What was the right way to describe it?
It felt closer to admiration—a strange sort of respect—for a colleague who was handling a notoriously nasty customer all on his own.
From bits of gossip picked up during breaks, Han-seo had learned that even back when this Esper was with his original Union team, he had a reputation for being a piece of work. Apparently, he’d been borderline exiled from his home Center after making frequent disparaging remarks about Guides—especially younger ones or those from weaker backgrounds. That’s how he ended up dumped onto the Union side.
These days, that kind of outdated thinking had mostly died out. But every now and then, some relic from the past still managed to hang around, clueless about the times. Esper supremacists like him saw Guides—who, apart from easing an Esper’s pain, didn’t have any powers of their own—as nothing more than useful tools. A gift from above, maybe, but never something human.
“W-What the hell…?”
So he did have some pride. For all his smugness as a so-called elite Esper, his ego was fragile enough to get bruised. After hearing Lee Han-seo’s blunt words, he froze, fists trembling.
If he’d acted on instinct, he probably would’ve grabbed Han-seo by the collar. But thankfully, he wasn’t that dumb. He knew that if Park Woo-jun caught him pulling something like that, it’d be game over.
The fact that he couldn’t even raise his voice said it all.
If only he wasn’t so busy sucking up to Espers stronger than him, maybe he wouldn’t be such a coward on top of being a jerk. But no—he had to be both.
Han-seo let out a sharp snort and kept walking forward.
A muffled curse—starting with a hard F—escaped under his breath, but no one paid it any mind.
Then came the sound of quick footsteps closing in behind him.
“Say that again. I was trying to be nice since you’re S-Class, but seriously? At the end of the day, you’re just a Guide. What did you just say?”
The voice, seething with rage, was followed by a rough hand grabbing his wrist and yanking hard.
Han-seo had been maintaining a steady stream of Radiation Guiding ahead of him as he walked, but the sudden jolt made his wave flicker. It wavered—then leaked slightly.
“Who the hell do you think you are, talking down to me like that? You little…!”
Tch. This is why I can’t stand hotheads.
The Esper lunged, grabbing both of Han-seo’s shoulders and shaking him violently. His eyes were already out of focus, locked in rage.
Physical-enhancement-type Espers usually didn’t bother wearing visors inside dungeons, so the guy’s ugly, too-close face was on full display—sweaty, blotchy, and way too close for comfort.
He looked like someone who hadn’t fully recovered from being stranded too long in a dungeon.
His lips were cracked like sunbaked earth, his eyes bloodshot with burst capillaries, and his skin covered in fine fissures like fractured glass.
“Guide Lee Han-seo! I’m so sorry!” one of the others cried out. “I’ll get him off you right away and move him to the front! I promise you won’t have to deal with him again!”
Thanks to one loudmouthed idiot, all the other Espers—who had just been doing their jobs—were now frozen in awkward embarrassment.
Even as Han-seo was being pulled away, the jerk’s grip on his arm clung like an octopus sucker.
If things were normal, his shoulder joint would’ve snapped clean. But aside from a dull ache, it was fine. Probably because his strength still hadn’t fully returned after the Rampage precursor state.
Fine. Just this once. I’ll let it slide.
The others don’t deserve to get caught up in this.
I’ll deal with this asshole outside. No trouble inside the dungeon. Calm down, Lee Han-seo.
He took a long, steady breath like he was meditating, and shook off the man’s grip.
But then—something odd crawled across his skin, beneath the combat suit. A sensation he couldn’t quite describe.
“Hold on,” he said, voice sharp. “I need to check something. Just let go for a second.”
If his senses weren’t mistaken, then…
“But—”
“I promise. It’ll only take a moment.”
It was guiding energy. Someone else’s.
The two Espers holding him let go instantly, like they were tossing out trash.
The attacker still hadn’t backed down, his eyes brimming with fury.
Han-seo slowly pulled off the gloves he always wore to protect his skin during non-contact guiding.
He didn’t want to touch the bastard. But curiosity came first.
If he wasn’t imagining things… then he might just get the chance to put this arrogant, ungrateful Esper in his place.
Some of the others murmured behind him, confused.
They seemed to think Han-seo was about to guide him for real—and that didn’t sit right.
“Guide Lee isn’t the type to be nice out of nowhere,” one of them whispered. “What the hell is he doing?”
