Banteon habitually glanced around him. The crimson aura unique to Espers shimmered steadily around the other.
Having experienced that Esper’s rampage firsthand, Banteon knew better than anyone just how feral and vicious that energy could be.
But now, seeing it so calm and controlled—so unlike what he’d witnessed just days ago—it sent chills down his spine. The fact that he had only recently arrived at the center, yet already had such immaculate control, was monstrous growth.
Another warning light flickered on in Banteon’s mind.
“Is that all your stuff?”
“I’m fine.”
“Hand it over.”
Ignoring Banteon’s refusal, Delroz effortlessly snatched away the textbooks. Though Banteon had been holding them quite firmly, they were stolen from his grasp in an instant, leaving him empty-handed. The student who had been standing nearby glanced between them nervously before slowly backing away and fleeing.
With his materials taken hostage, Banteon had no choice but to follow Delroz, dragging his feet along the way. Even as he walked, his thoughts churned rapidly.
Why had he been singled out?
According to the rumors, Delroz had been tearing through the data center and the director’s office every day in search of the guide who had calmed him. That probably explained why he was late to class today.
If someone with such a volatile temper had recognized Banteon as that guide, there’s no way he would be approaching slowly under the guise of helping him carry things.
Could it be that, as an Esper, he was simply treating guides with courtesy out of necessity? No, that couldn’t be it.
He was the type to leave male guides in a bloody heap for approaching him. If it were a woman, maybe—but with Banteon, there was no reason for kindness. He couldn’t begin to guess what Delroz was after.
“This your first time in this class? What’s it on?”
“……”
Now that he thought about it, Delroz was casually using informal speech. Realizing that made Banteon’s gaze harden. Though they were likely around the same age, Banteon, a teacher, had answered in polite speech—making Delroz’s tone all the more jarring.
“You’re slow to answer.”
“If you’re going to ask questions, I’d appreciate it if you followed basic manners.”
In his head, alarms blared: Don’t get involved. Just let it go. But the words that came out of his mouth were already stiff and formal.
“Manners? …Ah. You want me to speak formally?”
“Considering we’re in a student-teacher setting, I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request.”
“That so?”
Delroz let out a deflated laugh at the suggestion. Banteon knew. As a naturally occurring Esper and the only known SS-rank in existence, Delroz was someone even the king couldn’t treat lightly. Once he completed his training at the center and officially gained his title, he’d rise to a position higher than anyone else.
But that was a matter for later. For now, he was just a reckless brat who hadn’t even graduated. Banteon wasn’t the type to graciously ignore that kind of arrogance. Delroz shrugged at Banteon’s clear displeasure.
“I’ve never used polite speech before, so I don’t think I can.”
“Then I don’t see why I should answer your question.”
There was no reason to match etiquette with someone who ignored it entirely.
Banteon held out his hand to signal Delroz to return his belongings. His demand was clear and confident, but Delroz didn’t move. Instead, he gave Banteon a strange look, stroked his chin, and came to a stop. His eyes scanned Banteon in a way that made his skin crawl.
“Got a face like you’d drop dead from just one hit, but the attitude…”
Banteon swallowed his urge to walk away right then and there. His belongings were still in Delroz’s hands.
“If you have nothing else to say, return my things.”
“Well, it’s not like I grabbed you because I like you or anything. I just have one question.”
Delroz grinned, flashing his teeth like he’d found the perfect excuse. The polite, subdued aura he’d shown until now vanished—replaced by a wild and unruly presence. The same ominous energy that had once surged like a typhoon that night made Banteon take a step back.
“I’m not trying to hurt you. Just a question. Do you have any siblings?”
“What do you mean?”
“Not brothers. I don’t care about those. A sister—or even a female cousin. That’s fine too.”
The tension in Banteon’s shoulders immediately dropped. What kind of absurd question was that? While he looked dumbfounded, Delroz remained dead serious. His expression made it clear that Banteon wouldn’t be getting his stuff back until he answered.
“…I only have a younger brother.”
“I see.”
“Why are you asking that?”
“Is your hair color a family trait?”
Delroz answered the question with another question. Banteon frowned at the frustrating lack of conversational etiquette, but the moment he heard the question, he realized what Delroz was getting at—and instinctively swallowed hard.
“There are no other guides in my family. I think you’ve got the wrong person.”
