Lee Han-seo stormed down the hallway, stomping his feet loud enough to shake the floor, practically daring someone to get in his way. Anyone who’d even considered approaching him—maybe to say hello or make small talk—took one look at his furious stride and immediately thought, Nope, not getting mauled by a rabid dog today. As if guided by sheer instinct, they all turned and scattered like shadows at sunset.
Park Woo-jun had really outdone himself this time. Han-seo had wondered why things had been oddly quiet the past few days. Turns out, the silence was just the calm before the storm. His head throbbed just thinking about it, and he couldn’t even pretend to look composed. Scowling deeply, he headed straight for Park Woo-jun’s office. Meanwhile, the same conversation with the Facilities Department staffer kept replaying in his mind.
“Esper Park Woo-jun—sorry, Team Leader Park Woo-jun… destroyed all the equipment in the Fitness Room at the Main Building…”
That part, honestly, wasn’t even a problem. Who knew why an esper had decided to wreck machines made for civilians—but if he wanted to throw a tantrum, fine. They’d just offer to build him an even better Fitness Room. Easy fix.
“But according to him, it was an unavoidable accident during training… and a few staff members got injured in the process…”
That was the part that made Han-seo’s stomach drop.
“Of course, I know I shouted first without explaining, and I understand if Guide Lee Han-seo is upset… but, um, it’s not exactly a simple situation…”
The poor staffer had practically curled in on himself under Han-seo’s razor-sharp glare, clearly terrified Han-seo might file an official complaint—or worse, a lawsuit.
And honestly, it wasn’t an unfounded fear. With a father who ran a major law firm and a mother managing a corporate affiliate of a chaebol, Han-seo’s background was formidable. Stories of him suing annoying employees into oblivion were legendary among the administrative staff—practically office folklore.
“……”
“Guide Lee Han-seo. Uh, we’ve isolated Team Leader Park in his office for now, and he agreed to go quietly. I swear! No one forced him!”
A few staffers got hurt? Han-seo had scoffed, saying they were probably just assistant managers at best. Honestly, it was a relief that some low-level employee had been sent to break the news instead of some slippery executive.
Whether it was intentional or not, the fact that a civilian had been injured by an esper’s actions was a huge deal.
Even if it was just a sprained ankle or a bruised tailbone, the core issue was this: An esper hurt a civilian. Judging by how the Facilities guy had tensed up at Han-seo’s icy demeanor, no one had been seriously injured. Still, they had to shut this down fast before it exploded into something bigger.
Trying to keep a calm face while cold sweat dripped down his back, Han-seo finally spoke.
“How much are we talking, for the damaged equipment?”
“Ahem! Uh…”
“I mean, we could just build a whole new facility while we’re at it. Plenty of empty land, right?”
Han-seo’s blatant disregard for consequences came from one place: money. He’d awakened as an S-rank Guide at seven and officially joined the Center at fifteen.
After nearly ten years as a high-ranking public servant, he was already wealthy just from his steady paycheck. But the real jackpot came from his maternal grandfather, Chairman Choi—who couldn’t bear sending his beloved grandson to the Center and had handed him a mountain of inheritance in advance. It was the kind of wealth that just never ran out.
“Let’s not waste time dancing around it. This isn’t really about the Fitness Room, is it?”
And that was why dealing with naive civilians was so much easier. Han-seo conveniently skipped over the injured staff in the conversation. The Facilities employee was a civilian himself, so he probably didn’t think it was a big deal anyway.
“Even if you start disciplinary proceedings, what’s the worst you’ll do? Suspension? Docking his pay? He doesn’t care about the money. And a suspension is just an extended vacation—so that’s not happening. You’re just trying to find some loophole to sneak him back into active duty.”
“Well, I mean… there’s a way to say things, right? Maybe tone it down a little…?”
“Want me to buy you a hearing aid so I can sugarcoat it for you?”
No early reinstatement. Period. Han-seo stuck to his guns until the end. He didn’t leave until he’d personally watched the staffer file and finalize the report on the incident at his desk.
Then, finally, he went off to confront the idiot who caused all this.
“What are you staring at? Think this is a show?”
“N-No, sir! Carry on!”
The poor guy hadn’t meant to eavesdrop—his desk just happened to be all the way at the end of the Chief of Espers team section. But under Han-seo’s withering stare, he quickly ducked under his desk and tried to vanish behind the partition.
