“Th-that… that won’t do…”
Scrape. As his chair slid back, Nam Woon-soo half-rose from his seat.
“What are you doing?”
Bae Yeon-woo stared at him with a look as if he were witnessing something bizarre.
Nam Woon-soo wasn’t the type to welcome attention—especially not in a situation like this. And yet, despite every gaze fixed on him, he continued speaking.
“Y-you know it too, Department Head… Those two shouldn’t be paired together…”
Finishing his sentence, Nam Woon-soo awkwardly lowered himself back into his seat.
Bae Yeon-woo glared at him like he’d just received some unwelcome meddling. Normally, Nam Woon-soo would’ve shrunk back at that look—but today, he held his ground with surprising resolve.
“I know how to keep work and personal matters separate. Apparently, that’s not something you’ve figured out yet, Assistant Manager.”
Eom Seong-chan, sitting with his legs crossed, spoke with confidence. But his recent outburst—complete with bulging veins and shouting—was still fresh in everyone’s minds, making his composure less than convincing.
“If either the subject or the anti-government faction catches sight of them, and things get loud or messy… they will get found out.”
Even as Eom Seong-chan sneered, Nam Woon-soo calmly laid out his reasoning.
The Nam Woon-soo Ho-eun had seen until now was always a background figure. Quiet, following Bae Yeon-woo’s lead, like Bae was the real team leader, not him.
But right now, he looked every bit the Team Lead—someone genuinely concerned for his team.
“How about this, then?”
After a moment of thought, Eom Tae-seok finally spoke.
“It wouldn’t be wise to assign a rookie Guide to a dangerous field mission, and pairing up those two with history is also risky. So let’s rotate the Guides—assign them alternately.”
“I’m fine with that.”
Bae Yeon-woo hesitated, lips twitching as if he wanted to say more, but eventually gave a reluctant nod. Eom Seong-chan glanced at him, let a small smirk tug at his lips, then quickly wiped it away.
“……”
Nam Woon-soo didn’t look pleased with the conclusion, but he must have realized it was the most reasonable compromise. He gave a slow nod.
Ho-eun bit his lower lip. At first, he thought Bae Yeon-woo was trying to spare him from a dangerous mission as a rookie. But now… it felt like maybe that was only 10% of the reason—and the other 90% had to do with Eom Seong-chan.
“You think you’ll be okay?”
Bae Yeon-woo’s question sent everyone’s attention toward Ho-eun. Snapped out of his thoughts, Ho-eun blinked his large eyes.
“Um… I…”
While he hesitated, Do In-ho, beneath the table, quietly took Ho-eun’s hand in his.
“Guide Kwon Ho-eun is still lacking in field experience. Please take that into consideration during assignment.”
Ho-eun could no longer recklessly claim he was fine, not like before. Do In-ho was worried about him. And Ho-eun knew that—better than anyone now.
“You make a fair point. For now, we’ll assign the veteran Guide to the more dangerous subject. If the situation seems stable, we can rotate. However, if Team Leader Eom or Assistant Manager Bae makes another scene, one of them will be removed from this operation.”
Nam Woon-soo looked like he had more to say, but kept silent at Eom Tae-seok’s final warning.
“Then I’ll explain the Special Monitoring Subject profiles.”
As things settled down, Kang Him-chan handed out a new report.
[Special Monitoring Subject Profile 1]
- Name: Han Yeo-ul
- Height: 120 cm
- Age: 10
- Ability: Foresight (presumed)
[Special Monitoring Subject Profile 2]
- Name: Park Ki-hyun
- Height: 177 cm
- Age: 22
- Ability: Dreams (presumed)
“These are the current profiles. The listed abilities are based on observation and may not be accurate. It’s also possible they aren’t Espers at all.”
Ho-eun looked at Han Yeo-ul’s photo. A young girl with a short bob—she looked far too young. Of all the Espers he’d seen, only Wonsin had been a minor, which made her stand out all the more.
“What happens to a child this young if she awakens as an Esper?”
“It depends on the ability. But once they awaken, what they need isn’t a guardian—it’s a Guide.”
“The youngest confirmed Esper awakening in Korea is 14. That’s not counting Crystal Implant subjects.”
Ho-eun stole a glance at Do In-ho. He imagined a 10-year-old boy torn from his parents, living as a Crystal Implant recipient… He pictured a younger version of Do In-ho enduring that.
“That concludes today’s meeting. Field observation begins tomorrow.”
Eom Tae-seok stood and was the first to leave the conference room.
“I’ve got some backed-up work to finish, so I’ll be going as well. Message me on the company messenger if anything comes up.”
Only Eom Seong-chan remained in the room now.
“Ahem. Got a minute?”
Rising to his feet, Eom Seong-chan tossed a few words to Bae Yeon-woo and walked out. Nam Woon-soo stared anxiously after him.
“Go back to the car. I’ll be there soon.”
“…Sh-should I go with you?”
“I’ve got it.”
Bae Yeon-woo’s answer made Nam Woon-soo’s shoulders slump. He watched the door until it fully closed, as if unable to tear his eyes away from Bae Yeon-woo’s back.
“Are you okay, Team Leader?”
“…Yes.”
His voice was weak, just like always. Do In-ho and Ho-eun exchanged glances.
