After Park Woo-jun’s induction, the Center suddenly found itself with an unexpected spectacle: a full-blown game of tag between two fully grown men. Of course, the one doing the chasing—sprinting full throttle—was none other than Lee Han-seo, while the one desperately fleeing was the yet-to-be-ranked rookie Esper, Park Woo-jun.
“Hey! Park Woo-jun! Stop right there! If I catch you—pant, pant—you’re dead!”
“S-s-sorry…! But uh, can I not die, maybe…?”
If anyone asked why he was running, Park Woo-jun had only one answer: because Lee Han-seo was chasing him. And it wasn’t just any kind of chasing.
“Your rank evaluation…! Pant… when is it coming out?! Can we… huff… can we Imprint?!”
Unbelievable. Today, Han-seo had skipped right over asking if they could form a Bonded Pair and gone straight to yelling about Imprinting—at the top of his lungs, no less—smack in the middle of the Main Building, during weekday work hours, in front of everyone.
Mortified, Woo-jun covered his face with both hands and ran like hell. His ears were burning red. Last time, he’d stopped because Han-seo swore up and down that he wouldn’t do anything—and then immediately lunged to grab his hand. He’d nearly fainted on the spot. But did Han-seo care? Not in the slightest. He just scolded Woo-jun like he was some old-fashioned relic from the Joseon dynasty.
“Pant, pant… You stubborn little brat! Why won’t you just answer me?!”
As always, the game ended only when Han-seo ran out of stamina. Breathing heavily, he collapsed onto the floor, visibly frustrated. From behind a nearby pillar, Woo-jun peeked out to watch him.
His forehead was damp with sweat—perfect and gleaming—and even the way he flapped his hands to cool himself down was cute. These days, quietly watching Han-seo exhaust himself chasing him around had become Woo-jun’s only hobby.
Looking at him directly made it hard to breathe. His chest tightened, his heart pounded out of control—it was impossible to focus. So this was all he could do: steal glances from afar.
Honestly, if Park Woo-jun really tried, Han-seo wouldn’t even be able to catch a shadow of him. This ridiculous game of tag was something he was playing at Han-seo’s pace, on purpose.
“Damn it. Missed again. Just wait till I catch you! I swear—!”
“And then what? What are you even gonna do with the poor newbie if you catch him?”
“Ahjussi!!”
“Hey now… People are watching, Han-seo. Would it kill you to call me Team Leader, just once?”
Right on cue, Team Leader Kim Joon-young appeared at the end of the chase. Woo-jun deflated behind his pillar. Every time Han-seo finished one of his full-speed sprints, Kim Joon-young would show up out of nowhere—like clockwork—haul him up over his shoulder, and disappear with him. Not once had he missed a day.
“I’m the one cleaning up after all this. Can you two knock it off already?”
“If you’re tired, just stop caring.”
“Tired? Everyone complains to me, you know. I’m the one who gets the fallout.”
“Please. No one even filed a complaint with the Guide Department because they didn’t want to bother Jung-hyuk hyung. You’re the one who took it upon yourself to play cleanup.”
“Hey.”
“What? Did I lie?”
“Ugh… Fine. It’s all my fault, okay? I’m sorry. Now let’s just go. I’m dying of secondhand embarrassment…”
“Hmph. I didn’t ask you to come.”
“Alright, alright… Sorry for showing up too, geez…”
Chattering as they went, Han-seo and Team Leader Kim disappeared down the corridor. Park Woo-jun remained behind the pillar until even the top of Han-seo’s head vanished from sight.
“Must be nice… talking to Han-seo like it’s nothing…”
Just a little jealous. And maybe just a little bitter. But truthfully, what he hated most was himself—always crouched in hiding, too scared to come out.
With a heavy sigh, Park Woo-jun trudged off to his afternoon training. At least, his rank evaluation results would be out soon.
What if—just what if—he turned out to be S-Class? Or even A-Class, but with S-Class potential?
“Then maybe… I could…”
Maybe he could finally be brave enough. Park Woo-jun swallowed hard, determination flickering to life.
***
“Woo-jun, congratulations! You’re S-Class!”
“Wh-what?! M-me? Really? Are you sure?!”
“Of course! Oh wow, we’ve gotta get the PR department on this immediately—press releases, the works! Now that we’ve got two official S-Class Espers, the other countries are gonna be so jealous!”
Grinning from ear to ear, both the staff member holding the results and Park Woo-jun shared a moment of pure joy. Woo-jun could barely contain the excitement bubbling up inside him. Even winning the lottery twice in a row wouldn’t feel this good.
“Whoa, look at that! Park Woo-jun actually smiles! With how lifeless you youngsters look these days, I thought you’d forgotten how!”
“Hehe…”
Embarrassed, Woo-jun instinctively pressed his fingertips against his flushed cheeks to hide his grin. The researcher nudged him, saying he should call his parents or brag to his friends—something, anything.
“I’ll let Team Leader Kim know, so go ahead and take the rest of the day off. Make sure to tell everyone!”
“Ah… Y-yes! Thank you so much!”
The smile that had just lit up Park Woo-jun’s face vanished in an instant, like a balloon popped with a pin.
Family. His parents probably didn’t even know he’d awakened as an Esper. Or maybe they did—after all, the video of his awakening had gone viral online, stirring up a whole frenzy. If he thought about it, the Center probably contacted them anyway.
Wandering aimlessly, his footsteps dragging, Woo-jun stared at the black screen of his phone, catching his reflection.
Bigger eyes than Park Seon-jun. Fairer skin. A sharper nose bridge…
If only I looked more like hyung…
Regardless of what anyone else thought, Woo-jun had never really liked his own face. Unlike his older brother—whose looks were a perfect blend of their parents—he didn’t seem to take after either of them.
