His lower back still throbbed a bit, but his mood was sky-high. Waking up late, smothering his handsome, muscular (the most important part) boyfriend’s face with kisses while he dozed peacefully, and strolling into work at the Guiding Room—this had to be the good life.
“Hmm-hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm-hmm…”
Lee Han-seo didn’t bother opening a single one of the dozens of work-related messages stacked on his screen. He just marked them all as read, propped his chin up on one hand, and started humming to himself. Just imagining Park Woo-jun marching straight to upper management the moment he got back—reporting their failure to manage the dungeon properly and the exploitation of Espers—made even the dreary sound of rain dripping outside feel charming. And they’d probably squeeze out a few extra vacation days too.
Ding-dong.
A pleasant alert chimed. A Guiding request had come in. Han-seo casually hit the accept button. A moment later, came a polite knock.
“Yes, come in.”
“Um, excuse me, Guide… I-I’m allowed to come in, right…?”
This Esper was clearly the shy type. He’d opened the door but just stood there awkwardly, unable to step inside. With his professional customer-service smile, Han-seo gave a welcoming nod. “Of course.”
Business was business, personal was personal. As long as it wasn’t unannounced overtime, Han-seo was the kind of civil servant who was polite to everyone. And today, in his exceptionally good mood, he was even more so. Still, despite Han-seo’s friendly demeanor, the Esper looked increasingly uneasy.
“It’s just that… um, outside… my Team Leader is sitting right there…”
No way. He couldn’t mean that Team Leader, could he? There was no way the Esper’s team leader was Team Leader Park Woo-jun.
Han-seo stood up, strode over, and swung the Guiding Room door fully open. He stuck his head out—and there, at the far end of the hallway behind the water dispenser, a suspicious shadow flinched and crouched down.
Seriously… Does he think I can’t see him? Is he for real?
Just this morning, Han-seo had seen Park Woo-jun sleeping soundly while he tiptoed out of their dorm munching on a piece of toast. When had he gotten here? He’d made it very clear that Woo-jun was not to come anywhere near the Guiding Room, but… well, since he was in such a good mood, he decided to let it slide today.
“Actually, there’s a rumor going around among the Espers… That if you get Guided by Guide Han-seo, you end up dead…”
Well, that explains it. No wonder it had been so quiet lately. Apparently, Espers were scared off and avoiding him altogether. I swear, all the other rooms were full—I had no choice! If the Team Leader misunderstands, I’m screwed… the Esper thought, fidgeting nervously.
Han-seo ushered him further inside with a charming, practiced smile. “Relax. My guy’s not the jealous type.”
Han-seo’s calm, friendly demeanor was no more than the professional courtesy of a seasoned public worker. But unfortunately, that’s not how someone hiding behind the water dispenser saw it.
“Wha—he’s lost his damn mind! Lee Han-seo! Why the hell is he smiling at that guy?!”
Woo-jun had spent years correcting his habit of stuttering when emotional. But all that effort flew out the window whenever he got flustered. Still oblivious to the wide-eyed Esper watching from afar, Han-seo simply giggled to himself. Ugh, my little sweet potato is too cute. If this wasn’t a textbook case of crossed wires, nothing was.
“Okay, let’s scan your ID tag. B-Class telekinetic, Kang In-gi—identity confirmed. Please hold out your wrist. Hmm, not in bad shape at all. Based on these readings, estimated Guiding time is about twenty minutes.”
The standard three-step process—briefing, assessment, initiation—flowed as smoothly as water. Honestly, if things keep going like this, I could let Woo-jun lounge around all day while I devote myself to the Guide Department. I’d die here happy.
Kang In-gi fidgeted anxiously through the session, half-expecting the Team Leader to burst in and haul him off for some brutal surprise training. But twenty peaceful minutes passed without incident. Park Woo-jun remained crouched behind the water dispenser, seething in silence.
No other Espers showed up afterward. Han-seo grew even more convinced that everyone was actively avoiding him.
“Hmm… He’s probably been sitting there without even eating. Should I kick him out and make him grab lunch?”
He mulled it over, then peeked down the hall again. Woo-jun was hunched miserably behind the dispenser, those broad shoulders awkwardly curled inward. Han-seo sighed. Whatever. I’m off in two hours. I’ll scoop him up then.
Of course, none of this thinking considered the convenience of any other Esper who might actually need guidance today. But with no one else around to call him out, Han-seo’s completely self-centered logic went unchallenged.
