The officials dispatched to the hospital first secured the subject of the report. They then proceeded to gather statements from the hospital director and the attending physician to determine the full scope of the incident, reviewing Seo Junho’s medical records and current condition in the process.
After extracting confidentiality agreements from all witnesses to ensure none of them would speak a word about the subject, they swiftly removed the unidentified man from the hospital.
“…….Can it really be true?”
The man behind the wheel glanced toward the back seat. There, sprawled unconscious, was a man. His clothing, once soaked in what looked like red dye, had been changed into a hospital gown before transport.
“To be honest, I don’t think I’ll really believe it until I actually see him use his ability. A healing-type ability, of all things…”
Wasn’t this the kind of power that only existed in fantasy? The fact that such a person truly existed, right before his eyes, was still hard to accept.
“Shouldn’t we have checked if it worked on the other patients too? I mean, the ones who were also poisoned.”
“We wait until he regains consciousness and observe his powers before bringing him in. Besides, you saw Seo Junho’s condition.”
A team member seated beside the unconscious man replied curtly.
“Once he wakes up, we’ll naturally go through the proper verification process.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Exactly. And you—fix that habit of jumping to conclusions. All we have to do is follow orders from above.”
With a brief warning, he turned to look out the car window. Vehicles disguised as ordinary civilian cars were escorting them, all filled with government-affiliated Espers.
“I’ll try to follow orders under normal circumstances. But I’m not making any promises when my life’s on the line.”
His gaze returned to the driver’s seat.
“What was that?”
“I said I don’t want to die. Like that senior did.”
If those who’d received orders and left had failed to return, it meant only one thing: death. Survival in such missions was exceedingly rare. Not long ago, another agent had failed to return and was officially declared deceased. The senior agent next to him frowned at the younger one’s attitude.
“You knew perfectly well that death can happen during operations.”
“Of course I knew. But if it were me, I’d have refused such a dangerous mission right away.”
“You’re already in the middle of one of those so-called dangerous missions—what nonsense are you spouting?”
Did he even understand who they were transporting? Whether it was the Association or foreign powers, any group that got wind of what was going on could attack them to seize the man. And yet this rookie had the nerve to say something so absurd. The junior agent checked the rearview mirror and quietly shut his mouth when he saw nothing suspicious outside.
The car, speeding down the road, gradually approached its destination. It finally came to a stop in front of a heavily guarded facility. From the multiple vehicles that had arrived together, several Espers stepped out, and among them, the escort team leader walked up and knocked on the car door. Once the lock clicked and the door opened, the leader glanced inside and gave a subtle nod toward the unconscious man.
“I’ll take over from here.”
“Understood. Please proceed to the medical unit first.”
A thorough examination was needed—not only to check for physical abnormalities but also to measure his wavelengths, assess his ranking, and confirm his identity. The agent responsible for reporting the hospital incident nodded, handed the man over to the escort leader, and stepped out of the vehicle.
The team leader looked down at the man, who showed no signs of waking. His wrists, pale and slender, peeked out from the loose hospital gown, and his colorless lips and tightly shut eyes gave him a fragile appearance. So much so that it cast doubt on whether he was truly an Esper…
…But this man possessed an ability so rare, so exceptional, that it was impossible to assign a proper value to him.
With a reverent air, the team leader leaned down and lifted the man’s body. He was startlingly light, just as he appeared. The leader had only taken a few steps forward when—
Thump.
The man’s small head gently rested against his neck.
Only a tiny area had touched him. Just the faintest contact of cold skin—barely anything. And yet, in that very moment, the team leader froze in place, unable to move.
A junior agent glanced back casually and stopped in his tracks.
“Sunbae…”
“What?”
“Something’s wrong with him.”
The agent walking ahead of them turned around as well. The team leader—an Esper—was staring down at the man in his arms with a dazed expression. His eyes were strange, filled with a chaotic mix of shock and awe.
The other Espers surrounding them, who were meant to guard the team until they made it inside the building, also began to show puzzled expressions. A few even called out to the team leader—but he remained frozen like a statue, giving no response.
“Is something wrong?”
Two agents approached. That’s when the leader finally muttered:
“He’s not an Esper.”
“……What?”
“He’s not an Esper. This man is…!”
The sentence was abruptly cut off.
Silence fell over the area.
His eyes lost focus. His expression warped into something subtly unnatural. Then, clutching the man in his arms like he was the most precious thing in the world, the team leader let out a deep, theatrical sigh of relief that anyone could tell was overly exaggerated.
“That was a close one.”
“…”
“If we killed him and made him an enemy, things would’ve gotten messy.”
…What the hell is he saying?
Everyone shared the same question. Out of nowhere, the leader was spouting incomprehensible nonsense and acting completely out of character. The moment of unease settled over them—brief, but unmistakable.
