As Ho-eun turned his head in response to Hosoo’s touch, a mocking laugh rang out from above. He felt sharp eyes raking across his face, as though searching for a weakness in prey.
“If an Esper doesn’t receive proper Guiding, they can’t handle their ability and end up Overloading. First stage is Ability Overload. Second is when the Overload happens inside their body.”
Since this was something he had learned during theory class, Ho-eun listened with a properly attentive expression this time, not the blank stare he’d worn before.
“This guy’s an Overload Candidate, so his Guiding is restricted.”
“Huh? Overload Candidate? But I thought Guides were supposed to Guide Espers unconditionally. You’re a Guide, aren’t you…? Didn’t you come here to Guide him?”
“Unconditional? Pfft, ahaha. Well, sure, there used to be Guides like that back in the day.”
Twisting a strand of his blond hair between his fingers, Hosoo observed the man in front of him. That innocent, naïve face made him want to mess with him just for fun.
“Come to think of it, I haven’t explained this part yet. Crystal Implants live on borrowed time.”
“What?”
“Remember when you asked how Ability Tools are made from Crystals? The moment a Crystal from an existing Esper is implanted into another person, it doesn’t fuse—it becomes a separate entity. From then on, it starts accumulating Guiding as an independent core. People like Do In-ho, who are Implants, are just conduits to deliver that Guiding.”
“A conduit…?”
“Yeah. After about ten years of delivering Guiding to the Crystal, the Crystal becomes a self-sufficient material that doesn’t need any more Guiding. That’s why the consumption rate is so high.”
“So when you said ‘borrowed time’…”
“Exactly. After ten years, we forcibly trigger an Overload and destroy the body. Only the Crystal remains intact. That’s why this guy has a set date for his Overload—he’s almost at the ten-year mark.”
Watching Ho-eun’s face drain of color, Hosoo gave a satisfied smile. Crushing someone’s hope always came with a thrill.
“That’s what you meant by ‘not treated like a person’…”
“Ten years living as an Esper, then living on as a Tool—what could be a more fitting treatment for someone like that?”
Do In-ho’s breathing could be heard from behind, but the man in front of Ho-eun completely ignored his presence. Brushing off the creases in Ho-eun’s clothes with mock affection, Hosoo continued in a light, almost amused tone.
“Do you know what an Ability Product is?”
The unfamiliar term made Ho-eun shake his head.
“It’s what we call objects infused with abilities. There are two types. One is made by infusing an object with an Esper’s ability. The downside is that it takes a lot of time and Guiding to create. But at least no one has to die in the process. Still, only Espers and Guides can use that kind.”
The wing-shaped earring on Hosoo’s ear shimmered as he spoke.
“The second type of Ability Product is made from Crystals. These don’t need Guiding and can be used by anyone—Esper, Guide, or even ordinary civilians. The downside?”
“…”
“You have to kill someone to make them. That’s why it’s better to stop thinking of them as people. They’re just tools. You should change how you see it, too. Otherwise, you’re just an accomplice to murder.”
The sheer cruelty and inhumanity of reducing a person’s life to nothing more than a tool made Ho-eun feel nauseous.
“Don’t waste your Guiding on trash like him. The moment he became like this…”
Hosoo’s steps were light as feathers. He walked a few steps over and stopped in front of the sleeping Do In-ho, then pulled up his shirt to reveal his chest.
The skin was spotless, not a single scar—except for one, a distinct mark near the heart that stood out all the more.
“…he was doomed to die from Overload.”
“That… that kind of fate—who gave you the right to decide that?! Did you get Do In-ho’s permission? When you did that heart implant or whatever it was, did you get his consent? Did you tell him he’d die in ten years?!”
The moment Ho-eun had heard the words Crystal Implant, he’d assumed it was a voluntary procedure, something done with consent by ordinary people who wanted to become Espers. But dying in ten years? Leaving behind nothing but a Crystal? Who in their right mind would agree to something like that?
“Well, yeah. We didn’t get it from him. But when we offered fifty billion won, his parents said yes.”
So Ho-eun had been right—Do In-ho hadn’t agreed to any of this. His opinion had never mattered in the first place.
“You’re garbage.”
Ho-eun couldn’t understand it. An Esper not treated like a person? Anyone could see that Do In-ho was human. He spoke, felt emotions, thought, moved—everything about him screamed that he was alive. Who came up with the insane idea that you could buy a person with money and dictate their fate?
“Do In-ho’s will has nothing to do with that fate. Why do something so monstrous? Are you saying someone higher up ordered this?!!”
Spitting out words without coherence, Ho-eun shouted so loud his veins bulged at his neck. He wanted to scream on behalf of Do In-ho, who lay unconscious and voiceless.
“Why are you getting so worked up?”
“This isn’t about being worked up—it’s a matter of ethics! Forcing someone into Overload—how can you just decide a perfectly fine person’s life like that?!”
“Then what, you want to decide it yourself?”
“What…?”
“The moment someone awakens as an Esper, their life belongs to the Guide.”
Hosoo grabbed Ho-eun’s hand and thrust it onto Do In-ho’s chest. He could feel the thrum of a heartbeat. Suddenly, it felt like all the blood in his body was rushing to his palm. Something was being drawn out—something invisible.
A static spark danced across his skin. The strange sensation overwhelmed him, and as he jerked his hand away, Do In-ho—who had appeared to be dead asleep—reached out instinctively and grabbed his retreating hand.
The room filled with the sound of Ho-eun’s unsteady breathing, and the now-calm rhythm of Do In-ho’s.
