“I think we’re pretty much done—just need to edit now.”
Leo’s eyes gleamed more than ever as he looked at Do In-ho. A happy ending, huh. Do In-ho stared at the shimmering text before turning to glance at Ho-eun. His cheeks were flushed, and he was clenching his fist as if fired up after finishing his conversation with Choi Yoo-bin.
“Watching Team 2’s work really lit a fire in me.”
Do In-ho gently took Ho-eun’s hand.
“Should we check out the last team too?”
“Oh right, there’s one more.”
As they left the training hall together, Ho-eun waved to Choi Yoo-bin and Leo. “We’ll show you our video once it’s done too!” The couple waved back in acknowledgment.
Outside the hall, Jinny was waiting for them.
“I’ll guide you to where the final team is located.”
“Thank you.”
Following behind her, Ho-eun couldn’t shake the feeling that they were just going in circles.
Are they seriously back in the meeting room?
As he followed Jinny with that suspicion in mind, they indeed stopped right in front of the main conference room, just as he’d guessed.
Just like before, Jinny stepped aside from the door. Smiling sweetly, she waited as Ho-eun opened it.
Even before opening it, the inside had been quiet—and sure enough, no one was there. Ho-eun turned to Jinny with a look asking for an explanation, and she finally spoke.
“Team 1 is currently not on-site, so you won’t be able to meet them. However, their video has been completed. With your permission, I can assist in playing it for you.”
Ho-eun and Do In-ho sat down side by side and waited while Jinny pulled up the video on a laptop. She downloaded the file from an email and hit play, then quietly exited the room.
The screen stayed black for ten seconds before filling with plain white font in a basic dotum typeface.
—Hello. This is Banana TV. Today, we’re going to tell you something you probably didn’t know about the controversial case a month ago where the anti-government Esper “Tiger” threatened the government.
The screen showed screenshots from the threat video Tiger had made, as if presenting evidence. Despite the serious content, the dull, uninspired default font was jarring.
—…As shown in the video, the anti-government group currently consists of approximately five members. The government has yet to release an official statement with more details. Although the incident caused no major casualties, public response has been one of deep frustration. Since Espers have physical capabilities and powers beyond that of regular humans, it’s clear they require state supervision. That concludes our coverage of the recent controversy involving anti-government Esper Tiger. Thank you for watching.
The voiceover was so flat and emotionless that, after listening for a while, Ho-eun realized it wasn’t a human voice at all—it was synthetic. In those five minutes, Ho-eun hadn’t gained a single new piece of information. Once the video ended and the screen went black, the reflections of Ho-eun and Do In-ho appeared on the monitor.
“Ha.”
Ho-eun let out a breathy, incredulous laugh. If there was one type of content he despised most as a former YouTuber, it was exactly the kind of video they’d just watched.
It sets you up like it’s going to reveal something new, but then just regurgitates things you could easily find in articles or the news. They add a robotic voice and a few pictures to make it look like a real video, but by the end, you’ve gained nothing. It’s the kind of content that makes you wonder—why bother making a video at all? Just write it in your diary.
Do In-ho frowned, thinking Team 1 was smarter than they looked.
This was exactly the kind of strategy he’d been considering from the beginning: create a throwaway video that wouldn’t get picked. On top of that, they even used a machine voice to completely avoid being identified. Ho-eun might feel disappointed if he knew, but to Do In-ho, the video was surprisingly strategic.
After a long silence, Ho-eun finally chose his words carefully.
“It’s hard because Team 1 and Team 2 are so different. Like… Team 2 clearly put a lot of effort in, but Team 1 just feels lazy.”
“I actually don’t think Team 1’s is bad.”
“Wait… seriously?”
Do In-ho reached out and gently smoothed down Ho-eun’s messy bangs as he spoke.
“If we go with something like Team 2’s…”
“…”
“It’ll be dangerous. I don’t like that.”
“What do you mean…?”
“If the government, after staying silent for a month, suddenly releases a video like that, the anti-government group is bound to notice. Their interest in the video might extend to whoever made it. And if a Guide is in that video, there’s a high chance they’ll be targeted.”
His fingers, which had been toying with Ho-eun’s hair, now hovered just above his cheek, barely brushing, until they finally cupped it.
“I don’t want you to become a target for the anti-government faction.”
Do In-ho’s tightly sealed lips made him look, just for a moment, like a stubborn child. Ho-eun was caught off guard by his fierce declaration—and found himself thinking again of Leo and his partner Guide. If they didn’t make a proper video, then obviously Team 2’s would be selected.
Just earlier, Do In-ho had mentioned that if Team 2’s video was chosen, Leo planned to negotiate having Choi Yoo-bin excluded from the PR team going forward. Ho-eun agreed with that. A pregnant woman being involved in anti-government operations was clearly too dangerous.
