Yeo Eun-jo examined his face closely. Jet-black hair, sharp eyes, lips pressed into a stubborn line—his entire aura was icy and severe. Unlike the other Espers, he wore silver-rimmed glasses, which surprisingly suited his frosty demeanor quite well.
If Jung Tae-seok and Jin Mu-seong are the warm types… then this guy’s downright glacial.
Eun-jo thought his face matched his abilities perfectly. He silently admired the man’s looks.
Whoever wrote the original must’ve had a field day picking characters by color palette.
That’s why he liked that story so much. Park Se-yul, in particular, had been one of Eun-jo’s favorite characters. He was the last one to fall for the protagonist—and his fetish? None other than…
S&M.
Annoyed, Park Se-yul suddenly grabbed a fistful of Eun-jo’s hair and yanked hard.
“…Ugh!”
“What the hell are you thinking, Yeo Eun-jo?”
“……”
“I’m pretty sure I told you to behave while I was away.”
With his other hand, he gave Eun-jo’s cheek a few condescending taps—more of an insulting push than a slap. Exhaling sharply, Park Se-yul gestured behind him toward Jung Tae-seok.
“What was with that ‘I’m in pain’ text? And what the hell happened with the Director?”
“……”
“No answer? Want me to keep smacking your face until you talk?”
“……”
“Or should Jung Tae-seok answer for you?”
Eun-jo’s thoughts raced. In the original novel, Park Se-yul had inhaled hallucinogenic gas during a gate mission, which led him to realize he was a full-blown sadist. Meaning—at this point in time, he still hadn’t figured out his kink.
Perfect. With a plan locked in, Eun-jo lowered his head. His eyes drooped, lips bit tightly until they reddened with pooling blood. He felt it immediately—the way Park Se-yul’s gaze locked onto his mouth.
“Team Leader!”
Unable to hold back any longer, Jung Tae-seok shot up from his seat. His cheek was swollen red, like he’d been hit. As he rushed toward Eun-jo, Park Se-yul raised a hand to stop him.
“Stay out of it. I’ve got plenty to say to you too.”
“Was this really necessary?”
“This?”
Park Se-yul turned to face him, eyes empty and cold as ice. Jung Tae-seok flinched, his shoulders jerking instinctively.
“I’m gone for a few days, and in that time I get bombarded with corruption complaints, calls from the Director, and alerts from every direction. You think this isn’t necessary?”
“Still, this is—”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Jung Tae-seok. Just because I’m gone doesn’t mean you’re the team leader. You don’t have the authority to give orders.”
Jung Tae-seok tried to speak again, but Eun-jo cut him off.
“Please stop. Tae-seok… didn’t do anything wrong.”
By now, Eun-jo had already knelt gracefully between them, hands folded neatly between his knees. He looked up from beneath lowered lashes, the picture of perfect submission.
Was he always like this? Maybe that message about being in pain was a lie, but something had definitely changed. Park Se-yul couldn’t stop staring at those flushed, glassy eyes.
Sitting on the edge of the table, Park Se-yul gave a small nod.
“Go ahead. Explain.”
“It was just a misunderstanding with Guide Kim Min-jae. He’d been handling Team A’s training guidance on his own. I just corrected it, that’s all.”
“So Jung Tae-seok hit him over that?”
“Tae-seok didn’t hit him. It was… my fault.”
When he first got the call, Park Se-yul hadn’t believed it. Jung Tae-seok had always treated Eun-jo just as dismissively as he did. But seeing the way the man couldn’t take his eyes off him now—it didn’t seem so far-fetched.
What the hell happened while I was gone? Frowning, Park Se-yul’s thoughts tangled. Sensing he might’ve upset him, Eun-jo quickly added,
“It really was just me. Tae-seok only came to the Director’s office because he’s on Team A.”
“That’s enough. Stop, hyung.”
Like a loyal puppy finally snapping, Jung Tae-seok rushed over and stepped in front of Eun-jo, blocking Park Se-yul’s view.
“I didn’t like how things were going, so I trashed the Guiding Room. Satisfied?”
“Jung Tae-seok.”
Even with that warning tone, he didn’t back down.
“So what—Kim Min-jae choked him, and I’m just supposed to let that slide?”
“…Choked?”
In a flash, Park Se-yul closed the distance, bent down in front of Eun-jo, and grabbed his chin—lifting it sharply.
Red marks stained the pale line of Eun-jo’s neck. The ones left by Kim Min-jae were long gone—these were fresh, newly made by Jin Mu-seong the night before. But that wasn’t the point.
Park Se-yul’s sharp eyes gleamed. He grabbed Eun-jo’s throat with one hand, and with the other, he traced the marks with his fingertips.
Fuck.
The curse stayed trapped in his mouth. His mind went cold, like someone had poured ice water down his spine. Was it anger as Team A’s leader? Or irritation that someone had left blemishes on what was his? Even he didn’t know.
