If he wasn’t being dragged into another troublesome assignment, Banteon had every reason to be relieved.
“It’s called a tracker, but it can also monitor the other person’s wave instability and fatigue levels. You should apply for one if needed.”
“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“……”
Delroz leaned back in his chair, eyes filled with displeasure. It was clear he wasn’t pleased that Banteon had cut him off earlier and declined the tracker. Seeing that reaction, Banteon felt reassured that refusing first had been the right move.
“Today’s your guiding day, right? If it’s a hassle to move to the guiding room, you can just do it here. I’ll give you two some privacy.”
With that, Instructor Yormin stood up from her seat. Banteon watched her walk out the door with a sense of regret. Parting like this would make it even harder to find a point of contact with Delroz again. That dull-witted Delroz had stared at him intensely but hadn’t exchanged a single personal word during either of their two sessions.
Even when handed the opportunity, he couldn’t even reach out a hand. Banteon was starting to miss the old days, when Delroz constantly switched partners and spent his time with female Guides. At this rate, he might have to start seriously looking for a new female Guide to replace himself.
While he sat brooding to himself, a large hand reached out toward him. Thick-jointed and firm.
“You’re not going to guide?”
“……I will.”
Delroz’s aura was already stable enough that guiding wasn’t truly necessary. Still, Banteon reached out to fulfill the center’s mandated number of sessions. Completing his assigned duties would help avoid future complications.
He stared at the firm hand in front of him.
He’d held the hands of countless Espers for guiding during Subjugation Squad deployments. This wasn’t anything new. Unlike the chaotic past, no one would recklessly draw out energy anymore. A brief touch and it would be over.
After a moment of hesitation, he placed his hands together. Banteon’s pale hand looked like it might be swallowed whole by Delroz’s massive grip.
“……!”
He’d only meant to brush fingertips, but the more solid contact made his shoulders twitch. Delroz’s long fingers naturally grazed over Banteon’s wrist. Sitting across from him, Delroz had his eyes closed, as if calming his energy. Then, before long, his closed lids lifted and his fingers began to move.
His long fingers spread and slipped between Banteon’s. A warm piece of flesh teasingly touched the most sensitive part between his fingers. A foreign sensation vibrated all the way up his forearm.
In an instant, their hands were interlaced. Banteon scowled and glared at him.
“What the hell?”
“They say this is more efficient.”
He wasn’t wrong. The greater the contact area, the faster the guiding process. Banteon knew that—but knowing and actually doing it were two different things.
Delroz’s lips curled faintly at Banteon’s discomfort.
“You were quiet while checking, so I figured I’d speak up.”
“……What are you talking about?”
“The homework you said I had to check out—it was in there, wasn’t it?”
His mind went ice-cold. A vivid memory of that lewd hologram he’d briefly forgotten came rushing back. Seeing his lips clamp shut in embarrassment, Delroz’s smirk deepened.
“Homework. I followed your advice and checked it out properly. Didn’t skip a single second.”
“……”
“Aren’t you going to praise me?”
He yanked his hand away, biting his lip, the tingling sensation between his palms still lingering.
“Are we done here?”
There were many times Banteon regretted not being an Esper. Ever since he first manifested as a Guide, he’d lost count of how many times he wished he’d been born an Esper instead. But never before had he wished it this desperately.
If he were an Esper, he could’ve punched that smug face right now. The only thing stopping him was the cold, rational part of him that knew it’d only hurt his own hand.
“I’m leaving.”
“Already?”
“The way you’re talking, you clearly don’t need guiding at all.”
Banteon abruptly stood, grabbed his coat, and stormed out of the training room. Behind him, the door slammed shut with a loud bang.
Just before it closed completely, he thought he heard Delroz laugh—and that only made his mood worse.
Fueled by simmering rage, he marched toward his room. That bastard knew how embarrassed he’d be, yet he still brought it up. Banteon hated acknowledging that an Esper like that—who had zero tact or decency—was his assigned temporary partner. And worse, they had to meet twice a week. It was nothing short of a curse.
What kind of crime had he committed in a past life to deserve this? Sure, he’d lived recklessly, but did he really deserve punishment on this level? Cursing his past self, he walked on until pain crept up from his heels, slowing him down.
