“
“You two must’ve been adorable when you were little.”
Ho-eun towered over their now-half-sized bodies, grinning wickedly like he wanted to play with their cheeks all day.
“Ho-eun. We’re on duty right now.”
Even with his stern tone, Paul—looking like a chubby-cheeked little boy—was just too cute to take seriously.
Do In-ho grabbed both of Ho-eun’s hands to stop him from poking at them again.
Freed from Ho-eun’s grasp, the two “kids” put on glasses and earrings equipped with cameras. The laptop screen flickered, switching to the live feed from their point of view.
“Oh wow, the feed looks great.”
“The café’s been rented for the day, so you can relax and use it as your base of operations.”
Ho-eun twitched, tempted to scoop Paul into a hug right there and then, but Do In-ho’s large hand held him back—he could only stare longingly instead.
“Alright, we’re off then!”
With their backpacks slung over their shoulders, Kang Him-chan and Paul exited the room. Only then did In-ho release Ho-eun’s hands.
“Kang Ji-an, Kim Si-woo. Even their names sound like real kids.”
The fake identities were printed in the documents Paul had given them.
On the final page was a photo taken at the academy—Paul and Kang Him-chan, now in child form, sitting right behind Han Yeo-ul.
