Around eleven at night, the homeowners quietly slipped away to their bedroom, leaving the lone guest in the living room. They had another mission before dawn, so even if they fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillow, they’d barely get a couple hours of rest. And yet, true to their nature as older brothers, they stayed by Lee Han-seo’s side for as long as possible—sensing the quiet heaviness in his mood, even as he insisted he was fine.
Han-seo wasn’t blind to the thoughtfulness of Kim Joon-young and Lee Jung-hyuk. They didn’t have to say anything—years of familiarity had made words unnecessary. That kind of quiet, steadfast presence would normally have been more than enough to pull him out of his gloom.
“Ugh… isn’t there anything worth watching…”
Late-blooming teenage angst was hitting him hard. Despite the gratitude he felt toward the two men, Han-seo was sinking deeper into a depressive slump. He flipped through TV channels, scrolled endlessly on his phone—desperate to clear his mind—but it was all useless. No matter where he turned, no matter which app or page he opened, his name was everywhere. Every headline, every post—it all led back to him.
The only saving grace was that, just as he’d planned, the name “Park Woo-jun” was mostly absent, buried under the avalanche of articles and videos. Pathetically enough, not even Park Seon-jun’s frenzied efforts to drag his brother into the spotlight had gained traction.
Then again, it made sense. HQ’s TF team was working overtime, sweeping through the internet and erasing every mention of Woo-jun like pros. And they weren’t doing it for his uncle, who actually ran the company, or his grandfather, whose mere presence made people quake. No, they answered to Han-seo—and only him. For someone with no formal title, that level of loyalty bordered on obsession. But honestly? It felt justified. He’d sold off a commercial building just to give every TF team member a bonus equal to half their annual salary. If nothing else, it was money well spent.
After making his usual rounds—checking the portal sites, reading through article comments—Han-seo finally stopped refreshing and retreated to the study, which had doubled as his bedroom for the past few days. He’d shoved the desk into a corner and laid down a thick topper, making the room surprisingly cozy. Lying down, he tossed and turned restlessly. Sleep was already long gone.
Was he in shock? Hurt?
If someone had asked him how he felt right now, Han-seo could’ve confidently said no to both.
He’d been living under a microscope since the age of seven, ever since he was first diagnosed as a Guide. The gossip, the media circus—it was nothing new. The moment he heard about Park Seon-jun’s scandal, he’d already seen where it was going. And so far, everything was playing out exactly as expected. It wasn’t a disastrous outcome by any means.
But still… the public. The way they snapped their jaws like piranhas, teeth bared—people he and Woo-jun, and every Esper in the country, had shed blood and sweat to protect…
It was just sickening.
When he’d been told he couldn’t live with his parents anymore, he’d been crushed. When he had to quit piano—a passion he’d pursued sincerely since the age of five—he cried his eyes out. When he finally dropped out of middle school to enter the Center early, unable to endure the constant whispers anymore, that had been another heartbreak.
Becoming a Guide meant giving up every possibility, every dream he’d once had.
The Swiss villa where his parents had planted fruit trees the year he was born… the honeymoon destination they’d always wanted to revisit with their child… those places were off-limits now. Gone for good.
It had been unbearably sad. At times, even infuriating.
But still, not once—not once—had Han-seo ever doubted the responsibilities he’d inherited as a Guide.
He truly believed it was right for Guides and Espers to sacrifice themselves to protect civilians and their way of life. Dedicating oneself to the greater good, to the nation—that was just part of the job. Something you endured, because that’s what it meant to protect others.
—“LOL I didn’t expect this from Han-seo. Turns out he’s just a tax leech. What a goddamn waste of money… They’re taking 9% of my salary for national defense and this is the best he can do???”
—“Should’ve been born with a Guide’s umbilical cord too. Some of us are busting our asses studying for the civil service exam while he gets to breeze through life. He’s S-Class and just auto-ranks into Level 5 civil service? Are you f***ing kidding me?”
—“Knew something was off from the start. Everyone calling him cute—ugh. He was always annoying, and now his true colors are finally showing. So satisfying. I’m not the only one, right?”
