Someone he thought he’d never have to see again suddenly appeared, blurting out how they’d missed him, how fate had finally brought them together—as if they were starring in some tearjerking melodrama spanning a thousand years. Even Lee Han-seo, unflappable as he was, couldn’t help but be stunned. When had this happened? And why? No matter how hard he tried to make sense of it, he couldn’t come up with a single reason.
“Wait… that is Julian Moore, right?”
“Yeah. But why is he here? Aren’t Espers only allowed to travel abroad for official missions?”
“Exactly. It kind of looks like he came just to see Lee Han-seo…”
“This is straight out of a movie. Unreal.”
While Lee Han-seo stood there frozen as the target of this mysterious visit, the staff around him were already giddy with patriotic pride and buzzing with excitement. Even the director was chuckling as he captured the scene on the making-of camera.
Snapping out of it with a sharp breath, Han-seo quickly glanced at Park Woo-jun.
Shhhhhh.
Still lying under the downpour of artificial rain, Park Woo-jun’s gaze was ice cold, fixed on Julian like he was ready to tear him apart. Honestly, it might have been less threatening if his eyes had flared with rage—because the dead, pitch-black void in his stare was downright chilling.
“E-E-E-Esper Moore! You can’t just run off on your own…! H-Huff…! Huff, huff…!!”
Julian’s handlers came rushing in a beat too late, completely out of breath. Judging by the ID tags around their necks, one was from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, another from the Esper Affairs Center, and the rest appeared to be U.S. officials.
“You were instructed to remain accompanied until departure. Please refrain from further impulsive actions.”
Julian, who’d been confidently chatting away in broken Korean just moments ago, now shrugged like he didn’t understand a word and turned to the interpreter, who was still catching his breath. It seemed his hastily learned Korean couldn’t handle complex vocabulary or fast speech. After a brief exchange, Julian let out a soft scoff.
“You’re the ones who were slow. Don’t blame me.”
Then he turned back to Han-seo and beamed—bright, cheerful, and utterly unapologetic.
“Sorry. I wanted to come sooner. But getting permission took forever. Did you miss me?”
Seriously. What even are we to each other…? Han-seo didn’t even get the chance to voice that before Julian started walking toward him, arms open like he was about to sweep him into a hug.
The plan had been to let Han-seo handle it—since emotional clashes between high-ranking Espers could spark international incidents—but even Park Woo-jun couldn’t hold back anymore. The only reason Julian wasn’t already buried in the ground was because Park Woo-jun still remembered he was a top national security officer.
“Esper Julian Moore.”
Thankfully, Han-seo acted before Woo-jun could grab Julian by the collar. He took several large steps back and called out to Julian in a cold, businesslike tone.
Julian either couldn’t read the room—or simply didn’t care. “Just call me Julian, babe,” he said, blowing a kiss toward the air.
Was he always like this? Han-seo was just baffled. The only Julian he remembered was a pitiful, barely conscious figure moaning in pain. This confident, borderline flamboyant version was… hard to reconcile. But now wasn’t the time to be thrown off. He couldn’t afford to get dragged into Julian’s pace.
“Fine. Julian.”
“I love how that sounds. You calling my name.”
Sure, the guy was trying his best to speak Korean, even with his terrible accent, and maybe that was kind of endearing—but unfortunately for him, Julian had just run headfirst into Korea’s proudest young hard-ass: Lee Han-seo. A foreign kid barely twenty by American standards—maybe twenty-two in Korean age—thinking he could speak casually and act familiar with Han-seo? Yeah, no chance.
“Hey. If you’re gonna speak Korean, do it properly. Don’t go throwing my name around like we’re best friends. You don’t use honorifics?”
“Oh, my gosh…”
“Gosh, my ass. You little punk. Do you even know me? Are we close? You just show up outta nowhere talking nonsense.”
Park Woo-jun, who had looked like he was about to murder Julian seconds ago, suddenly relaxed. That’s my boyfriend. Look at that temper. So reliable. That was the general vibe radiating off him now.
