Inside the Guide Center Director’s Office.
Esper Center Director Park Joo-hee sat quietly, sipping her tea as she warily glanced at the people seated across from her. The whole situation made her feel like a parent being called in to school because of her kid. She barely managed to keep up a calm facade, while Guide Center Director Jung Young-soo glared daggers at her from his seat.
Dressed casually in a plain white short-sleeved T-shirt and navy slacks, Park Joo-hee didn’t look like an Esper Center Director at all. More like a fresh-faced intern from a big corporation. Her youthful appearance—she looked to be in her mid-thirties—only added to that impression.
They should’ve just made the center director a man from the start.
Jung Young-soo’s eyes swept down her figure with obvious disapproval. He’d disliked her ever since the moment she was appointed Esper Center Director. The fact that Park Joo-hee, a younger woman, now held the same rank as him? It wounded his pride.
The moment she set down her teacup, Jung Young-soo lunged like he’d been waiting for the signal.
“So what are you planning to do about this, huh?”
He shoved Kim Min-jae’s face forward like evidence. The man’s plain features were now splashed with blue and red bruises, as if someone had painted him in full autumn foliage.
“Seriously, what kind of Esper beats up a Guide? They’re practically civilians!”
“…Strictly speaking, he’s not a civilian.”
“He is! He’s the kind of guy who’d get knocked flat from just one accidental hit by an Esper!”
“You keep talking like our people are criminals.”
Her hand trembled as she gripped the teacup. Honestly, she was doing her best not to smash it right over Jung Young-soo’s thick skull.
“Our Espers aren’t thoughtless like that.”
“That’s just what you think.”
He let out a loud snort.
“You realize this’ll blow up if the media catches wind, right?”
Forget it—maybe I really should just crack it over his head and jam the shards down his throat.
Park clamped her mouth shut, lost in the fantasy. Mistaking her silence for submission, Jung Young-soo puffed up and grinned smugly.
“I’ve got connections in a few news outlets, you know. Just dropping a vague tip gets them begging for more. Absolutely begging.”
She exhaled sharply through her nose. God, the man was full of himself. She wanted to snap back, tell him to stop posturing, but since their side was technically the aggressor, she couldn’t open her mouth so easily. She glanced at Kim Min-jae, who still hadn’t said a word and sat with his head bowed, then turned away.
Seated beside her was Jin Mu-seong, supposedly brought along as backup. She’d hoped he’d at least lend some support, but the man had propped his chin on his hand from the start and spent the entire time staring blankly at the office door—completely uninterested in the conversation.
Park Joo-hee sighed.
“For now, let’s hear from the people directly involved before we make any decisions.”
“What’s there to hear? The evidence is right here. Don’t you agree, Team Leader Jin Mu-seong?”
Jung Young-soo turned to him, prompting a slow smirk from Jin Mu-seong.
“Actually, I’m more curious about the other evidence.”
Right on cue, a soft knock echoed through the room—the very moment Jin Mu-seong had been waiting for.
The door opened, and in walked Eun-jo and Jung Tae-seok, side by side. Both were fully dressed in regulation uniforms, crisp and perfect.
“Good afternoon.”
“Yes, hello.”
Eun-jo stole a quick glance at Park Joo-hee, who returned his greeting. She was sharp, quick on the uptake—a character who always played a key supporting role in novels. While reading, he’d liked her almost as much as the protagonist. Seeing her now made his heart skip a beat.
He found himself staring until a piercing gaze caught his attention. He turned and spotted Jin Mu-seong seated next to him.
Why the hell are you here?
Their eyes met, and Jin Mu-seong gave him a subtle nod, like he was greeting an old friend.
“Both of you, have a seat.”
“Ahem. No need to sit—just stand right there.”
The two center directors spoke at the same time, clashing opinions. That snapped Eun-jo back to reality. This wasn’t the time to be focusing on Jin Mu-seong. What mattered now was clearing up the issue with Kim Min-jae—the guy who’d practically stolen his paycheck.
Eun-jo quickly scanned the room.
Next to the pot-bellied director sat Kim Min-jae. Compared to the last incident, it seemed like he’d switched tactics, now playing the role of the tragic, discarded Guide. If someone walked in right now, they’d probably assume Team A had used him and tossed him aside the second he wasn’t useful anymore.
“Wait… he’s saying I did that?”
The moment Jung Tae-seok saw his bruised face, he looked like he was about to launch himself across the room. Eun-jo quickly reached over and wrapped a hand around his, like tugging back a dog on a leash.
Getting worked up wouldn’t help anyone right now.