As his pace eased, Banteon glanced at his reflection in the garden fountain. His face was flushed a ridiculous shade of red.
He was an idiot to even briefly think Delroz might be decent. He’d forgotten, even for a moment, that this man was an egotistical bastard with zero regard for others’ feelings.
With a sharp kick at the green grass beneath his feet, Banteon headed back to his room.
***
The way people looked at Banteon had changed. Alongside the usual curiosity and admiration that always trailed after him, a new emotion had slipped in.
Envy. Jealousy. Spite. These were expressions he was vaguely familiar with, yet had never directly experienced. They didn’t dare challenge the status he was born into, but they couldn’t hide their bitterness at the fact that Banteon had become the Guide of an SS-rank Esper.
‘They must really be dying to get their hands on Delroz.’
In Banteon’s eyes, Delroz was no more than a walking biohazard. But to others, he probably looked like a chunk of gold. Plenty of people were already grumbling that the world was unfair because Esrante had an SS-rank Esper. Unfair, huh…
That was exactly the word Banteon wanted to shout. With so many people longing for Delroz, why did he have to be the one tied to this living nightmare?
“Delroz is matched with a male Guide…”
“As expected of Esrante, huh?”
The murmurs around him weren’t hard to catch. Yeah. To them, it probably looked like Banteon had claimed Delroz for himself.
As he walked slowly down the hallway, countless eyes turned to him and then quickly looked away. He couldn’t care less about the surge in attention or suspicion. He had grown up in the spotlight—this wasn’t anything new.
What was frustrating was that he couldn’t just stuff Delroz into a box and throw him away, no matter how badly he wanted to.
People were convinced the Esrante family was monopolizing power. Some speculated that the reason Delroz’s guiding wasn’t progressing was because of a scheme by Esrante. Various theories floated around. From Banteon’s perspective—who wanted nothing more than to get as far away from Delroz as possible—it was beyond infuriating.
With an air of indifference, Banteon strolled past them at a leisurely pace. They could talk all they wanted—none of them posed even the slightest threat to him.
He had a far more pressing obstacle standing right in front of him.
Stopping in front of the designated guiding room, he let out a troubled sigh. The twice-weekly appointments he wished would just vanish were, of course, still here. Delroz always arrived before him, so he was probably already inside.
For no reason, Banteon began fussing with the cuff of his sleeve, smoothing his already immaculate clothing. It didn’t need any adjusting, but his hands moved anyway—a petty, subconscious act of rebellion, trying to stall for time.
Taking a deep breath, he reached for the handle—just as the heavy wooden door smoothly opened inward. A broad, uniformed chest filled his view.
Having someone’s chest right at eye level wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.
“What are you doing just standing there?”
“……”
Of course. Delroz could hear a conversation from 50 meters away—of course he could sense Banteon standing right at the door. Feeling stupid for showing even a flicker of nervousness, Banteon lightly shoved him aside and walked into the room.
Delroz followed silently and took the seat opposite him. The aura he emitted was tranquil, like the still waters of a deep lake. Solid and unmoving, like a polished glass sculpture—it made Banteon frown.
He clearly knew he was in perfect condition. So why insist on sticking to this twice-weekly routine? Spending time hand-in-hand with another man couldn’t be a pleasant task for him either.
Banteon naturally placed his hand into Delroz’s thick palm. Then he initiated a weak, half-hearted guiding session—just enough to make it seem like energy was moving. What was the point of guiding someone whose energy was already perfectly stable?
Delroz, now familiar with the process, laced their fingers together without hesitation.
“Now that I think about it, you seem unusually sensitive to energy.”
“What?”
“There are times when you look at me like you already know my condition before we even make contact. Is that something Guides can do?”
Banteon’s pupils wavered slightly.
Had he let his guard down because of Delroz’s nonchalant demeanor? Or had his lack of effort during guiding sessions been too obvious? The sudden sense of exposure made him swallow hard.
Even if he had gotten careless, the fact that Delroz had picked up on it so quickly—it wasn’t him who was overly sensitive, it was Delroz. Most would assume guiding was happening as long as energy moved a little when the Guide and Esper touched. At this level of stability, the differences were incredibly subtle—virtually impossible to distinguish unless you knew exactly what to look for.