Ho-eun looked at the door with concern, silently asking should we do something? Do In-ho shook his head. It’s not our place.
“Let’s head to the car for now.”
At Ho-eun’s suggestion, Nam Woon-soo quietly got up.
As they stepped out, they saw Kang Him-chan typing furiously at his keyboard. One of the dual monitors on his desk displayed CCTV footage.
And it wasn’t just his desk. Now that they were looking closely, each desk had its own CCTV monitor. Some employees weren’t even wearing ID badges.
The monitors at certain desks showed not just camera feeds but also satellite maps with red dots tracking the subjects’ movements.
“Those are for monitoring second-stage manifesters.”
Do In-ho noticed the curiosity on Ho-eun’s face and explained gently.
“Twenty-four-hour surveillance? Isn’t that a human rights issue?”
“There were times in the past when skipping surveillance led to Ability Overload. It’s unfortunate, but necessary.”
That made Ho-eun recall what Bae Yeon-woo had said—about the Esper who awakened in the military.
“Hmm… I guess they’ve got no privacy, huh?”
“For the five years they’re considered pre-awakening candidates, it can’t be helped. At least the monitors are matched by gender, and once these employees go off duty, they have their memories erased.”
As Ho-eun frowned, Do In-ho gently patted his head.
“Don’t worry.”
That affectionate touch smoothed the tension from Ho-eun’s expression. The feel of his firm palm against his hair was unexpectedly soothing.
The three of them took the elevator down and returned to the car parked outside. About thirty minutes later, Bae Yeon-woo returned—visibly drained, just like he had been when he first arrived at HQ. He slumped into his seat.
“D-did the talk… go well?”
Ho-eun, sitting in the front passenger seat next to Do In-ho, perked up like a rabbit with twitching ears.
He kept his eyes on the window, pretending not to care, but inwardly, he was desperate to know the answer.
“Just…”
Bae Yeon-woo cut himself off. Clearly, this wasn’t something he wanted to discuss here. Ho-eun, trying to avoid letting the silence settle too deeply, turned on the radio.
“Okay, let’s move on to the next story.”
A soft, pleasant woman’s voice floated through the speakers.
“I had a bad breakup with my ex, and now we’re working at the same company. Seeing him again brought back all those awful feelings… but also memories of the good times.”
Without realizing, Ho-eun turned up the volume.
“We swore never to see each other again, but now I can’t help but wonder… Why now? Why here? Is this just chance or something more? I’d love some advice.”
Nam Woon-soo leaned forward from where he’d been resting against the seat.
“Thanks for sharing. An ex at work, huh? Personally, that sounds like a nightmare! You know what they say—campus couples are one thing, but office romance? Never do it.”
“Listener, I know your heart’s probably wavering right now, but if you don’t sort this out, your livelihood could be on the line. Alright, here’s a song just for you. What shines the brightest? That’s right—Solo!”
Starting the track: ‘Solo’
The rhythmic beat filled the car, replacing the awkward quiet. Nam Woon-soo let out a sigh of relief and leaned back, his hair swaying as if his shoulders were dancing.
“Ho-eun. Let’s just ride in silence.”
“Yessir!”
Leaning against the window, Bae Yeon-woo closed his eyes. He looked especially exhausted, so Ho-eun quietly turned the radio off.
The roads were packed due to rush hour. Traffic crawled along, slower than walking pace, and the boredom began to creep in. A rustling noise came from the back, prompting Ho-eun to check the rearview mirror.
Nam Woon-soo, holding a neck pillow in his hands, gently placed it under the sleeping Bae Yeon-woo’s neck with careful, almost reverent hands—like he was handling a child.
“……”
Just then, Bae Yeon-woo turned his head slightly, and a single, clear tear traced down his cheek.
Nam Woon-soo raised trembling fingers, moving with agonizing slowness so he wouldn’t wake him. His hand finally reached Bae Yeon-woo’s cheek and gently brushed the tear away.
A soft, lingering caress.
Ho-eun shut his eyes, as if he’d witnessed something he shouldn’t have.
Bae Yeon-woo’s voice, filled with hatred toward Espers, still echoed in his head. And Nam Woon-soo—he was very clearly one of the people that hatred had been aimed at.
He held in a sigh for nearly two hours before they finally arrived at the Incheon branch.
“We’ll have the PR morning meeting tomorrow, then head to the field.”
Checking the time on his guide watch, Bae Yeon-woo saw that it was past dinner and postponed the meeting until the next morning.
After confirming that Nam Woon-soo and Bae Yeon-woo had left, the remaining two were about to head to the dorms.
Ho-eun’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Ryu Yoon-jae.
“Hello?”
“Ho-eun! Se-hee just woke up!”
“Really?! I’m coming now!”
Ending the call, Ho-eun turned to Do In-ho.
“I’m going to see Se-hee. Wanna come?”
“Go ahead. I’ll join you later.”
Though he wanted nothing more than to go with him, Do In-ho held back and answered calmly. Ho-eun nodded without hesitation and turned around.
Do In-ho watched him walk away, his legs twitching with the urge to follow, but he clenched them still.
That seat next to him belongs to me. No need to rush.
The darkening sky signaled the beginning of a long night. But for this moment, at least, Kwon Ho-eun belonged entirely to Do In-ho. There was no reason to hurry. He reminded himself of that—and turned away.
