Seo Won might be the type to suggest something like this out of sheer self-confidence, but he had definitely said “a meeting’s been scheduled.” Which meant the Esper Association had actually approved this sudden, absurd meeting setup.
“They must have high expectations, but maybe…”
Jeong-ho nodded to himself as he recalled the sound system terror incident during the product demo.
“Well, for safety reasons, it probably is better to hold meetings with the Association like this for now.”
There were two suspects behind the audio terror at the product demo. Both were young men, and their listed affiliations on the entrance records turned out to be false. What’s more, they both had entry records—but no exit logs.
All available CCTV footage had been reviewed thoroughly. According to the report, both suspects seemed to have known the camera placements in advance and deliberately stayed within blind spots. Even with inquiries, there were no reliable eyewitness accounts. Supporting that claim, among the few photos captured by Seo Won’s team, all but one were solo shots of the suspects without anyone else around.
It was a small relief that Cha Han-gyeom had confronted one of them in person. Thanks to him, they had a rough idea of the suspect’s face, voice, vibe—even some detailed features of his appearance that couldn’t be made out from the CCTV stills.
Jung Ah-young had also encountered one of them, but it had been brief and not enough to gather solid intel.
Still, that didn’t explain how the suspects had managed to leave the venue undetected.
As soon as the incident occurred, the venue’s barrier system to prevent Esper suspects from escaping had activated automatically—yet nothing happened. No signs of escape.
That’s why Seo Won concluded at least one of them had to possess teleportation abilities.
Teleporters could only jump to immobile locations. That restriction also applied to Yoon Jeong-ho, who was currently sitting across from Seo Won.
The venue provided for this meeting was one where teleportation couldn’t be used. With that handled, it was now up to the Association to prepare its personnel and carefully screen all attendees.
“The terrorists are probably targeting the Association.”
The Esper Association actually got hit with terror attacks more often than people assumed. Most of the time, the culprits were unregistered Espers—those who resented the Association’s control and suppression, and hated being labeled criminals.
The Association, in turn, used Espers and media influence to quietly cover up every incident. They claimed it was to prevent public anxiety—but let’s be real: they just didn’t want their image tarnished by a bunch of terrorists.
The culprits were often people the Association had tried to unilaterally control—or ones who’d caught on early and fled before that happened.
A surprise meeting held on a cruise ship. Even if the terrorists somehow caught wind of it, there wouldn’t be enough time to prepare an attack. Even if they did manage to sneak aboard, being on a moving cruise meant their escape routes were severely limited.
“Wow, turns out I’m totally free at 7 p.m. today. Not a single thing on my schedule!”
Jeong-ho exaggerated his gestures, his eyes sparkling with playful intent as he expressed just how much he wanted to go.
But all he got in return was a cold response.
“Nope. We already submitted our attendance list.”
“Aww, come on—just give me one spot, will you?” Jeong-ho whined like a child, while Seo Won repeatedly responded with an exasperated “No.”
“It’s not like I can even go just to mess around—since it’s on a moving ship, damn it.”
As a teleporter himself, Jeong-ho also couldn’t jump to a location that was in motion. In other words, his favorite trick—enjoy the fun, then dip out early—was completely off the table.
Grumbling under his breath, Jeong-ho suddenly gave Seo Won a meaningful look.
“Then can I come over tonight?”
“If you’re planning to throw a drinking party here just because you couldn’t go to the meeting, forget it.”
“Hey, I do value my life, okay?”
Jeong-ho visibly shuddered as he recalled a certain day from the past.
They’d had a minor argument, a difference of opinion that got a bit heated. In a petty move to piss off Seo Won—who absolutely hated alcohol—Jeong-ho had uncorked a bottle in Seo Won’s bedroom.
The moment he got caught, every last drop of booze in the bottle exploded outward, transforming into a volley of razor-sharp ice spikes. It hadn’t been intended to kill—just to intimidate—but being surrounded by those icy blades had been terrifying enough to sober him up real fast.
With a nervous chuckle, Jeong-ho shrugged.
“I wanted to get some proper Guiding from your guide.”
Seo Won’s eye twitched ever so slightly.
“I heard he Guided you for six hours straight during that terror incident. Six. Whole. Hours. Man, it’s insane that’s even possible. Just how much GP does he have, anyway?”