Just as he was about to relaunch a mobile game he hadn’t touched in days—knock knock knock knock. This time, the knocking was sharp and irritated.
“Excuse me. I’m coming in, alright?”
He didn’t even wait for an answer. The door flew open.
Alarmed, Han-seo glanced at his screen. No new requests. Which meant this wasn’t work-related. Without even lifting his eyes from his phone, he spoke curtly.
“You need to submit a request through the department before showing up like this. Just walking in isn’t going to bump you up the line. Turn the corner, and there’s a reception desk. Go there.”
A golden rule in office life: when it feels like extra work is heading your way, you go on the defensive. Han-seo mentally justified his overly cold tone that way.
“Mind hiding that sharp edge in your voice? Are you proud of being an ass to everyone?”
Excuse me? The hell’s your problem? All right, you’re dead. Han-seo’s head snapped up, eyes blazing.
“Hey! Who the hell do you think—wait, what the—Choi Jae-won?!”
“Been a while, hyung.”
“What the hell?! You little punk! You enlisted and didn’t even say a word to me?!”
“Just… got busy. Orientation, basic training, stuff like that.”
How long had it been since he’d last seen him? Four, maybe five years? Back then, Han-seo used to show up at family gatherings almost every weekend, making the rounds like a proper eldest grandson. But after he got paired with Park Woo-jun, even that started to feel like a waste of time. Whenever he had a free moment, he just holed up in the dorms making out—so much so that he’d nearly forgotten the face of the cousin he used to be close with.
“Sit down. Want something to drink? Juice?”
“I’m good. I’ve got coffee.”
Dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, Choi Jae-won waved the coffee cup in his right hand as he took a seat—calm, collected, and way too grown-up looking.
The last version of Jae-won in Han-seo’s memory was a runny-nosed kid in a middle school uniform, trying way too hard to act like an adult. When did he shoot up like this? And that clean-cut face—when did that happen? Even seeing him now, up close, didn’t feel real. Is this what they mean by a generational shift?
“Whoa, whoa! Look at you drinking coffee! Weren’t you the kid who used to gag over Grandpa’s green tea because it was too bitter?”
“How long ago was that even?”
Jae-won scowled, clearly annoyed, but Han-seo didn’t notice—or didn’t care. If you weren’t his Esper, he didn’t waste energy reading your mood. So he just steamrolled ahead, unloading all his surprise and excitement without a filter.
“How’s your dad doing? And hey, if you’re in here now, who’s taking over for the Chairman? Se-hyun? Joo-hee?”
“Beats me. They’ll figure it out.”
“Seriously, you’re unbelievable. You didn’t even have to enlist. Everyone else is dying to get out of this place, and you just walked in like it’s some dream job.”
While asking, Han-seo tossed him an emergency energy bar from the drawer, only for Jae-won to swat it away like it was an insult. As if he were still some kid desperate for snacks. Meanwhile, his cousin—twenty-five and still proudly addicted to treats—got so offended that he shouted without thinking.
“What, you little punk?!”
“Han-seo!!”
No way Park Woo-jun was going to miss that voice. Forget the “stealth mode” he’d committed to—he practically slammed the door open, storming into the Guiding Room and throwing himself between Han-seo and the supposed threat.
“…Who is this guy?”
Jae-won didn’t even try to be polite. He just jerked his chin at Woo-jun and asked with all the tact of a bulldozer. Han-seo, suddenly tempted to smack him upside the head, bit back the urge. Without sparing Jae-won a glance, he looked straight at Woo-jun.
“Woo-jun, this is him. My cousin. The one I told you enlisted.”
The one you were all curious about. So stop glaring like you’re about to pounce. That was the message. But for some reason, Woo-jun didn’t budge. He kept staring daggers.
Han-seo tugged lightly on his sleeve and tried again. “That’s him. The one I mentioned.”
“I know. I heard everything from over there.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. But if he’s your cousin, why’s he acting like such a jerk? Just because he’s family, does he get a free pass?”
“He’s just naturally a little shit. Ignore him.”
“Got it.”
Seriously, who in this country wouldn’t recognize Park Woo-jun? The nation’s top Esper, regularly featured in the news at least once a month. When Jae-won had asked “Who is this guy?”, half of it had been, Introduce him properly, and the other half had been, Why is this dude acting like I ran over his dog? But apparently, both Han-seo and Woo-jun had decided to completely ignore the question.
Watching the two of them whisper back and forth like he wasn’t even there—yeah, that was the last straw.
I knew I shouldn’t have come. Should’ve just stayed the hell away.
