Prologue
“Guide Lee Han-seo!”
The loud stomp of footsteps stabbed at his already frayed nerves like needles, and then the door slammed open with a bang. The person who burst in was a medical staff member, visibly worn out and breathless. Before he could even catch his breath, he screamed out Lee Han-seo’s name like a shriek.
A panicked voice sliced through the air, piercing the eardrums.
“He—he woke up…! Esper Park Woo-jun, he’s awake…!”
Before the sentence was even finished, Lee Han-seo had already kicked the door open and bolted out.
Even with trembling legs barely holding his weight, he somehow managed not to fall. As he raced down the hall in a frenzy, several groups of Espers who had been anxiously waiting outside the lounge quickly followed behind, like shadows clinging to his heels.
Each time his small frame wobbled, those chasing after him flinched instinctively, hands twitching involuntarily. Yet not a single one of them dared—dared—to lay a hand on him.
Before even making it through one hallway, his lungs began to burn. “See? This is why you should’ve worked out with me sometimes. Just a little, yeah?” That gentle voice echoed like an auditory hallucination in his ears. His jaw clenched on its own. His legs pounded rhythmically against the floor, refusing to slow down.
He didn’t have the patience to wait for the elevator just two floors below. Throwing open the emergency exit, Lee Han-seo leapt down the stairs, skipping two, three steps at a time. Eventually, his legs, driven by urgency, gave out in chaotic motion. The clattering crash on the emergency stairs echoed like a skid mark scraping against steel. A gasp of shock—“Guide Lee Han-seo!”—followed in its wake. The only saving grace was that he managed to catch the railing just in time, sparing himself the humiliation of tumbling down.
“Guide Lee Han-seo, I think it’d be better if we escorted—”
“Don’t you dare touch me!”
Lee Han-seo screamed with raw intensity. His arms, sore from holding up his entire weight, and the unmistakable pain of a twisted ankle didn’t even register.
Of course, it wasn’t the staff’s fault. But who was Lee Han-seo? Not just Korea’s, but all of Asia’s only S-rank Guide. It was understandable that they’d want to treat him like some sacred relic. Still… until he could confirm with his own eyes that his Esper—who had yet to awaken for days since escaping the dungeon—was awake and well, he didn’t want to touch or be touched by anyone. No, he wouldn’t let anyone lay a hand on him.
“……”
Lee Han-seo glared sharply at the few Espers who had reflexively reached out to steady him. Without an apology or even a word, he forced strength back into his legs and began running again. Every second mattered.
His breathless sprint paid off—soon, the familiar sign of the isolation room came into view. Given how he’d been twitching with anxiety and barely sleeping for days, one would think he’d throw the door open the moment he arrived. But now that the long-awaited moment was right in front of him, Lee Han-seo stood frozen, unable to even touch the doorknob.
Why? All he had to do was open the door. The person he’d been waiting so desperately to see was surely just beyond it. Then why couldn’t he bring himself to turn the handle?
Staring at the floor, Lee Han-seo asked himself over and over again.
It wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer. He did. But maybe—just maybe—he was buying time by not going in.
“……”
The answer was so simple. He was scared—terrified, beyond reason.
Because he couldn’t be sure what kind of expression the awakened Esper would be wearing when he saw him.
His breath hitched, raw with emotion, but he convinced himself it was just from exhaustion. Lying to himself, Lee Han-seo slowly reached for the door handle. Silently, without making a sound.
“Park Woo-jun… I’m here.”
Finally, the door slid open with a soft whisper.
“Did you sleep well? How’re you feeling? Your guiding levels look… not bad.”
He resisted the overwhelming urge to scream and run. Instead, he forced a brightness into his voice and kept chatting like everything was fine. His eyes darted between the guiding stat panel and the mess of medical equipment whose names he didn’t even know, flickering in a nervous frenzy. Tension simmered under his skin.
“Hey, Park Woo-jun.”
Still, no reply. Only Lee Han-seo’s voice echoed across the cramped, three- or four-pyeong isolation room like a child’s cry in a void.
“Why won’t you say anything?”
“……”
“Didn’t you even miss me?”
Lee Han-seo barely managed to hide his trembling hands behind his back and slowly lifted his head. There was no more room for avoidance.
“Wh-who are you…?”
“I love you, Han-seo. I love you so much.” That low voice, the one that used to whisper those words, now smashed a stone straight into Lee Han-seo’s chest.
He inhaled sharply out of habit, blinking rapidly to stop the tears.
And still, the man lying in the hospital bed in patient’s clothes kept shoving Lee Han-seo into a pit of despair. He looked just like Park Woo-jun—because he was—but he was no longer his one and only bonded Esper.
“Do… do you know me?”
The eyes that once overflowed with honeyed love now held nothing but fear—with the faintest trace of confusion, and not a shred more.
Lee Han-seo wanted to kill him. If this was the only version of Park Woo-jun left, he would rather see him dead.
“Yeah… I know you. That’s the problem. I know you too well.”
Swallowing the familiar urge along with his tears, Lee Han-seo smiled so brightly it could blind the sun.
This, too, would pass. It was nothing more than a fleeting moment.
***
1) Sweet Potato Darling!
“Ah ah. Mic test, mic test.”
A clear voice carried through the mic and filled the entire auditorium. The crowd gathered at the front of the stage straightened their postures reflexively, their expressions taut with tension. Beneath the rigid nerves, a subtle pride and excitement flickered on their faces. And why wouldn’t it? These days, landing a decent job felt harder than piercing the heavens. Just being classified as an Awakened meant a guaranteed pass for the civil service exam—people practically shot off fireworks when it happened. And here they were, not just Awakened, but Guides.
