“The closest relatives, yet worse than strangers.”
“There’s nothing we can do about it.”
It wasn’t as if Banteon welcomed the situation either. He had grown distant from his childhood friend Tearot, and he couldn’t even comfortably embrace his one and only younger sibling. Born a lone Guide into the kingdom’s most Esper-rich family, that kind of solitude was Banteon’s burden alone.
Maybe that was why he had taken to spending time with young Espers, swapping them out throughout the year, or why he sometimes sought out Yasen just for a night of fleeting pleasure. It could all be symptoms of the same emptiness.
“We’re long past the age of rebelling against reality. You need to start getting used to it.”
People assumed sociable Tearot was the one looking after Banteon. In truth, it was the opposite.
Banteon, who seemed aloof and hard to approach, easily switched between new acquaintances whenever he wanted, keeping things light and fleeting. Tearot, by contrast, always acted cheerful and appeared friendly, yet had no one he could truly call a friend.
The only person he ever opened up to in this world was Banteon.
Though physically grown, Tearot’s mind remained frozen at the moment he first manifested as an Esper, alone.
Still burdened by an irrational guilt toward Banteon and clinging to memories of their innocent past together, Tearot had grown only in body, not in spirit. While Banteon had long since moved on, Tearot remained trapped in the past, struggling alone. It wasn’t for nothing that Banteon scolded his friend of the same age for being immature.
‘Why are all the Espers around me like this?’
Tearot, Delroz… and even his own sibling, who only acted human around their Guide. Maybe all of them were using up their brain power on muscle mass instead.
Banteon pried off Tearot’s hand, which had been stubbornly clinging to his own. The fingers, previously holding on as if defying him, finally lost their strength. Even that brief contact made Banteon’s fingertips tingle with a jolt—likely from the shock. Thankfully, it was just a touch, not a proper Guiding.
With his now-free hand, he folded the completed document and slid it into an envelope. All he needed to do was pass it to the courier. But that courier, who had volunteered, was currently a mess.
As Banteon moved to leave the room, Tearot hastily lifted his upper body.
“Ah, I was gonna—”
“Just lie down and cool your head. I’ll submit this myself.”
Today, just this once, Banteon had chosen to take on a bothersome task for the sake of his sick friend. He picked up a square cushion from the single-seater sofa and tossed it directly onto Tearot’s face before walking out.
***
He made his way to the administration office that handled postal matters. Banteon’s rare appearance here drew glances from all around. Amid the curious stares, he spotted a familiar face. A woman with pale platinum blonde hair gave a graceful smile and slightly dipped her head.
“Lord Banteon, you came in person.”
“…It’s been a while, Instructor Yormin.”
“Calling me ‘Instructor’ feels a little embarrassing. I heard from the Center Director before… that I’d already been found out.”
She was Yormin Asel, who had once overseen the matching education for Banteon and Delroz. She had only been assigned as an instructor temporarily to test Delroz—her true position was Executive Secretary under the Center Director.
“I apologize for deceiving you back then.”
“You were just following orders from above. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Thank you for saying that. That puts my mind at ease.”
Banteon took a closer look at Yormin. Being the Executive Secretary directly under the Center Director wasn’t a simple desk job. It was a role situated at the heart of power and came with a heavy workload.
Even though discrimination had supposedly vanished, the belief that Guides were subordinate to Espers still lingered. For a Guide who didn’t hold a position like Banteon’s, the lifestyle dictated by a matched Esper’s schedule made such a post nearly impossible.
“You were probably the one who had it the hardest, having to prepare all that material in such a short time.”
Banteon knew exactly how much preparation went into just a two-hour lesson. For her to have pulled it off so flawlessly that he hadn’t even noticed—she must have put in an incredible amount of effort. At his remark, a faint blush colored Yormin’s fair cheeks.
“I thought this before, but you’re really very kind. I was actually pretty nervous when we first started. If it hadn’t been for you, I might not have made it.”
“Is that so? I had no idea.”
Yormin had handled the class with such poise, no trace of nervousness at all. Even now, Banteon could hardly believe it. Despite the compliment, Yormin offered a bittersweet smile and looked down.
“You’re famous, as you know. That made me anxious at first. But you were such a kind person that I gradually relaxed. It was actually… Delroz who…”
Even now, the memory seemed to shake her as her upper body trembled ever so slightly.