Delroz had clearly mistaken him for someone else, drawn in by the similar hair color.
For some reason, he was firmly convinced that the guide who had saved him was a woman. So convinced, in fact, that he couldn’t even suspect the person standing right in front of him.
With that confirmation, Banteon folded his arms and looked at Delroz calmly, speaking with a composed, almost indifferent tone—as though observing from the outside.
“I hope you find the guide from the rumors soon—but that has nothing to do with me. Now, please return my belongings.”
“Hmmm…”
At Banteon’s firm words, Delroz merely fell silent, lost in thought, showing no intention of moving. Even as time passed, he remained still. Growing impatient, Banteon pressed him again.
“I heard it was a woman with long hair.”
“Yeah.”
The confirmation came without hesitation. Banteon was starting to wonder why Delroz was so absolutely convinced it had been a woman. Despite knowing it worked in his favor, he couldn’t help but ask.
“They said you were in a dangerous state. You seem to remember quite clearly?”
“She was beautiful.”
“…What?”
He blinked, momentarily unsure if he’d heard right.
“The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. Come on, no way some creepy guy would ever look good to me.”
Banteon’s expression twisted oddly at hearing himself described as beautiful to his face. He knew he was attractive—more than enough to draw attention, and compliments weren’t rare either.
But whether he should feel flattered or angry in this moment was… hard to tell. It was a tangled, conflicting mix of emotions. And at the same time, a wave of dumbfounded disbelief hit him. To think Delroz narrowed it down to a woman simply because she was pretty. Even if it worked in Banteon’s favor, it was pathetically absurd.
Perhaps noticing Banteon’s expression, Delroz added, almost defensively:
“I can’t do Guiding with guys.”
“…What?”
“Last time, I tried Guiding with some guy and almost threw up. Had to stop. But this time, I didn’t feel any discomfort at all. There’s no way I’d feel that at ease if it were another dude’s energy getting mixed with mine.”
What kind of backwards, sexist nonsense is this? Judging compatibility in Guiding based on gender—it was outdated and biased to the extreme. Banteon frowned, then remembered that Delroz came from a commoner background.
Among the nobility, as long as the matching rate was sufficient, gender rarely mattered. It wasn’t unusual for both parents in a household to be the same sex. While personal preference varied, there was little to no aversion. On the other hand, commoners were used to traditional male-female pairings. The technology needed for same-sex Esper-Guide pairings to produce children was too costly and time-consuming for most of them.
Knowing that, Banteon was aware that many commoners had discomfort around same-sex relationships. But to feel actual nausea from a same-sex Guide? That was new.
‘So that’s why he insisted on a female Guide from the start.’
Delroz had targeted female Guides from the moment he arrived at the center. Banteon had found his attitude—like some royal consort selection—obnoxious, but now it at least made sense.
If it wasn’t just preference but full-on revulsion to the point of physical rejection, then of course it should’ve been taken seriously.
That thought led to another question.
Then how had he been able to Guide with Delroz at all?
Banteon recalled the night he first met him. Delroz had been on the verge of losing control—mentally unstable. Could it be that, in that hazy state, his body simply didn’t register the discomfort?
If they were to try Guiding now, when Delroz was fully aware and functional, there was a high chance it wouldn’t work at all.
How ironic that the same background Delroz scorned—his own commoner status—was now a shield for Banteon. If he ever learned the truth, if he found out that Guide had been a man… Delroz might be disgusted, but he likely wouldn’t go so far as to spout nonsense about making him his permanent Guide. After all, even if he hated male Guides, surely he wouldn’t harm the one who had saved his life.
Banteon’s biggest fear had been that Delroz might try to latch onto him. Now that worry felt slightly lighter—just a bit of the weight pressing on his chest had eased.
He opened his mouth to confirm one last thing.
“What would you do if that Guide turned out to be a man?”
“A man?”
Delroz’s expression darkened at the question. He growled the next words in a low, hostile voice.
“If some filthy bastard laid hands on me while I wasn’t in my right mind, then I’d have to take care of it.”
“…I heard you’d have died without that Guiding.”
“That’s why I’m not planning to kill him.”
The weight Banteon had just managed to lift came crashing back down, twice as heavy, stabbing into his chest. Meanwhile, Delroz’s aura grew even more volatile—brimming with danger.
