How long that silence lasted, neither of them knew. Only after quite some time did they finally rise from their seats, beginning with Tae-hoon asking in a slightly cracked voice,
“Shall we head out?”
The moment the reception room door opened, the researchers waiting in the hallway—clearly having stood there for quite a while—jerked their heads up all at once. Seeing Lee Mihyun’s visibly restless expression, Choi Tae-hoon smiled helplessly.
“You could’ve knocked. Were you waiting?”
“Uh… Tae-hoon-ssi.”
“Mihyun noona. Are Guides government employees?”
‘Mihyun noona.’
That was a name Tae-hoon only used while drinking together.
For a moment, Mihyun blanked at the strangely gentle yet somehow businesslike question. Even Oh Yeon, who had been leaning crookedly against the wall, twitched a brow.
“Huh? Ah, yes. That’s right. You enter as a public servant.”
“What rank?”
Tae-hoon’s questions were beginning to grow quite specific.
“The starting rank is…… grade 7.”
“Is there a pension?”
“Yes……”
“What about government housing?”
“For Guides…… if they want it, housing is always provided without exception……”
The researchers—and even Ji Gwan-young—found their gazes fixed on Tae-hoon, who seemed to be contemplating everything with unusual seriousness. Tae-hoon appeared to think a little longer before suddenly adding another question, as though something had just occurred to him.
“Can Ji Gwan-young-ssi continue acting?”
“Huh?”
“I’d like it if you kept doing it. Is that not possible?”
Lee Mihyun answered in a voice lacking confidence.
“If he registers as a private public Esper, there shouldn’t really be an issue……”
This time, everyone’s attention turned toward Ji Gwan-young.
The Esper, who had never once shown an unguarded expression in front of the researchers, blinked slowly for the first time as if genuinely unable to grasp the situation.
Tae-hoon scratched at his jaw while watching Gwan-young’s expression, then added quietly, his gaze wandering around awkwardly as though embarrassed.
“……My family’s fourth child basically lives for seeing Ji Gwan-young-ssi.”
For that reason? That’s all?
Mihyun swallowed the question back down.
She had no idea what had happened inside that tiny reception room, but somehow, it looked like the stubbornly heterosexual Choi Tae-hoon was trying to accept this dangerously unstable Esper.
As a researcher, that was good news.
But as Tae-hoon’s drinking buddy—and as his noona—it was worrying.
Especially since he was worrying about Ji Gwan-young’s acting career of all things!
A strange silence filled the hallway.
“…..Ha.”
A small laugh escaped Ji Gwan-young.
Not a polished smile crafted for appearances, but a genuine laugh entirely his own.
For some reason, Tae-hoon suddenly felt his ears burning at the sound. He awkwardly muttered nonsense while fidgeting with something else before taking a small breath.
Slowly, Choi Tae-hoon extended his hand toward his Esper.
“I’m Choi Tae-hoon. Please take care of me.”
It was their second handshake. This time, Choi Tae-hoon was the one offering his hand first.
Ji Gwan-young looked directly into the dark brown eyes staring straight at him. A strange thirst rose in him, enough to make his mouth feel dry.
“I’m Ji Gwan-young. I also…… look forward to working with you.”
Esper: Ji Gwan-young
Guide: Choi Tae-hoon
Special Notes: Shared Name, Maximum Matching Rate 151.2%
***
TV, newspapers, the internet—
Every form of media capable of spreading news endlessly talked about Ji Gwan-young’s Esper awakening.
His awakening had officially been announced as something that occurred suddenly and recently. As a result, reporters permanently camped outside his home, desperate to get even a single comment from him.
A top star awakening as an Esper.
Honestly, that fact alone was enough to fascinate the public. But the thing that truly fueled people’s curiosity was something else entirely:
Who exactly was the Guide who had managed to claim a man everyone wished they could have?
[Ji Gwan-young’s Guide belongs to the Center, and the two displayed the highest matching rate in the Center’s history. Additionally, their Names are connected.]
