His large eyes wandered aimlessly across the ceiling. He had yet to witness the Espers fully unleash their abilities.
So far, all he had learned was this: it was almost impossible to detect them approaching, and once they had a hold on you, escaping on your own was out of the question. Oh—and their skin was so tough, even his teeth could not break it.
Now, he absentmindedly rubbed his wrist, the very spot where Hong Seong-jun had gripped him.
His cheeks flushed as the memory came rushing back—him, crying, as Yu Je-hyun handed him a healing potion bottle.
He probably is not twisted enough to eavesdrop on me in my room… but with these people, who knows?
His encounter with Hong Seong-jun had taught Lee Haru a crucial lesson: it was dangerous to be impulsive in this place.
Being an S-Class Guide might have offered some protection, but he doubted the Espers would hesitate to swat him down if they felt like it.
After all, when someone kills an ant, do they ever stop to declare, “I am going to kill it!” beforehand?
They just do it—casually, without thinking.
To an S-Class Esper, he might be no different than an insect. If they ever decided to use their powers in earnest, he could be decapitated in a heartbeat.
Trying to shake off that disturbingly vivid thought, Lee Haru gave his head a sharp shake.
How did it even come to this?
Wanting to clear out the mental clutter, he tried to recall what he had been thinking about just before.
Right—the way he spoke.
The thought had struck him suddenly during his standoff with Hong Seong-jun: the voice of a man from a fragmented memory.
Since Lee Haru’s soul had vanished completely, this had to be a lingering memory tied to the body.
How intense must the moment have been to remain so deeply imprinted, even now?
He reminds me a bit of Esper Kang Min.
Espers varied wildly in personality and behavior. Yu Je-hyun talked like some back-alley delinquent, while Hong Seong-jun was all over the place—insisting on formality one moment, then asserting authority the next.
Kang Min, however, had spoken in a rigidly formal tone from the very beginning and never once deviated. He was not overtly domineering, yet there was an odd, unspoken pressure about him. Disobedience simply did not feel like an option.
That speech pattern alone had triggered his military PTSD.
Every man has nightmares about being forced to re-enlist after discharge, and Lee Haru was no exception.
In that sense, Kang Min’s speech had dragged him right back to the soul-crushing early days of boot camp.
Could it really have been Esper Kang Min? He did not seem like someone who would use force.
None of the Espers had been particularly kind to him, but if he had to choose, Kang Min had been the most respectful.
He had never tried to pressure him like Yu Je-hyun, nor had he demanded a Guiding session like Hong Seong-jun.
That said, they had never actually done a Guiding session together—who knew how things might change if they were alone?
Ugh. No point obsessing over something I cannot solve. I should just sleep. Glad I bought that soft blanket. It is so comfy…
Just as Lee Haru nestled his cheek into the plush, velvety fabric, on the verge of drifting off—
An uninvited guest returned.
“…Huuuuhk…”
“Wh-What the…?”
A muffled sob brushed against his eardrum, jerking him upright in bed. His round eyes widened in horror.
“W-Weren’t you gone…?”
Without realizing it, he had shifted into a kneeling position, speaking in honorifics—to a ghost.
When the sobs faded, he briefly wondered if he had imagined it.
After all, no one else claimed to hear anything.
He had replaced the faulty light bulb. He had redecorated the creepy room into something warmer and more welcoming.
His nerves had been frayed by the memories earlier, but the softness of the blanket had nearly lulled him to sleep.
Now, he trembled as though drenched in ice water in the dead of winter.
“Why are you doing this to me…?”
It was unfair. If the ghost wanted company, why not haunt someone who was not terrified of the supernatural?
Someone might even welcome it.
Why, of all people, was it sobbing like that in front of him?
Wrapping the blanket tightly around himself like armor, Lee Haru stood up. His wide eyes darted around the room in panic.
As always, he was alone.
Just to be sure, he flicked the light switch. It turned on without a flicker—no horror-movie dramatics.
You’re gone…
“Huuhuhuhk…”
He had meant to ask, Are you gone?
“AAAHH!”
As if lying in wait for that exact moment, the wailing resumed, scraping against his ears. Lee Haru jumped straight into the air.
