“Excuse me! Coming through!”
No matter how loud he shouted, it was pointless. Honestly, if yelling a bit could scatter this packed crowd, they wouldn’t have needed Park Woo-jun’s help to begin with—subduing a newly awakened Esper wouldn’t be such a hassle.
“This isn’t working. Woo-jun, clear the way. No injuries—gently.”
“Mm, got it.”
Park Woo-jun clasped Lee Han-seo’s hand and focused. When dealing with monsters, all he had to do was swing his power around—precision didn’t matter as long as the damage landed. But this wasn’t one of those times.
Human bodies were far too fragile compared to a monster’s iron-plated hide. Even the smallest mistake could lead to irreversible disaster.
Energy surged between their joined hands, formless yet palpable. One by one, Woo-jun wrapped the surrounding people in wind and slowly moved them back.
People floated into the air, eyes wide with shock, flailing or glancing around in a panic. But the wind binding them didn’t so much as flicker.
The staff member who’d come with them seemed used to this kind of chaos. Calmly pulling out a megaphone, he addressed the crowd ahead.
“Attention, citizens. This is the Esper Affairs Center. We’re here to secure a newly awakened Esper. Even if your body won’t move, don’t panic. Struggling could lead to injury, so please stay where you are and wait for further instructions.”
The space was cramped and overflowing with people. Even with a path cleared, there was barely room to move. As the staff member took the lead, Woo-jun and Han-seo followed closely behind in single file.
Up to that point, neither of them felt even a hint of danger. The Esper who caused all this was estimated to be B-Class at most.
“Ugh… this is weird. Creepy.”
As they slipped through the suspended crowd, Han-seo shivered. The closer they got to the Esper’s location, the stranger people’s eyes became—wide, glazed, bloodshot. Some even stared daggers at them, veins bulging.
“It’s fine. I’m here. Want me to carry you? Close your eyes and ride it out?”
“…It’s not that bad.”
Han-seo was usually the one who dove into Woo-jun’s arms and whimpered during horror movies. But now? It was like the roles had flipped. Feeling oddly embarrassed, Han-seo decided to bluff it out.
Behind them, the clatter of metal echoed—probably the emergency team setting up barricades. The sound made everything feel more surreal, like they’d stepped into a scene from a disaster movie.
Then again, being the Bonded Pair of an S-Class Esper in a world where dungeons exploded on a near-daily basis was already a lead role in any disaster flick. Still, thanks to Woo-jun’s overprotectiveness, Han-seo had led a half-idle life—mentally uneasy, maybe, but physically comfortable. That contrast made the moment feel all the more bizarre.
“Han-seo. Wanna play a game?”
There was no way Woo-jun would just stand by and watch as Han-seo’s forced composure began to crack. With only ten steps left to go, he suddenly stopped, turned, and smiled—the same carefree smile he’d worn at the amusement park when he’d asked, “What should we ride next?”
“We just need to catch that Esper and toss them into the transport. After that, the staff takes over.”
“Okay.”
“We’re out on duty all day anyway. Let’s wrap this up and catch a movie before heading home. It’s been forever since we went to the theater together.”
Popcorn, soda… sound good? Woo-jun’s thumb gently stroked the back of Han-seo’s hand—comforting and oddly unfamiliar. Don’t worry. This is normal. Just another day. It was a quiet promise, meant to anchor a tense Han-seo in their usual routine.
“…Fine. I get it. Let’s just go.”
A staff member ahead turned around, confused by the sudden pause, only to flinch and stare at them, visibly shaken. Han-seo likes original flavor, I prefer caramel, Woo-jun mumbled nonchalantly, then flashed a grin and resumed walking toward their target.
“…Yeah.”
And then it hit him—his chest tightened, breath caught. Just catching sight of the Esper crouched under a massive table was enough to gut him.
Was all that unease earlier just a prelude to this moment?
Han-seo instinctively tightened his grip on Woo-jun’s hand.
“Ugh… I’m sorry. I can’t go any closer.”
Even the staffer—someone who’d probably dealt with countless newly awakened Espers—faltered, backing away. Only Woo-jun remained completely calm.
Emotion? Aura? Personality? Or maybe all of it at once? Whatever it was, this Esper’s presence was undeniably destructive.
