Tae-hoon blankly watched the Esper on the television directing his gaze toward someone else on the screen, then before long picked up the remote and turned off the replay.
The reason was vague and difficult even for himself to define.
It feels awkward because it’s someone I know.
He’d only turned it on thinking he might at least get to see his face, but instead it had just left him feeling strangely unsettled. Tae-hoon aimlessly flipped through channels while finishing off the now-lukewarm coffee.
[Today, Russia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs officially expressed dissatisfaction regarding the Korea-U.S.-Japan joint Esper-Guide research discussions and reportedly conveyed their discomfort to the Blue House through diplomatic channels. Reporter ㅇㅇㅇ has the details.]
Lately, stories about Espers and Guides on the news no longer sounded distant and detached to Choi Tae-hoon.
He’d carried the label of “Guide” practically since before he could remember, but truthfully, until that title began to have real meaning, issues like these had always felt like stories from another world.
But now things were different.
Apparently, he had become part of a Pair with one of the highest matching rates not only in Korea, but among research circles worldwide. On top of that, his Esper, Ji Gwan-young, was described as someone whose power was impossible to measure.
It still didn’t feel entirely real, but the peaceful normalcy he’d lived in until now might not continue forever.
While focusing on the news, Tae-hoon kept intermittently checking his phone, where not a single new message had appeared.
Because of the man who hadn’t contacted him at all since their short phone call last night.
The Guide worried over it for a while before eventually letting out a hollow laugh at himself.
“……Why would he contact me?”
Ji Gwan-young was his Pair Esper, not his lover.
There was no reason to think morning and evening calls or casual texts throughout the day were something natural between them. Tae-hoon realized that somewhere along the way, he had started expecting from Ji Gwan-young the kinds of things people expected in romantic relationships, and he pressed a hand to his head.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been single for too long?
The realization came belatedly, and heat rushed all the way up his neck. Seriously, he felt like an idiot.
Sleeping with Ji Gwan-young was simply part of a Guide’s duties. It was to hold together and lead the unstable mind of his Esper so it wouldn’t collapse—not a relationship where either of them should ask for or expect anything beyond that.
When Tae-hoon’s thoughts reached the point of wondering whether he had started seeing Ji Gwan-young with “feelings similar to pseudo-romance,” he finally dropped the coffee cup he’d been holding.
His reflection in the black phone screen was bright red.
This was all because he’d had sex with Ji Gwan-young—a man. And because Ji Gwan-young had saved his life.
……And because lately, Ji Gwan-young kept looking at him with eyes that made no sense at all.
He couldn’t let strange feelings grow from that.
Tae-hoon muttered to himself almost like brainwashing.
Good god. Homosexuality.
It was something he had genuinely never once considered in his life. Lately, after naturally touching and sleeping with another man, he’d clearly become desensitized to things.
Just then—
The phone screen that had remained dark for so long suddenly lit up. It was Ji Gwan-young.
Why now of all times?
Tae-hoon stared at it with an oddly emotional expression before eventually grabbing the phone and pressing the message open.
[I filmed through dawn yesterday and just woke up.]
Tae-hoon stared at his Esper’s text for a long while before finally sending back a short one-word reply.
Ji Gwan-young, who was in the middle of getting his makeup and hair done before filming, slightly curved his brows at the response.
[Okay.]
It was a sentence completely devoid of charm.
No, not even a sentence. It was a single word.
He was six years younger than Gwan-young. Even if not outright spoiled, you’d think someone his age would at least show a little playfulness now and then, but Choi Tae-hoon was always serious and upright to the point of stiffness.
Maybe that was inevitable when you had five younger siblings.
Ji Gwan-young thought back to the first time Tae-hoon had woken up and introduced his family to him.
The eldest son. Rigidly principled. The kind of person who can’t easily think bad thoughts. Someone who believes in living properly.
Those qualities suited Choi Tae-hoon’s neat and tidy face perfectly.
That didn’t mean he looked bookish, though. Maybe because of the basketballs rolling around the family residence, his slightly tanned skin instead gave him a bright, healthy energy without shadows.