A towering man appeared beside the team leader. When the Espers recognized the muscular figure with bronzed skin, they couldn’t hide their shock. It was Shim Tae-seong.
But the possibility of the Association catching wind and showing up had been fully anticipated. The government-affiliated Espers immediately shifted into combat formation, while the civilian agents backed away to create distance.
“What brings the Association President here today?”
Shim Tae-seong, as if he hadn’t heard the question at all, reached out his arm. The unconscious man was transferred into his grasp. Despite his evident displeasure, the team leader handed over the protected subject without resistance, his body language saying he had no choice but to comply. Most of those watching were stunned.
Holding the man with extreme care, Shim Tae-seong let out a deep breath as if a long-blocked airway had finally cleared. His broad chest rose and fell. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he pressed his face gently to the man’s forehead. The sight was reminiscent of someone reuniting with a long-lost lover.
But the voice that came next didn’t belong to him—it came from the team leader instead.
“I should be the one asking that.”
“……!”
“Do you even realize you were just caught in the act of abducting an Esper?”
The crooked smile and mocking tone sent a jolt of familiarity through those present. Most now realized—the team leader’s body had been overtaken by Joo Cheong-gyeong. An S-rank Esper and a central figure in the Esper Association, and now, not one but two high-level individuals had suddenly appeared before them. Expressions across the group twisted in dismay.
…Wait a second…
“What did you just say—?”
“I said he’s an Esper affiliated with the Association.”
Joo Cheong-gyeong declared coldly.
“His ability comes at a steep cost, so he hasn’t been active. But make no mistake—he belongs to us. And what you’ve done here today is attempt to steal what’s ours.”
Screwed. The agent clenched his jaw and cursed inwardly.
Joo Cheong-gyeong’s phrasing may have been oddly chosen, and his earlier muttering about the man not being an Esper still lingered in the back of his mind, but none of that mattered anymore.
Whether it was true or not was irrelevant. The moment the Association’s top brass claimed the man as their own, any protest or demand for proof became meaningless.
They couldn’t afford to be seen as the aggressors. Shamelessness itself wasn’t the issue—but if the Association chose to use that as justification to openly antagonize the government, things would escalate quickly. A tiny spark could turn into a raging fire in the blink of an eye.
He’d told his junior not to jump to conclusions, but now he himself, as the senior, had to calculate and maneuver. With great effort, he opened his mouth.
“There’s been a misunderstanding. You keep referring to it as a kidnapping, but he collapsed after coughing up blood immediately after using his power. It was an emergency—so we were trying to take him to our Esper-only medical facility.”
Joo Cheong-gyeong narrowed his eyes, as if he’d already known. But it was Shim Tae-seong whose expression hardened. Then, in a blink, he vanished—taking the limp man in his arms with him.
The urgency he’d shown in that fleeting instant was all the confirmation needed: not only did the healer belong to them, he was someone deeply important.
Suppressing his growing sense of defeat, the government agent forced himself to continue speaking.
“And just as you said, he’s never been active until now, so there was no information available on him. We had no idea he was affiliated with the Association.”
“If we had known, we would’ve backed off quietly.”
“Yes.”
Of course not. That was a blatant lie.
It may carry significant risk, but once made public, his ability had the potential to shake the entire world. Even if he couldn’t save masses of people, he could save key foreign figures in need—earning debts that would bind them to their country. At least from the perspective of a mere civil servant like him, that was the most staggering advantage of all.
So no, even if they had known he belonged to the Association, they never would’ve left him alone. They’d simply have approached the acquisition differently. All the government’s ambition would have been funneled into securing that one ability user—no matter the cost.
And that same logic applied to what was coming next.
Joo Cheong-gyeong lifted his head and stared into space briefly before scanning the surroundings. If he pushed himself a little and wiped them all out…
No. Inefficient. Killing them wouldn’t solve anything—it wouldn’t be the end.
“Rather than doing this here… The assemblymen are on their way now. Wouldn’t it be better to step inside and speak with them?”
Sensing Joo Cheong-gyeong’s murderous intent, the tense Espers discreetly signaled their superior. When the opposing agent finally spoke—swallowing dryly, trying his best to sound composed—
The team leader’s dazed eyes fluttered shut, and his body slumped forward like a puppet with its strings cut. As he collapsed to the ground, rolling slightly across the floor, everyone immediately understood: Joo Cheong-gyeong was gone.
He had vanished just as suddenly as he had appeared.
Relieved, the surrounding Espers rushed toward the fallen man en masse.
“Sunbae…”
In the midst of the slight commotion, a junior agent with a pale, shaken face approached. The superior glanced at the gathered Espers and muttered:
“…No need for verification anymore.”
