He was never someone to be fully trusted. One always had to stay on guard, wary of what thoughts he might be hiding behind those neatly trimmed claws. But he’d let his defenses down carelessly.
He’d secretly taken Banteon’s terminal, cut off all outside contact, and had him receive treatment locked inside a room. It was no different from being held captive—a move Banteon detested above all else.
He slowly pushed himself upright. Should he go find Delroz, who had gone out? And if he did find him, how should he confront him? These thoughts ran through his head, but his hands didn’t stop moving as he slipped off his slippers and changed into his outdoor clothes.
***
The hallway was quiet. The slowly setting sun streamed through the windows, casting long shadows, and Banteon walked leisurely, stepping on the floor dyed in hues of orange. Only a few small groups of people passed by in scattered clusters, adding to the peacefulness of the moment.
This was Banteon’s favorite time of day. When even the shadows were tinted orange, Espers, Guides, and non-manifested people all looked the same. Even as a child, when he had struggled with the strange visions only he could see, at this hour, he could see the world as others did.
As he quietly walked down a secluded corridor, he heard a faint voice. It was coming from the opposite end, just around the corner. A young woman’s voice, followed by silence. In the quiet corridor, a soft click of a tongue echoed.
“……Please, just give me a chance.”
No reply came to the desperate plea.
“Can’t you at least meet me once?”
It was the kind of earnest begging that made one think the other party could at least give an answer. But Banteon shook his head. Pitifully enough, the one she was talking to was a barbarian who lacked even the smallest ounce of compassion.
A short figure, likely a woman, with long hair. And across from her stood a tall, broad-shouldered figure, unmoving. Very few Espers were authorized to visit the Guide dormitories, and among those, there was only one with such a large physique. A shadow that should’ve been the same color as the others looked especially dark.
“You should know it’s pointless. I don’t need any other Guides.”
“A person doesn’t have to be needed just for Guiding, does she?”
Banteon slowly crossed his arms and tapped at his forearm. It wasn’t an incomprehensible situation. The fact that Delroz had made it explicitly clear that he would only ever date women was a well-known story throughout the Center. Naturally, people would aim for the role of a lover rather than a Guide. Incidents like this were bound to happen again and again.
Normally, Delroz would have sensed Banteon nearby immediately. But perhaps due to the suppressants and blockers, he seemed unaware of anyone else’s presence.
“How about me? You don’t like people who are too forward?”
The two shadows drew closer. She leaned in, as if pressing her body against him. Banteon turned his head away. He had come, heart chilled with anger, intending to demand answers from Delroz—but ended up witnessing this instead.
The rage that had filled his head slowly cooled. The timing was off. Maybe it would be better to have a proper conversation later. Delroz would return to his room eventually, as he always did. He could ask for a full explanation then.
Having made up his mind, he turned his gaze—and spotted a familiar figure. A few meters away from where he stood, Secretary Yormin Asel was staring at him with a surprised look on her face.
He raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence, and approached her. Watching him walk cautiously, Yormin caught on and whispered in a low voice.
“What’s going on?”
“It’d be best to leave. There’s a special visitor having an important conversation.”
When he gestured with his eyes toward the corridor, she gave a small nod.
The two quietly stepped away and exited the building, stopping only when they reached a bench in a secluded corner of the open garden. With an awkward smile, Banteon explained what had just happened.
“So that’s what it was.”
After hearing what had happened in the corridor, Yormin nodded repeatedly in understanding.
“To be honest, it’s pretty common. Some people, like today, confess in secluded spots, but others approach boldly in crowded places too.”
“Is that so?”
In moments like this, Delroz’s cynical remark about nobles—how they put on airs but were shallow to the core—felt especially apt. No matter how desirable someone was, there had to be a limit. Seeing people shamelessly grasping for any chance, Banteon himself felt a wave of disgust.
Then again, preserving one’s dignity was a privilege reserved for families with secure status. Any noble house that failed to produce a third-generation Esper would lose its rank and be erased from the royal registry. They’d be disqualified from royal invitations, and no other noble would marry into such a house. Without even a title to hold on to, many quietly abandoned their family names and sought livelihoods elsewhere, often turning to trade.