One moment, Han-seo was overwhelmed with sorrow, the kind that made him want to collapse and sob. The next, he was seized by a violent urge to lash out at anyone within sight.
The emotional whiplash hit like a rollercoaster drop—and it explained why so many people had gone into a frenzy.
And somehow, even now, Park Woo-jun was standing there, calm as ever. Almost unbelievably so.
Park Woo-jun glanced down at Lee Han-seo, whose emotions were all over the place. Then, as if he were thinking of separating and going on ahead alone, he slowly loosened his grip.
But Han-seo was the one who tightened their hands again. In this state, there was no way he could be apart from Woo-jun. Just the thought made him anxious. After locking eyes for a moment, the two resumed their slow approach together.
The closer they got, the clearer the Esper beneath the table came into view—a crumpled apron, one sneaker missing.
“Can you hear me?”
Woo-jun spoke gently. The head beneath the table lifted slightly, revealing a face soaked in tears. They looked so young, trembling in fear. Understandable—weren’t they barely twenty? The awakening of powers wasn’t something one could control. More than anyone else, the Esper was probably the most frightened by what had happened.
“Hello. I’m Esper Park Woo-jun from the Seoul Central Branch of the Esper Affairs Center. You’ve heard of the Center, right?”
Once you’re brought in, you’ll learn how to control your ability, so there’s nothing to worry about. His calm, steady voice reached the Esper, who slowly nodded in response, perhaps without realizing it. They seemed to relax, just a little.
Even in the middle of his own emotional turmoil, Han-seo felt a pang of sympathy. The Esper looked so lost and helpless. And when he remembered how people had shoved their phones up earlier like they’d found some spectacle to film—it only made his chest tighten further.
It reminded him of Woo-jun’s first awakening. That had happened in a lecture hall. And since Woo-jun had a nature affinity, everyone instinctively knew it was dangerous to get close. There hadn’t been nearly as many people swarming the scene.
“…They look so scared.”
“Huh? What was that, Han-seo?”
“That Esper. Look at them shaking. They must be terrified.”
The moment those soft, sympathetic words left Han-seo’s lips, the professional mask Woo-jun had been wearing cracked—his expression instantly darkened with jealousy. Seriously? He’s getting jealous over this? But Han-seo was used to it by now. He didn’t find it annoying anymore. Honestly, it was kind of sweet. With a grin, he reached out and pinched Woo-jun’s cheek.
“Hey, Park Woo-jun. What’s that look for? I was thinking of you, okay? They’re the same age you were when you awakened.”
“Oh… is that what it was? You should’ve said so…”
“I am saying it. They seem really scared. Can I guide them?”
“…”
And there it was again—the side-eye. Han-seo rubbed his cheek against Woo-jun’s arm, tilting his head up with wide, pleading eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. Woo-jun was weak to this angle, and Han-seo had mastered the art of using it.
Of course Woo-jun knew Han-seo was playing cute on purpose. But come on—even when Han-seo did nothing, he was adorable, beautiful, the most precious creature in the world. Yes, this is from the omniscient perspective of Park Woo-jun. So if Han-seo actually tried to act cute? There was no way Woo-jun could win.
“I’ll only use radiating guidance. No touching. No hand-holding. Baby, you trust me, right?”
The way he said it—so sure of himself, like it was a done deal—left no room for argument. It wasn’t a request, it was confidence built on absolute trust.
“B-But what if that Esper starts… y’know, catching feelings for you or something?”
“I said I’m using radiating guidance! If every Esper fell in love just from that, half the guides in the department would be taken by now. And for the record—half of them are still single, okay?”
“Ugh… fine. But don’t let go of my hand. Keep holding it the whole time.”
Performing radiating guidance on someone else while in physical contact with your Imprint? Technically near impossible. Even regular simultaneous guiding was difficult. And with an Imprinted Esper? Forget it. Woo-jun thought he was being clever with his demand.
“Yeah, yeah. No problem. That’s easy.”
Han-seo didn’t mind at all. He just grinned and started guiding like it was nothing. Maybe other guides would have struggled, but for Lee Han-seo, this wasn’t even a challenge.
Guiding waves slipped from him in a smooth, steady flow. The young Esper, who had been staring up at Woo-jun with wide, desperate eyes, suddenly flinched—their gaze subtly shifting, just enough to notice.
