The direct descendants of the Esrante family had been away from home for a long time. Banteon, using his status as a Guide as an excuse, had been residing at the Center for an extended period, and his younger brother, also an S-Rank Esper, was frequently dispatched on long-term missions, often leaving the house empty. Major decisions and family business were reported to Banteon, but the elders of the family managed the day-to-day operations.
The elder with the most authority among them was Banteon’s uncle—his father’s younger brother—and Tearot’s father. He was the one who had ordered Tearot to remain at the Center and protect Banteon.
Some occasionally worried whether it was truly safe for the family to be left unattended for so long. But those who knew the uncle’s personality—or rather, his entire life—had no such concerns. They were well aware of his twisted affection for Banteon, which surpassed even the love he had for his own son.
There were those who occasionally cast suspicion on Tearot. With the head of the Esrante family absent, they worried the father-son duo might try to usurp Banteon’s place. But Banteon, who had watched Tearot for years, was certain that would never happen. So, while he sometimes teased Tearot by calling him a watchdog, he still kept him close.
“Is it true?”
“The elders always report to you if they take action. Honestly, Keslan was getting a little too clingy with you. It was toeing the line, so I was debating whether to step in… but someone else made the first move this time.”
“…Don’t tell me it’s from Delroz’s side?”
“More like people trying to cozy up to Delroz.”
Power draws people in. And when people gather, new factions are born. Already, people were flocking around Delroz. Even though he was just sitting quietly in the isolation room, they were going out of their way to create fake training sessions just to eliminate obstacles around him.
Since they had lost their chance to gain favor with Delroz during the trial, they chose to mess with Keslan—someone Delroz would likely dislike.
“Should I bring him back if you don’t like this? You were kind of fond of that kid, weren’t you?”
“You’re the one who didn’t like him.”
“That’s true. But I don’t like how they’re grouping up on their own before we even do anything. And since when did my opinion ever matter?”
Tearot’s grumbling came along with a hint of a smirk—when had Banteon ever cared about anyone else’s opinion, anyway? Banteon let it roll off him and fell into thought. The situation around them was shifting rapidly.
As Tearot said, more and more people were starting to watch Delroz instead of Esrante. The question was whether this shift would become a threat to Esrante. How things would change—his mind spun with calculations.
‘What should I do?’
If Delroz’s faction kept growing, it could pose a serious threat to Esrante’s existing hold on power. Delroz himself didn’t seem power-hungry, but those who followed him might not share that sentiment.
The fact that they targeted Keslan—knowing full well how much Banteon cherished him—carried a significant implication. That’s precisely why even Tearot, who disliked Keslan, was now considering bringing him back.
“Let’s just leave it for now.”
“Yeah? Works for me.”
Bringing Keslan back to gauge the reactions of those around Delroz might be a useful move, but right now, Keslan himself was like a tangled ball of mud. There was no need to reach for something uncertain just to clarify a few vague suspicions. It might be wiser to wait until a clearer judgment could be made, enjoying the advantage of others doing the dirty work in the meantime.
While he was at it, he should trace the source of the rumors too. Those trying to attach Keslan to Banteon for political leverage and those trying to test the waters between Delroz and Banteon were bound to clash. In the midst of that chaos, he’d have time to assess what was dangerous and what could lead to negative consequences—a perfect window of opportunity.
Pouring fresh tea into his cup, Banteon slowly looked over at Tearot.
“So, I don’t need to worry about Delroz for a while. Now, what’s got you so troubled?”
“Huh? Uh…”
Tearot, who had been fidgeting just moments ago, froze. His eyes darted to the side, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. He looked like a kid trying to hide something, prompting Banteon to narrow his eyes slightly.
It was a habit Tearot had whenever he was trying to keep something under wraps. Banteon scoffed internally, amused at how transparent he was, then looked away.
“If it’s hard to talk about, you don’t have to.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll pass.”
“Hm?”
Banteon had been the one to offer the option not to talk, but he was a little surprised by the answer. Tearot was the kind of guy who would come running to spill even the tiniest bit of gossip. Usually, if someone said they didn’t need to know, he’d just talk louder, begging for attention.
A guy who could ramble about himself for over three hours had gone quiet. It was a rare sight.
‘What’s gotten into him?’
Despite his carefree attitude, had he been seriously troubled? Banteon had known Tearot since they were kids and had never seen him mull something over so deeply. He was always the type to shrug off any problem like it was nothing.
As Banteon stared, Tearot let out a sheepish grin.
