This product demonstration was an extension of a critically important project between the Prism BioBattery and J-Cell, which meant it demanded an exceptional level of attention. Naturally, Seo Won was feeling particularly on edge.
Just as Han-gyeom was about to speak after a long bout of hesitation, Jung Ah-young, who had been standing beside him, stepped forward and spoke first.
“Director, would it be okay if Han-gyeom and I waited outside?”
Seo Won’s brow furrowed visibly. Ah-young flinched slightly at the sharp reaction and stiffened, but she didn’t back down and pressed on.
“Han-gyeom got carsick on the way here. He’s been cooped up in the estate all this time, so the sudden long trip must’ve really taken a toll on him.”
Han-gyeom didn’t actually feel carsick, but since Ah-young said so, he simply stayed quiet. No matter how he looked at it, she was clearly trying to help him.
Upon hearing her explanation, Seo Won studied Han-gyeom’s face.
It was true—he didn’t look nearly as healthy as he had back at the estate. The demonstration hadn’t even started yet, but he already looked drained. His eyes quivered nervously, and from a glance, he could very well have passed for someone suffering the aftereffects of motion sickness.
Seo Won stepped closer to Han-gyeom and gently brushed his forehead. Feeling the faint sheen of cold sweat, he rubbed it between his fingers and then turned to Ah-young with an order.
“Don’t go too far. Just stay in the lobby and rest there.”
Han-gyeom would’ve preferred to be completely outside, but this was still a relief. Once the demonstration began, the main hall would be the only busy area, leaving the rest of the venue quiet. The lobby had benches and a lounge area, so he figured he could get at least a little rest there.
“Thank you! Good luck with the demo, Director!”
Ah-young beamed and threw both fists up in a cheerful fighting pose. It was almost baffling how she could smile so brightly in front of someone as frosty as Seo Won without a hint of fear.
Seo Won didn’t even acknowledge her enthusiasm. His eyes remained fixed on Han-gyeom.
“…Do your best.”
Still watching him in silence, Seo Won reached out and stroked Han-gyeom’s cheek. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“If you feel like an episode is coming on, come to me right away. I’ll hold you.”
He probably meant that literally—just holding him—but for some reason, it sounded oddly suggestive.
The sharp edge in Seo Won’s eyes had softened ever so slightly. The change was so subtle it was barely noticeable, but Ah-young, who had spent a long time by Seo Won’s side, quietly took pleasure in it.
Seo Won gave Han-gyeom’s cheek one last gentle stroke, then turned without hesitation and walked off.
Han-gyeom watched as Seo Won, trailed by a group in black suits, strode ahead. Then he turned to Ah-young standing beside him and expressed his gratitude.
“Thank you. You really saved me back there.”
“Hehe, it’s nothing.”
Smiling sweetly, Ah-young pulled out a sky-blue handkerchief and reached toward him. The edge of the handkerchief dabbed gently at Han-gyeom’s forehead, wiping away the cold sweat.
“Gosh, you seriously look like you’re about to collapse.”
“It’s okay. Just sitting down for a bit should help me feel better soon.”
“That’s a relief.”
Ah-young, who had been smiling brightly, suddenly fixed her gaze on Han-gyeom.
“Come to think of it, this is our first real conversation, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“You’re not using informal speech with me? I’m pretty sure I’m younger than you.”
She tilted her head with a curious expression.
“I usually don’t speak informally.”
“But you’ve been using it with the Director since the beginning. I heard you did the same with Director Yoon, and even with Director Shin—you started with honorifics, then suddenly switched to banmal…”
“They’re Espers.”
Han-gyeom gave a bitter smile as he looked at her still-confused face.
“Espers… I just don’t feel like giving them that kind of respect.”
Most of the memories he didn’t want to recall were tied to Espers.
Every researcher at the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility had been an Esper. The test subjects? Also Espers. The ones who occasionally visited to observe them like monkeys at a zoo—Espers. Those who dragged in new test subjects—Espers. The ones who disposed of broken subjects—Espers.
Nothing but Espers.
And among them, he had been the only Guide.
Having seen, heard, and felt the many varieties of cruelty Espers were capable of, Han-gyeom simply couldn’t bring himself to speak to them with respect.
Sure, not every Esper was like that. Someone might scold him for generalizing. But to Han-gyeom, it was a small way of protecting himself.
A quiet, stubborn insistence—nothing more than a sliver of self-respect—meant to remind himself that he didn’t exist to elevate Espers.
That stubbornness was necessary for someone like him, who had been exploited, degraded, and dragged through the filth by Espers.