If he had… if he’d looked even a little like his brother, or had just one feature from his mom or dad… maybe then he could’ve picked up the phone and called them, saying, “Mom! I’m S-Class! Brag to the aunts for me!” with a big, proud smile.
My nose is too low… My face is too round…
As he gloomily criticized his supposedly good-looking face, a familiar sound reached his ears—footsteps, fast and light. He didn’t need to look. He could tell exactly who it was by the way they ran.
“Park Woo-jun! Today’s your evaluation result day, right?!”
Yup. Lee Han-seo.
“Uh? Yeah…”
“I didn’t check the results—I wanted to hear it from you directly. But I swear, if you try running today, I’m not letting you off. So spill it. What’s your rank?”
“Uh, well, I mean…”
“Why aren’t you saying anything?! Don’t tell me you didn’t even make A-Class. That can’t be it—they said the minimum was A-!”
Han-seo was always lively, but today he was practically radiant. He wore a light gray suit that hugged his frame just right, his hair neat and polished, and a darker gray tie to complete the look.
Woo-jun’s brain was a mess. He could hear the words, sure—but actually understanding them felt impossible.
“Come on, say something already! I’m on a tight schedule today, you know!”
“Um, Han-seo…”
“Park Woo-jun! If you keep being this—”
“You look really good today.”
“W-what…?”
You look amazing, Han-seo. You’re shining. You’re beautiful.
With the sun at his back, Woo-jun beamed like he’d never felt down in the first place—completely unaware that his smile was even brighter than Han-seo’s suit.
“…Why are you quiet?”
“……!!”
If there were sound effects for emotions, Han-seo’s brain would’ve gone BOOM right then and there. Even without seeing himself, he could feel his whole face going up in flames.
“D-did I say something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable…?”
“N-no! Not at all! That was… that was actually really great!”
“…Heh. That’s a relief.”
God. What’s wrong with him? How can someone be this good-looking and this cute? Was that line meant to kill me? Where the hell did my grumpy little potato go?
“A-anyway! Enough of that, you dumb potato. What’s your rank? Come on, tell me! I really gotta go—like, right now!”
Dumb potato. It was something Han-seo had called him whenever Woo-jun ran away. Usually, it stung. Am I really that frustrating? Does Han-seo hate people like me? It used to make him sulk. But today… it felt different.
What had truly scared him about Han-seo wasn’t the way he boldly asked to become a Pair. It was the fear that he, Park Woo-jun, might not be S-Class.
For the first time in his life, he’d prayed before bed. He called out to every god he could think of—God, Buddha, Grandpa Dangun.
Please let me be S-Class. I’ll live my life right. I swear. Just let me be S-Class—so I can finally say yes to the person who keeps asking me to be his Pair.
And his prayers had been answered. Now all he had to do… was say it out loud.
“H-Han-seo.”
“Yeah? Hurry it up. Your hyung’s dying here, you dumb potato.”
“I, um… I wanna do it.”
“What. You potato.”
“I wanna be your potato…”
“…Huh?”
Shit. He meant to say something cool—like Let’s be Pairs—but after hearing “dumb potato” so many times, the word just slipped out. Now Han-seo’s face was a wall of question marks, and Woo-jun wanted to crawl into a hole.
“Wait. Potato or not… are you saying you wanna be my potato?”
And yet, as always, the sharp-witted Han-seo cut straight to the heart of it. Woo-jun nodded furiously.
“So that means… you’re ranked high enough to Pair with me?”
Feeling far too ashamed to speak, Woo-jun just nodded again—fast and hard—his head bobbing like a puppet on a string.
“Alright. I really have to go today, so we’ll talk later. But listen—you’re my potato now, got it? If you try to take that back, just wait and see. In this tiny country, you’ll learn firsthand what happens when you get on a chaebol’s bad side. I’ll make sure of it.”
“O-okay! Got it! Totally got it!”
With that half-serious, half-terrifying threat, Lee Han-seo turned and took off at full speed without so much as a glance back. He must really have had somewhere important to be. Woo-jun just stood there, watching him disappear into the distance.
God, I’m such a loser…
Out of all the things he could’ve said, he had to blurt out potato. Still, as always, the smart and sharp Lee Han-seo seemed to get exactly what he’d meant.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated violently in his hand. He glanced down, and there it was—three characters staring up at him like a ghost: Dad.
He didn’t answer.
He let it ring, ignoring it until the call eventually gave up on its own. This was the first time his parents had reached out since they’d graciously offered to cover his college tuition—and even that had been a text, not a call. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d actually tried to speak to him.
More than that… this was the first time he had chosen not to pick up. Not out of spite or rebellion, but simply because he didn’t feel like it. He, who had once waited like a beggar for a single word from them.
When the call finally ended, Woo-jun deleted the number from his call log. Then he stuffed his phone into his pocket and muttered softly with a strange sense of ease.
“…Being a potato’s not so bad.”
He might not have become their precious “Our Jun-ie,” but it looked like he’d become Han-seo’s potato—and honestly, that felt like enough. No, scratch that. Even if his parents came running now, arms open, calling him their son and welcoming him home… he’d still rather be Han-seo’s potato.
Because in his entire life, the first person who made him feel like he actually wanted to live… was Lee Han-seo.
And to Park Woo-jun, Lee Han-seo wasn’t just dazzling—he was the brightest thing in the entire world.
“Hehe…”
And so, Park Woo-jun was reborn—not as someone’s son, or some distant student, or a nameless rookie Esper.
But as Lee Han-seo’s one and only Esper.
Quiet, slow, and maybe a little frustrating—but a potato worth keeping.