“It was just me being an idiot, so don’t worry about it. You came all the way to the airport ‘cause you were worried, right?”
Banteon just shrugged in response. He wasn’t going to deny it, even if it was true—it was too embarrassing to admit out loud.
“Still, it feels nice. Even Bante worries about me.”
“Shut up.”
At Banteon’s blunt reply, Tearot smirked and slouched deeper into his chair. He leaned back against the soft leather and stretched out his legs, lounging lazily as he slowly scanned the study. His gaze eventually stopped at one spot.
“Do you really keep the Royal Law Code in your study?”
“It’s a basic reference.”
“That’s unexpected. Our dear Banteon doesn’t exactly strike me as someone who’d care about the law.”
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
“I’m not. That was a compliment.”
What part of calling someone a lawless rogue was a compliment? Banteon wanted to argue back, but he had no leg to stand on—he had only studied the law as part of his general education. In the past, he’d lived with the belief that the law existed to suit the life he wanted to live. And even now, he didn’t exactly go out of his way to abide by it.
“You’re not exactly a model citizen either.”
“Me? I’m the epitome of a law-abiding citizen. I’ve lived my whole life with impeccable civic discipline.”
“I should just stop talking.”
Whenever Banteon got tangled in that shameless attitude, he was the one who ended up exhausted. They’d had enough childish bickering in their younger days. Having now mastered the art of disengaging at the right time, Banteon pointed toward the law book with a tilt of his chin.
“So what about the law code? You wanna take a look?”
“Not a chance. I burned mine ages ago.”
Tearot clicked his tongue as he gazed at the Royal Law Code he’d grown up seeing all his life. He treated it now like it was some sort of contraband text.
“There’s too much useless crap in there. Too many restrictions. Don’t you think so?”
“If you’re suddenly in the mood for legal philosophy, I won’t stop you, but I couldn’t care less. I can give you a commentary if you need it.”
“Nah, forget it. I’ve decided to live the rest of my life without ever thinking about it. You should too.”
Banteon was left speechless by how boldly Tearot declared his intent to ignore the law. The guy didn’t even seem to realize how ridiculous he sounded, sitting there smug with his arms crossed and chin raised.
“The more I think about it, the more it feels like a waste of life to live worrying about some dusty old laws.”
“Wow. What an inspiring resolve. Good luck with that.”
There wasn’t much to say in response to a friend who proudly announced he’d live lawlessly. It wasn’t like Tearot was going through some delayed teenage rebellion… maybe he’d just grown disillusioned with the world. Banteon offered a half-hearted reply, and Tearot beamed.
“Thanks.”
The absurdity of it made Banteon chuckle under his breath.
Well, if it made him happy, who was he to stop it?
Banteon shook his head, dismissing it without much thought.
***
Banteon raised his head to look at the calendar. The dates were marked with various scribbles. The 23rd. Wednesday. Today’s date was circled in red—rough, almost angry pen strokes denoting a day he’d hoped would never come. It was the day Delroz was being released from the isolation ward.
“Guess I have to go.”
Letting out a reluctant sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. During the entire month Delroz had spent in isolation, he hadn’t received a single guiding session. The research department had recommended this to ensure observation under the most controlled conditions, minimizing variables.
For an Esper, going without a Guide’s contact for an entire month meant enduring excruciating migraines and hallucinations. Under normal circumstances, they would’ve brought in another Guide—someone not suffering from Guide Awareness Syndrome—but with Delroz, even that wasn’t an option.
According to the rumors, many Guides had tried to approach Delroz during his stay in isolation. Some even reportedly bribed research staff with obscene amounts of money just to sneak in. The Center knew about it and turned a blind eye. If someone—anyone—could form a bond with Delroz, it would be a win for them.
The result? Not promising. His compatibility rate with other Guides remained at 0%. Gaidance didn’t work. Emergency care had been limited to temporary pain relief through drugs.
Now that his isolation period was over, it was time for his designated Guide to resume duty. That unlucky soul, of course, was Banteon.
With the weight of inescapable reality pressing on him, he forced his unwilling legs into motion.
As he approached the area around the assigned Guiding Room, the low murmur of voices reached his ears. Delroz’s followers. The people who’d started sticking to him one by one since his arrival at the Center had grown into a sizable crowd. On top of that, there were others sneaking glances at Banteon—spying from a distance.
Keeping his usual composed expression, Banteon made his way toward the most crowded spot. Among the gathered masses, one person immediately stood out. A head rising tall above the rest.
