Just as Ho-eun’s camcorder started recording, the little red light blinking, Kim Mi-young—who had been quietly listening the whole time—slammed her fist on the desk.
“Hold on. Guide Kwon Ho-eun? Put the camcorder down.”
“…? I don’t mind being on camera. Should I ask if you’d like your face blurred, Team Lead Kim?”
“Team Lead Ha-jun, please stay out of this. Even if field footage gets approved, there’s no way we’re letting the entire Civil Complaints Division of Espers get filmed! That ridiculous concept of yours—No, it could even become a personal privacy issue.”
At Kim Mi-young’s firm tone, Ho-eun reluctantly lowered the camcorder. He’d wanted to show that if the anti-government faction had traditional mask aesthetics, then the Esper Corporation had the Colorful Rangers. He fidgeted with the camcorder, clearly disappointed, until Do In-ho gave his shoulder a gentle pat.
Seeing the two together nearly made Kim Mi-young lose control of her expression.
What is this? A workplace couple? Since when do a Guide and an Esper look that cozy together?
She thought of her own division—no more, no less than dry, impersonal relationships.
Just imagining Ha-jun patting her on the shoulder made her stomach churn. Okay, he might be good-looking, but a workplace romance with someone from your own department? She’d rather throw herself in the Han River.
“So, what kind of site are we heading to today?”
“Normally, we handle things like guarding the president or assassinating those plotting to destroy Korea. Ahem. But since it’s our off-season, this is what we’ve got.”
Ho-eun looked over the assignment Ha-jun handed him. The location was Sangju, and the job was agricultural damage relief due to the monsoon season.
Outside the meeting room, the chaos continued—staff doing push-ups, swinging swords, muttering game-like skill names under their breath.
Ho-eun fell into thought. Sure, if you wanted attention-grabbing content, the Colorful Rangers were perfect. Whether or not they actually fought with swords or shot arrows didn’t matter—just the visuals alone would be enough to make the video go viral.
But that wasn’t the PR department’s actual goal this time. The point was to improve public awareness and understanding of Espers and Guides—not just produce flashy footage.
“I like it.”
The meeting room had gone silent, everyone unsure what to say. But then Do In-ho, resting his chin on his hand, broke the silence. Ha-jun, who’d been hanging his head in shame, looked up in disbelief.
“I like it too. It feels like something that could help people see Espers in a more relatable light.”
When even Ho-eun chimed in positively, Ha-jun’s eyes grew misty. Was it age making him more emotional? Sure, they’d just agreed to the job—but to him, it felt like validation.
Always getting trampled on by Guides, looked down upon by fellow Espers—that’s why the Civil Complaints team had come up with the “Colorful Rangers” name and assigned themselves code names. Because without that, they weren’t sure they could survive reality.
Their senses were hypersensitive from being Espers, yet their abilities were weak and unremarkable. They constantly questioned why they were even born Espers. Whether what they had even counted as real abilities. That maybe life would’ve been better just living as ordinary civilians. That line of self-loathing slowly ate away at the hearts of every team member in the division.
No matter how hard they endured their repetitive daily grind, no one ever acknowledged them. And that truth sapped them of all motivation.
But today felt different. No—it was different.
“Thank you for letting us participate in such a meaningful field assignment.”
At Ho-eun’s words of thanks, Ha-jun rubbed his eyes, pretending some dust had gotten in. He lowered the hand that had been covering his face and looked at Ho-eun, who met his eyes with a gentle smile.
Ha-jun almost smiled back reflexively, but instead he cleared his throat. Just for today, he wanted to play the role of the charismatic team leader. Rising from his seat, he said:
“Then I’ll go prep everything we need for the site.”
As he exited the meeting room and the door closed, Kim Mi-young, who’d stayed behind, let out a sigh.
“You really came in not knowing a thing about the Civil Complaints Division, huh? Do you know we’re called the Grunt Work Division?”
She’d wanted to speak up earlier, but there hadn’t been a single opening thanks to Ha-jun hogging the spotlight. Now that he was gone, she finally got her chance.
“As you can probably tell, I’m a C-Class Guide, and the Espers here are all D to C-Class. Guard the president? Please. We handle random civilian complaints. If the pay’s good enough, we’ll even help some rich guy find his lost pet.”
She glanced out the glass window of the meeting room. Ha-jun and the team were smiling brightly.
It had been seven years since she’d been assigned to the Civil Complaints Division, and this was the first time she’d seen them smile like that.
“This is a dropout team. If you’d asked me for permission to film, I would’ve refused. Just imagine—footage of us out in the countryside doing farm work. How humiliating.”
“…I might not know the division as well as you do, Team Lead Kim, but still, please don’t say those things in front of your team.”
“What?”
“Calling them ‘dropouts’ and all that. Please stop.”
Gone was the kind tone Ho-eun had used with Ha-jun. He straightened his back, posture firm.
“If the team’s own Guide tears them down like that, don’t you think it would hurt them?”
Kim Mi-young let out a deflated breath. Is that the idealism of a rookie talking? She recalled when she first joined the Civil Complaints Division.