Officially, those two lines were all the information released about the Guide.
But instead of calming public curiosity, the lack of information only created the perfect environment for imaginations to run wild.
“They say it’s an insanely beautiful woman.”
“No, apparently it’s a man?”
“I heard it’s actually someone from a chaebol family.”
Rumors about Guide Choi Tae-hoon grew more outrageous by the day, multiplying endlessly through speculation.
Meanwhile, Choi Tae-hoon quietly distanced himself from all that chaos. He submitted his resignation at work, packed up his belongings, and moved into Guide housing.
At this point, he was beginning to enter a state of half-enlightened resignation.
He’d expected things to become noisy once Ji Gwan-young’s Esper status was revealed, but he’d never imagined it would explode to this extent.
Once again, Tae-hoon realized just how absurdly popular the man who had become his Esper truly was.
Absolutely. Absolutely no one could find out.
Having lived his whole life as an ordinary civilian, Tae-hoon clenched his teeth.
Things were already complicated enough with them being a same-sex Esper-Guide Pair. If people found out the Esper involved was Ji Gwan-young too—
……He genuinely didn’t even want to imagine it.
Tae-hoon placed the diffuser his younger sisters had packed for him in the center of the table.
“Oppa, they say this helps calm your mind and body.”
They’d handed it to him so carefully while saying that.
Seeing their gloomy expressions, he hadn’t even been able to joke that he wasn’t marching off to his death.
After moving into Guide housing, Tae-hoon’s daily life became even simpler than before.
In the mornings, he attended mental care counseling sessions to treat lingering trauma from the terror incident. In the afternoons, he received education regarding Espers.
Only then did the Guide finally hear hints that the man paired with him specialized in Physical-type abilities and appeared heavily focused on lethal combat capabilities.
Ordinarily, Guides received reports about their partner Espers. But none existed in Ji Gwan-young’s case. That was because Ji Gwan-young refused to allow machine scans.
Tae-hoon, however, didn’t particularly care.
“Well, if we spend time together face-to-face, I’ll figure it out eventually.”
Once the Guide started accepting reality, he adapted surprisingly well to his changed life, brushing off small details without much issue.
……Unlike Esper Ji Gwan-young.
The only physical contact Ji Gwan-young had shared with his Guide after meeting him for the first time was helping support his body when he woke in bed—and that brief handshake.
Yet even those trivial touches had instantly soothed the terrible mood that had sunk to the bottom while speaking with the Center staff.
For someone who had lived his entire life expecting absolutely nothing from Guides, the sensation was enough to rewrite his very existence.
Even after opening senses he had deliberately kept sealed away, the world no longer warped around him.
It was the first time he’d experienced that since becoming an Esper.
He was thirsty.
Simply hugging the awkwardly smiling man before him and rolling around with him still wouldn’t have been enough.
But Ji Gwan-young suppressed those boiling urges. Because he could hear Tae-hoon’s heart racing with tension.
He believed there would be plenty of time now.
However, Ji Gwan-young was a man loved by the public far more than even he himself realized.
Reporters swarmed him like clouds at all times, along with crowds and obsessive fans constantly following him around.
Even though he tried visiting Tae-hoon whenever he found spare time between home and filming sets, opportunities never seemed to appear.
Then one dawn, after more time had passed—Ji Gwan-young called the Center. His business was simple.
If they didn’t make the reporters outside his house disappear immediately, he threatened to hang them one by one from the mansion walls, venting his irritation in full.
Truthfully, the Center had already been worried about the unstable mental state of an Esper who couldn’t even achieve basic emotional exchange—let alone physical contact—with the Pair Guide he’d finally found.
They just hadn’t expected it to manifest this way in the middle of the night.
In the end, the Center hurriedly dispatched Mental-type Espers to Ji Gwan-young’s mansion.
With messy bed hair and sleepy eyes, Ji Gwan-young casually watched the researchers implant feelings of welcome into the reporters before leisurely leaving his estate and driving along a route he’d already memorized in advance.