“You’re pathetic,” Han-seo muttered.
“…”
“You talk all that trash about Guides, and now that I’m actually guiding you—you just sit there and take it?”
“Kh…!”
It’s so funny.
He switched back to Korean after that, but the mocking tone needed no translation.
Han-seo didn’t look away until he saw the guy’s face twist in shame.
Only then did he close his eyes and focus.
It was his first time attempting contact guiding on someone who already had another Guide’s energy partially filled inside them.
But he hadn’t imagined it.
There was a strange, faint energy sitting inside the Esper—unfamiliar, but undeniably present.
It was the same kind of energy he used for Guiding—but this one was weaker, thinner, far more diluted.
Sweat began trickling down his forehead.
Han-seo held his breath and carefully tuned his wave, manipulating it with the precision of threading a needle.
He spun out a fine strand of his own guiding energy and let it slip into the Esper’s body—and the existing energy inside trembled faintly, reacting to him.
He thought he could pull it free—just a little more.
The foreign guiding energy inside the Esper trembled, wavered—but stubbornly refused to be uprooted.
Han-seo kept at it, delicately and persistently stimulating the energy like coaxing out a splinter buried too deep. Then finally—
“Guh-heuk! P-Please—! Keh, kehek, khhh…!!”
With a harsh, retching cry, the guiding energy suddenly erupted from the Esper’s body, crashing toward Han-seo like a tidal wave.
The man clawed at the ground in panic, gasping for air, unable to even beg properly as his body convulsed uncontrollably.
There was no need to check the numbers. Han-seo could feel it in his gut—if he absorbed any more of that energy, the guy wouldn’t even make it to a Rampage state. He’d die right then and there.
“What the hell? Why’s he freaking out? Wasn’t the guiding working? Something’s wrong—check his readings, now!”
The murmurs of alarm from the others surged around him. That was enough. Han-seo pulled back his energy and returned every drop of what he’d taken.
He’d only returned exactly what he’d drawn out, nothing more—but in the process, the energy had been filtered through his wave. Its concentration had skyrocketed, refined to match his own.
So technically, it had ended up benefiting the Esper.
Nothing for Han-seo to feel bad about.
He slapped the man’s hand away, calmly pulled his gloves back on, and adjusted his gear to ensure not even a sliver of skin was exposed.
No one dared speak.
No one so much as looked his way.
Because who would’ve believed something like this was even possible?
Even without knowing the full mechanics, they understood what had just happened.
Lee Han-seo had forcibly extracted guiding energy from an Esper.
“G-Guide Lee Han-seo… What… What was that…?”
The target had already passed out cold. One of the other Espers, mustering up a shred of courage, finally broke the silence with a trembling voice.
Everyone else stood in stunned silence.
And honestly, it made sense.
To Espers, Guides had always been beings to “respect” and “protect.” But that respect came from condescension—because Guides were weaker.
Powerless.
Fragile.
They were thought of as lifesavers—people who helped Espers breathe, not ones who could choke the air right back out.
No one had ever imagined a Guide could become the noose.
“Oh, him?” Han-seo said with a bright smile, gesturing to the unconscious body on the ground.
“Don’t worry. He’s not dead. Annoying as hell with all his trash talk about Guides, but he’s still breathing.”
His grin stretched wide—sweet and innocent like sunshine.
But to the Espers frozen in place by a fear they didn’t yet understand, it was utterly terrifying.
“Didn’t think it’d actually work,” Han-seo added with a cheerful shrug. “But hey, turns out it does.”
By the time the 1st and 2nd squads sent backup after noticing the team’s slowed progress, the situation had already wrapped up.
“We noticed your formation lagging. Was something wrong—?”
Gulp.
The sound of someone swallowing rang loud in the tense silence.
But none of the Espers replied.
They just stared at Han-seo, too shaken to speak.
Naturally, it was Han-seo who stepped forward to respond—smooth, composed, like nothing had happened.
He glanced down at the unconscious Esper, then looked up, expression polite and unbothered.
“Nope. Nothing serious. Right, everyone?”
“……”
“……”
The backup team checked the Esper’s ID, assessed his poor condition, and—likely assuming something had happened—gave a short nod before turning back to the front.
“……”
“……”
The suffocating tension in the air didn’t lift. It lingered—heavy and unspoken.
