As soon as he stepped inside, it was clear they had been expecting Banteon. The room was neatly arranged, and even the tea and refreshments looked freshly prepared.
A quiet, soothing aroma of black tea filled the room. Banteon sat down on the sofa as guided.
“Is the tea to your liking?”
“It’s excellent.”
As expected of the Center Director, who was known for his flawless memory, he had perfectly remembered Banteon’s preferences from their previous meetings.
The tea, steeped precisely to suit Banteon’s taste, was satisfying. As he savored it slowly, the Center Director, seated across from him, observed him with a subtle gaze.
Banteon mentally recited the details of the elderly man sitting opposite him. The kingdom’s only S-rank intelligence-type Esper. Born into a forgotten borderland family that existed in name only, he was once called a miracle.
His graying hair and gentle features gave him the appearance of a kindly grandfather, but he was by no means someone to be taken lightly.
“Today’s events surprised even me. Delroz’s physical and hormonal tests will be conducted swiftly.”
Uncontrolled impulses, sudden shifts in behavior, and a completely altered sexual disposition—everything aligned perfectly with the syndrome’s symptoms. The results were obvious, even without hearing them.
“There’s never been a record of an SS-rank before, so it’ll take some time for an official classification.”
“I see.”
Esper biological data varied so drastically by rank, it was often said they were different species altogether. Among the records currently held by the Center, the highest belonged to an S-rank.
There was no way to evaluate an SS-rank by S-rank standards. Every detail had to be meticulously recorded, and long-term monitoring was necessary.
Naturally, the results would take twice as long to process compared to others. If that also meant an extended isolation period for Delroz, then all the better.
“Truthfully, there’s another reason I asked to see you today.”
The Center Director, who had silently stroked his beard in thought, opened his eyes and looked directly at Banteon. Then he pulled open a drawer and handed over a photograph.
In it was a small glass vial. Banteon examined the shape carefully.
It was the same medicine vial Madam Ressot had gifted him not long ago.
‘It doesn’t show in the photo.’
He checked to see if it was also faintly glowing red, but there was no noticeable difference. It looked no different from any other bottle—just a transparent, empty vial with Madam Ressot’s emblem etched into it.
“Do you know what this vial is?”
“I don’t.”
The lie left his lips without so much as a breath.
Pointing to the photo, the Center Director spoke.
“You may not be familiar with it, but in certain circles, it’s quite well known. It’s a product of Madam Ressot. Her shop deals in various illegal compounds with a wide range of effects.”
“Why are you suddenly showing this to me?”
“On the night of the attack on Delroz—this vial contained the substance that suppressed his powers.”
Banteon’s hand, which had begun to put the photo aside, paused mid-motion.
The Center Director gestured again at the vial, explaining that it had temporarily blocked the power of an SS-rank Esper and driven him into a rampage.
“Even with all the Center’s technology, it’s impossible to forcibly induce rampage in an SS-rank. No, even an S-rank is beyond our means to control.”
That had struck Banteon as odd as well. At the time, the situation had been too dire to think deeply, but in hindsight, the ease with which the SS-rank had slipped into rampage had seemed suspicious.
Returning the photo after a quick inspection, he asked:
“So that vial contained a liquid that suppresses Esper powers?”
“Exactly. When we retrieved the vial and analyzed the remaining drops, we got similar results. Just a single drop had enough potency to knock out an A-rank Esper.”
He spoke of human experimentation as casually as if it were nothing.
Banteon wasn’t particularly sensitive about such things either, but the ease with which it was mentioned left a sour taste.
“A necessary sacrifice for the greater good, wouldn’t you say?”
“If that’s your judgment, then I suppose it must be.”
In other words, as just one member of the Center, Banteon would turn a blind eye—so the Director should take full responsibility on his own.
Chuckling softly at that, the Center Director bowed his head slightly and looked at Banteon with cautious eyes.
“It’s rather embarrassing, really. That a substance appeared which even the so-called ‘repository of knowledge’ that is the Center cannot identify.”
“You don’t need to worry about my opinion.”
He had no intention of reporting them for human experimentation. If the Director had done it, then everything would’ve been legally documented and executed without a flaw.
Banteon’s nonchalant reply made the Director smile slyly and steer the conversation in an entirely new direction.
“To these old eyes, the two of you seem to get along quite well.”