Ji Gwan-young closed his eyes briefly and pictured his Guide. Just doing that made him feel good.
It felt like warm breath sinking into a heart balanced precariously on a tightrope, a heart where new thorns seemed to grow every single day.
Weak. I am weak.
For the first time in his life, he understood that fact.
Like someone hesitating over unfamiliar clothes they’d been handed, the monster spent a long time wavering before finally trying them on. And paradoxically, only then did the deepest wounds hidden inside finally become covered.
Ji Gwan-young remembered the warmth of Choi Tae-hoon’s hand holding his.
Even if he lost every memory in the world, he would probably still carry that sensation engraved somewhere deep inside himself.
Choi Tae-hoon would not leave him. He would save him and protect him.
The Esper replayed over and over the words from his Guide that had felt sweeter than any confession.
Ever since awakening as an Esper, Ji Gwan-young had lived every day unable to die and unable to lose his mind completely. But lately, he had started dreaming of things he never would have imagined before.
Nothing grand. Just small and trivial things the monster had never believed he was allowed to want. Yet precious things all the same.
He imagined opening his eyes and seeing Choi Tae-hoon there.
He imagined a future where Tae-hoon—who still didn’t smile at him very often yet—would curve his eyes gently at him and hold his hand.
Tae-hoon seemed tired of only going back and forth between the family residence and The Center, so maybe they could quietly go see a movie sometime in the evening, or eat together somewhere with a nice atmosphere. Or maybe he could try learning basketball since Tae-hoon liked it so much.
A faint smile touched Ji Gwan-young’s lips.
For that future, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.
The Center, which irritated him at every turn. The reporters constantly chasing after him looking for sensational stories. Even the old men who had long ago severed family ties with him yet only now started lingering around him again.
He could tolerate all of it.
After all, they were things he’d already endured for unbearably long years. There was nothing surprising about them anymore.
Ji Gwan-young pressed firmly against his temples a few times and took a quiet deep breath.
……Not yet. Not yet.
It was while he was quietly repeating that to himself like a vow—
***
“Oh Yeon-ssi. Did something happen?”
Choi Tae-hoon cautiously spoke up, unsettled by the strangely chaotic atmosphere filling The Center.
But unlike the restless surroundings, Oh Yeon answered shortly as though it were nothing important.
“Someone’s coming.”
“Who?”
“The Minister of Trade, Industry and Energy.”
Tae-hoon’s eyes widened immediately in surprise.
That morning, there’d been a broadcast throughout the official residence telling any Guides without specific schedules to gather at The Center, so he’d wandered over without thinking much about it.
A high-ranking government official visiting was the last thing he’d expected.
Lee Mihyun, who had looked the busiest out of everyone, finally seemed able to breathe as she smiled and elaborated on Oh Yeon’s brief explanation.
“Well, things have been noisy lately, right? Because of the joint Esper-Guide research project. But did you know the terms of this agreement are actually pretty good?”
“Oh? Why?”
“Who do you think? It’s thanks to our Tae-hoon-ssi and Tae-hoon-ssi’s Esper.”
Though Mihyun’s explanation was far longer and more detailed than Oh Yeon’s, Tae-hoon only looked even more confused, blinking blankly.
Laughing loudly at his expression, Lee Mihyun patted him on the back.
“Maximum matching rate: 171.8%! And Ji Gwan-young-ssi’s abilities are just as insane as his personality. That’s a compliment, by the way.”
“……Ah.”
“Of course, the official documents stop at 151.2. Why would we publicly disclose the real number for joint research? All the data after that is stored here.”
Leaning comfortably against Oh Yeon’s shoulder, Mihyun spoke with obvious excitement in her voice.
It was completely different from the blunt man beside her, who simply stared at the monitor with his usual calm face.
Meanwhile, Tae-hoon once again became newly aware of just how abnormal his Esper’s abilities really were, and unconsciously wet his dry lips.
The fact that they hadn’t even formally documented everything and instead relied entirely on Oh Yeon’s memory to preserve the data reminded him once more how unusual he and Ji Gwan-young were as a Pair.