Ah-young didn’t know any of this, so she might have asked more questions—but instead, she chose to step back with tact.
“I see. So you speak formally to me because I’m just a regular person? Even though I’m younger than you.”
Looking at her sunny face, Han-gyeom hesitated.
Saying it was because she was an ordinary person might come off as rude. He wasn’t sure how to respond. That kind of reasoning could easily be seen as drawing a line between the empowered and the powerless—a form of discrimination in itself.
Fortunately, Ah-young didn’t seem the least bit offended. In fact, she seemed happy.
“I actually like it when people use honorifics with me! You know how it is—with our security team, right? Most of them are pretty old. I’m the youngest, age-wise. So I kept thinking, maybe once some newbies join, I’d finally get to hear some formal speech for once… but nope. It’s all just a bunch of middle-aged guys…”
She had been chirping cheerfully, but as she went on, her energy visibly deflated, her shoulders drooping as she pouted.
Watching her face shift expression every few seconds, Han-gyeom found himself chuckling softly without realizing it.
“You’re a lot different from how I first saw you.”
He still remembered clearly how she’d once aimed straight for his solar plexus. Ah-young, recalling the moment herself, looked away in embarrassment.
“Please forget about it. I was just following orders. If a superior gives an order, I’ve got no choice but to follow. What power does a lowly bodyguard like me even have?”
For some reason, she reminded him of a female version of Song Jae-woo. Thanks to that, the tension in Han-gyeom’s body eased, and he felt more at peace.
Once the two reached the lobby, they headed for a quiet corner with as little foot traffic as possible. Fortunately, there was an executive-only cafeteria not far from there—perfect for taking a break.
“Han-gyeom, let’s sit at that table over there. I’ll grab us some coffee.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll go.”
Ah-young waved her hands in a panic.
“No way! Absolutely not! If I let you carry coffee or anything like that, I’m dead meat!”
“Huh? Who’d kill you over carrying some coffee?”
“Director Seo!”
Han-gyeom blinked twice, then tilted his head in delayed confusion.
“Seo Won? Why?”
“Well, that’s…”
Ah-young’s face flushed bright red. She looked like she’d just been dunked into a boiling bath—her skin turned rosy in an instant as her eyes darted nervously.
“Um, Director Seo is…”
Just as she began, Ah-young abruptly turned away.
“Anyway! Just sit tight, I’ll be right back!”
Han-gyeom tilted his head again as he watched her retreat like she was fleeing the scene. He had no idea what Seo Won had done to make her act like that.
From his seat, Han-gyeom saw Ah-young practically throw herself at the counter outside the cafeteria, chattering with the staff. Choosing a table within her line of sight, he sat down.
Since she was technically his bodyguard, she’d probably be keeping an eye on him the whole time. He figured it’d be better to sit somewhere where they could see each other easily.
That naturally placed him at a table not far from the lobby entrance.
Leaning back in his chair, Han-gyeom closed his eyes for a moment.
Thanks to Ah-young, he felt a little more relaxed—but that didn’t mean his anxiety had vanished completely.
It’s okay. The people from the Esper Association supposedly arrived early and already took their seats in the main hall. As long as I avoid them, I shouldn’t have anything to worry about…
As he calmly tried to reassure himself, Seo Won’s face suddenly popped into his mind. Slowly opening his eyes, Han-gyeom raised his right hand.
The black band that had been fastened around his wrist was now gone.
“I’ll unlock it whenever you’re outside. Not like anyone’s brave enough to call me out for something illegal, but having that thing on you just advertises that you’re a Guide.”
Most Guides were virtually indistinguishable from regular people unless they actively used their abilities. Unlike Espers, they didn’t have unnecessarily enhanced physiques or overt signs like Black Vein traits, so it made sense.
Now that the Guiding Control Device had been removed, he felt like a heavy sandbag had been lifted from him. Just wearing it had meant any Esper—like Yoon Jeong-ho before—could freely draw Guiding from him. Removing it ahead of time was the smart move.
Ugh… why did I have to remember that again?
He hadn’t meant to, but the moment he thought of the Guiding Control Device, Yoon Jeong-ho naturally came to mind as well.
Remembering what had happened that night because of him filled Han-gyeom with a familiar sense of revulsion.
Wasn’t it some kind of joint development with his company?
Since today’s product demonstration was co-hosted by both companies, it was inevitable that Yoon Jeong-ho would be there.
In fact, he might already have arrived.
The small relief he’d felt thanks to Ah-young was already starting to fade, sinking back into gloom.
