“Hey—latecomer.”
“……”
“Must’ve had a great night yesterday. First time you’ve ever been late.”
“…Shut up.”
When he opened his eyes, the clock had already passed noon. It was 1 p.m. His body, completely drained of energy, had passed out like the dead. The dreary, muggy rain outside hadn’t helped—he’d slept straight through into the afternoon, with no sun to wake him.
Ignoring Tearot’s taunting from behind, Banteon sank into the chair in his study and leaned back. His eyelids felt like they were made of steel beams.
Sensing something off, Tearot asked with concern,
“Seriously, what happened? I’ve never seen you this wiped out.”
“I get tired too, sometimes.”
“You had that thousand-year fever once and still finished your lectures before going to the ER, face looking totally normal. You value appearances like your life depends on it, so blowing off your morning schedule—that’s what’s weird.”
True enough. He’d skipped morning roll call, and even the Center Director had reached out to ask if he was okay. If the higher-ups were this shaken, the others were probably losing their minds. Instead of getting chewed out with an incident report, he’d come back to a flood of concern.
Even after sleeping his fill, his body felt like a soggy wad of tissue.
Since he’d already missed the morning, he figured he might as well cancel the remaining lectures and get proper rest.
“Can you submit the afternoon leave request for me?”
“Click, click. Wow, you don’t even have the strength to pick up a pen?”
“There’s a blank form in the third drawer.”
Even after Banteon told him where it was, Tearot didn’t budge from his seat, just leaned back like Banteon and spoke with ease.
“No need to fill that out. Afternoon classes are canceled anyway.”
“What?”
“Guess you didn’t know—morning classes were all canceled too. You didn’t check your terminal, did you?”
He pulled up his terminal. A brief announcement was listed. Due to an internal incident, all classes would be suspended for three days while an investigation and a full audit of the Center were conducted.
“No wonder no one asked me to write a report.”
“You saw that and thought about the paperwork first? Unreal. Aren’t you curious what happened?”
He was just about to ask what, but his mouth stopped. He didn’t need to ask. It was obvious. It had to be about that crumpled-up SS-Rank mess lying on the floor last night.
“Delroz got attacked last night. They even drugged him ahead of time. Sounds like it was a well-planned ambush. Apparently, it was a suppressant—something that can temporarily shut down an Esper’s powers. The entire lab was trashed because of it.”
No wonder his aura had seemed so unstable. They’d deliberately tampered with Delroz’s energy. Now the pieces from last night started to make sense.
Whoever did it must’ve been getting desperate with the date for Delroz’s temporary Guide appointment approaching.
“If they couldn’t get Delroz on their side, the plan must’ve been to eliminate him. Idiotic move.”
“You can shut down an SS-Rank with a drug?”
“That’s what makes it worse. There’s a high chance it involved illegal compounds.”
Banteon pressed his temple and rotated gently.
“The culprit?”
“No idea. Didn’t leave a trace. It’s a mess. They say this could take a while.”
“Sounds like we’re in for another storm.”
“C-Wing’s already been blown to bits this morning. They say it’ll take five months to rebuild.”
Exactly the scenario he hated most. The headache he’d been nursing grew worse at the thought of this chaotic phase dragging on. Some SS-Rank. Couldn’t even detect a damn drug.
Once you start resenting someone, everything they do becomes a problem. Even Delroz, who had technically been drugged against his will, was starting to piss him off. No—he wasn’t totally innocent.
Banteon’s brow furrowed at the memory. He’d gone out of his way to keep him alive, and the bastard had the nerve to suck out someone else’s energy without consent. If he’d reported it to the Guide Rights Authority, Delroz would be locked in solitary and re-educated for two weeks, minimum.
The feeling of his entire life force being sucked out in an instant—he never wanted to remember it again. That overwhelming sense of danger he hadn’t even noticed in the moment was now making his spine go cold. Losing control in the blink of an eye— It was a sensation that wouldn’t be easy to forget.
“So, about Delroz’s temporary Guide. The appointment’s been postponed. Indefinitely.”
“……Figures.”
Given what had happened, it made sense. Appointing a temporary Guide when the attacker was still unknown would’ve been reckless. But indefinitely? The longer timeline left a bitter taste in Banteon’s mouth.
“If he had enough power to destroy C-Wing, then wouldn’t it be better to assign a Guide quickly?”
“Didn’t even break his breathing rhythm. I was watching from the side and it gave me goosebumps. He’s not even on the same level as the S-Ranks.”
