“H-how could you leave me behind and spend time with another Esper… and for thirty extra minutes at that!”
Park Woo-jun’s silent protest, marked by endless sniffling, finally shattered along with his fragile composure. Unable to hold back any longer, he stood abruptly and stormed toward the guiding room, his footsteps echoing dramatically in his wake.
Bang!
He swung open the half-ajar door, appearing before Lee Han-seo with his face drenched in tears.
“Han-seo, you’re cruel… You’re really, really cruel…”
You’re the cruel one here, you know?
His trembling voice was unbearably cringeworthy—like a soggy sweet potato. Lee Han-seo felt an overpowering urge to disappear somewhere. If a bowl of water had been nearby, he’d have happily plunged his face right into it.
If Woo-jun had something to say, why not just say it straight? When they were alone, he’d always nod obediently, pretending to understand everything Han-seo said. Yet the moment they came to work, he’d pull stunts like this. It had already been days of the same exhausting routine, and frankly, it was a miracle that Han-seo hadn’t completely snapped yet.
“Hey.”
“Sob… How… how can love change like this…”
“Cut the drama. You’re giving me a headache. Either shut up and sit down, or get out.”
“Sniffle…”
“You want to keep crying and get kicked out, or just quietly sit beside me?”
“I-I’ll sit beside you…”
This annoying little sweet potato… Maybe I should mash him up into paste. Han-seo sighed deeply, irritated yet helpless. Even this childish side of Woo-jun looked cute to him. Clearly, he’d lost his mind.
Han-seo stubbornly dragged out the guiding session an extra five minutes after already hitting the thirty-minute mark, mostly out of sheer spite.
He genuinely loved Park Woo-jun deeply, but occasionally, he was overwhelmed by a petty impulse to tease and torment him. Especially at moments like these, after enduring the aftereffects of the Amplifier, when Woo-jun’s imprint faded and he’d lose all recognition of Han-seo…
Seeing Woo-jun’s pretty face wet with tears, as if he couldn’t bear the jealousy, felt maddeningly fake at times like this.
The instant the guiding meter beeped, signaling completion at a full 100%, the poor Esper—unjustly caught in their quarrel—bolted from the room without even bothering with a proper goodbye.
Pretending to fiddle with random equipment, Han-seo waited silently until Woo-jun finally spoke up first.
“Han-seo… are you angry with me again…?”
Woo-jun’s hesitant voice came only after the minute hand had ticked past three long intervals. There was a good reason Han-seo teasingly called him a sweet potato. Even though he’d fully expected this delay from past experience, it didn’t make waiting any less frustrating.
Truthfully, it wasn’t even Woo-jun himself causing this irritation—rather, it was Han-seo’s own petty nature acting up again. But Han-seo stubbornly refused to acknowledge that.
“Why would I be angry?”
“B-but…”
Woo-jun’s soft, puppy-like eyes still glittered with tears. Seeing them, Han-seo’s irritation melted immediately, replaced by the overwhelming desire to hug and pamper him without reservations.
This is exactly my problem… I’m far too weak when it comes to his face. Han-seo groaned inwardly.
“Y-you’re definitely angry… because of me. Because you’re noticing other Espers… I-I heard everything clearly! Guides have fickle hearts, sure, but how could you do that to me…”
Now what kind of ridiculous nonsense was this?
Han-seo was momentarily speechless. This talk about Guides having fickle hearts was news to him. Even more absurd was the accusation that he’d ever even glance at another Esper besides Woo-jun. Even if the heavens flipped upside down, that was one thing that would absolutely never happen.
True, Woo-jun’s feelings for Han-seo might partly stem from their imprinting bond. But realistically speaking, among all the Espers at the center, Woo-jun’s appearance and physique were unquestionably S-tier—no, easily SS-tier. Even considering his frustrating personality, Han-seo would never willingly give him up. Woo-jun had more than enough going for him to outweigh any shortcomings.
“Please don’t abandon me… I’m sorry, I’ll be better. Han-seo… sniff… how could love change like this…”
Even while sobbing so miserably, Woo-jun’s stunning face wasn’t something you’d see every day. And honestly, hearing him say he’d be better wasn’t exactly unpleasant, either. So Han-seo simply tilted his head with feigned indifference.
“Hmm. Do whatever you want.”
“I’ll request a recovery ampoule from the lab right now! I won’t even rest—I’ll work hard and earn more money…!”
Now he was really spouting nonsense. Han-seo immediately narrowed his eyes sharply, glaring straight into Woo-jun’s delicate, tearful face. There had to be a limit to how ridiculous someone could be.
Ever since returning from the last Mission Deployment, Woo-jun hadn’t fully recovered from the Amplifier’s side effects. Thankfully, the worst—his imprint fading, or forgetting Han-seo entirely—was behind them.
Yet, his Esper abilities were still significantly weakened, a common temporary aftereffect. It was something that would naturally resolve itself with enough rest.