Jeong-ho had no idea about Seo Won’s Black Vein. He didn’t know it had manifested—let alone that it had progressed past the danger threshold, to the point the Association might actually try to arrest him.
All he knew was that Seo Won had fainted from exposure to that bizarre sound during the incident.
There were rumors that the strange sound triggered a rampage in one’s internal ESP, and the severity of that rampage varied depending on the Esper’s rank. Given that Seo Won was S-rank, it made sense he’d collapse before he even had the chance to act.
The Association had been investigating the incident with extreme caution and persistence, precisely because someone as powerful as Seo Won had crumpled like that. If even high-level Espers could be taken down instantly by that sound, it raised some terrifying implications.
That was why Jeong-ho had taken a keen interest in the guide named Cha Han-gyeom—the one who had personally provided six hours of Guiding to Seo Won while he was unconscious. Most guides would’ve burned through their GP in an hour or two and passed out themselves.
Jeong-ho thought back to when he’d first met Han-gyeom in this very house. Even that brief Guiding had been enough for him to realize Han-gyeom was different from the average guide. If possible, he wanted to experience that “something different” again—maybe even figure out what it was.
“Let me borrow him for a bit tonight, yeah?”
Jeong-ho’s face was casual, completely devoid of malice, even as he referred to Han-gyeom like a thing he could “borrow.” He’d always been like this—and Seo Won had always brushed it off with a “do what you want.”
But this time, the response was different.
“No. You can’t.”
“What? I won’t keep him long—just thirty minutes.”
“Doesn’t matter if it’s thirty minutes or three hours. You can’t. He won’t be home.”
“…Huh? What do you mean he won’t be home…? Wait, why do you look like you’re about to murder someone?”
At some point, Seo Won’s voice had dropped, his gaze turning icy cold. The sudden shift put Jeong-ho on edge.
“He’s coming with me to the meeting tonight.”
“What? Why the hell are you bringing him?”
If it was just a small party on a cruise, it didn’t seem like it would be a long, formal meeting. So then what was the point of dragging a Guide along? Especially one as fragile as Han-gyeom, who looked like he’d keel over from seasickness ten minutes in.
Seo Won paused briefly, then brushed it off with a flat, “It just turned out that way.”
Truthfully, he had considered leaving Han-gyeom behind this time. Like Jeong-ho suggested, part of him was worried about Han-gyeom’s physical condition. And factoring in the commute, the whole thing would only take about four hours—short enough that they could be apart.
But a thought was just a thought.
What if he has a seizure while I’m gone? If no one acts in time… he could die. Should I drug him and put him to sleep so he stays out cold until I get back?
If he could keep him asleep the whole time, there’d be no problem. But what if—even the slightest chance—Han-gyeom woke up and had a seizure? That would be a disaster.
Honestly, if Seo Won was thinking purely from his own standpoint, then bringing Han-gyeom along was the safer choice. Whether Han-gyeom got seasick, deteriorated, or even seized—it didn’t matter. He had to stay by his side. That was the safest option for both of them.
Especially since Seo Won would need to use his ability at the meeting, and with Association members all around, he needed to keep close watch on his Black Vein. And Han-gyeom, for his part, needed someone right next to him in case his symptoms flared up again.
From a purely logistical standpoint, it was a simple choice. But lately, Han-gyeom had been on Seo Won’s mind more than he cared to admit—so it wasn’t so simple anymore.
And that hesitation was what Jeong-ho’s next words shoved out of the way completely.
“Yoon Jeong-ho. Don’t even think about getting Guiding from my guide for a while.”
“Why not? I just meant like before—share your guide a bit.”
“I said no.”
“Is this about that one time I forced a Guiding session out of him? I didn’t even do much—”
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
Seo Won’s tone snapped like a whip.
From his blue eyes, a black current began to spill out, trailing behind like wisps of shadow. The sheer pressure radiating from him was suffocating, a murderous aura that swept through the room like a storm.
“I’m telling you—don’t touch Cha Han-gyeom. At all. Yoon Jeong-ho.”
The fury in Seo Won’s voice was so raw, so venomous, that even the usually cheeky Jeong-ho stiffened in place—completely frozen.