Eun-jo, seeing Park Se-yul staring at his neck like it was seared into memory, suddenly burst into tears.
“I’m sorry… hic… It’s all my fault…”
His wide eyes brimmed with tears. The corners, already red from earlier, welled up again, and his long lashes quivered.
“I won’t… hic… I won’t ever do it again…”
At that, like he’d been burned, Park Se-yul pulled his hand back instantly.
“Don’t act so cheap.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the office. The last thing Eun-jo saw was his face—etched with unmistakable shock.
Only two were left behind. Jung Tae-seok glanced down at Eun-jo, then turned and walked toward the door.
“Tae-seok.”
Eun-jo called out softly, his voice still trembling.
“I kept calling you… Was something wrong?”
“…No. Don’t call me again for a while.”
Jung Tae-seok made a quick exit, as if afraid he might say something more. The door slammed shut behind him—then flung open once more.
“Lee Sang-heon! You coming or not?!”
From behind the sofa, a large dog-like beast crawled out. Though calling it a dog was generous—it was closer to a wolf in size and stature.
The creature glanced between Eun-jo and the door, then yawned with a wide, toothy gape and stretched out its limbs. With a lazy tilt of the head in Eun-jo’s direction, it ambled after Jung Tae-seok. That was Lee Sang-heon, another Team A member—his ability was beast transformation.
Once the storm had passed, Eun-jo buried his face in his hands. With everyone from Team A now accounted for—except one—the game could finally begin.
Go ahead and try to run. I dare you.
Just like the first time Jung Tae-seok hurled that tissue box, Eun-jo’s heart thudded with excited anticipation.
***
Eun-jo had made his decision—to step into the tiger’s den.
If you want to catch a tiger, you’ve got to go into its den.
According to the schedule he’d pried out of Jin Mu-seong, Park Se-yul would be holed up in his office until late. After being gone on a business trip, he had a mountain of paperwork and gate duties to catch up on. Jin Mu-seong had muttered something before leaving:
“Careful. That bastard’s a total pervert.”
“You’re one to talk,” Eun-jo had scoffed, smirking. Then he knocked on the office door.
“Yes,” came the firm reply from within.
When he opened the door, he saw Park Se-yul seated at his desk. Instead of the harsh glow of overhead lights, the room was lit by a warm desk lamp, casting a gentle, amber hue. As soon as Park Se-yul raised a brow, Eun-jo shut the door behind him.
“What brings you here?”
He asked casually, not even looking up from the files in front of him. The soft lighting emphasized the sharp line of his jaw. Nervous, Eun-jo swallowed hard as he approached. He stopped in front of the desk and hesitated.
“I… I was hoping you’d help me with training.”
“Training?”
That got Park Se-yul’s attention. He looked up, clearly expecting some excuse—but when their eyes met, Eun-jo quickly averted his gaze. That little flinch pricked at something deep in Park Se-yul’s nerves.
“What kind of training?”
“Well… I can’t just stand around useless inside the gate. I’d only get in the way of the team…”
“……”
“I just thought… it’d be better if I did something.”
Eun-jo let out a deep breath and continued, this time locking eyes with Park Se-yul without flinching.
“I know I’m not enough as Team A’s Guide. I’m just a B-rank, and my stamina, my skills—they’re all subpar.”
“……”
“My ability is out of my control, but stamina, technique—those are things I can work on. I can’t keep being dead weight.”
“So what, you’re asking me to run you through basic physical training?”
“If that’s what it takes, yes.”
At that, Park Se-yul set his pen down. He pulled off his glasses and pressed a hand to his brow like he had a headache coming on.
Something about this pissed him off. Not that he could point to any one thing—was it Eun-jo walking into his office so brazenly, asking for help like it was nothing? Or was it that expression from earlier, the one he wore while kneeling and looking up at him?
All of it.
Too many things were getting under his skin.
Clicking his tongue, Park Se-yul let out a sharp, annoyed sound. At that, Eun-jo flinched instinctively, his body twitching like he’d been hit. Pathetic. Like a hamster startled by the sound of paper crinkling.
“…The only time I can do it is at dawn. Think you can manage that?”
“Really?!”
The answer came easier than expected, and Eun-jo lit up, clearly thrilled.
“You’re not messing with me, right? You really mean it?”
“If you’re late, that’s it. You miss it, you don’t get another shot. I’ve been meaning to start this training anyway.”
With that, he picked up his pen again. The message was clear—conversation over.
But Eun-jo didn’t care. Practically bouncing, he shouted,
“Thank you! I’ll see you at dawn!”
Just in case the offer was rescinded, he bowed at a perfect ninety degrees and rushed out the door. Park Se-yul didn’t lift his head until the sound of Eun-jo’s hurried footsteps had completely faded.
Not that his pen had moved an inch.
He didn’t flip a single page for a long while.
Eventually, he let out a low, tired sigh.
Dawn was going to be a long one.