Had she once cared about her team the way Ho-eun clearly did? It was so long ago—seven years—that she could barely remember.
But now, she no longer felt a sense of belonging to this team. She’d moved out of the dorms three years ago. She had no idea what her teammates were thinking anymore. “Colorful Rangers,” using code names in the office… It was all just self-soothing. In the end, a dropout was still a dropout.
She sipped her cold coffee and looked into Ho-eun’s eyes, which glinted unnaturally bright under the fluorescent lights. Then, she shook her head.
“What would you know? You work with an S-Class Esper.”
“…”
“You’ll see when we’re on site. Why we’re called dropouts. Why we’re called the Grunt Work Division.”
Kim Mi-young held her ground. She firmly believed that, after working in the Civil Complaints Division for seven years, she knew it better than some rookie seeing it for the first time. No matter how you tried to dress it up in fancy words, the division was nothing more than grunt work.
She and guys like Ho-eun—optimistic types—just didn’t mix. Watching him leave the meeting room to ask Ha-jun if there was anything he could help with, she scoffed.
Now only Do In-ho and Kim Mi-young remained. She was a Guide, but had no special feelings toward crystal-implanted Espers like him, who were often called “tools.” After all, there was no reason they’d ever interact, since she worked at HQ.
But if he’s a tool, shouldn’t he not have a badge…?
The thought crept in quietly, but she didn’t ask. She didn’t want to get dragged into something annoying. Ever since getting older and becoming a team leader, “responsibility” just translated to “more hassle.” There were two team leads anyway—Ha-jun could deal with today’s fieldwork.
“You’re not heading to the field today?”
“No. Well. There’s plenty to do in the office.”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell Do In-ho it was because she couldn’t be bothered. So she mumbled vaguely while pretending to be distracted.
“It’s a good thing you’re not going.”
“…?!”
Kim Mi-young clutched her chest. The air in the room had turned stiflingly hot in an instant. It felt like stepping inside a volcano. Breathing alone was difficult. Did he use his ability? She scanned Do In-ho with bleary eyes, but there wasn’t a trace of Blue Flame.
“You’d just end up dampening Ho-eun-hyung’s mood if you tagged along. He’s all excited, you know. Cute, really—he’s been looking forward to this assignment.”
Trying to escape the suffocating heat, Kim Mi-young forced her trembling legs to stand. She couldn’t breathe. Her head was spinning. Her ears were ringing. Without gripping the desk, she might collapse at any second.
“In-ho, they said there are Colorful Ranger uniforms! Wanna wear one too?”
The moment the meeting room door opened, all those suffocating sensations vanished in an instant. The heaviness that had crushed her lungs, the electric tension paralyzing her limbs—gone.
Gasping for air, Kim Mi-young staggered toward the wall and leaned against it. When Ho-eun looked her way, puzzled, Do In-ho casually stepped in front of him, blocking her from view.
“I’m good. I’m not part of the Colorful Rangers.”
“That’s true! Team Lead, can we borrow the team uniform next time instead?”
The meeting room door closed behind Ho-eun. Kim Mi-young moved into the corner of the room. That hadn’t been an ability. Do In-ho hadn’t been consciously receiving any Broadcast Guiding.
He had absorbed the Broadcast Guiding she’d been unconsciously emitting.
Even as a C-Class, I could barely handle it. So how is a D-Class Guide like Kwon Ho-eun standing next to him like it’s nothing?
Do In-ho glanced down at the trembling Kim Mi-young like she was just some pebble on the ground, then exited the meeting room.
She slumped against the wall, heart racing in fear, unable to bring herself to leave.
Outside, the chaos continued as the team scrambled to assemble the site crew. Normally, everyone would be pushing the task on someone else—“You go,” “No, you go, Team Lead.” But today, thanks to Do In-ho, everyone was volunteering for the job.
“Could we find out everyone’s abilities? It might help if the most suitable person takes the job!”
“Yes!! I’ll go first. I’m Red. I mean… real swords are scary—no, dangerous—so I usually use this.”
Red, who had been maintaining his sword earlier, hesitated, then returned to his seat and brought back a wooden sword. When he swung it, flames burst from the blade.
“I’m a fire Esper!”
“Guide-nim, in this weather, if a fire Esper misuses their power, the crops could go up in flames. But me? I have an earth ability! I’m always assigned to agricultural fieldwork! The Hand of God—that revives even dead soil!”
Blue, with bright blue hair, pulled on blue gloves and made a peace sign symbolizing love, justice, and peace.
Then, from the back, a long-haired black-haired Esper who’d been quietly reading a book finally spoke.
“I can teleport. It’s a four-hour round trip to Sangju. You sure you want to go without me?”
Groans and sighs of envy rippled through the room.
“Then it’s settled—Team Lead and I will go with Black. My power is telekinesis, which will definitely be useful.”
With things starting to fall into place, Ha-jun spoke up decisively, sealing the selection. The team grumbled, but accepted it, promising to switch members next time. At this point, Ho-eun still didn’t know.
He didn’t know what it really meant to work with Espers below C-Class.
And just like that, Kwon Ho-eun’s very first official field assignment began.