“I don’t know why you dragged yourself all the way out here, but if you’ve got something to say, then sit tight and wait till we’re done working. This shoot’s already going over time and pissing me off. Don’t make it worse.”
“Umm, umm…”
“Did you understand that?”
Han-seo wasn’t exactly speaking slowly or gently. For someone who’d only been learning Korean for a month, it was definitely too fast. Julian, who had confidently stormed in trying to control the room, now just blinked in confusion.
Apparently, Han-seo wasn’t the only one thrown off by the massive gap between memory and reality.
In truth, Julian barely remembered anything after his guiding percentage had dropped. He only came back to consciousness a few days after crossing the gate—and even then, all he could think about was how much he wanted to die.
When he was told he’d been chosen for this mission as an S-Class Esper, his little sister had clung to him, sobbing, begging him not to go. But all Julian felt was relief. Finally, he thought. Maybe this time, I’ll die for good.
There was a time, once, when he’d wanted to live. A time when he’d believed—hoped—that some miraculous Guide would appear and take away all the pain.
He couldn’t even remember when it started—when breathing itself became torture, when every inhale and exhale felt like his lungs were tearing apart and his brain was being shredded from the inside. From that moment on, he didn’t want to live. He just wanted to die.
But his power—immense and overwhelming—wouldn’t allow even that.
Sure, the government probably had its own agenda: squeezing every last drop out of an S-Class Esper before they burned out. But even without that, the truth remained—outside of natural death by old age, the only ways for an S-Class Esper to die were instant, catastrophic damage… or going on a rampage. And since no other Esper existed who could actually inflict that level of damage on someone like him, a rampage was the only way out.
The problem was, if he lost control outside of a dungeon, the entire area would go up in flames. That meant the Center, too—the place where his precious little sister lived. The one person who still tethered him to this world. The one person he couldn’t bear to hurt. The same little sister the higher-ups had so “graciously” allowed to live with him at the Center, claiming it was for his emotional stability, when it was really just a leash to keep him in line.
She wasn’t a kid anymore. She was old enough for high school now. So maybe now… maybe now he could finally die. The money he’d earned—scraped together with his life—was enough to support her forever. She could live comfortably, safely. Maybe at a boarding school somewhere far away. He’d done enough. It was okay to let go. He didn’t want to keep enduring. Julian crossed the gate with nothing left but that final, desperate resolve.
Waiting endlessly for a Guide that might never come, clinging to that last thread of hope—it was all meaningless now. The pain had already swallowed him whole. Hope had dried up long ago. He wasn’t hanging on anymore. He was falling. And all he had left was the belief that maybe, finally, he could die.
“You there—the interpreter, right? Translate exactly what I say. Don’t sugarcoat it. No filters. Not a single word.”
“Y-Yes… understood…!”
But then—you showed up.
“Sit tight and wait. And another thing—your damn casual tone is pissing me off. If you’re not gonna use formal speech, then just stick to English.”
“P-Pissing… you off…?”
“What? Too hard to translate?”
“N-No. I’ll relay it…”
You came. You. And you pulled me back from the brink.
So now—take responsibility.
“Okay. I’ll wait then.”
Waiting’s what I do best, after all.
Julian flashed one last sunny smile at Han-seo before turning around with easy, almost carefree grace. The moment his back was exposed, a wave of killing intent came crashing down on him—sharp, hot, and blistering. Like it had been waiting for the perfect moment.
He glanced back.
“……”
“……”
An S-Class Esper—just like him—stood frozen in place, their face twisted into a lethal glare more vicious than anything seen in battle. Like a statue carved from rage.
Julian simply smiled and gave a slow, almost lazy wave.
Guilt for stealing what belonged to someone else? A sense of shame? Morals?
Screw that.
He was barely hanging on. Who the hell had room for guilt?
He hadn’t come all this way to Korea without knowing exactly what he was walking into. He was ready for it. Every last bit.