Well, considering he’d completely destroyed one of The Center’s training grounds beyond repair, his power definitely wasn’t normal.
Embarrassed for some reason, Tae-hoon scratched at his chin.
But that feeling only lasted briefly.
Not long afterward, Choi Tae-hoon found himself thinking that the slightly noisy atmosphere from before had actually been better.
The Minister arrived surrounded by guards and secretaries. He was a thin middle-aged man with an oddly layered double chin folding over itself several times.
As he wandered around every corner of The Center, he looked almost desperate to find faults.
Especially when he saw the training room currently undergoing reconstruction.
Even Tae-hoon—who rarely lost his temper—felt anger surge at the man’s reaction.
“How barbaric, honestly. Hm? They call this an ability, but this is just…… tsk tsk.”
“Exactly, Minister.”
What disgusting people……..
Tae-hoon barely restrained himself from frowning outright.
The middle-aged man before him was a government minister potentially tied directly to The Center’s funding, and far older than him besides.
Forcing an awkward smile, Tae-hoon tried to let the Minister’s words go in one ear and out the other.
I wish Ji Gwan-young-ssi were here.
Tae-hoon tried to forcibly erase the thought the moment it surfaced, but it wasn’t easy.
Like the other Guides around him, he kept wishing his Esper were here too, because he felt like he’d be even a little more at ease.
The insensitive, inconsiderate remarks continued nonstop.
“To be honest, I think far too much budget gets allocated to Guides.”
“……Excuse me?”
“I mean, what are Guides really? Aren’t they just earning money by fucking and spreading their legs? It’s not like taxpayer money should be funding luxury prostitutes. Isn’t that right?”
The instant the Minister finished speaking, the temperature inside The Center dropped several degrees. And it wasn’t imagination either.
One Esper with cooling-type abilities had momentarily failed to suppress their power, causing moisture in the air to partially freeze. But nobody at The Center had any room left to scold them.
Especially the Esper researchers—their expressions had already hardened sharply enough that they weren’t even trying to hide it anymore.
The secretary who had been repeatedly agreeing with the Minister until now finally sensed the murderous atmosphere and shut his mouth. At least he had some awareness.
But the Minister—who had just used the absolute worst possible words about the beings Espers treasured and protected most sensitively—had even less sense than that.
“Hm? What’s with those looks?”
“Haaah… Minister. Espers form extremely strong attachments to their Guides. So……..”
Director Kwon Dahee finally spoke after a long sigh that bordered on outright disrespect.
She herself was also an Esper. And one so devoted to her Guide that people often said they’d never once seen the two fight despite being a Pair for over twenty years.
Which also meant that the woman who usually wore nothing but a warm smile was now thoroughly furious.
But the Minister didn’t even properly look at her face before rudely cutting off her carefully moderated words.
“Oh, come now. Every single one of you is too emotionally involved. You should be devoting yourselves to the country first! Serving the greater good! Instead of getting swept up by pillow talk and abandoning your duty!”
[Can we seriously not kill him?]
At the group telepathic broadcast filled with the sincere fury of one mental-type Esper, Director Kwon Dahee quietly shook her head.
Seeing that, the Espers practically started grinding their teeth.
Lee Mihyun, whose fire abilities suited her personality perfectly, was already twitching her fists anxiously as faint crackling sparks began snapping around her.
[At least let me smash the back of his head once. Are you really planning to let that bastard walk out of The Center alive?]
[Fuck this, kill him! Ministry of Trade and Industry? That bastard’s got udon noodles where his brain should be.]
[Fucking~? How dare he talk about our oppa like that! He’s not even taller than our oppa’s dick!]
[……Hey, maybe tone it down a little…….]
Listening to the mental-type Espers’ telepathic chatter spiraling nearly out of control—everyone except the Minister hearing it—Tae-hoon swallowed a sigh.
The Minister’s side might not realize it, but The Center had already become as noisy as a marketplace from the overlapping broadcasts of furious mental-type Espers.
And somehow, seeing all this anger from the Espers became a strange comfort to Choi Tae-hoon after personally experiencing contempt toward Guides for the first time in his life.