“The way he looked at me was so cold. Especially whenever I spoke with you—his expression would drop even further. I was afraid there might be consequences after class, and I couldn’t sleep well for days.”
So that was why she had talked mostly to him, despite being assigned to test Delroz. Now it made sense. Banteon’s brows knit tightly at the revelation.
‘I should be gentler with Guides.’
Unlike Espers, who were often pitted against one another, Guides like Yormin had spent their entire lives under protection. Direct hostility like that was practically traumatic for them. Banteon felt guilty on her behalf. Delroz had been upset with him but had taken it out on Yormin instead.
Now that he understood Delroz’s feelings were genuine, it was easier to comprehend what had happened back then. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the hostility Delroz had shown toward Yormin… had been driven by jealousy.
It had been that obvious, even to others.
When they first started training, it had only been a few days since they returned to the Center. That was also the moment the investigation was put on hold. What had caused Delroz’s change in attitude?
Banteon retraced the time they had spent stranded together. No matter how he looked at it, there hadn’t been anything particularly touching or noteworthy during that period. Even just before returning, Delroz had misunderstood the sight of him with Rohan and accused him of being flippant.
He had seemed so uncomfortable then, yet his actions had taken an entirely unpredictable turn. Shaking off the tangle of thoughts, Banteon reminded himself that he’d already given up on trying to understand Delroz. Then he noticed the look in Instructor Yormin’s eyes as she stood in front of him, waiting quietly. It was impolite to be lost in thought in front of someone like that. Banteon gave a faint smile.
“Ah, forgive me for zoning out. I’ll be going now.”
“Yes. It was nice seeing you again. If you’re submitting documents, head to the third room on the east side.”
Banteon walked past Instructor Yormin with a nod. He entered the east room she’d indicated and handed over the documents. For those sneaking glances at the rarely-seen Banteon, he offered a courteous smile before stepping back into the hallway.
Under normal circumstances, his duties for the day were finished. It was time to return to his quarters and rest.
The light of the setting sun pouring through the tall windows dyed the stone floor a deep amber. The shadows of trees swaying in the breeze brushed across Banteon’s face. There was a strange atmosphere in the air. Maybe it was just the unfamiliarity of the place.
But he couldn’t take his eyes off the sunset, as if it were a harbinger of misfortune.
As he walked along the lengthening shadows cast by the dying light, the communication device—silent all day—suddenly buzzed. The tone was unfamiliar. Glancing at the screen, Banteon saw a sigil: a black hawk entangled in thorny vines. It was a direct message from the House of Esrante.
After reading the contents, he closed the screen with little reaction and slid the device into his breast pocket.
***
In a remote corner of the city stood a massive black building, utterly windowless. Large guards patrolled the area in regular intervals. This was Yasen—an exclusive, members-only establishment known for its secrecy.
As Banteon’s car came to a halt, a manager approached, opened the door, and bowed. But Banteon held up a hand to stop any greeting. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. He followed the manager silently to the front of the building.
He wore a dark suit and had neatly slicked back his hair. Normally, he concealed his identity when coming here alone—but today was different. Even the vehicle had stopped at a different entrance, not the one he usually used. At the manager’s signal, a hidden door opened—so well-disguised that its handle was nearly impossible to discern.
He dismissed the Esrante bodyguard who had followed him and walked the long hallway alone. The only lighting came from floor-level fixtures that illuminated the steps. Mirrors lined both walls, reflecting his image dozens of times over to offset the narrow space.
There was a specific reason Banteon had gone out of his way to make an appointment with the elusive head of Yasen.
After hearing during a meeting with the Center Director that Delroz had gone berserk after taking medicine from Madam Ressot, he had launched an immediate investigation. Though the Center’s investigation team had been disbanded, Esrante’s private institutions had picked up where they left off. Using the gift received from Madam Ressot as a clue, they began a full inquiry from the ground up.
There had been more hints than expected—the material of the bottle, the region where the cork was produced, the pattern of the knot, and the distribution route.
What once had no visible trail was becoming increasingly clear. The drug Madam Ressot produced had found its way into more noble households than anticipated, and many were using illicit performance-enhancing supplements without even realizing it.
He had scoffed at how pathetic it was to already be reliant on such substances—until he looked through the report.
One conclusion stood out: over 80% of the buyers of Madam Ressot’s distributed drugs were members of Yasen. The remaining 20% were either affiliates or associates.
