The most difficult part to understand was this: how could Delroz’s condition, which had been strictly monitored at the center, deteriorate so drastically in such a short time?
Delroz simply responded to the question with a bitter smile.
“You must’ve been under regular observation after the matching test. Did the center just let you fall apart like that?”
“All the equipment said I was fine.”
“What?”
“Those junky machines showed everything as normal. Even when my head felt like it was splitting apart and I was dizzy out of my mind, the readings all came back average. They even said the guiding was proceeding normally.”
The unsettling explanation drew a frown. Too many things were happening that defied logic. Every new piece of information was more shocking than the last, too overwhelming to process. He pressed his temples, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
When he first learned that someone impersonating Seira had approached Delroz, claiming to be a Guide, he’d suspected the Center Director. But seeing Delroz’s current state changed his mind completely. No matter how capable the Director was, infiltrating the center by faking an identity and manipulating matching scores was one thing—but deceiving every Esper in the building? Not even the Director could pull that off.
Not a single Esper had noticed in advance. Even up until the very moment Delroz nearly went on a rampage, Espers and Guides had been mingling casually in the main center building. Perhaps they’d instinctively avoided the library thick with a crimson aura, but the rest of the building had remained completely ordinary. As if everything had been filtered through a thick veil.
“Ah…”
This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. A situation where Banteon clearly saw something that no one else could. A sickening, revolting memory surfaced—back in Yasen, when Rohan had manipulated everyone around him. Everyone except Banteon had been smiling, enjoying themselves, while he suffocated under the weight of that unseen influence. It had to be Rohan again. There couldn’t possibly be two people capable of something like that.
“How’s the investigation going?”
“Fine. The Center Director is taking care of it.”
“…Why do you sound so indifferent?”
He had nearly gone berserk, yet he was brushing off the investigation like it didn’t matter. Banteon glared at Delroz, as if demanding an explanation. Perhaps feeling the weight of that stare, Delroz’s shadowed eyes shifted.
“You’re the one who won’t get up—how the hell am I supposed to care about something like that?”
Banteon sighed and massaged his temples at that half-resigned mutter. Delroz, who had been looking at him with a bitter expression, finally spoke in a low voice.
“The impersonator and their accomplice were arrested. They’ll be interrogated in due time. The drug they had is being analyzed now. Don’t know why, but a bunch of shops in the capital have suddenly shut down.”
They were likely cracking down on the distribution chain for Madam Ressot’s drugs. When Delroz first lost control, there had been suspicions he’d used something from her—but at the time, there had been no proof. The only known detail was that the bottle had come from Madam Ressot. Whether the drug itself was hers remained uncertain.
This time, they’d gotten a solid lead.
Shops connected to Yasen were likely being investigated as well. Not that he had high hopes—most of them had probably been foolish enough to deal without knowing the risk, just like Yasen.
“So in the end, they’ve only caught the impersonator and their accomplice? There has to be others… ugh.”
The moment he tried to sit up from the bed, his stiff spine screamed in protest. As he caught his breath, Delroz rushed over in alarm.
“You need more rest.”
“There should be a recline lever under the bed. Pull it toward the right.”
Despite his displeased expression, Delroz bent over and fumbled under the bed as instructed. The backrest slowly rose, and once it reached a comfortable angle, Banteon leaned into it and relaxed his body.
“Be careful not to tangle the cable near the lever.”
Delroz straightened, brows furrowed, looking puzzled at the direction.
“You seem awfully familiar with this kind of thing.”
It wasn’t hard to guess what was going through that furrowed brow: Were you sick often? Did you end up hospitalized a lot?
Apparently, in Delroz’s mind, Banteon was the kind of person who passed out constantly and jumped headfirst into every fire like a can of gasoline.
“My parents used it a lot.”
“Is it hereditary or something?”
Banteon shot him a glare, wondering if Delroz was seriously trying to label his whole family as chronically ill.
“Nothing like that. Just the aftereffects of being overworked in their youth.”
“Overworked? But your parents were nobles, weren’t they? What reason would they have to be worked to the point of aftereffects?”
As the questions grew more insistent, Banteon tilted his head back. The hard hospital pillow was nothing like the one in his private bedroom. He’d tried to keep it brief because he didn’t feel like pouring out his personal history, but Delroz wasn’t about to let it drop.
It was a well-known story among nobles—Esrante’s former Head of House. There wasn’t much point in hiding it.