The venom of those careless hate comments floated above his closed eyes like dust motes in the dark. The public had been waiting for this—for a darling celebrity to fall—and now they were gleefully tearing him apart.
But as mentioned before, Han-seo wasn’t angry. He wasn’t hurt either. What rose inside him was something else—something sharper.
A burning sense of doubt.
Why me? Why us?
That voice, which had been whispering at the edge of his thoughts, now rang louder. But without a clear question, there was no answer to be found.
Each time he moved, the blanket cocooning him rustled softly, brushing against itself in a faint whisper that tickled his ears. And in the stillness of that restless dawn, Han-seo quietly sank deeper into his own thoughts.
***
5) A Bad Dream
Ding dong.
Ding dong, ding dong.
“Guide Lee Han-seo, are you inside? Guide Lee Han-seo!”
Of course—just when he was finally sleeping soundly for once, they had to ruin it. His eyes snapped open in pure irritation. Still half-asleep, he squinted at the wall clock. Not even noon yet. Given the streak of insomnia he’d been suffering lately, he hadn’t been asleep for long. The sheer audacity of being woken up like this soured his mood instantly.
As he scowled and pulled on clothes, the doorbell kept ringing. Bang, bang, bang. Whoever it was had started knocking now too—loud and frantic. But really, that was their problem, not his.
When he stepped out of the bedroom, the dining table was neatly set with a warm meal, covered with a cloth. Before even touching it, Han-seo spotted the note beside the tray and picked it up.
[Don’t be lazy—don’t just eat it cold! Heat it up in the microwave, okay? I’m getting off work on time today, so hang in there just a bit longer ♡
—Woo-jun]
He’d heard a lot of crashing and banging earlier in the morning—it must’ve been Woo-jun putting all this together. Just imagining those big clumsy hands cooking and scribbling out this little note somehow brought a flicker of life to his otherwise numb heart.
For the past five years, Han-seo had always been the one pulling Woo-jun out of his dark moods, dragging him back into the sunlight to dry off. But lately, things had changed.
Even after cutting off Park Seon-jun and his family completely, the storm cloud hanging over Han-seo had yet to pass.
Surprisingly, handling the fallout had been easier than expected. Testimonies began surfacing—old classmates and former coworkers of Park Seon-jun stepping forward at just the right moment, catching even Han-seo off guard. And the ever-hungry public, always looking for the next villain, jumped on it with glee, dragging Seon-jun onto the chopping block this time. Spotting the perfect moment, Han-seo released all the evidence and statements he’d been preparing in one go.
He didn’t even have to release the video of Park Dong-wook punching him outright. Instead, he made it look like someone had leaked the Center’s CCTV footage. Public opinion shifted like a tide—swift and decisive, all on his side.
All Han-seo focused on was making sure the line between the Park family and Park Woo-jun was crystal clear. The situation had grown so massive that even without his interference, Seon-jun and his parents were already branded as national con artists and sinking fast. And truthfully, now that the adrenaline had worn off, Han-seo didn’t even want to waste more energy on it.
People now praised him as the one who endured abuse from a twisted family, and they commended Woo-jun for cutting ties and staying behind in Korea. The internet was buzzing with exaggerated “justice served” stories—someone running into Seon-jun and slapping him before fleeing, a restaurant owner kicking him out in front of customers. Little urban legends like that were popping up constantly.
What really made Han-seo laugh, though, was how quickly the media switched sides. One moment they were tearing him apart, and the next, they were singing his praises and dragging Park Seon-jun through the mud. Not one of them offered an apology for their previous attacks.
Not even now, when his father’s law firm was this close to hitting them all with lawsuits.
“I’m the Head of News at IBC Broadcasting! I really want to apologize in person. Guide Lee Han-seo, are you in there? Guide Lee Han-seo!”
“Tch. So damn loud.”
He cranked the stereo to full volume, drowning out the desperate voice of the uninvited guest. Seriously—there were a million ways to ruin someone’s morning, but this one was particularly effective.