And now, Do In-ho’s eyes were fixed only on him. Ho-eun could tell. The moment he’d saved Do In-ho’s life, his own position had shifted. He was no longer just another person—he was the priority.
The realization left him feeling oddly suffocated. Maybe it would’ve felt easier if Do In-ho had just said he didn’t want to be in danger.
“Thanks for worrying about me, In-ho.”
“…”
“But I’m not afraid of becoming their target. What I am afraid of is that the anti-government group might go after innocent civilians again, like they did last time. That’s what scares me. So if there’s something I can do, then I want to try.”
Ho-eun’s priority wasn’t himself. Whether or not it was Do In-ho, his priority was always innocent lives right in front of him.
Seeing that again—being reminded of it—made Do In-ho’s face cloud over.
“If that’s what you want…”
To Ho-eun’s surprise, Do In-ho gave his consent rather easily. He already knew that Ho-eun would choose others over himself. That’s just who Kwon Ho-eun was. There’s no way someone who was saved by that kind of person wouldn’t understand that.
“Then I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you.”
“What kind of video do you want to make?”
“I want to show the citizens of Korea who Espers and Guides really are. I don’t want another situation where people are taken hostage just because they didn’t know anything.”
Ho-eun’s eyes sparkled differently than before. Do In-ho was the first to notice. If only he could be the only one to see those eyes… But soon, everyone else would too. He bit down on the inside of his cheek.
“I still feel the same way I did at the start. I want to film the employees of the Guide Corporation and the Esper Association.”
Do In-ho pulled a notebook and pen from the table and brought them between them.
“Let’s nail down the concept in detail.”
“Yeah!”
The room filled with the sound of typing on a laptop and a pen scratching across paper.
Outside the conference room, Jinny smiled and placed a call to someone.
“Team 3’s concept meeting has been finalized.”
Under Ho-eun’s lead, the video structure began to take shape. First, they’d focus on the questions people were most curious about: What exactly does the Guide Corporation do? And how do Espers and Guides work together?
Tapping his pen on the table, Ho-eun let out a frustrated sigh.
“The problem is… I honestly don’t even know what Guides do, besides providing Guiding.”
After getting injured during his internship and spending a month unconscious, even the knowledge he’d previously gained felt like it had vanished. He was supposed to have had a one-on-one meeting with Hosoo before discharge, but that got delayed—so now he was working in total ignorance… and his mind, blissfully blank, was no help at all.
“What if we ask your fellow interns?”
“My cohort?”
“Some Guides working in desk positions have tasks beyond just Guiding. We don’t necessarily have to show you doing the work—we could film someone else.”
Even though he often stammered, when it came to things he wanted to say, Do In-ho always got the message across clearly. His suggestion made sense, and Ho-eun nodded in agreement.
He still didn’t fully understand how the Guide Corporation and Esper Association operated.
If their goal was to deliver accurate information, then just showing the two of them working would be limited. As Do In-ho said, capturing actual employees doing their jobs might be more effective.
The idea was to structure the video like a workplace vlog from a PR team rookie. At first, Ho-eun would appear just as clueless as the viewers. Then, a mentor would appear to guide him.
What do Espers and Guides actually do? Why do they have to work together? The mentor would help answer those questions on screen.
“So I can ask a fellow Guide for help. Should we find another Esper too?”
Scribbled in the notebook’s corner were the words: Field Participation. As an intern, Ho-eun had been excluded from field work. The only time he’d broken that rule, he’d ended up getting attacked by the anti-government faction. But despite that memory, his curiosity about fieldwork remained.
“It’s been over a month since I started this job, but I still don’t know what Espers do. What kind of work do they even do to come back so injured…?”
Ho-eun had meant to speak casually, but his voice cracked at the end.
The scent of blood fills the room. The floor is stained red.
He lifts his gaze to see Do In-ho’s abdomen soaked in blood.
It’s all just a memory, but it’s become a trauma that lingers, circling in his mind.
“Give me your hand.”
Like an obedient puppy, Do In-ho offered his hand. Ho-eun took it—rough and calloused. Do In-ho was the first Esper he’d ever Guided with genuine awareness of being a Guide.
Back then, I truly wanted to help you.
Words he couldn’t say aloud lodged in his throat.
“Fieldwork depends on the Esper’s grade.”
After a long hesitation, Do In-ho finally answered. Direct Guiding allows a Guide’s emotions to transfer. He felt Ho-eun’s unease, his sorrow.
He’d never shown himself seriously injured in front of Ho-eun—yet the anxiety in his voice sounded like he knew exactly what kind of situations he faced.
If Ho-eun were to ask whether all Espers do dangerous field work—or if it was just his field work that was especially dangerous—Do In-ho was certain his answer would only hurt him.
“I’ll look for the safest assignment possible.”
Seeing Do In-ho sidestep the question, Ho-eun simply nodded, choosing not to ask further.