“One of them was a commoner. It was a guiding-related aftereffect. That’s all.”
“Guiding? Guiding can do that to you? You can die from it?”
Delroz’s eyes widened in shock at Banteon’s words. His stare burned with intensity.
“What the hell was the Center doing back then? Letting people deteriorate like that—it’s downright negligent.”
“The Guide Protection Act has only been around a few years. Back then, there wasn’t any system in place.”
Esrante had played a major role in that law’s creation. The death of the Lady of Esrante from guiding aftereffects had prompted the legislation, and it was only after Banteon, named heir, awakened as a Guide himself that the law had been strengthened to its current form.
Until not long ago, Guides had been treated like mere accessories to Espers. Especially commoner Guides—they were treated as expendable. Even now, their numbers were perpetually scarce, and most commoner Guides spent their lives bouncing between various Espers before dying young.
“……”
Delroz, seemingly lost in thought, fell silent. Looking back on it now, it had been nothing short of barbaric. Yet even after prioritizing Guide rights, the Center still operated smoothly. In fact, they’d begun mandating rest periods between missions to avoid overworking Espers, too. It was a change that benefited both sides.
“Are your parents doing better now?”
“Hmm…”
Delroz asked about someone else’s parents with a solemn expression. His golden eyes, darkened with calm gravity, slowly moved. Not answering would’ve seemed strange—it was something widely known anyway. So he replied casually, given how surprising it was that Delroz didn’t already know.
“They passed away. Both of them.”
“What?”
“My mother, the Guide, didn’t survive the aftereffects. My father, the Esper, followed soon after. It’s a well-known story.”
“……”
Delroz’s brows furrowed. He bit his lower lip, visibly uneasy, and dragged a hand across his face.
“Sorry… I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine. It’s been over fifteen years.”
Too much time had passed for condolences to mean anything. Even though Banteon reassured him, Delroz’s expression only grew darker. He lowered his head and murmured quietly, “Over fifteen years…” Maybe it was the realization of how young they’d been when they died that shook him.
Silence lingered between them. From where Banteon lay, he could see Delroz’s sleek black hair as the man sat, head bowed in thought. Whatever he was mulling over, Banteon hoped he’d do it alone somewhere else.
“What about the medical staff? I’d like to return to my room now.”
“You just woke up. It’s better if you stay in the med ward for now.”
“My room’s more comfortable.”
Delroz looked absolutely miserable, like he was staring at someone who’d collapse the moment they left the ward.
“I can’t leave you alone in there.”
“Which is exactly why it’s better for resting.”
“What if your condition worsens?”
It wasn’t that he was sick—he’d simply collapsed from post-guiding exhaustion. Rest would fix it. If he had to lie down anyway, he’d rather do it in a proper bed. Delroz knew that, yet he was being stubborn. Banteon’s tired body didn’t want to think this hard.
“If you’re so worried, you can come check on me. Either way, I’m going back to my room.”
“That works.”
Delroz’s face brightened instantly at Banteon’s offhand comment. He nodded enthusiastically, not even pausing to breathe. The sudden shift in mood made Banteon’s foggy mind reel. What did he just say? Before he could process it, Delroz was already rising to his feet.
“So, I just move this whole thing? I’ll take you there.”
“W–wait a sec.”
He quickly stopped Delroz from trying to lift the entire bed. There was a limit to how overzealous someone could be. As the bed jolted, the tangled wires let out sharp creaks.
“You broke it.”
All brawn and no brains—Delroz had managed to bend the bed lever in a matter of seconds. Banteon shook his head from where he lay on the wrinkled mattress and began sitting up. He cut in before Delroz, who looked ready to jump in and help again, could do more damage.
“Stop breaking stuff and go get the medical staff. I’m being discharged.”
“Got it.”
Delroz obediently turned and walked away. From his retreating figure, a faint red aura began to ripple, rising in soft waves. Moving in rhythmic pulses, it was almost absurd. He must’ve been in a ridiculously good mood.
Seeing that kind of reaction right after such a close call felt surreal. The tension in Banteon’s body slowly eased. For now, he’d rest. He’d done all he could. The rest depended on how quickly the Center acted.
That faint, glowing red aura from earlier still danced in his vision. To think he was smiling at a time like this… Maybe spending too much time with that idiot had made some of his foolishness rub off.