“Goddamn it, I am going to lose my mind…”
Clutching both hands to his head, he furiously raked his fingers through his hair. The blanket slipped off his thin frame and collapsed at his feet like a deflated nest.
His now-tousled hair looked more like a bird’s nest, and his face had gone ghostly pale.
Dawn was still hours away. Midnight had passed, and the mansion lay in absolute silence.
Screeeeee—
He had no choice but to open the door. The darkness pooled in the hallway scattered the moment the room’s light spilled out, retreating like startled insects.
“I probably shouldn’t go up to the second floor… right?”
His eyes, glassy with tears, drifted toward the ceiling. Last time he had wandered upstairs, Kang Min and Yu Je-hyun had caught him almost immediately. Thankfully, Yu Je-hyun had stayed with him that night, and he had managed to get through it unscathed. But there was no guarantee tonight would be the same.
“You got a death wish or something?”
The instant Yu Je-hyun’s face crossed his mind, that threatening voice echoed alongside it—like a cursed buy-one-get-one deal.
“Aah… I seriously hate how pathetic I am…”
Why was he always so afraid of everything? His head throbbed with a thousand awful scenarios spawned by those cries in the dark.
What if there’s a body from an unsolved case hidden behind the walls of this room?
It was hard to determine the gender from just the sobbing, but it sounded like a boy—someone about his own age. The sorrowful, desperate cries were steeped in grief and injustice, so much so that just hearing them made his chest ache.
“At least it’s only sound for now. That’s… something, I guess.”
Clapping his hands tightly over his ears, Lee Haru bolted for the living room. There was no way he could endure this in a sober state. If he was going to make it through the night, he needed the numbing power of alcohol.
If he got drunk enough, it would not matter whether the crying stopped or not—he would pass out either way.
He did not know who kept the place stocked, but the fridge was loaded with an assortment of soju and beer. There was no kimchi fridge, but a sleek wine cellar claimed an entire corner of the kitchen.
He rarely drank—his hangovers were notoriously brutal—but tonight, he had no choice.
He needed sleep. Desperately.
After Guiding both Hong Seong-jun and Yu Je-hyun in one day, the exhaustion had piled up—mentally, physically, everything.
“Still… I can’t just drink on an empty stomach.”
Even though his body was trembling with fear, Lee Haru pulled two bottles of soju from the fridge and grabbed a can of spam. This was not drinking for pleasure—overindulging in side dishes would just dull the effects.
A savory, salty aroma soon filled the kitchen. He plated the spam with swirls of ketchup and mayo, then sat at the table.
Before coming in, he had already turned on all the lights in the living room, kitchen, and dining area.
The enormous floor-to-ceiling window offered an impressive view during the day, but at night it became a mirror of eerie, silent gloom. His gaze wavered anxiously as he looked toward it.
But sitting with his back to the window felt even worse—like something might sneak up behind him. With no better option, Lee Haru sat down with his back pressed against the refrigerator instead.
Chororok— Clear liquid streamed into a small shot glass.
He downed a sip of soju with every bite of spam, eyes constantly darting around the room.
“Soju always gets weird at the last glass…”
He murmured to himself as he swirled a half-filled shot, noticeably smaller than the others.
Since moving to the kitchen, the sobbing had stopped—but he could not shake the dread that it might start again at any moment.
And then it did, right as he opened the second bottle.
“Huuhuhuhk…”
The sobbing resumed. His eyes welled with tears, and his flushed cheeks twitched from the creeping warmth of the alcohol.
“I do not hear it. I do not hear it. I do not hear it,” he muttered like a charm, desperately knocking back the soju.
Eventually, he stopped bothering with the shot glass and started drinking straight from the bottle.
“Kghh…”
By the time he emptied the second bottle, he wiped his lips on the back of his hand.
“Huuhuhuhk…”
Still not drunk enough. The crying continued—unrelenting—and Lee Haru staggered to his feet.
“Mix it… just mix it…”
His voice, heavy and drawn-out, echoed through the kitchen.
He opened the wine cellar and grabbed the first bottle his hand landed on. A row of elegant wine glasses hung nearby, but he ignored them.
He uncorked the bottle and raised it straight to his lips.
Pffft…
Half of it went down his throat. The rest soaked his shirt.
“Huuhuhuhk…”
“Alright then… let’s see who wins… you, or me…”