“Guide Yeo Eun-jo wasn’t summoned. What’s he doing here?”
“…You can’t leave out the person actually involved.”
At Eun-jo’s calm reply, Kim Min-jae—who’d been staring at the floor the whole time—lifted his eyes. The moment their gazes met, Eun-jo bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.
You’re dead.
And just like that, Eun-jo delivered the verbal punch he’d been holding back.
“I’m the one who hit him.”
“What?!”
“Excuse me?!”
Both directors shouted at once. Their eyes flew to Eun-jo’s fist like it was some kind of weapon. Jung Tae-seok looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but Eun-jo didn’t have time to explain.
The fact that things had already escalated to this point meant Kim Min-jae had done his homework. Showed up like that without even getting hit? That meant the guy had laid down some serious groundwork behind the scenes.
If I were Kim Min-jae, what would I have said…?
Getting into character was second nature—basic instinct for any actor. It didn’t take much.
He probably played the friend card. Said Eun-jo used him for everything. Made him do all the Training Guiding. Took the money but never paid him back…
And that’d be the soft part of the story. He’d definitely sobbed and ranted about how Eun-jo made his life a living hell. If Eun-jo were in his shoes, he’d have done the same.
When someone strikes first, there’s no use denying it. The narrative’s already been planted. Even if you say no, they’re not going to believe you.
If you miss the first punch, you better counter hard.
With his face drained pale and his shoulders slightly hunched, Eun-jo looked up at the two directors.
“I hit him in the Observation Room. I told him I’d take over all of Team A’s work… and asked for the money I was owed.”
“……”
“Esper Jung Tae-seok was acting on my orders. He just… messed up the Guiding Room a little, that’s all.”
“So you’re saying my Esper didn’t hit him?” Park Joo-hee asked, like she already knew the answer.
Jung Young-soo, now the one cornered, threw his arms wide in protest.
“No, no! That’s not right!”
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This had been his chance to finally crush the Esper Center Director. Practically leaping off the couch, Jung Young-soo leaned toward Eun-jo, his voice rising.
“That’s not it, right? Jung Tae-seok made you say that, didn’t he?”
“…Tae-seok didn’t do anything.”
“Come on. Be serious. Eun-jo, there’s no way you did that to Min-jae… beat him to a pulp like that…”
He trailed off, but the meaning was obvious to everyone in the room. As the doubt began to swirl, Eun-jo planted his stake firmly into the ground.
He hunched slightly, letting his body tremble faintly. His eyes flitted nervously around the room, never landing on one spot. Like someone being threatened. Like someone too scared to speak the truth.
“…Esper Jung Tae-seok didn’t do anything wrong.”
His voice cracked as he spoke. Bait, thrown perfectly.
“I-It’s all my fault…”
Pale face, anxious posture—anyone looking at Yeo Eun-jo right now would think he couldn’t hurt a fly. Hell, he looked like he’d fall over from just coughing too hard, let alone throw a punch.
“Haah…”
Park Joo-hee rubbed her forehead and let out a long sigh, finally piecing everything together.
“So Jung Tae-seok did nothing wrong, and Guide Yeo Eun-jo hit him alone in the Observation Room?”
Jung Young-soo repeated her words back with a forced grin, trying desperately to keep control of the situation.
“R-Right…?”
“Then we can just check the security footage from the Observation Room, can’t we?”
That did it. Eun-jo knew he had him. He celebrated silently as Jung Young-soo—afraid someone might interrupt—hurriedly spoke into his intercom.
“Get the security footage from the Observation Room. Make sure we can play it in here!”
“I’ll go get it myself.”
Jin Mu-seong, who had been silently observing until now, finally rose from his seat and stepped out of the Director’s Office.
As things started to spiral out of control, Kim Min-jae—realizing the tide was turning against him—let out a shaky sob and buried his face in both hands.
“It’s… it’s all my fault! Hic… I never should’ve tried to help Eun-jo in the first place…!”
That little bastard.
“Please, don’t fight over this… I won’t make a fuss, I swear…!”
“Tsk, tsk. Still, if someone crossed the line, they need to be held accountable.”
Jung Young-soo, now visibly riled up, cut him off mid-whimper. He waved his hand impatiently at Jin Mu-seong, as if urging him to hurry up and leave already.
That footage was going to show everything. Like how Kim Min-jae had started sneering the moment Eun-jo stepped into the room. Or how he’d grabbed him by the collar and tried to throw hands first.
A dark shadow crept across Kim Min-jae’s face. His knee bounced nervously as he fidgeted, then—almost involuntarily—he snapped his head toward Eun-jo and stared.