The recent impersonator who had infiltrated the Center posing as Seira Rokless was also the illegitimate child of such a noble house.
Facing the looming extinction of their Esper bloodline, they had resorted to producing illegitimate children, hoping that at least one might awaken. But reality was cruel. When none of them manifested, the family withdrew all support, and its head quietly disappeared. Now, the entire house teetered on the brink of fading into history.
In such circumstances, Delroz—an Esper with the densest natural Esper blood—was seen as an unparalleled treasure worth obtaining by any means necessary.
“Female Guides trying to get close to him? That happens so often it’s hard to keep count. Honestly… after you matched with him, Lord Banteon… oh, I hope this isn’t rude, but even male Guides started trying, wondering if he was open to men now.”
“And the male Guides—did they get away unharmed?”
“Of course not. They all got punched and sent straight to the infirmary. But no one died or ended up disabled.”
He forced a smile as he looked at Secretary Yormin’s cheerful face, animatedly explaining how Delroz had become much more docile compared to when he first arrived at the Center. Whether sending every admirer to the infirmary could truly be called “gentle” was debatable, but it was true he’d made progress.
“I think it’s all thanks to you, Lord Banteon. You’re such a well-mannered person—maybe Delroz is learning just by being near you.”
“You’re too kind. It’s all thanks to the Center’s training, I’m sure.”
He spoke humbly, but a bitter smile tugged at his lips. Everyone knew Delroz treated the Center’s teachings like utter nonsense and disregarded them completely. Still, as Secretary Yormin said, it was undeniable progress compared to when he’d first arrived.
“He’s really come into his own lately. Sometimes, he seems more noble than the actual nobles.”
If someone who didn’t know Delroz’s background saw him now, they wouldn’t suspect for a second that he’d once been a commoner doing mercenary work. Every inch of him reflected the image of a well-educated, well-groomed noble. Even his arrogance seemed like a natural extension of his dignified presence.
“He’s always been good-looking, really. Even if he hadn’t been SS-Rank, he still would’ve been popular. Plenty of Espers used to secretly pine for him. In truth, Delroz never discriminated between Espers and Guides—only by gender.”
“I see.”
So it wasn’t just Guides—Espers had been interested in him, too. Banteon had assumed it was just battle maniacs sniffing around out of competitive spirit, but apparently that wasn’t the only reason. The new information stirred thoughts he hadn’t expected.
“Well, that was all before he was matched with you, Lord Banteon. These days, I haven’t heard of anyone else being around Delroz.”
He let out a faint, bitter laugh at that. The reason was obvious. It was still hard to believe even now, but Delroz had confessed his feelings and now looked at no one but Banteon. He wanted to stay by his side—even at the cost of giving up Guiding. He was obsessed enough to cut off contact from his own brother.
Though he claimed that simply being nearby was enough, on the inside, he was quietly rotting.
“……”
A strange sense of déjà vu crept in. There was another feeling just like this—buried and put off. A connection that had festered, left alone in the hope that time would resolve it.
Tearot hadn’t contacted him in a long time. Banteon didn’t know whether he was still at the Center or had taken a leave of absence. Banteon hadn’t reached out either, and Tearot hadn’t responded. With no recent news, all he could assume was that he was alive and well somewhere.
Just like with Tearot, he couldn’t accept Delroz’s feelings either. That was why he had to reject him clearly—before things deepened and festered further. Lately, without realizing it, Banteon had started giving Delroz more space. Even if Delroz had volunteered to nurse him, letting him stay close without resistance was something Banteon never would have imagined in the past.
Was it because of the neglect he suffered from both of his parents? Banteon had always been weak to people who showed him pure affection. Not the shallow types who lusted after his prestigious lineage or looks, but the ones who clung to him for who he truly was.
He knew he wasn’t a good person. He was selfish, and in the end, he let things drag on for his own satisfaction. He had no intention of returning those feelings, yet he enjoyed the attention and affection until it rotted. He always ended things badly, and yet, he kept repeating the pattern—again and again.