His destination was the government housing where Choi Tae-hoon lived.
Guide housing was essentially a branch facility dedicated solely to Guides.
To ensure absolute privacy, it was designed like a private apartment system where only one Guide was assigned per floor. Information about who lived on which floor was encrypted so that only Center administrators knew. Even Esper access was restricted exclusively to the residence of their own paired Guide.
With not only heavy security but also excellent welfare systems for Guides—who required constant top-tier mental care—the housing was the option most Guides chose unless special circumstances prevented it.
The security staff at the entrance barricade instantly became tense at the unexpected dawn visitor, only to gape open-mouthed after seeing the man lower his car window, smile lightly, and offer a polite nod.
……That’s really Ji Gwan-young.
The manager returned the greeting lightly before activating a small screen.
[Please look at the screen and place your left palm here.]
“Yes.”
Gwan-young obediently followed the instructions.
A scanner quickly swept over his irises and palm prints before the tightly sealed iron gates opened.
Even then, the parking garage didn’t appear until far deeper inside. At the next entrance, another fingerprint verification was demanded.
The security was quite tight.
Ji Gwan-young was beginning to think the process of seeing his Guide was becoming irritatingly troublesome.
But that thought wouldn’t last long.
The almost excessive protection provided to Guides—far beyond the near-neglect Espers received—had actually been strongly demanded by the Espers themselves.
Espers were extremely sensitive regarding their Guides’ safety. Ji Gwan-young simply hadn’t realized it yet.
The elevator he boarded moved without displaying floor numbers at all.
There was no way to tell whether it ascended or descended. The only thing shown on the display was:
[Moving.]
After traveling for quite some time, the elevator finally stopped.
The destination was the only place Ji Gwan-young was allowed to access in this building.
Boxes were scattered around the living room as if unpacking hadn’t been fully finished yet, but the space didn’t feel messy.
For Tae-hoon, the eldest sibling of five younger brothers and sisters, cleaning was practically second nature. There was also a faint scent lingering in the apartment—a scent that didn’t seem like it would ever exist in the home of a man like Ji Gwan-young.
Gwan-young lightly tapped the diffuser sitting on the table with his fingertip before quietly walking toward the room where he could hear his Guide breathing.
It was late at night, so naturally, Choi Tae-hoon was asleep.
Ji Gwan-young sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the Guide sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the world.
The steady sound of breathing settled into his ears.
It was ridiculous.
Just hearing that man’s heartbeat was enough to calm the nerves that had been sharpened to extremes.
Gwan-young’s hand slowly reached toward Tae-hoon’s face.
The first thing he checked was the wound on his forehead. The injury had already scabbed over and was healing.
Ji Gwan-young gently stroked over it before tracing everything else into his palm as well—the soft eyelids, the straight nose whose bone structure became apparent beneath touch, and even the slightly parted lips.
Time passed far faster than Ji Gwan-young expected.
Simply watching Choi Tae-hoon made several hours vanish in an instant.
At some point, Gwan-young had even started roaming around Tae-hoon’s space as though it were his own home.
Eventually, he found coffee there. The beans were quite good. He found himself very satisfied with his Pair’s taste.
Meanwhile, Guide Choi Tae-hoon woke to the phone alarm he’d set just like back when he still worked at the company.
“…..Ugh, loud.”
The obnoxious alarm he’d specifically chosen because he struggled with waking up quickly filled the entire room.
For the past few days, Tae-hoon had kept thinking he should change the alarm, only to end up hiding beneath his blankets and enduring it instead.
Honestly, he wanted to shut it off immediately.
But if he were capable of that, he never would’ve picked such an aggressively loud alarm in the first place.
But then, the alarm blaring against his ears suddenly vanished cleanly.
Half-asleep, Tae-hoon unconsciously thought, Good, it’s quiet, and shifted to go back to sleep.
But in that moment, a question slowly surfaced in his mind.
Why did it turn off?