“That bad?”
Coming from Tearot, who was often told he fell just short of S-Rank, that was saying something. Delroz really wasn’t like the other Espers.
“If that guy ever became an enemy, it’d be hopeless. Total natural disaster tier.”
“Haa….”
All that power and not a single useful outcome. Banteon sighed, not the least bit pleased.
“Don’t stress too much. Who knows, maybe it’ll all blow over sooner than we think.”
Tearot’s voice was light, in stark contrast to Banteon’s heavy mood.
“Delroz set a different condition this time. Something more specific.”
“What kind of condition?”
“He requested a female Guide with long silver hair.”
“…Silver hair?”
An ominous feeling made him repeat the words unnecessarily. Tearot nodded.
“Yeah. Silver hair’s rare, but it’s not like we don’t have any. I think there are about twenty people in the Center who fit that condition? It won’t take that long.”
“……”
“But why silver hair, of all things? Well, if you’re going to choose, might as well go with your type. That’s pretty manly of him.”
Banteon’s face hardened. Tearot was excited, thinking it was just a matter of time until a temporary Guide was finally assigned, but Banteon couldn’t share in that joy. He knew exactly—painfully clearly—why Delroz was looking for someone with silver hair.
“Bastard.”
“Whoa, did you just curse?”
“This is insane.”
“You really feeling that bad? Want to head back to your quarters? I can take you.”
He covered his face with both hands and scrubbed it harshly. Even after getting hit with an electric shock, Delroz had remembered the silver-haired disguise he wore. Banteon cursed inwardly, lamenting that the guy was more persistent than a cockroach.
***
“What the hell kind of whim is this?”
“What whim?”
“Wasn’t blowing up a building enough? Why are you tearing through files for a silver-haired woman now?”
Delroz ignored his subordinate’s disgruntled tone and opened the file the Center had compiled for him.
“You never even liked silver hair. Actually, did you even have a type? You never gave a damn about other people’s looks in your entire life…”
“Shut it.”
Petern, who had served under Delroz since the days in the mercenary corps, let out a deep sigh. He was the illegitimate son of a noble, recently classified as a D-rank Esper. D-rank wasn’t nearly enough to qualify for the Royal Esper Center’s central division, but he’d gotten in through special admission as one of Delroz’s personal aides.
He had joined the Royal Esper Center—a place everyone dreamed of—but not a single day passed in peace. The once reserved and rational commander he’d known in the mercenary corps was now causing chaos on the daily.
It made some sense. Guides swarming around like bees to sugar was enough to drive anyone mad, and the wary, judgmental stares of onlookers rubbed Petern the wrong way too. When his captain had shown up at dawn in dirt-covered pajamas and declared he was going to kill the attackers, Petern had secretly cheered.
He just hadn’t expected the entire building to be blown away. Still, given that his captain’s life had been in danger, the retaliation was somewhat understandable. Even the uptight Center Director hadn’t held him responsible—just offered an apology.
But this was different. Suddenly demanding a match with a silver-haired Guide and ordering a file search? Petern’s jaw had practically hit the floor.
The same man who kept putting off the temporary Guide appointment now wanted to select a full-time Guide? If Delroz had always been into silver hair and declared he must be matched with one like a real man—loud and proud—Petern might have admired the guts.
But no. The guy who used to just spend the night with whoever was around, no strings attached, was now drawing a hard line: silver hair only, with a very specific length—right between the collarbone and the chest.
It was so out of character it felt surreal. If he told the other mercs, they’d suspect he was on drugs.
“That’s all that’s come in?”
“So far, this is everything the Royal Esper Center has sent. Want me to request files from the other centers?”
“No. She’s definitely someone from here.”
His tone made it sound like the person was already decided. Petern, frustrated beyond belief, clutched his chest and asked,
“Is it someone you’ve met before? If you could give any other detail, we’d have an easier time finding her. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
With a brain that monstrous, there was no way Delroz would forget someone he’d seen, even in passing. But his scowling brows only furrowed deeper.
“It was too blurry to see.”
“You couldn’t see?”
“It was dawn. I was barely breathing—I didn’t have the presence of mind to look at her properly.”
“Ahh…”
So he was looking for the Guide he’d met during the attack that morning. If she saved his life, then it made sense he’d be desperate to find her.
At last, the explanation clicked. Petern nodded firmly, finally understanding.