Hosoo, quietly observing the two of them, stroked his chin. Guides couldn’t sense each other’s Guiding capacity—but now he was curious to see what grade Ho-eun would receive. A newbie who’d touched a Crystal Implant and come away unscathed.
“Interesting.”
Hosoo had only come to boost Do In-ho’s dangerously low Guiding level to stabilize him before his scheduled Overload, but now he looked at the Guide Watch on his wrist.
Do In-ho’s Guiding level, which had been at 11%, was steadily rising. And fast.
Ho-eun was drenched in cold sweat, but he hadn’t collapsed or coughed up blood. That alone made this whole thing increasingly fascinating.
If it had been an ordinary Guide, the moment they made contact with Do In-ho’s body, they would have been writhing in agony.
Realizing now that he was the one actually Guiding, Ho-eun looked at Hosoo with a determined expression.
“Does this mean… I can save him?”
“Ahaha, you really are entertaining.”
Confirming that the percentage had risen another 20% in such a short time, Hosoo lightly touched his earring.
“July 30th.”
That day marked the final day of the internship—exactly one month after Ho-eun had joined.
“That’s Do In-ho’s scheduled Overload date. If you can stop the Overload that day, you might be able to save him.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Ho-eun eyed him warily, suspicion clear in his gaze.
“Oh, that’s easy. Your hopeful little face just now, while you were Guiding—that was fun to watch.”
“What?”
“Didn’t I tell you? A Guide decides an Esper’s fate. So? Want to give it a shot? See if you’ve got what it takes to be the kind of Guide who saves someone.”
“There’s no reason I can’t. He looks like a person to me. Not some ‘tool’ or whatever nonsense you’re spewing.”
“Just one question—why do you want to save Do In-ho? Is there some special connection?”
“That’s obvious. You’re saying you’re going to kill a perfectly fine person. If I can stop it, I will.”
“Behold, the birth of the glorious Saint Mary. Well, you’ll need to learn to Guide properly first if you want anyone to believe that. Guess I’ll be the one suffering here.”
“You? Suffering?”
“Oh right, you said you didn’t know who I was. Guess I should introduce myself. I’m Hosoo, one of the three S-Class Guides in Korea. I’ll be in charge of the internship’s Guiding training. You’ll be receiving your practical sessions from me starting next week.”
“Training supervisor…?”
“I’ll teach you all about Guiding, very… personally.”
Hosoo whispered the last words slowly into Ho-eun’s ear, his voice silky and teasing. Then he tapped the frozen look on Ho-eun’s face with a light flick of his fingers.
“…!”
Startled, Ho-eun clutched at the spot Hosoo had touched, but the man had already pulled away.
To think this psycho was going to be his training supervisor starting next week… It was a reality Ho-eun desperately wished he could deny.
He looked down at his hand—still held gently in Do In-ho’s.
“…It’s warm.”
Yeah. Do In-ho was human. Not some object. Not some tool.
Snapped out of his thoughts, Ho-eun flinched at the sight of Do In-ho starting to stir and hurriedly slipped away like he was fleeing.
‘Something told me I shouldn’t let him know I was here…’
He quietly closed Do In-ho’s front door behind him and rushed to his own place, heart thundering in his chest. Once inside, he collapsed to the floor, trying to calm himself.
‘My legs gave out. Just how tense was I…?’
Ho-eun raised a hand and dragged it down his face in a dry wash—then froze when he noticed the blood smeared on his palms. A low curse slipped from his lips.
“This is a dream. Just a dream. Please let this all be a dream.”
He wished more than anything that joining such a twisted company had only been a nightmare. But it was real. All of it. And now he’d uncovered the truth about Do In-ho—a man with an unjust fate hanging over him. There was only one thing Ho-eun could do now that he knew.
He had to stop the Overload as a Guide.
He had no idea how to stop the Overload of a Crystal Implant, which apparently required massive amounts of Guiding. But no matter what it took, Ho-eun swore he’d stop it.
Screech—
The sound of the door across the hall opening made him clap a hand over his mouth, holding his breath.
No footsteps. That was odd. He focused all his senses on listening.
Terrified that Do In-ho might realize something and come to his room, Ho-eun waited, stiff with tension, until he finally heard the sound of the door closing again—and let out the breath he’d been holding.
“Haah…”
Seeing the lone black umbrella still sitting in the umbrella stand filled him with helplessness. He hadn’t even managed the simple act of returning it—how the hell was he supposed to stop an Overload?
His mind was now completely consumed with that word: Overload.
“…Ah?”
As he kept repeating the word, he remembered what one of the senior Interns had called Do In-ho: Shifok.
Now it made sense—it must have been short for Shihanbu Pokju Yejungja (Terminal Overload Candidate). Or maybe Shihan Poktan (Time Bomb)? Whatever it meant, it was clear now: they had been mocking him, fully aware he was going to die.
“Bastards.”
He’d made up his mind. He’d stop Do In-ho’s Overload. And he’d make sure to take him as his practice subject, just to rub it in that smug senior’s face.
“I can do this.”
If there was one thing he’d learned from tonight, it was this—despite being just an Intern, Ho-eun could Guide Do In-ho without passing out or collapsing in pain.
He’d make that his way in. Casually, naturally. He’d start getting closer to Do In-ho.
Stretching his cramped legs, Ho-eun stood up. He decided to skip working out today. If he happened to run into Do In-ho out there, the guy might remember what had happened in the early morning—and Ho-eun wasn’t ready for that.
Everyone has parts of themselves they don’t want others to see.
So Ho-eun decided to bury what had happened that dawn.