He must not have meant that seriously—not after just having sent Delroz into isolation for a full month.
Uncomfortable, Banteon crossed his legs the other way.
The man was unreadable. Every offhand remark from the Director carried multiple layers of meaning. Some of them likely aligned with Banteon’s own expectations—but others might be traps, laid to extract deeper truths through his response.
Banteon answered by diverting the topic slightly.
“It hasn’t been long since our provisional pairing. The relationship isn’t quite as smooth as it may appear.”
The phrase neither good nor bad—an ambiguous expression suggesting that only time would tell. At that, the Center Director let out a hearty chuckle and stroked his beard.
“Hohoho. I hold you in very high regard, Banteon-nim. Especially your dynamic with Delroz during the conference—it exceeded all expectations.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It was refreshing to see something so unexpected.”
The implication was obvious. Delroz had already stormed the Director’s office at least twice. This was the man praising Banteon for having tamed a wild beast. But Banteon wasn’t a trainer, and there was nothing about that praise that delighted him. He merely pretended not to understand and raised his teacup.
“Speaking personally, I don’t think the current situation—Delroz being paired with Esrante—is a bad one.”
The Center Director smiled with the expression of a benevolent elder. But could those words, delivered with such innocent countenance, possibly be sincere? Could he truly mean it from the heart?
It wasn’t even worth considering. Of course it was a lie.
“Is that why you sent Teacher Yormin to us? Or rather, I should say, Secretary Yormin.”
“Hohoho.”
As if caught red-handed, the Director chuckled openly, and Banteon smiled along. What a slippery old fox.
It had been years since Banteon began working at the Center as an instructor. Knowing the names and assignments of every teacher was second nature to him. From the moment he first saw Yormin, something had felt off, so he’d searched through records from recent years—and found no teacher by that name.
Instead, the name Yormin turned up in the most unexpected place. Glancing at a floor layout one day, he had seen it listed quite boldly under the Director’s office: Yormin Asel, Executive Secretary. It had been nothing short of absurd.
“Well, it was a minor probe. Delroz is always unpredictable, so a little verification was necessary.”
“And were you satisfied with the results?”
“As expected, Miss Yormin was not quite sufficient.”
The Director chuckled again as he stroked his beard. His lips parted slightly with amusement, but his eyes remained cold.
“Matching rates really are terrifying, aren’t they? Enough to make someone surrender even preferences they swore they’d never tolerate. Still, I learned a great deal thanks to the attempt, so let’s call it even just this once.”
“I’d appreciate at least a heads-up next time. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience.”
“Hohoho. My apologies for deceiving you without a word.”
Though he said he was sorry, his posture remained upright and unrepentant. But before long, the Director’s smiling face stiffened, and his cheerful eyes dulled.
With eyes that settled instantly into a sharp calm, he stared straight ahead and asked a question.
“This may seem sudden, but—what do you think an Esper is, Banteon-nim?”
The question came without warning, and Banteon looked directly back at him. What is an Esper?
Other than being a rare trait passed down through bloodlines, there was little concrete information. Even after years of rigorous research, the nature of Espers and Guides remained a mystery.
Surely, the Director knew that better than anyone. So what was the intent behind such a vague question?
“Why ask me that?”
“No need to overthink it. Haven’t you ever wondered? Why Espers are always inherited through genetics? If they were mutations, like Guides, they should appear independently of bloodlines. But with Espers, it’s always hereditary—why is that?”
Banteon frowned at the absurd question. Though he occasionally had private audiences with the Director, they weren’t close. They weren’t the type of acquaintances to waste time on such philosophical meandering.
“Aren’t there naturally occurring Espers?”
“And that’s the problem. If the first emergence of heritable Esper abilities came from spontaneous individuals, then the entire origin narrative becomes suspicious, no matter how you look at it.”
What was he suddenly going on about?
Banteon remained silent, unwilling to speak further in a conversation with no discernible goal. In response to his silence, the Director grinned, showing teeth.
“I may not be much of an Esper myself, power-wise—but this right here is where I excel.”
The Director tapped his own temple lightly with a fingertip.
Born into a declining noble family, he had climbed to his current position by sheer intellect. Everyone in the kingdom knew that.
It was a story so well known that Banteon didn’t bother responding—he simply observed in silence.
Dang it…