Just seeing the Temporarily Closed sign taped to the door made Han-seo’s blood pressure spike. He marched straight up and kicked the door open with a loud bang.
“Baby!”
Oh, God. Kill me now. Or save me. Anything but this.
Whether Park Woo-jun could sense Han-seo’s internal crisis or not, he rushed over like an overgrown puppy finally reunited with his owner. Grinning ear to ear, he buried his head in Han-seo’s chest and practically wagged an invisible tail. Despite being a whole head taller, he tried to squeeze his massive frame into Han-seo’s arms, and somehow… it was ridiculously cute.
“How’d you even get here? I missed you so much!”
How do you think, dumbass? You’re the one who caused this mess—who else was gonna come? All the biting remarks piled up in Han-seo’s throat but couldn’t make it past his lips. One look at Woo-jun’s bright, oblivious face and everything he’d wanted to say just fizzled out. He’d meant to chew him out properly, listen to the story, and then decide whether to kill him or not—but all that resolve melted away like ice in the sun.
“…Seriously. You’re out of your mind.”
“Huh? Who? Who else besides me do you think is crazy?”
“Who else could it be? Who loses his damn mind every time he sees your face—besides me?”
Once again, the truth stayed locked inside. Instead, Lee Han-seo asked, “Did you even realize you’re out of your mind?”
“Hehe. You say I’m crazy every day, Han-seo…”
Words that weren’t even remotely compliments somehow turned into sweet praise in Park Woo-jun’s ears. He blushed shyly, looking impossibly innocent. Those soft brown eyes, framed by long lashes and delicate double eyelids—he had a face that could outshine most top-tier actresses.
A dangerously pretty face that looked like it might burst if you touched it—perched on a body built like a tank, all broad shoulders and rock-hard muscle. No wonder people forgave him even when he screwed up a hundred times. With that face? You’d let him off two hundred times.
Sighing, Han-seo bent slightly and ran a hand through the head nestled against his chest, fingers brushing through soft hair.
“Hey.”
“Mm?”
Barely a sound, more of a hum. You insane bastard… why are you this cute? Han-seo could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
“You gonna admit you messed up or not?”
“Uhh… well…”
“Park Woo-jun. Are you seriously not answering?”
“I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t think I did.”
Whether he didn’t understand how serious the situation was, or he just didn’t care because Han-seo was in front of him, Park Woo-jun kept grinning like a dumb puppy.
“Don’t play games. I was told that people got hurt.”
“Mm… but I don’t know if you can really call it getting hurt…”
Finally, Woo-jun straightened up, though he kept his arms locked firmly around Han-seo’s waist.
“I’m still not fully recovered, remember? I thought I could use the normal equipment, but it was just… too weak.”
“……”
“That’s not really my fault, is it?”
…Technically, it wasn’t. Han-seo’s thoughts short-circuited at the sight of those dimples forming in Woo-jun’s pale cheeks, his lips quirking in that lopsided smile. Before he knew it, he was nodding along like an idiot.
With a soft laugh, Woo-jun nuzzled his cheek against the top of Han-seo’s head like he was trying to snuggle a kitten.
“So yeah, it made a little noise when the machines broke. Just a tiny crash.”
If the shattered remains of the Smith machine and leg press could hear that, they’d probably sue for slander.
“The noise freaked them out. They panicked, ran out, and tripped over themselves. I swear—I didn’t even touch them!”
“…Seriously?”
“Mm-hm! Totally serious!”
Sure, the fact that an esper even entered the civilian-use Fitness Room in the first place was a violation in itself. If someone wanted to press charges, there were plenty of grounds. But Han-seo decided to drop the weight off his shoulders and let it go.
He felt like he’d been dragged onto a roller coaster—his insides twisted and flipped until he was dizzy.
“Okay, but listen, baby…”
“What now?”
“I was thinking… maybe I could sign up for a trial. You know, speed up my recovery…”
There were times when a pretty face could get you out of trouble—and times when it absolutely couldn’t. Han-seo stared at those fluttering eyes, tempted again by that soft smile. He pulled himself together just in time and replied calmly,
“Wanna die?”
“Right. Got it. Not happening. Mm-hm.”
Yeah, there was no doubt—his esper was way too innocent for a world this harsh.
Once again, Lee Han-seo fulfilled his noble duty: protecting and managing his reckless, overgrown disaster of an esper.
Another successful day as a Guide.