As often portrayed in TV dramas and movies, all the dangerous missions would fall to the Espers. For them, what remained now was the smooth, ironclad path of a lifelong public servant, complete with automatic pay raises. Having only just received their Guide classification and not yet undergone any training, they were free to bask in such blissful delusions.
“We will now begin the 20XX New Guide Induction Ceremony.”
Exactly at 10 a.m., the mic volume rose again, and the murmuring quieted almost magically into stillness.
Maybe it was because the reception hall was so spacious, but the figure on the stage looked exceptionally small. The face was strikingly youthful. Everyone knew that the original chief Guide, who was meant to officiate, had been urgently dispatched to a dungeon, and the replacement had stepped in last-minute. Yet no one dared to belittle the tiny, young Guide. On the contrary, they could barely contain their admiration, swallowing hard as they stared in awe.
“Nice to meet you all. I’m Lee Han-seo, a Guide from the Seoul Central Branch, and I’ll be officiating today’s ceremony.”
He deliberately left out his rank, perhaps as a considerate gesture not to crush the spirits of these bright-eyed newbies. Because Guide from the Seoul Central Branch was far too meager a title to capture the magnitude of who Lee Han-seo truly was.
The first S-rank Guide in Asia. The beloved grandson of a chaebol chairman. That alone would’ve been unfairly fortunate—bordering on a scam of a life. But the red carpet laid out before Lee Han-seo didn’t end there. Whatever good karma he’d racked up in a past life, it had clearly been excessive.
“…Oh my god. Han-seo’s so cute. Look at how tiny his hands are.”
No matter how hard he hunched, the massive body behind the steel chair couldn’t hide. The deeply pulled-down cap that obscured half his face, the hoodie zipped up to his nose—it all made him look more like someone trying to draw attention than avoid it. Even if that wasn’t his intention.
The other newbie Guides around him kept glancing his way. It didn’t help that every time Guide Lee Han-seo stuttered slightly on stage, that suspicious man clenched his fists and silently freaked out. The oddity of his behavior only grew.
The glances thrown his way became increasingly frequent and focused. Of course, no one really believed a threat had made it into the Central Branch’s reception hall—not with its ironclad identity checks. Still… from what little could be seen of his face, he was ridiculously good-looking. As people kept darting their eyes between the Guide on stage and the mysterious man lurking in the back row, they quickly figured it out.
“Wait, aren’t you… Esper Park Woo-jun?”
“…!!”
Park Woo-jun, S-rank Esper of the Nature affinity. A ridiculously lucky bastard who, at the moment of his awakening, had met Lee Han-seo and immediately became bonded—like a superhighway straight to success. His gentle, passive personality didn’t even seem like that of an Esper, and that in itself felt like another blessing for Lee Han-seo.
“N-no, I think… y-you’ve got the wrong guy…!”
He flailed, waving his hands frantically. Officially, Espers weren’t allowed to attend Guide induction ceremonies. The rule was meant to prevent Espers from using their rank to pressure new Guides into forming pairs—or worse, stealing away unknowing rookies. After a few ugly incidents involving bonded Espers letting in close friends and things getting out of hand, the regulation had become absolute: no Espers allowed, bonded or not.
Park Woo-jun had barged in wearing his title as the Chief of Espers, practically forcing his way through. Getting exposed now would be disastrous. He had promised the event staff—sworn, even—that he’d quietly sneak a peek at his Guide from afar and leave without anyone noticing.
“It’s him, totally. Even the voice matches.”
“Esper-nim, can I get an autograph?!”
“Park Woo-jun Esper!!”
What started as a ripple of whispers exploded into a storm in the blink of an eye. Korea’s first-ever S-rank Pair. The youngest person in history to become Chief of Espers. Even without his ridiculously handsome face, it was impossible for him not to be famous. The past few years had seen him starring in public service ads, giving interviews—he was said to be more influential than most celebrities. Interest in him snowballed like an avalanche.
Sweating bullets, unable to fend off the growing crowd, Park Woo-jun finally shrieked out a breathless “I’m sorry!” and vanished in a flash.
– ……
From the stage, the Guide had a full view of the commotion.
He’d bolted with a yelp, only to end up hiding behind one of the pillars near the entrance. His 190cm frame didn’t even fit behind it. Eyes glistening with unshed tears, his ridiculous face kept peeking out stubbornly. It was so hopelessly endearing, Lee Han-seo didn’t know whether to scream or swoon.
I told him not to follow me, and yet here he was, slinking in anyway. Lee Han-seo took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising fury in his chest. That timid fool—normally willing to play dead if Lee so much as asked—must’ve really wanted to come if he disobeyed him like this.
“Hey, hey. I heard Park Woo-jun’s here.”
“Where? Is he really that handsome in person—holy shit… yeah, if that’s him half hidden, I can’t imagine the full view.”
“Word is he’s absolutely obsessed with his Guide.”
“For real. Man, if I could pair with an Esper like that, I’d volunteer for dungeon runs every damn day. Think they’d let us at least check our matching rates?”
But that was the final straw. When the bold mutterings from the front row reached his ears—faint but clear—Lee Han-seo decided he was done being patient.
“Keep dreaming. Do you even know who you’re talking about? That Lee Han-seo. The Lee Han-seo.”
– AH, PARK WOO-JUN YOU CRAZY BASTARD. GET OUT. NOW!!!
The unchained, rabid dog.
That was the real title Lee Han-seo held—one even more famous than Asia’s one and only S-rank Guide.