Of course, injecting the newly developed recovery ampoule would speed things along. But why should he do that? And who exactly would benefit from Woo-jun pushing himself to recover faster using an ampoule that hadn’t even passed clinical trials? Even if he recovered quickly, he’d just be sent back into yet another dungeon on the next mission anyway.
Just last night, Park Woo-jun had adamantly declared that he would never take the recovery ampoule, no matter how much anyone tried to persuade him. He’d stubbornly insisted on natural healing, smiling sweetly as he linked pinky fingers with Lee Han-seo, promising they’d spend his recovery period binge-watching dramas and movies, laughing and cuddling together without a care in the world.
Yet, in just a single day, he’d somehow ended up like this—a sobbing mess, babbling nonsense about money and ampoules. Clearly, someone had interfered, coaxing Woo-jun into this ridiculous idea once again.
There was only one possible culprit. Lee Han-seo gritted his teeth, picturing the shameless, smirking face of Kim Joon-young. He knew Joon-young had a nasty habit of exploiting Woo-jun’s overly gentle, easily manipulated personality.
“I even got a bonus this month! Next month, I’ll work even harder, so—so can’t you please stay with me? I’ll be really good… They said I’ll get extra money if I participate in the clinical trials for the ampoule, too—mmph!”
In a place like this—where every careless word spoken in the daytime reached researchers, and whispers in the night found their way to other Espers—Woo-jun was fearlessly chattering nonsense. Alarmed, Han-seo immediately clamped his hands over Woo-jun’s mouth to silence him.
“……?”
Woo-jun’s teary eyes blinked down at Han-seo in confusion and hurt.
“Are you insane? What if Kim Joon-young overhears you?”
“Mmph…?”
Han-seo sometimes forgot it, thanks to Woo-jun’s timid and overly gentle personality, but Park Woo-jun was unquestionably one of the nation’s top Espers. In recent years, high-level dungeons had appeared at an alarming rate. Losing Woo-jun’s combat abilities even briefly would be a serious threat to national security.
“Woo-jun’s about ready to start taking missions again, right?”
“Funny, I thought I heard a dog barking somewhere.”
“Hey, don’t be like this, Guide Lee. You know the center’s situation perfectly well. I’m entering another dungeon tonight and won’t be back for days. If an S-grade dungeon suddenly appears, what’ll happen without Woo-jun? Everyone would be screwed.”
“There are plenty of Espers around. If the absence of my Woo-jun alone is enough to doom everything, then maybe it deserves to fall apart. Besides, aren’t you retired now, Director Kim? Countries without even one S-grade Esper still find ways to survive, don’t they? Ever heard of making do with what you have? Go round up a bunch of A-grades and figure something out.”
Recalling his conversation with Kim Joon-young earlier that morning, Han-seo acknowledged that rationally, Joon-young had a point. Yet, to Han-seo, Woo-jun mattered a thousand times more than something as vague as the “greater good.”
If an actual crisis did occur, Woo-jun himself would inevitably prioritize that damned greater good over his own safety. Knowing that, Han-seo had no choice but to stubbornly cling to his stance, loudly objecting every step of the way.
Secretly, Han-seo sometimes wished Woo-jun’s abilities would never fully recover. Every time Woo-jun went off to risk his life in dangerous missions, leaving Han-seo anxiously pacing on the outside, his heart burned with fear. Each time, he worried this mission might finally be the one from which Woo-jun didn’t return—or worse, that he’d return cold and lifeless.
If Woo-jun hadn’t been an S-grade Esper, he wouldn’t have been matched with Han-seo in the first place. Still, Han-seo often wished Woo-jun had been a lower-ranked Esper, sent on fewer dangerous missions and placed less frequently in harm’s way.
The entire reason Lee Han-seo was currently pulling extra shifts in the Guide Management Department—despite already having an Esper partner and no real obligation to be there—was solely to earn Woo-jun a few extra days of rest.
Former Director Kim Joon-young, infamous for his ruthless and stubborn personality, had only one weakness: his Guide, Lee Jung-hyuk. Knowing this, Han-seo had subtly used Jung-hyuk’s influence to his advantage.
Although he’d never explicitly asked for favors, Han-seo’s current behavior—stubbornly occupying a guiding room, quietly taking on additional duties—was essentially a silent protest. It sent a clear message: I’ll work instead, just give Woo-jun a little more time to rest.
Surprisingly, these subtle protests usually succeeded. This time was no different. If Kim Joon-young truly wanted to wield his authority, he could have easily ordered Woo-jun to inject the ampoule and rush straight back into the field. Woo-jun’s gentle, accommodating nature meant he’d hardly resist.
But Kim Joon-young was reluctant to be forceful, unwilling to risk displeasing his own Guide. Instead, he’d resorted to whispering sweet incentives into Woo-jun’s ears, deceiving him with exaggerated promises. If Woo-jun voluntarily participated in recovery treatments, even Lee Jung-hyuk would have nothing to complain about.
